FRIDAY FROTH...

AVATAR: I wasn't planning on seeing it. I'm not a big fan of James Cameron, si-fi, or animation. After it made a zillion dollars I was still happy to stay home. But then it won the Golden Globe for Best Picture and Best Director! Reluctantly, and with low expectations, I paid my thirteen dollars and sat in the second row to take in the spectacle that is Avatar.

Did I like it? Yes and no.

The 3D technology was amazing--I dodged angry animals and flying fern fronds throughout the movie. The settings were interesting--Pandora was lush and beautiful; the command center ordered and calculating.

Mr. Cameron gave Avatar's Na'vi people a vibrant shade of blue with subtle tiger stripes (the only subtle thing about the movie), and feline-like faces and eyes that made them look at home in their setting. But, their heads were large and their bodies very slim, giving them an "alien look". And yes, I know that they are technically aliens, but the blue combined with the over-sized head made them look like cold aliens and un-relatable. I would have preferred (James, I hope you are listening) a curvy, more sensual body (muscular for the male aliens) to make them more humanoid than alien, warmer, and interesting--all very important characteristics if Mr. Cameron wants us to aspire to his Na'vi people. He chose to make the Na'vi people literally larger in stature than the humans, which drove home his figurative point--that they are "bigger" people than we Earth-abusing humans. The over-simplification of this theme drives me crazy. Somewhere between loin cloth-wearing aliens that apologize to everything they eat, and arrogant humans that destroy everything they come in contact with for the almighty dollar, lies the truth.

Mr. Cameron also chose to rely on the cliche' of military figures as ruthless and heartless. Fortunately, recent television images of American military personnel in Haiti delivering food and water, rescuing people from rubble, and otherwise aiding desperate and grief-stricken Haitians, have helped to dispel the myth that Mr. Cameron seeks to propagate.

My biggest problem with Avatar was its lack of originality. It was Pocahontas with a touch of Star Wars thrown in. For some people--mostly male and between the ages of birth to death--this won't matter.

I quit dating for about six months when I was a teenager because seeing Star Wars ten times just seemed like enough. I didn't "get it" but the teenage boys I was dating got it plenty! However, twenty-five years later when Star Wars was re-released, I took my five year-old son to see it and boy-oh-boy, I got it then--we were mesmerized. I saw George Lucas today as I was leaving Starbucks in the Presidio and I wanted to go over and throw myself at his feet and thank him for such a great movie! You'll be glad to know that I just smiled and murmured "good morning". Maybe I'll feel differently about Avatar in twenty-five years watching it with my grandchildren, or then again, maybe I will just ask if we can watch Star Wars or Pocahontas instead.

Avatar will garner many Academy Award nominations and should win some technical and artistic ones, and maybe even best director. I will be disappointed if it wins best picture--that should go to Up in the Air, or to James Cameron's ex-wife's film, The Hurt Locker.

BUCKLE-UP

My daughter (age 15 years and 11 months) got her driver's permit last week. She could have gotten it five months ago when she turned fifteen and a half, but she put it off. Putting off getting her permit means she puts off getting her driver's license for five months. If she puts off getting her driver's license can you imagine what it's like getting her to do her homework or clean her room?

I drove when I was 12. I grew up in a rural town in Arkansas: population under 2000, no stop lights and only one four-way stop sign. Much to my mother's dismay, I used to skip kindergarten to go with my dad because he would let me sit in his lap and drive around the farms as he checked the fields. By the time I was 12 I was an old pro and no one even blinked when I would grab the keys and drive myself to basketball practice--all three blocks. Nevertheless, the day I turned 14 and could get my permit, I drove myself to the police station, parked a block away, and strode in with my birth certificate in one hand and the driving manual in the other. Luther, one of our two city (I use that word loosely) policemen just smiled as he handed back my perfectly scored test. Luther was as ready as I was to get me on the road to official, I'm sure he was exhausted from pretending that he didn't see me speeding by.

Of course, I did not expect my lovely daughter to pass her driver's test. As we drove to the D.M.V. I admonished her for not studying and warned her that if she didn't pass, she was paying the twenty-eight dollars to take the test over. She assured me that she had studied. Her friend had taken the test last week and he asked her "a bunch of the questions on the phone last night" so of course she would pass the test. I reluctantly continued driving as I beat myself up for letting her miss first period and for wasting my time.

About halfway through the Chronicle my daughter walks over holding an official looking paper. She passed! Barely, but she passed. I have a sudden surge of regret! In a short six months she will be getting in the car, without me, and driving off to heaven knows where. Walking out of the D.M.V. my daughter grabbed the keys and jumped into the driver's seat as I tried desperately to come up with an excuse to keep her from driving: It was wet out and the morning commute was not quite over and, she's my baby!

My baby got behind the wheel, and grabbed the mirror. Good I thought, adjust the mirror before you start. Wrong! It was a make-up check. She puts her phone in her lap, moves the seat forward (I'm 5'8, she's 5'3) starts the car, finds a radio station playing a song about "making love in a club" and pulls out without looking in either direction. I want to say something but I don't really know where to start. She flies over a speed bump and explains to me that it's really better to go over them fast. I tell her that the people who put them in disagree. We stop at a Starbucks for a celebratory latte--she's celebrating passing and I just really need a coffee. We leave Starbucks and I settled in and pick up my latte. The aroma is already soothing my rattled nerves and raw emotions--I close my eyes and lift the cup to my lips. She slams on the brakes! "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn't see that stop light." "The one right in front of you," I ask? We continue on, almost there and no one has died. As we approach a flashing red light I ask her if she knows what a flashing red light means. "Of course" she replies as she runs right through it, "I had that question on my test." "Well you missed that one," I say as I look around for a police car.

We are almost at her school. I have cleaned the coffee off of the dashboard and my heart rate is approaching normal. She ask me when she's getting her own car because she has to have one registered to her before she can take her final driving test in six months. "What!" I say too loudly.

"Yeah, that's what the lady said. I have to have proof of insurance and a car registered to me."

She parks in front of her school and jumps out. I get in the driver's seat, banging my still-shaking knees on the steering wheel. I make a mental note to explain "car registration" to my daughter when she gets home. I change the radio station, move my seat back, check the rear-view mirror--wipe the coffee off my face-- and think about Luther back in my little hometown.

FRIDAY FROTH...

The Golden Globe Awards--The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

All-in-all, I found the GG's to be UU--unusually unglamorous. The rain didn't help anyone's hair or make-up and with a few exceptions, I thought the dresses were a mixture of over-ruffled or space-aged mistakes. Starting with the umbrellas, moving on to Julia Roberts rendering the red-carpet host speechless with her NBC being in the toilet comment, to missed queues, and ending with Ricky Gervais and his crude observations, it was an awkward evening.

I really don't think I'm a killjoy but I didn't find Mr. Gervais that great. What's so funny about reminding Paul McCartney about his horrendous divorce? Sure Paul still has lots of money even after he had to give half of it to his ex, but still, divorce is painful, and it showed on Sir Paul's face. Mel Gibson handled his arrow a little better but alcoholism and drunk driving aren't really that funny either.

And I know it's not Politically Correct to ask, but why can a black person invoke God's name in thanks and praise and bring tears to everyone's eyes but not a white person? If a white person, even one that had suffered the same trails and tribulations as Mo'Nique, had given a God speech, there would have been snickers galore--they would be labeled as a religious freak and probably never work in Hollywood again. What's up with that?

It was nice to see Colin Farrell looking sober but sobering to see Harrison Ford looking and sounding like he has developed dementia. He's still a handsome man, but now that he's "of a certain age" he should drop the dazed and confused act. John Hamm and George Cloney were both dashing in a very hairetsu kind of way and wrapping-up the guys--Jeff Bridges cleans-up pretty well; Micky Rourke, not so much.

And now for the girls. As usual, Penelope Cruz was stunning in a black Armani and Meryl Streep looked lovely in a black-belted number that showed off her pretty shoulders. But the surprise stunner of the evening--Tony Collette who glowed in a gold Carolina Herrara.

I loved the tribute to Martin Scorsese--he had his bushy eyebrows slicked down and his big glasses shined-up looking very dapper. His enthusiasm for filmmaking and preservation is infectious. This man is clearly not "in it" for the money.

And now for the winners in the "most gracious" category. Drum roll please... The winner for most gracious actress goes to Chloe Sevigny for thanking a production assistant for running lines with her. The most gracious actor award goes to Jeff Bridges for thanking his long-time stand-in. Anyone who's ever been on a movie set knows that P.A.'s are low man on the totem pole and stand-ins aren't much higher. Kudos to Ms. Sevigny and Mr. Bridges!

Washington, We Have a Problem

In my January 1, 2010 musing, I mentioned that I respectfully disagreed with David Brooks' recent column: Op-Ed Columnist - The God That Fails - NYTimes.com. In this column Mr. Brooks writes, "People should be grateful for whatever assistance that government can provide and had better do what they can to be responsible for their own fates." I wanted to clap when I read this statement. I wanted to send it to my kids and say this applies to children and their parents too: I'm here to give you guidance and to keep you safe until you can protect yourself, not to make your life perfect, or even easy. The pervasive sense of entitlement in the world (and in my own home!) is frightening.

However, from this point Mr. Brooks relates his statement to the public anger over the government's failings in identifying the "Christmas Bomber." He suggests that we acted like spoiled children in our response to a plane of approximately 300 innocent people almost getting blown out of the sky: "We believe mommy and daddy can take care of everything, and then grow angry and cynical when it becomes clear they can't." I disagree! What I heard and saw from the American public was not anger or cynicism; it was courage and quick thinking by the passengers on the plane and fear from the rest of us. The anger and cynicism came from the government. At a time when everyone should have come together to find a better way to stop a common enemy, the Republicans and Democrats couldn't hurl blame and insults at each other fast enough--there was more anger and blame directed across the "aisle" than there was across the ideological ocean to a group of radicals that would like to see us all dead.

Head of the Department of Homeland Security, Janet Napolitano first came out and said that the system worked before later admitting that government agencies had failed to connect the dots. Would-be terrorist, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab's father had reported his son as radicalized and potentially dangerous to officials at an American Embassy. Umar had traveled to Yemen, he purchased his ticket with cash and had no luggage--these aren't dots, they're blinking red lights and buzzers! I don't blame Ms. Napolitano for her misstatement. I'm sure she was saying what she had been told to say by the administration. And while I generally approve of Mr. Obama's appreciation for reticence, the problem here wasn't jumping to conclusions; it was not jumping to conclusions. Also, like the Republicans and the Democrats, the different government agencies that collect intelligence are often locked in a power struggle and don't share information. It's amazing to me that partisan politics, power struggles, and political correctness take precedence with our government over our safety.

Perhaps Mr. Brooks should have used health-care to make his point. We can control what we eat, how much exercise we get, and can use sunscreen, seat belts, and other practices to help keep us healthy and safe. For the most part, when we get on an airplane, the best we can do for ourselves is to buckle-up and say a prayer.

While airline fares and routes were deregulated 20 years ago, airports and security are still highly regulated by local and federal governments--we are at the mercy of others when we travel by air, and we expect these "others" to do everything in their power to protect us. This was not the case on Christmas day. We want "mommy" and "daddy" to pay attention, stop fighting and start working together and until they do, we will continue pitching our hissy-fits.

FRIDAY FROTH...

So your college student is home for the holidays. How's that going for you? I'll bet that you couldn't wait to see him/her. Me too. Funny, I'd forgotten how they stay out all night and sleep all day, which of course means that I'm up most of the night too. I'm somehow "back on the hook"; constantly asking: where are you going? what time will you be home? did you eat your vegetables? I'm exhausted!

And have you gotten the grades yet? What the #$%$??? Clearly my college freshman's favorite class was "the study of the backs of your eyelids" class. In fact, if he can get even half the hours in that class this semester as he did last, he will be graduating early--like this spring. Then he will be off to that famous graduate school--McDonalds, AND, he'll have his own apartment/room/park bench, AND, his own fleet of transportation--the city bus system!

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Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund is a great book to read by the fire on a cold day this winter. As the title hints, Ahab's Wife is the story of Moby Dick's famed captain's wife. Ms. Naslund was inspired to start writing her book by a passage in Moby Dick, but clearly her impetus to keep writing was her interest in creating strong female characters. Una, Ahab's wife, is every bit the adventurer her husband is, even dressing as a boy and going off to sea on a whaling boat. However, unlike Ahab and more like Ishmael, she's not interested in revenge but instead very keen on exploring her place in the universe. Ahab's Wife is full of historical characters and references, giving it a added dimension. I was hooked on this novel when I read its simple but beautiful opening line: "Captain Ahab was neither my first husband nor my last." Warning: at 666 pages you may want to have a few extra logs handy to keep the fire going.

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There are a lot of serious, Oscar-contender type movies out this time of year. An antidote to such films, one that is pure unadulterated (bad pun intended) fun, is It's Complicated. The irony of this film may be that it stars the most Oscar nominated actress of all time, Meryl Streep. In the movie Ms. Streep's character, Jane, has an affair with her ex-husband who ten years earlier left her for a much younger woman. Jane is radiant, laughs easily and is happy and busy in her life; enjoying her grown children, her thriving catering business, and the amorous attention of her new architect. Her ex-husband, played by Alec Baldwin, has gotten chubby, plays reluctant father to his young wife's spoiled-rotten young son, and is reduced to supplying sperm to his hormone-crazed wife in the most "un-sexy" of ways in order to impregnate her. Personally, I think this movie should have been called "It's Karma". Be sure and take your husband!

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Have you been reading about the senate race in Massachusetts? Democrat, Martha Coakley and Rebublican, Scott Brown are in a close race to capture the senate seat that Ted Kennedy held for many years. If Mr. Brown wins, his vote would be the 41st for the Republicans, returning to them the filibuster option and potentially changing the course of the health-care bill. I'm sure you knew all of that, right? What you might not know is that Mr. Brown was featured as the Cosmopolitan June 1982 edition's centerfold--not that this matters to any of us that care about the future of our great nation.

If you would like to know more about the Massachusetts senate race (wink, wink) please scroll down.

C-Span's ratings may be going up!

FRIDAY FROTH...

Happy 2010! 2010--it has a nice ring to it don't you think? If you've been trying to decide on the proper way to announce our current year--twenty ten or two thousand ten--the San Francisco Chronicle solved your problem on its front page today. Tom Torriglia from The National Association of Good Grammar says it's "twenty ten". Evidently we've been incorrectly pronouncing our years for the last decade. "The '20' should have been pronounced 'twenty' all along," Mr. Torriglia says in the Chronicle explaining, "every year in the 20th century was pronounced 'nineteen something'. Twenty follows nineteen. Two thousand does not." Makes sense to me.

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I took a break from watching football today to see Tom Ford's A Single Man. Mr. Ford is quite the aesthete--whether it's clothes or movies-- he has a way of making things beautiful. The film looks like one long and beautiful fashion shoot (think Calvin Klein although Mr. Ford has never designed for CK). It was visually stunning enough to be worth my time and ten dollars but, the story was the star of the show--poignant and existential. If you don't have to have car chases and pole dances to keep you interested in a film you will appreciate Mr. Ford's efforts. If, however, you need lots of action in your movie going experience...

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...see Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law. This "buddy" movie was so much fun! Mr. Downey and Mr. Law have a great chemistry that made up for a so-so plot. Both are fine actors but Robert Downey, Jr. may just be the most talented male actor working today. Guy Ritchie's direction gave the film a nice pace and an interesting, dark look. I can't wait for the sequel--and yes, there will be one.

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If you follow this blog you know that I have great admiration for the New York Times columnist David Brooks (genuflect). I read his column religiously, email it to friends with enthusiasm, and just may have written Mr. Brooks in for president last year. However, I don't always agree with Mr. Brooks. For instance, Mr. Brooks loves Bruce Springsteen. I don't get why a nice Jewish guy that writes for some pretty high-brow publications is so enamored with The Bruce, a working class Jersey-kind-of-guy. Bruce is okay, but I can think of at least two other musical artist from New Jersey that I prefer.

In his column today "The God That Fails" Mr. Brooks made a profound point that until about 20 years ago was obvious to most of us: "People should be grateful for whatever assistance that government can provide and had better do what they can to be responsible for their own fates." Then the esteemed Mr. Brooks relates his statement to the "Christmas bomber" incident. I am currently busy at work on a blog that challenges his thinking: Is government responsible for our safety when flying the not-so-friendly skies? Stay tuned!