Downton Abbey: Season 1

May 16th, 2012

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Yeah, I gobbled it up in a few days. But YOU GUYS.

The phrase that kept coming up for me was “gilded codswallop.” Downton Abbey is a soap opera dressed as a period drama, with all of the deeply disappointing aesthetic defects that accompany the form: stilted dialogue, condescending overstatement, unjustified turns of plot, and supporting characters falling squarely (and boringly) on one side of a saintly/evil divide.

AURGH. Because it could have been so good with even a marginally better script.

Allow me to catalogue a few of my frustrations:

1) The idiocy of the Thomas/O’Brien cohort. It’s not just that they’re unrealistically evil, which they are, until O’Brien’s sudden attack of conscience in the finale. It’s that their multiple attempts to undermine Mr. Bates are repeatedly discovered and never punished. How can Carson even begin to imagine that Thomas’s accusations have anything in them, after the first go-round with the “stolen” box? It makes no sense.

2) Plus, a man with Carson’s moral rectitude would never keep on someone as foul as Thomas, who doesn’t have a single redeeming trait. Nothing issues from his mouth but poison.

3) Every single moment of Mary’s dalliance with the Turkish dude was cringe-worthy. It was telegraphed from the moment anybody mentioned a foreign visitor and nauseatingly overplayed with every lingering glance and swollen violin, killing all enjoyment for the viewer. I am not against a romance plot. What I am against is a romance-novel treatment of a romance plot. EW.

4) Elizabeth McGovern. I can’t stand her work in this role. It’s so limpid. And fake-feeling. And flat. Is the accent tripping her up? She’s playing an American who has lived in England for a long time, so it makes sense that she might have picked up some clipped consonants. But she isn’t consistent, so I don’t think it’s intentional. The other actors are giving her so much to work with—they’re fantastic, to a fault—and she’s dropping balls all over the place.

5) Pregnancy and miscarriage plot. I do not allow.

Of course, there are pleasures, too, which is why I kept watching:

1) Maggie Smith. They give her plenty of zingers, which are always delicious. But even when they wrangle her character into untenable positions (hard to imagine that she would ever accept Mary’s dalliance, or be able to discuss it, let alone forgive it) or put silly words in her mouth, she wrestles victory from the script. LOVE.

2) Anna and Mr. Bates. They’re both too angelic for belief, and I’m tiring of his über-ethical silent suffering, but . . . yeah, I love them. Even if the writers did force her to confess love for him too soon, and in a weirdly offhanded way. I like what they’ve done with that plot since. Season 2, do not break my heart.

3) Clothes. Hair. Hounds.

4) Mary and Matthew. The writers have almost made up for the Turkish Disaster by allowing this love plot to play out slowly and honestly, and it’s deeply gratifying to see Matthew call Mary on her superficiality. I imagine that in the very end, whenever that may be, these two will end up together; in the interim, the writers will keep busy manufacturing ways to keep them apart.

I haven’t seen Season 2, but a guess: They take Mary to Italy, and she gets briefly embroiled there, only to have to retreat back to Downton in mini-shame. Or horror. Just a guess. DO NOT ANSWER.

Posted in Television | 4 Comments »

Dining Room Spruce-Up

April 27th, 2012

As you may know, we moved into our new home a few months ago. And while it’s lovely in terms of space, light, and layout, the décor necessities have not been shy about making themselves apparent.

I’m slowly working to change the wall colors in most of the rooms (with gobs of help from our friend Julian, who paints beautifully), and I have furniture goals for every room as well. Those are less readily met, since, you know. Money.

While I wait to accrue the shekels required to replace the worn, gray master bedroom carpet (ew) with super-natural ivory berber straight off the sheep and salivate over the possibility of sleek orange and teal living room couches (think Mad Men reception area), I’m making smaller and far less expensive upgrades. Including redoing the dining room chairs.

Recently I scored an incredible table at the Crate & Barrel seconds lot: 60% off this gorgeous thing:

Not Our Actual Dining Room

Not Our Actual Dining Room

Here are a few other views:

Rustic Modern

Rustic Modern

Rough/Sleek

Rough/Sleek

Our dining room is the second-largest room in our house (after the master bedroom, yay!), and I had a vision of a giant slab of a table. That’s exactly what I got:

4 x 9

4 x 9

It’s a glorious, giant slab.

Okay, so. Very big win there. But what to do about the chairs? The bench shown in the first photo wasn’t available, and even if it had been: too matchy-matchy. I knew I’d want to keep our glorious parsons chairs, in which we were married:

Parsons Chairs

Parsons Chairs

Love the contrast of formal/traditional chairs with rustic/modern table.

But what to do with our remaining 4 chairs? Which looked like this?

Blah de Blah

Blah de Blah

Blah, right? Not much life there.

But plenty to work with, I thought. For instance, I like the curvy, delicate lines. I think they’re yet another way to show contrast against the hulking table. So I figured I’d do some painting and reupholstering and see what I could come up with. The results:

Two like this:

Yellow Sunshine

Yellow Sunshine

And two like this:

White Floral

White Floral

Funky times, right?

Right.

How does it all look together? I CANNOT SHOW YOU. Why not? We still haven’t painted the upper walls/ceiling periwinkle, which is the next order of business. Although if I manage to get to the farmer’s market tomorrow to snag some flowers, maybe I’ll take a photo anyway. Yellow tulips are probably out of season by now, but they’ve been looking fantastic in a rectangular slab of a vase.

Stay with me! Décor happiness ahead!

Posted in Design | 4 Comments »

Mad Men + Girls: Two Shows to Love

April 23rd, 2012

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Welcome back, Mad Men! I love you all over again.

Last night’s episode (”Far Away Places”) was my favorite of the season, in all the ways I’ve always loved the show: tight script, taut drama, and dripping with emotional juice. Very impressed by three-way plot split, too, which drilled intensely into each story, one at a time, instead of cutting back and forth. SATISFYING.

I’m also struck by how willing the show is to let its characters go to dark places. It was excruciating to watch Don chase Megan around the apartment, but it felt inevitable: indeed, how have we not seen him do that before? A little less convincing was Peggy’s giving a random hand-job in a movie theater (eeergh), but I get that we’re seeing a Don-ified version of her, from which she may very well pull back, chastened. (I hope so, for the sake of believability. And because I love her.)

And have you noticed how ruthless the producers/writers are about cutting various characters out when they’re not needed? Witness Betty’s near-absence from the show this season, save for a single episode, and Jane’s apparent dismissal last night. The story rules. That’s got to be hard on the actors; I read an interview in which Bryan Batt (who played Sal Romano) wasn’t even properly told that his character would no longer appear on the show, which totally sucks, if it’s true. But it’s fantastic for the script.

In other news, my Lena Dunham love is blossoming in the glory of her new show, Girls. I was hugely fond of her movie, and the first two episodes of the series entirely live up to its promise: intensely smart, funny, rueful. Very much about The Suck that is the mid-twenties. And has awkward sex ever been portrayed so incrementally? I feel so grateful to Dunham for being willing to be seen in all her messy, unglamorous glory.

Also, if she’s doing this at 24, what’s she going to be doing at 40? Hope to be there for it, whatever it is.

Posted in Highly Recommended, Television | No Comments »

A Year of Eating Less Dangerously

April 20th, 2012

Yesterday marked a year on a vegan, wheat-free, sugar-free diet.

Or, mostly. I haven’t been pure about it. In fact, I’ve been strategically impure, allowing fish once a week, now-and-again exceptions for expensive meals out, allowances for travel, and a once-a-month bacchanalia known as Gorge Day*. Because if being an Über-Driven Achiever with an Iron Will has taught me anything, it’s taught me that being an Über-Driven Achiever with an Iron Will doesn’t actually work. I’m human, is what I’m trying to say. Even if I don’t always admit it.

*Initially called Fun Food Day, to appease Gentle John, and then switched to its rightful name.

At any rate, I largely adhered to the program, and the program largely adhered to me. In that I pretty much love it now. True, I still have cravings. And I still experience feelings of loss after most lunches and dinners, in which I must face the Deep, Dark Void of No Brownie. But that longing passes, and what I’m left with is a feeling of satiety but not over-fullness, in which my gut is at peace, as opposed to feeling balloon-stretched or pulled to the floor with hand weights. I like that.

Even better is the emotional peace. Instead of incessant worry over my outsized sugar consumption, coupled with repeated failed attempts to curb said consumption, I’ve surrendered. I can’t do sugar. I don’t do sugar. Except for once a month, in which I purposefully go on a sugar (and fat and salt and dairy) bender, sugar is off the table. Like an abusive lover. Which I never had, thank God. Unless you count sugar.

At this point you may be thinking, If the only problem she had was with sugar, why did she give up all that other stuff? Three reasons: 1) Wheat is a gateway drug to sugar, at least for me; 2) Dairy is a gateway drug to wheat, ibid, and 3) I read a lot of nutrition books, and they were largely against wheat, sugar, meat, and dairy*. As I am largely against eating meat for ethical reasons, I figured I’d throw (20-of-21-meal-) veganism into my mix and see how it all shook out. And it shook out well! At least for a year.

*I understand that there are other nutrition books that say other things. Please, eat whatever works for you. I don’t judge! (At least not for that.)

Will I do this forever? Who knows. For now, it’s putting me in good stead. Witness: cholesterol at 144. That’s for you, inner über-achiever.

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*The Hunger Games* and the Power of Plot

April 10th, 2012

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Yesterday I finished reading The Hunger Games, and I felt simultaneously as though I’d be released from prison and that someone had taken away my drugs.

It’s unbelievably easy to fall under the books’ spell. I tore through all three within a few days, which I’m sure is the norm. And while only the first feels like any kind of aesthetic accomplishment—the writing, while never sophisticated, is merely serviceable in the ensuing books—I couldn’t, and indeed had no interest in, putting them down.

Why? Because I had to know what happened.

Collins is plugged right into the reptilian brain–and the mammalian one, too. She’s got cards in all the slots: life-and-death battle, children in danger, revolution against systematic oppression, two boys and a girl.

That last plot annoyed me for much of the series, not because it involved romantic love (all in favor) but because it’s such a classic fantasy set-up, with one of the suitors so smitten that he lives for nothing else. By the time Peeta is reprogrammed to hate Katniss, I actually felt relief.

But in the end, I was impressed with where Collins took the romance plot: i.e., subordinating it to the ravaging trauma of war. When Katniss and Peeta finally return to each other, waaaaay after many pages of extreme violence and loss, they’re both emotionally obliterated. There are no firecrackers or rainbows. There’s just two very damaged people inching into each other’s arms, resignedly.

We can’t even celebrate, fully, this thing we’ve waited so long for—just as we wouldn’t be able to in real life. And that is pretty freakin’ cool.

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Wither Thou Goest, *Mad Men*?

April 8th, 2012

We’re two episodes into the new season of Mad Men, and I’m bemused. Is Matt Weiner intentionally going for flabby melodrama?

I don’t say that ironically. From what I’ve read, he’s most interested in generational change, and as we inch toward the 70s, I imagine that a looser, lighter, swingy-er style might suit the content. Plus, the series has been so tightly wound for so long, he may intentionally be taking things in a new direction. Which would be awesomely brave.

On the other hand, I don’t think he meant for me to giggle at the life-and-death Betty plot last week—when, for example, she bursts into her empty mausoleum/house calling Henry’s name above doomsday music. And I am definitely against the addition of music into any part of the action, as opposed to in the closing moments, to which it had always been confined.

I also wonder whether Mad Men is finally succumbing to shark-jumping, the sad fate of pretty much every TV drama—and it’s a wonder the show has held out so long. Doesn’t it feel like a soap opera, all of a sudden? It never used to feel like that.

I’d be happy if Mad Men returned to its previous state of impeccable tautness. I’d be equally pleased to see it master a new groove. But whatever it’s currently doing is confusing me.

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Of Late in Books

March 30th, 2012

I’ve read some good books lately:

1) Mrs. Somebody Somebody, by Tracy Winn. A fantastic debut collection of interwoven stories about various people living, working, and loving (or not) in Lowell, MA throughout the 20th century. I was struck by its tonal perfection, its patient (not slow) pacing, and its warmth. A compassionate, loving, companionable book. Just lovely.

2) Carry the One, by Carol Anshaw. I’m a huge Anshaw fan, even though none of her books has charmed me as much as her first, Aquamarine. And it had been so long since her previous novel (9 years!) that I undertook some serious tail-wagging when this one fell through the mail slot. I’m happy to report that it’s quite good—not mind-blowing, but solid, enjoyable, smart. I felt happy to be in its hands.

3) Skippy Dies, by Paul Murray. Hilarious, rolicking, and deeply sad. I was securely on the ride until about 75% through, when I (it) became bogged down in its tireless (and a wee bit tiresome) catalog of too many characters’ downward spirals. Some skimming ensued (Sorry, Mr. Murray!), but it’s still a great book, well worth reading. Very alive. And pretty much custom-made for a movie adaptation—which, wow. Looks like Neil Jordan is directing! Two words, John Diller: OPENING NIGHT.

Oh, and here’s something funny: It’s 672 pages! Which is something Kindle kept from me, as Kindle is wont to do. I hate that, but I also kind of love it. It means that when I tuck into a book, I do so without prejudice as to what sorts of events might happen when.

In other news, guess whose new movie is coming out in May? If I could buy tickets now, I would.

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10 Years of Rep

March 23rd, 2012

As loyal readers (hi, Mom!) know, John and I are season subscribers to the Berkeley Rep. Earlier this week on a hike at Wilbur, we mused about the past 10 years of shows there—70 in all, after we see the final two this season. We began to recall names and details, partly as a way of cataloguing our past 10 years together.

“I wonder if we can name every play we’ve seen,” I said.

“There’s no way,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll even come close.”

Challenge ON.

I love a memory or a listing challenge. I’m not sure why, although it probably has something to do with my time-obsessed and order-craving brain. John seems content to live in a world with fuzzy edges (and even middles), but I’m always trying to get things as crisp as they can be. Neatness satisfies me.

At any rate, when we returned to our room, I whipped out a pen and began to list show titles. Within a short time we had 50. Over the next hour or so, our list crept up to 60. And over the next day, we got it to 66—just 2 shy of the 68 we’ve seen thus far. Not perfect, but pretty darned close. It was exhilarating.

Last night, when we returned home, we checked the Rep’s website for a list of past shows. What we discovered was this:

WE HAD REMEMBERED EVERY SINGLE SHOW WE’D SEEN.

True, we had listed a few that hadn’t been included in the main season, but we had also seen fewer than 68. For whatever reason, we failed to attend several shows during our first season as subscribers. So when the final numbers penciled out, we had a 100% recall rate.

It was a supremely fun way to celebrate an anniversary—and no doubt a testament to the very memorable stuff happening over at the Rep.

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Been a Long Time Gone

March 13th, 2012

Nelly, it’s been ages. And I have time only for dribbles:

1) I was fascinated by the NYT Magazine cover story on Sunday, about 18 girls in the same town struck by the same twitching/ticcing condition. I don’t want to ruin it for you (read it!), but the thing I am most struck by is the cultural resistance to acknowledging feelings and what that resistance can wreak. Especially since . . .

2) In preparation for the new season of Mad Men, I’ve been reading old recaps over at T.Lo, and they’re always going on about how different it was in the 60’s, when everybody had secrets and so many things simply couldn’t be spoken. True enough, and yet it seems that at least in one American town, the gestalt still refuses to acknowledge and support normal human suffering. And that doesn’t seem good for anyone.

3) There’s a quote in the NYT article that goes something like this: “It’s not psychological, it’s neurological.” Setting aside the fact that no disease should be shameful either way, I thought to myself, “And . . . how are those different?” Our feelings live in our nervous system, right? Same-same? People hate to be told that “It’s all in your head.” But isn’t everything we experience, pretty much, in our heads?

4) The rains have come. Late and probably far too few, but we need them, and I’m happy for all the dry-mouthed living beings in Northern California. On the other hand, we have a leaking skylight. 7 years ago when we moved into our previous house, John redid the roof and put in beautiful, non-leaking skylights. 3 months ago we moved into this house, which needs a new roof and has an old, leaking skylight. Alas.

5) Speaking of husbands: We’ve been together 10 years! Not married for that long, but together. Our anniversary was in January, but we’re just now able to celebrate. Next week we head to Wilbur Hot Springs for 5 days of what we hope will be pure ease and comfort—baths, naps, food, walks, and back to the baths. Yum.

6) Said husband is also having a birthday (Thursday! Send him lovies!), and it’s a sign of the times that I didn’t order his presents until today. By which I mean, a) home renovation and b) 10 years. I think at a certain point, material presents lose most of their importance or even interest, and the daily loving connection overshadows any other kind of gesture you can make. Even “I love you,” which is always worth saying (and hearing), can’t hold a candle to the living evidence of that love. Or so I’m thinking today.

Posted in Marriage, Periodicals, Random, Television | 2 Comments »

I’m Sorry to Be the One to Tell You This, But

February 21st, 2012

Humpday is a good movie.

It’s not just a well crafted cringe comedy, though it is that. It’s also a sincere and emotionally astute movie about a Male Friendship with Issues. AND it has a lot to say about identity and personality and how relationships have the power to send both of those things reeling.

I was surprised by how moved I was. Also, John and I had this fun conversation post-viewing:

M: Wow. That was very real. That was actually kind of hyper-real.

J: Yeah, but not as much as that other guy’s movies.

M: Oh, Andrew Bujalski, founder of mumblecore?

J: Yeah, him.

[Hysterical laughter.]

We love Andrew Bujalski, and here’s why. Back when I was reviewing films, I was given Bujalski’s first film for a cap. And at first I was befuddled and couldn’t make sense of it. But about midway through, comprehension clicked into place, and I started laughing with glee. It was one of those forehead-clapping moments of getting it and therefore richly rewarding. So when Bujalski’s second film came out, I told John we had to see it.

So, happily the Shattuck was showing it (thank you, Landmark Berkeley), but there were only about 10 people in the theater. And we were watching and watching, and everything was really silent and slow. The energy felt pretty dead in the theater (and indeed, the energy was pretty purposefully dead on-screen). But then, like 45 minutes in, John started to crack up. He turned to me with a look, and I knew he was having the exact same experience I had with the first film, and then BOTH of us were cracking up, and NOBODY ELSE WAS. And we couldn’t stop. And it was supremely awesome.

That’s good times, people.

Posted in Highly Recommended, Movies | No Comments »

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