Why Is Everyone Going Brunette?

Billie E, sure, you go for it girl, but not every Billy is on board...!

Landscapers

We finished this HBO miniseries, based on a true story, last night. The film-making, with its occasional theatrical contrivances and flights of fancy, didn't always work for me. But on the plus side, you do get to watch possibly the greatest actor of our time, Olivia Colman, doing what she does, and very well. Who else could pull off creating an integrated character from this bundle of delusion, pathos, humor, affection, repression, and fury? David Thewlis, as her husband, is near-perfect as well. 

Sylvia Townsend Warner Omnibus

Sylvia Townsend Warner was, according to Wikipedia, a "musicologist, novelist and poet," and I suppose she would have agreed with that characterization, although I bet she would have added an Oxford comma to the list. She was also a feminist, a Communist, and a lesbian, perspectives that deeply informed her novels but never threatened to derail them into the formulaic or programmatic. Her books were unknown to me until NYRB released several of them, and I feel lucky to have discovered them. 

The first one that I stumbled upon, The Corner That Held Them (1948), about which I have already blogged at some length, remains my favorite. But Lolly Willowes (1926), her first novel (and the first-ever selection of the Book of the Month Club!), is a close runner-up. Whereas The Corner That Held Them follows a large ensemble cast of characters over a long period of time, Lolly Willowes is largely a character study of its eponymous protagonist. Lolly is wonderful literary creation, a woman trapped by tradition and family duties who in middle age plots her escape to live alone in a small country village. There she picks up a "trade" practiced by many of the local folk– witchcraft– and even meets Satan himself. The novel is gentle and humorous, with a little sting. Highly recommended.

Summer Will Show (1936) follows an aristocratic Englishwoman who– by a couple twists of fate– finds herself in Paris in 1848, falling in love with her husband's mistress, and joining up with the revolutionaries. A very good historical novel, it was presumably ahead of its time in its matter-of-fact depiction of same-sex romance, although history and politics take center stage here. The novel ends with the first few paragraphs of the Communist Manifesto. Triumphant, hopeful, ironic, bitter? From the vantage point of a communist writing in 1936, you can imagine which.

Mr Fortune's Maggot (1927) is in the genre of novels about Brits living among the savages, which range from pro-imperialist adventures to Leninist critiques of colonialism; given Warner's politics this likely counts among the latter, but frankly, I just couldn't get into it. Perhaps I'll try again. 

Get Back

There seem to be two basic reactions to The Beatles: Get Back among critics and viewers alike. One is unbridled enthusiasm; the other is that watching it is a bit like watching paint dry or grass grow for 468 minutes (that's right, nearly 8 hours)– admittedly, with a few good songs thrown in, but songs you already knew by heart, and played over and over and over and over... 

As for me, I loved it. Oh yes, it drags at times, but that comes with the vérité here as much as it would in a Frederick Wiseman documentary. Sure, you just might start to tire of those familiar songs from Let It Be. You might even nod off once or twice. But as an insider's view of the creative process, workmanship, and wistful denouement of the career of the greatest band ever, it feels true, and it looks and sounds fantastic. Read Adam Gopnik for a longer and more enlightening take.

Some aspects I especially loved: 

• Those boys playing the blues, Brill Building hits, Dylan, skiffle... just how much music was crammed in their heads, and ready at their fingertips?; 
• How lyrics are fitted to melody, and harmony selected and corrected;
• The (largely) silent people: Ringo, Yoko, and the amazing Billy Preston;
• The fashion;
• The playfulness of Paul and John in "rehearsal"– singing in fake accents, singing through clenched teeth, ad-libbing call and response– somehow all of it helping make the music better, I guess, though god knows how;
• Paul. 

Give it a try and see which camp you belong to.

This hair that I leave on boys' pillows splits the sun's rays for my eyes only

 Poet still unknown. Reveal thyself, bard!

Don't forget to vote!

After hours of research and agonizing over the choice, I decided to vote NO on the recall of Gavin Newsom. Well, actually, that part was easy, but what about the 46 replacement options? The Democrats are telling us to leave that second part blank, but my take is different. California's Republicans are incapable of fielding a single candidate who would be even remotely competitive with Newsom in a head-to-head contest. So instead, their objective seems to be to make the state into a sad, ungovernable joke by wasting hundreds of millions of dollars on a recall, hoping that exhausted, scared, and angry Californians will stay away from the polls, and the recall will slip through on the votes of the dedicated GOP crackpots. In a rare show of bipartisanship, I've decided that if it works, and Newsom is turned out, I'd like to help with the goal of making the state and its GOP a laughing stock. But so many to choose from. I ended up going with Angelyne, Billboard Queen. One problem: she's not actually a Republican. Another: She'd probably do a better job than Larry Elder, the GOP frontrunner.

So difficult being a responsible voter these days.

Sweet little sci-fi love stories

I confess to being a sucker for the genre of small movies that build a sweet love story on a sci-fi theme. Starman is the classic– though maybe a Jeff Bridges vehicle doesn't really count as "small." I praised Monsters here already– a sci-fi action romance that does a whole lot with what must have been a limited budget. And last night we watched Long Weekend, a worthy addition featuring two cute-as-buttons protagonists, relaxed humor, and a nice supporting turn by Damon Wayans Jr. Between delta, Afghanistan, and Haiti, you need 90 minutes of sweetness, don't you?

"I avoid philosophy, abhor economics"

Oh, Rita, that hurts, but I plan to read your new book of poems nevertheless.