A sight for sore eyes

This morning I read an interview with graphic designer Robert Deodaat Emile Oxenaar, who designed the Netherlands' banknotes from the 1960s until 2000. I love sunflowers, and the 50 guilder note is the most beautiful money I have ever seen:

Look at that! Such a cheerful sight on a dreary day -- I'd be reluctant to hand it over for that cup of coffee and hashish brownie. If I were in possession of money that looked like this, I would be much better about saving it. Guilder notes are quite collectible now, since they were all recalled when the Netherlands started using the Euro.

God fearing

I'm nearing the end of my commitment to The List: after I see Letters from Iwo Jima this weekend, I will be free to see any old piece of schlock I like instead of the Officially Declared Best of 2006. Perhaps Iwo Jima will blow me away. Perhaps not. The two things I can say for sure are 1) 2006 was a weak year for truly good movies, and 2) I still think Children of Men was the best (and most overlooked) film of the year.

Last night I caught a special screening of Deliver Us from Evil, which is not on The List but has been nominated for a Best Documentary Oscar. It was overlong and kinda ran out of steam towards the end, but it definitely got my blood boiling. It's about priest pedophilia, and it takes a look at the larger problem (problem? That's a weak word for this dark underbelly of the Catholic church) by focusing on one Irish priest who ruined the lives of dozens of Northern California kids during the 1970s and 80s. The most interesting, not to mention disturbing, aspect of the film was the participation of this priest in the documentary, who was imprisoned a mere seven years for his crimes and then was deported back to Ireland, where he's now walking around free to molest any child he comes across; he's not being monitored in any way by the Irish authorities or the Irish Catholic church. This priest, Father Ollie, is frighteningly detached when he discusses his actions. He doesn't say, "I should be strung up by the balls for what I did to those kids. I should be in prison for the rest of my life. Chemical castration would do me a lot of good." No, he says stuff like, "It's a terrible thing that happened to the children." He talks about his crimes in a neutral way, as if he had not committed them himself. The only time he gets really animated is when he describes what gets him sexually aroused (kids in their underwear or swimsuits, or completely unclothed kids), and it is revolting listening to him. If I were a Catholic, I would lose all faith in my religion: the coverup from the highest level of the church on down is astonishing and nausea-inducing. In the last 50 years or so, the Catholic church has paid over a billion dollars to the families of children who have been abused by priests. Deliver Us from Evil is not a perfect movie but it's worth seeing and I'm glad I finally caught it.

It was actually the second film on a double bill. Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple aired on PBS a couple of months ago and I had been kicking myself for missing it, so I was pleased when it showed up on the New Beverly's screening schedule. I suppose my main interest in Jonestown, like most people's, is prurient. But I was also curious because I used to work and be quite friendly with a woman who not only had belonged to Peoples Temple for a number of years, but who also had lost most of her family at Jonestown. (She left the church before it moved to Guyana.) She didn't participate in this documentary, but the movie included some archival footage of her saying she thought Jim Jones was insane. Her brother was interviewed for the film, though; he's alive today because he was away from Jonestown when the end came. Jonestown is a fascinating, well-crafted documentary that starts out by saying, "No one thinks they're joining a cult," and finishes with over 900 people, most of whom were probably decent, truly devout folks who thought they were making a positive difference in the world, ending their lives in a senseless act of defiance. As a piece of filmmaking, it's superior to Deliver Us from Evil. As a double feature, these two movies provided one of the most interesting and upsetting nights of moviegoing I've ever had.

All we need now is an old pickup on blocks on the front lawn

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood -- sunny, 72 degrees, a light breeze blowing. . . A wonderful day to put clean sheets on the bed and open the curtains and windows to let the fresh air in. From my bedroom window, I have a good view of the refrigerator which has joined the old bathtub and sink in our backyard.


I think we now officially qualify as "white trash."

Happy Valentine's Day

And I thought I was cool because I walked down the aisle to Darth Vader's theme...

Misleading title of the week

This book promises sex and dessert, but it is about Buddhism.

Assessment

Sean's two-word review of Borat: Mercifully short.

I'm feeling verbose and need four words: Funnier than I expected.

Aging gracelessly

I certainly didn't love it, but the worst thing about Venus proved to be the poster. Look at Peter O'Toole's creepy, staring eyes, just begging for a not-merely-honorary Oscar, beseeching the moviegoing public to love him and take pity on him and see what may be his final, most touching performance. Gahhhhh! I swear, those eyes follow you no matter how desperately you try to avoid his gaze. I cannot think of a less effective marketing tool than this poster, unless it's those disgusting Carl's, Jr. ads of a few years back featuring a series of slobbering yokels dripping condiments on everything and everybody in the vicinity. But I digress.

Venus, while not good, is all right and a bit saltier than your average genteel British comedy. (How does Norman describe this sort of film? Oh yeah: "twee." Actually, "fuckin' twee.") Nothing like watching a bunch of old geezers yelling, "Fucking shut it! You're getting on my nerves!" at one another. Basically, it's about old men's preoccupation with sex and death. Peter O'Toole is fine, if sort of relentlessly fey, and the fellow who plays his best friend Ian is wonderful. All in all, not a terrible experience, and a sweeps stunt episode of Grey's Anatomy easily cleansed any treacly residue from our palates.

My progress on The List is advancing nicely. I plan to catch Borat, The Pursuit of Happyness, and Blood Diamond this weekend, which will leave me with just three more films to see before the 25th. I must say, I'm glad to have the dreaded Venus behind me, although it wasn't nearly the onerous experience I'd steeled myself for.

Not proud

Today I ran into Mrs. Abood, one of my high school English teachers. She's about as intelligent and cultured a person as I've ever met, and for some reason she seems to think the same thing of me. "Tell me," she began our conversation. "How do you feel about that Orhan Pamuk book, Snow? Nobody I know can finish it." I haven't read it or anything else by the recent Nobel Prize winner, and I told her so, all the while praying she wouldn't ask me what I am reading: Working Stiff: The Misadventures of an Accidental Sexpert.

Flea market

Mary and I went to the flea market at Pasadena City College this morning. I hadn't been in a few months and it was like visiting an old friend -- everything was familiar, but there were new things to catch up on, too. I vowed not to buy anything, which was a difficult promise to keep, but I stuck to my guns.

My family had one of these Ziggy mugs when we were kids. Mary said that whenever she wanted a mug, she'd reach for this one, and I did the same thing. We have no idea what happened to it.

The flea market is always a good place to look for art. Norman has no artwork hanging on his walls; if I'd been in a buying mood I would have purchased this lovely painting for his apartment.

This just made me happy. I used to love her talk show.

This was my favorite booth at the flea market. I love the whole retro kitchen thing, and this booth was like an explosion of culinary yesteryear. "Yeah, but would you ever really wear an apron?" Mary asked. I told her I bought a pattern for a reproduction 1940s apron and I intend to try to make one for myself.

I collect vintage Pyrex and will always stop to check out any pieces I see. The sunflower covered casserole is one of the sweetest I've come across yet, but at $24.99 it was a bit dear. (Not that I was shopping, mind you.) The Big Boy Barbecue Book next to it had a great cover but not much going on inside.

We came across these booklets at another booth that specializes in vintage kitchenware. Mary had also sworn she wouldn't buy a thing but she couldn't resist these nutty booklets. She bought Classroom Posters and Decorations and Decorations for the Schoolroom, both of which were published in the mid-1940s.

Utterly bizarre, and probably not too PC: there were lots of pictures of stuff like Indian squaws and the insinuation that to speak a language other than English was unpatriotic. I loved it! I'll try to borrow them back and get some scans of the most egregiously offensive pages.

This hideous doll reminded me of one I had as a child. Her name was Wispy Walker, and she would (in theory) walk alongside you if you held her hand. She was three feet tall, so she was very large for a doll, which made finding clothes for her difficult. But a sympathetic neighbor gave me some baby clothes her little girl had outgrown and suddenly Wispy was the best-dressed doll on the block. I don't know what happened to her either, but I don't really care.

Next month: the Rose Bowl swap meet!

Bait and switch

A couple of weeks ago Mr. Steve told me about a DVD he and some of his pals had watched over the weekend. It was a Korean action/horror/comedy flick with a great monster and excellent visual effects. Mr. Steve said he thinks some of the best and most creative films of this type are coming out of Korea these days. He said he'd be glad to lend me the DVD.

Last week when Norman and I went to see The Painted Veil (yawn -- don't bother), we saw a trailer for a movie called The Host that looked pretty damn good and that appeared to be the movie Mr. Steve had described to me. Now as to why Mr. Steve owns the DVD of a movie that has not yet been released theatrically... well, I don't question these things too closely. I know that he frequents a mom-and-pop video store near his house, a place that all too often ignores release dates and just starts renting titles as they arrive. God only knows where they buy their inventory. Anyway, the trailer was exciting and I decided to ask Mr. Steve to lend me his DVD.

Here's the cover:

And here's the billing block on the back cover, which left me really confused:

Denzel Washington? Gene Hackman? Dreamy Viggo Mortensen? I hadn't seen any of them in the preview, and you'd think a movie studio would kinda mention those guys' involvement. I asked Mr. Steve what the deal was, and he laughed and said no, none of them are in any way involved in The Host. So what was going on? I wanted to see a movie starring all those guys, with music by Hans Zimmer and directed by Tony Scott! It was bugging me, so I did a little investigative work on IMDB and found out that I already had seen a movie starring all those guys: for some reason, the makers of this bootleg DVD used the billing block from Crimson Tide.