The performances were great. (Emma Stone has impeccable comedic timing, even as a zombie.) But the whole thing just didn't cohere for me. The nudity wasn't shocking, and the sex scenes, while vigorous, also didn't strike me as all that interesting or transgressive. And the prostitute with a heart of gold thing seemed downright lazy.
I'm glad that Lanthimos is getting the attention he well deserves as a director, but I thought The Rival was much more effective. The Lobster even more so.
Also, the final act is a bit of a mess. Are we supposed to like Bella or not?
Trip Shakespeare, "Snow Days," although Maryland looks like it won't get a White Christmas this year
I lost my mom when I was 17, one month before I graduated from high school. Ovarian cancer was the final cause, but there were some complicating and complicated factors leading up to it including a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. She was 51.
Losing my dad at 94 this past November, it really feels like the other end of the telescope. My mom was far too young and had far too much left to do, professionally speaking. My sister and I needed her, like all children need their parents, and it probably made her feel guilty that she couldn't give more from her own deathbed, to somehow reach out and protect us from life, from ourselves, forever.
Maybe Dad was ready to go. He died not long after I went to work that morning, and my sister had been spending a lot of time here but needed to go home for a bit. One of the nurses says that's why he went when he did, he wouldn't leave if his children were around him, wouldn't want to trouble them. Again, even in death, how can I make things easier for my kids? Just pass as quietly as possible, make the rockiest of mountains a little bit smoother for them, for others.
So many parts of his body and mind were failing him. Every trip to the bathroom became a potential drama. There were days me and my sister or one of our wonderful nurses could hold his hand and watch a classic Western movie and laugh. There were days were he would lash out at anyone around him. Partly it was dementia. Partly it was frustration with a body and a brain, almost a hundred years on Earth, that wouldn't work properly any longer, that wouldn't take direction as intended.
I'm having Christmas Eve dinner with my sister and her boyfriend. We have plans for New Year's as well. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, I'll take a long walk then come home and play with my cats, maybe watch a movie, maybe read a book. If I'm being honest, a bit of laundry and kitchen cleaning would probably be a good idea as well, the simple acts of keeping things going in my own life.
I've been talking to my mom more than usual lately. She was much more of a holiday person than my dad. Even she thinks Christmas decorations going up right after Halloween are tacky, water down the whole thing a bit. I'm talking to my dad a lot, almost daily. I'll see a news story that I think he'd like to hear and make a mental note to tell him when I get home, where I'll sit down with him for his lunch or dinner and we'll just talk, or I'll just talk, and we'll have all the time in the world to share a joke.
I miss them both so much. It hurts. Talking to them helps a bit. Thinking of them too, at their strongest and best. We'll go forward together into a kinder year, I'm sure of it.
My Dad wasn't a natural animal lover, but he came to be very friendly with my two rescues. A lot of times it was just a small chuckle, other times the tuxedo male would curl up with him as he slept.
On their end, I know they miss the nurses coming in during the day if only for the sheer excitement of a stranger being in the house.
I finally saw Killers of the Flower Moon. It's an amazing (true!) story, and maybe one of the few modern films that actually portrays the F.B.I. in a positive light.
That said, DiCaprio sleepwalks through this performance. I actually had to remind myself that his character was intensely evil, but he comes off as a dumb lump of rocks who had no agency beyond his desires for sex and money.
That's also true though. Evil can be stupid, not just devious. Tons of Americans throughout history have both lied and murdered their way through life as racist assholes, but at the same time seen themselves as "innocent" (more Manifest Destiny than White Man's Burden, but still).
De Niro gets it, and acted appropriately. He's doing evil against these people, but actively sees himself as doing the right, justified thing. I think that's what a film about this material has to address head on.
Also, it's too long. Multiple reviews argued that since it's Scorsese it's worth the three and a half hours.
Nope. This is good Scorsese, not great Scorsese. It's too damn long and the necessary cuts present themselves throughout the film.
Kenny Rogers & The First Edition, "Ruby Don't Take Your Love To Town"
I've got plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'm looking for work again since the last job didn't work out. I did give two weeks notice, but it just seemed like a bad fit right off of the bat. Teaching college and adult students for over a decade in South Korea just didn't translate to teaching much younger students here in America.
Anyhow, my Dad didn't have the most diverse musical taste but he did like what he liked. And he absolutely loved Kenny Rogers. Maybe it's a bit of a cheesy song, but there's some definite pathos underneath.
Things are going back to color from black and white, slowly but surely.
My Dad passed away last week. If you've been following this blog, you might remember that I moved back to America from South Korea in February of 2021 (COVID time!) to live with him and become his caregiver.
It was not easy, because one thing about being old (he was 92 at the time) is that you really come to hate being old. Nobody wants to wear "adult undergarments." Throw in a dementia diagnosis from about two years ago and yeah, it was hard on everybody.
Long story short, we moved him back here to Maryland to be closer to family. He was also in a nursing home for about six months but eventually we decided to move him back into his own place, with me.
In the end, at the age of 94, it was a really nasty pneumonia that ended up taking him. We had nursing care and lots of help from hospice, and this allowed him to fulfill at least one of his wishes -- to die at home, visited by his family, and kept company by my two rescue cats.
I'm still a bit tired more than anything. I've got plenty to say about the good, the bad, and the ridiculous when it comes to elder care in America. I quit my job a few weeks ago (which probably would have happened even without his illness). I need to get back to a more regular exercise routine as the weather gets colder here in Frederick. If I'm being honest, I just need to leave the house more and make some new friends. There is still a lot of paperwork and, well, death stuff that needs to be handled, of course.
My dad was a scientist, a world-traveler, a lover of a good joke, and a glass of red wine. He loved gardening and fishing. Our relationship was never perfect, but over the past few years I think we both realized time and biology are generally not on anybody's side, not for long at least. I think he lived as full a life as possible and made a difference professionally. (Maybe in a later post I'll talk about how he was one of the first agricultural scientists to take organic farming seriously, in an era of high-input "miracle" fertilizers that would solve all our food problems forever.)
"Boomers themselves have driven tectonic shifts in American cultural norms and family structures — a revolution in divorce, along with a trend toward smaller families and away from multigenerational living — that could make that backbone weaker. Compared to their elders, boomers will have fewer people in their lives able to step in and care for them as they age, says Rachel Margolis, a demographer and sociologist at the University of Western Ontario. In 2010, there were more than seven potential family caregivers for every person over 80; by 2030, that ratio is expected to fall to 4:1, and by 2050, it will be less than 3:1, according to AARP. More care responsibilities will fall on fewer family members, most of them adult children, who may find themselves caring for loved ones alone or with little help, sometimes across two different households."
Me and my sister are living this right now. If I haven't mentioned it here, I have told my friends -- my Dad has excellent health care and a real pension after three decades of high level Federal work. And even with those resources, a lot of genuine sacrifices and hard decisions still had to be made. And more will come going forward as he approaches the age of 95.
My only suggestion? Let the children of older folks pay some reasonable amount to go on their parents' health insurance if they give up work to take care of their mom or dad.
And the move to (return to?) multigenerational homes seems an obvious and necessary trend.
I'm liking Connections. Is it bragging to say I'm pretty good at it? Seems like you just want to think in parallel terms about possible proper nouns -- names, movies, common expressions -- before you start clicking away.
I started a new job last week and it's going pretty well.
For those keeping score, I had part-time job this past summer working as a jobs counselor for younger folks. Now I'm full-time in an education-related field here in lovely Frederick. Not to be coy, as I'll probably give more details later.
As mentioned, I'm also living with my Dad who is a hale and hearty 94. We made this move for a number of reasons, but basically the nursing home wasn't working out. Nothing terrible was going on, he just wasn't getting enough social stimulation for the very hard-working but over-tasked staff.
We have some wonderful nurses coming in during the day, allowing me to go to work. It's tough somedays. He's becoming less and less mobile, and it's more difficult to communicate with him and understand (fully) what his needs are.
I woke up this morning to a great big windstorm, as it seems fall has finally arrived in Maryland. My back is sore from lifting my Dad improperly a few times (just once is really all it takes! use those legs!). I'm taking life and work one day at time, as much as it's possible not to worry about the future (mortality for starters, and also the fact that I'm on a one-year contract and will yet again be applying for jobs come next summer).
The Orioles lost last night in their first playoff appearance since who knows when. Nothing will make you a realist quicker than caring for somebody approaching 95. But part of me is looking forward to the second game this afternoon, come what may.
Losing is fine. But not believing better days lie ahead? That's for suckers.
