French but not Quite a Francophile

I have an ambivalent relationship with the French. They have this bad habit of separating the Royals from their heads, and then lopping off the heads of passersby and bystanders alike, especially abundantly available courtiers and plutocrats. An estimated 18,000 suspiciously non-revolutionary types were guillotined like carrots on a cutting board and drowned with nefarious zeal during the Reign of Terror. The deChristianised French continued their zealous ways by rounding up their non-Christian citizens during WWII and shipped them off in boxcars (about 75,000 French Jews were betrayed by those Vichy bastards). To this day, some 65 years later, the French government will not allow any "anonymous" reporting or tips to be collected about their citizens (either through tip-lines or worker hot-lines or whatnot). They still have a bad association with snoops who snoop about in their snoopy ways -- and for good reason.

In post-modern France, the government bends over backwards to improve how they treat their citizens, accepting everyone and rejecting few. Many believe recent French administrations have gone too far in their precatory offerings, and the result has been the de facto capture of once quaint cities by radicalized Muslims. Today their citizenry is under fire by an idea as pernicious as any slithering worldview that's ever hopped under their collective Gallic nose. Some day they'll get it right. I mean this is the birth place of the Salon and The Enlightenment for Pierre's sake! When push comes to shove -- it already has and will again with the Islamicists -- the French will once again find inspiration in their tripartite motto of Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité ou la mort. I just hope it doesn't come to the death part.

But, for all their faults, my French forebears have style ... no they have elan. I mean a mid-level bureaucrat having espresso curbside in his bespoke suit appears to the average Yank as Cary Grant. Take an American similarly situated and you have Al Bundy, replete with hand down his pants sitting on Archie Bunker's couch. As much as I love Americana (especially Pax Americana), the French have much to admire. Theirs is the cafe society with its multilinguistic sophisticates, all wearing ensembles sui generis.

They even have a calculation for le affair. Here I am not speaking about the adulterous type, but the middle-aged man courting the young coquette seemingly half his paunchy self kind. The French run the calculus amore thusly: take your average MPB male (male-pattern baldness), divide his age by half, and then add 7. Et voila, 60 yr-old Cary Grant can date Grace Kelly if she is *(60/2 = 30 + 7) 37 years-old!!!

Gotta love the French. See my ambivalence? For more French-centric entries, click here!
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Unknown Man

You who are not known. I who am barely known to myself. Ash-heaped dreams, not of conscious accord, unilateral in action, self-inflicted by Adamic nature ... and a weak jaw.

Twice bitten, yet twice blessed with cherubs. More love without a love, though crushed the cuckold curse, a quiver (and life) full of two boys yet to be men, with blessings sought to give.

Decades of mistakes, and another decade of amelioration before restoration come. Hard work is good for the soul, but talent buried is not rewarded. Focused on Creator and the menial task, a better man to come.

Morning Star.  A new page. A new fountain pen and fount of possibilities . . . and restoration come (and restoration come).

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Why You Should Watch "A Good Year"

No doubt every great director has a celluloid turd or two up their professional sleeve (Spielberg, Kubrick, even Capra, et. al.). And, I think many film-goers mistakenly believed director Ridley Scott had misfired with A Good Year and avoided this movie for the simple reason that they could not accept Russel Crowe in a semi-comedic role of hedge fund manager-cum-vintner. These moviegoers were misled into thinking that the usually stellar Ridley Scott stumbled in his semi-personal A Good Year.  Personal because of his friendship with the book's author, Peter Mayle, from whence/whom this film was adapted.  And personal as well because the film's location was just down the road from Monsieur Scott's own pied-à-terre.  Allow me, however, a moment Dear Reader to encourage you to take the chance and watch this fine film, if for no other reason that it serves as an enjoyable travelogue that stands up to repeated viewings.

Why do I love this little film? There are many reasons that one could prattle on about in a space similar to this across the Internet (as many hacks like yours truly do): excellent cast, cinematography, blah, blah, blah. All true -- especially the last blah. But, as an avid film-buff, cinephile, or cinéaste, I have seen my share of total crap movies and the rare films that just have excellence smeared all over them like jam on a nicely toasted piece of buttered sourdough. A Good Year is of the latter ilk.

Précis: the film focuses on a hedge-fund manager who is reacquainted with the French chateau and values of his youth after his favorite ex-pat uncle (Albert Finney) has passed away. Max (Crowe) falls in love with a local (Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose), and must ultimately choose b/n the millions back home in the post-modern London of Max's present or the good life found in the convivial setting of Max's past

From its opening shot, you hear the quality that went in to the making of A Good Year with Oscar-worthy work by sound editors Per Hallberg and Karen Baker Landers (both previous Oscar winners). A Victrola plays a french jazz record, with it's melody aloft, echoing off of the walls and pond of the tree-lined estate. This is an oft-overlooked part of film-making that evinces a real love for the project itself, viz. the SOUND. (Think the first two Godfather films, Lawrence of Arabia, etc.). The score and the soundtrack are equally good here (I listen to the soundtrack weekly). Then there's the way this film is lit by the DP (Phillippe Le Sourd) who paints with impeccable taste. The scenery just soaks up the color and lighting of the French landscape and gives the viewer a visual feast. Ridley Scott and Le Sourd shoot London in a way that breathes fresh life into your typical exterior establishing shots -- perhaps the way only a Briton could direct.

Everyone in A Good Year is terrific. I mean spot-on casting down the line. One of my favorite actors in recent years is Tom Hollander (Possession, Pride & Prejudice), who steals scene after scene. And, truth be told, Russell Crowe does a solid turn here in a role not typically found on his CV. The film works on many levels for me personally, and I find it to be one of those movies that I can watch multiple times (like Wonder Boys, or To Catch a Thief). Bottom line, I thought I'd mention A Good Year and give you a few things to consider and perhaps even pique your interest in seeing one of my favorite guilty pleasure films.
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