Antonioni certainly has a style about him. Blow-Up, or Blowup, is rather atypical for him because it’s in English but it still has his trademark silence, beauty, and weirdness. I’ve always admired his ability to tell a story with moving pictures and almost no dialogue or music. I think it makes people uncomfortable today to sit through a film in which the characters rarely speak and there are no musical cues to trigger emotions. Antonioni’s characters often do bizarre things that seem to have nothing to do with anything making it hard to understand their emotions and motivations. The plot, such as it often is, is obfuscated by throw-away scenes and non sequiturs. Caring for or identifying with the characters seems to be of little importance to Antonioni, except in the abstract. And you can forget about tying up loose ends.

Blow-Up is not my favorite Antonioni. That place is reserved for L’Avventura. But I liked it and would recommend it to anyone looking for something different.

I saw The Double Life of Veronique something like seven times when it came out in theaters in 1991. At the time, I connected with this film like no other. I loved the mysterious narrative, the beautiful photography, the gorgeous music, the relaxed pace, the odd romance, and most of all the actress Irene Jacob. I still love all those things about it.

I own it on VHS, but for the love of all things good and beautiful in the world, why is this film not on DVD?! It’s a tragedy.

It was a long slog but my daughter and I finally finished this tonight. Overall I’d say this book is probably best for girls (and boys) older than five. It’s a bit dull in parts and not very much fun to read aloud. My daughter was quite caught up in the scarier incidents with the Indians and also when a prairie fire came within a hair’s breath of engulfing the little house.

Brief character analysis: Pa is god-like, Ma is a martyr and a bit of a party-pooper, Mary is quiet and good and dull, Laura is wild and keenly observant (naturaly), and Baby Carrie is present only when convenient (quite unlike any baby I’ve ever known.)

It was interesting at the end when Pa decided, in a huff, to abandon the little house rather than wait for the Government to force him to leave. Turns out they built in Indian Territory, and the Government wasn’t planning to declare it otherwise anytime soon, contrary to Pa’s initial understanding. I guess you could say Pa was a bit of a Libertarian. And he could play a mean fiddle.

I have a friend who used to live in Lima. She introduced me to Susana Baca’s music, which is lively, rhythmic, melodious, and awesome. Maybe someday I’ll steal away to Peru and play el cajón with Susana Baca.

This album rocks pretty good. Some of it is a little dull for the casual Wilco fan who’s never seen them live (like me) but it often rises to a place where you can feel it all come together.

Regarding the album title, there’s a song, Kicking Television, which in its live version here is not nearly so good as the studio version, which to my mind is hysterical. The song starts off like something from The Fall, complete with a driving guitar pulse and slurred vocals. It goes:

This is serious.
You’ll see.
I’m working on my abs.
I’m working on me.

Those lyrics don’t necessarily seem funny written down, but Tweedy’s delivery accompanied by the punk rock tempo makes them funny. In the live version here, it isn’t nearly so funny. I don’t know if the song is supposed to be funny, satirical, serious, or what.

This album is good for an occassional fun listen. It provokes a smile and, perhaps, a raised eyebrow. The songs are all covers done in a quasi-bossa nova style. Their rendition of In A Manner of Speaking is particularly good and not that different from the original. I love their version of The Cure’s A Forest, but I Melt With You just doesn’t work at all. There’s a song that can’t be played when my kids are in the room due to language and subject matter, which is just as well because I don’t think anyone else in my house really appreciates this album like I do.

This is easily the most original album I heard all year. I listened to a bit of a radio interview with Maya and she explained that she doesn’t consider herself a musician, or at least didn’t at the time she recorded Arular, and the sounds she created were the result of her unstudied experimentation. I think that really shows through. And it’s a great sound.

This book is laugh-out-loud funny. My favorite line comes when Mr. Twit has Mrs. Twit tied up with hot-air ballons “stretching” her as a cure for the “shrinks.” It reads,

“Are you sure my feet are tied properly to the ground?” she gasped. “If those strings around my ankles break, it’ll be goodbye for me!”

And that’s what gave Mr. Twit his second nasty idea.

Russian teacakes remind me of my paternal grandmother. She made them every year at Christmas. Some people call them snowballs because they are little ball-shaped cookies covered in powered sugar. They are yummy! My wife makes them every year because she knows that I love them. The recipie she uses is from a 1961 first edition Betty Crocker New Picture Cook Book which is a hoot to read. In addition to simple recipies, 50% of which seem to call for shortening or lard, the book includes “Hints for the homemaker” such as:

Refresh your spirts. Every morning before breakfast, comb hair, apply makeup and a dash of cologne. Does wonders for your morale and your family’s, too! Be comfortable. Wear comfortable shoes and easy-fitting clothes while working. Stand erect. Good posture prevents fatigue.

Words to live by.

This has been the definitive Christmas album of my life. I probably first heard it when I was four months old and have listened to it countless times since. I kinda love it and hate it at the same time. It’s one of those things that instantly transports me back in time to when things were simpler and more magical.