Never Judge A Book By Its Movie

 

I've written before about some of my favorite books that have become great movies, in a post I called Movies That Move Me.  Today I'm going to talk about the same thing, sort of. Ya see, I'm a little compulsive. If I see a movie, and discover it was based on a book, I HAVE to read that book. This has, on occasion, been an issue, finding obscure works. Thank goodness I live in the same city as Powell's! This works both ways, however--I have to see movies based on books I've read. And this is not always as fun, since film-makers often destroy my favorite works. Today I'm posting about a few movies that were as good as their books. I'll talk about some of those that weren't another time. Oh, by the way, I am leaving the works of Stephen King out of this list completely; I feel he deserves a list all his own. Here we go!

The Good  (in no particular order)

Cold Comfort Farm 

  The novel, by Stella Gibbons, was published in 1932. It parodies the romantic novels   of the time, and is truly one of the funnier things I've read. Young Flora Poste,  recently orphaned, must choose which of her family members to live with; she  goes to stay with the Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm, after being told they  must "atone for the wrongs done to her father." She heads to Sussex, and begins  to straighten out the mess on the farm immediately, rearranging lives, and  teaching modern lessons. She even gets Great Aunt Ada (who "saw something nasty in the woodshed") to come out of her room, which she hasn't done in decades. With the aid of her friend Mary back in London, and 'The Higher Common Sense', which is her handbook, Flora solves everyone's problems.

The film, made by the BBC in 1995, stars Kate Beckinsale, Joanna Lumley, Rufus Sewell, Ian McKellen, and Stephen Fry. It is a faithful rendition of the book, and quite well-made, as well. The casting is excellent, and, as in most BBC films, the costumes are perfect. Of course, it's worth a watch just to see Rufus Sewell, as Seth Starkadder; he's quite a hunk, and shirtless through a good deal of the film!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st5gmzmDFrw

I will grant that not everyone will understand why Cold Comfort Farm is funny, but even if you don't know the style being parodied, it is still worth reading and watching.

 

The Importance of Being Earnest

 

“All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.”

“Indeed, no woman should ever be quite accurate about her age. It looks so calculating.”

“Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

What can I say about The Importance of Being Earnest? Oscar Wilde's farce about mistaken identities, secret romances, and the complications of love, family and society is still as amusing as when it was first published in 1895. Gwendolyn and Cecily are in love with the same (imaginary) man, Ernest. Jack has been wooing Gwendolyn using the name Ernest; Algernon has also courted Jack's ward, Cecily, using the same name. When all four end up at Jack's country home one weekend, the trouble begins, as both "Ernests" must win back his beloved. Only the arrival of Lady Bracknell, Gwendolyn's fierce mother (and Algy's aunt), can bring the chaos to a suitable ending.

I read this first in ninth grade, and later performed parts of it in theatre classes. (I was an awesome Lady Bracknell!) Oscar Wilde rocks, and that is all.

There have been several film versions, but I prefer the 2002 version starring Colin Firth as Jack, Rupert Everett as Algy, Reese Witherspoon as Cecily , Frances O'Connor as Gwendolyn and Dame Judi Dench as Lady Bracknell. This was the third time Judi Dench had played Lady Bracknell --she was cast in a BBC radio version in 1994, and a National Theatre revival in 1982.

Here's a clip--Jack/Ernest, being interviewed by Lady Bracknell after he has asked to marry Gwendolyn.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW4wR7-iOMg

 

 

 

 

Book Review: Gangsterland by Tod Goldberg

Sal Cupertine is a legendary hit man for the Chicago Mafia, known for his ability to get in and out of a crime without a trace. Until now, that is. His first-ever mistake -Sal kills three "Donnie Brascos"-undercover FBI agents, and a CI. He fears for his own life after this, and calls his cousin Ronnie for help, ending up in a situation he'd never imagined.  After a few nights in the back of a refidgerated meat truck, Sal ends up in Las Vegas, where, a few surgeries and some intensive training later, and Sal Cupertine becomes Rabbi David Cohen. Leading a growing congregation in Las Vegas, overseeing the population and the temple and the new cemetery, Rabbi Cohen, surprises even himself as he spouts quotes from the Torah,  Old Testament, or Oldies Radio.  Yet, as it turns out, the Mafia isn't quite done with him yet. Soon the new cemetery is being used as both a money and body-laundering scheme for the Chicago family. And that rogue FBI agent on his trail, seeking vengeance for the murder of his three fellow agents, isn't going to let Sal fade so easily.
Gangsterland is a wickedly dark and funny novel. I'm not normally one for gangster stories (I've never seen the Godfather, or Scarface, or any of those iconic films, although I have watched a couple of seasons of The Sopranos, and I'm a fool for Law & Order), but I made an exception here. I am a big fan of the podcast Literary Disco, which Tod Goldberg is part of, and I'd read some of his short stories, and quite enjoyed them. So I had to read this, and I am glad I did. One night, that's all it took, and I laughed myself silly half the time! This is a great book, and I am saying now: read it!! The twisted idea of turning a hit man into a Rabbi is so brilliant, and works so well. Goldberg has a knack for language, and his characters are fully fleshed out, even the minor ones. I can't wait to read his other novels.

List It Or Lose It

I like making lists, but if you've read many of these posts, you've probably noticed that. Lists keep me sane, or at close to it as I come. I make lists of things I need to do, things I want to do, things to buy, things to sell, and all sorts of other lists. I have entire journals filled of lists: what I'd like my dream home to look like, what I'd like my dream man to be like (that's actually the most difficult list), lists of items I'd have in my dream wardrobe, the songs I'd record if I made a cover album, favorite books & movies & songs, things I love, things I hate, things I cannot live without, and things I'd be happy to never see again. Sometimes at night when I can't sleep and my brain just won't shut up, I lie in the dark and give myself a topic to make a list. For example, bands from the 1970's, going from A to Z, or a list of 25 female characters I really disliked. I usually go in alphabetical order on these lists at night, simply because it helps me keep things in order, and I seldom get all the way to Z before falling asleep.This is how obsessive I get about lists: when I was taking the medication Topamax, my neurologist would give me a quiz each visit to test how it was affecting my verbal skills. He'd give me a letter, and in 60 seconds I had to come up with as many words (no proper nouns, nothing that I'd just said with a modifier --no green then greener) beginning with that letter as I could. I usually did very well on this test, not as well as I thought I should, but I stayed in the top percentile until I'd been on Topamax for several years, and then I started having real trouble finding words. But the lists--after each visit, I would spend my ride home on the bus making a list of words; I'd have always asked the doctor for the list he wrote down as I said them during the test, and then I went from there, until I'd have pages of my journal or dayplanner filled with words. It annoyed me so that I only got a minute to do the first list, and I knew I could do better. When I told my doctor about this, he asked me two questions: "does it make you feel better?" and "how many words do you come up with?" Since I was worried he'd tell me this was a sign I was crazy, I was happy to tell him that yes, it did, and for one letter I came up with nearly 250 words before the bus got to my stop.

My lists are almost always on paper; I've tried the list-making apps on my phone and tablet, and it just isn't the same. I use one occasionally for my grocery list, because it's easier, and I don't lose it. But for my other lists, those that are for my soul, I need the feel of a pen on paper, or hands on a keyboard. I think this is one of the reasons I like sites like Pinterest so much--it's essentially a bunch of lists of stuff people like! I can spend hours just reorganizing my own pins, just getting lost in nothing... Wow.

So. There's a site called listography.com and I love it. Reading other people's lists is fun, and I just signed up, so now I'll be posting my own! https://listography.com/readbetweenthewhines?m=6404158689 That's me. And I have a list posted, so go and read!

Adventures in Healthcare: or where is George Clooney when I visit the ER?

Let me just say this first: I hate having to go to the Emergency Room. In the past, when I had no insurance, and would have a seizure somewhere, the paramedics would show up, and about half of the time, even though I was fine, and steadfastly refused to be taken to the ER, they'd end up taking me anyway. Usually this was because I'd had a seizure in a public place,and their insurance insisted I be seen. Of course, for some reason, their insurance always resisted paying that hugely expensive bill: both for the ride and for sitting around in the ER. I'm epileptic; I know what to do after a seizure, and unless I've fallen and injured myself badly, the ER docs really can't do much for me, other than tell me what I already know. They never even gave me any good drugs for the headaches or muscle aches that usually follow a seizure. Getting charged $50 for a Tylenol that doesn't help my headache at all just pisses me off; if they'd just let me have my purse, I could take my own headache meds, and not have to get charged for them! But every time, it was the same thing--I laid on a cold table for hours, waiting for some doctor to tell me "You had a seizure." At which point I'd say "Well, yeah, duh. I'm epileptic. I told the paramedics that I knew what happened. I'm fine, can I go home now?" And then i'd get to leave. A month later I'd get a $400 bill for the ambulance ride, and another $1000 one for the ER (sometimes more, depending on how determined the doctor had been to see how I was.). I've had to threaten to take them to court twice to make the "Public places" pay these bills; since I had refused to go and they took me anyway, it's been determined I shouldn't have had to pay. This is not really why I dislike Emergency rooms, not the money part, anyway. Most of my experiences in them have consisted of being told to wait, and then have nothing done. I realize that there really isn't that much that can be done after a grand mal seizure--there isn't much going on on the surface to fix. Afterwards I'm mostly tired, with a headache, and by the next day, some severe body aches. All I really need or want is my bed, a couple of Imitrex (to kill the headache), and sleep. And sometimes sleep doesn't even happen. It drives my mother crazy--I get up after a seizure and come out to the kitchen for a glass of water, or something to eat, or just to talk. She (and dad) think I should be in bed, sound asleep. For some reason, my body doesn't want to do that anymore.

When I was 15-years-old, and first started having seizures, I'd have a killer headache after every single one, and would sometimes sleep 48 hours after. That when on for at least ten years, I'd say; I don't really remember when the headaches stopped being quite so bad after every one, but I do know that by the time I finished college, I was able to get up and do things within a few hours after a seizure. These days, the headaches are back, but not the sleepiness.

I ended up in the Emergency Room yesterday. I was sitting here, watching Downton Abbey online, drinking my tea, and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe. It felt as if something was stuck in my throat--like when you swallow a pill, but it doesn't quite go down all the way. Of course, then this pain moved down from my throat to right behind my sternum, and then radiated out through my ribs, diaphragm and back. I called my sister, and she came down to check on me, and decided that I needed to go to the ER. Mom drove me over to Providence Milwaukie, and they saw me right away. They took an EKG, did some blood work, and chest x-rays. The doctor then gave me a few baby aspirin, and a big ole shot of an anti-inflammatory. That seemed to do the trick, because within a few minutes, I was able to breathe better, and the pain eased up.

While I hated sitting there not knowing what was wrong, and stressing everyone out, I will say that this ER was better than the last few I've been to. I was in and out in under two hours, and everyone was so nice! It was fast, clean, and competent. If only George Clooney had been there.....

[caption id="attachment_1367" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Actually, any one of these three doctors would have made my visit perfect. Eric LaSalle, George Clooney or Noah Wyle.[/caption]

They said everything looked normal, and sent me home with a prescription for Ibuprofen, and told me to follow up with my doctor. I'm seeing him on Friday. I'm sure he's thrilled--I was there last week, too. Poor guy; he gets to listen to me whine, and tell me nothing is really wrong with me. And then I'll say something totally embarrassing again, I'm sure, and at least he'll have something to laugh about over drinks later that day. I will never live down commenting on his awesome purple pants. It wasn't the pants that I embarrassed myself about. I said, and I quote "I've never seen a...well, I'm assuming you're a straight man,  wear purple pants." At this point I realized what I'd said, and turned  bright pink. He just grinned at me, and laughed.  Last week I tried to apologize, and he smiled at me, and said "If I'd known you were coming today, I'd have worn the purple pants!" He really was rocking those pants. I feel safe saving this here, because I'm fairly sure he's never going to read my blog, but Dr Jeff is HOT. And the pants worked for him.