Still Life - I Like It

Still Life

Author: Louise Penny

Normally death came at night, taking a person in their sleep, stopping their heart or tickling them awake, leading them to the bathroom with a splitting headache before pouncing and flooding their brain with blood. It waits in alleys and metro stops. After the sun goes down plugs are pulled by white-clad guardians and death is invited into an antiseptic room.

But in the country death comes, uninvited, during the day. –Narrator

Life is change. If you aren't growing and evolving, you're standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead. –Myrna

Jane Neal had known that when her time came God wouldn't ask how many committees she'd sat on, or how much money she'd made, or what prizes she'd won. No. He'd ask how many fellow creatures she'd helped. And Jane Neal would have an answer. –Narrator

Barnesandnoble.com describes this book, the first in a series following Armand Gamache, as such:

Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Surêté du Québec and his team of investigators are called in to the scene of a suspicious death in a rural village south of Montreal. Jane Neal, a local fixture in the tiny hamlet of Three Pines, just north of the U.S. border, has been found dead in the woods. The locals are certain it's a tragic hunting accident and nothing more, but Gamache smells something foul in these remote woods, and is soon certain that Jane Neal died at the hands of someone much more sinister than a careless bowhunter.

I liked this book and have already added the series to the list of books I'm compiling for my post-project literary journey. But when I sat down to write this post, I drew a blank. Why did I like this book? What did I like about it? What has it taught me? For I believe that every book I read teaches me something – even if that something is simply, "never read another book by Lauren Conrad." But I couldn't figure out what I'd learned from this book or why I'd enjoyed it so much…

And then I re-read the quotes I'd pulled from the book as I was reading it. And I was struck by the last one I listed above. God doesn't care about your earthly achievements, but rather He wants to know how many lives you've touched. I'm not trying to get into a theological discussion here, so let's just say that when a person measures his life, the philosophical and romantic measure against which he would stack himself would be the number of people whose lives have been improved by his presence.

The victim in this book touched many people in the small town in which she lived. Clearly not all of those touches were for the better, as at least one person wanted her dead. But the people in her life (even her murderer) also touched her. Jane took these encounters and experiences and poured them into her artwork. I suppose this is what the book ultimately taught me.

But why did I enjoy reading it? That question led me into a dizzying tailspin of circular thought. Why do I like this book? Because it's a mystery. Yeah, but why did I like this particular mystery? Well, I don't know really. If I can’t figure out why I liked this particular mystery, then how do I know I like mysteries at all? Well, because I just do… I like them. Yes, but why? Because they're enigmas, puzzles, something to work out? Sure, but if all I'm looking for is a puzzle, why not just watch an episode of CSI? Because… well… So if I can't tell why I like mysteries in general or this mystery in particular, why do I continue to read them? Where's the draw? You never finger the killer correctly, anyway. I don't know… maybe I shouldn't read them anymore… maybe I've wasted a ton of time reading mysteries… maybe I'm not cut out for writing these posts…

And then I was told to stop overthinking it. So, to summarize: I liked this book… I liked the puzzle, I didn't mind the characters (though I can't say that I completely understand the author's introduction and then seeming dismissal of Agent Nichol – although from accidental research, I just learned that her time in the world of Gamache is not quite through after Still Life), and I enjoyed the Canadian setting. Beyond that, I can't tell you much of anything.

My takeaway: Life is about the people you touch and the people who touch you – art is often about the same. And sometimes it's best just not to ask why.

Requiem for a Dream - Thank you, D.A.R.E.

Requiem for a Dream

Director: Darren Aronofsky

Your mother needs you like a moose needs a hat rack. –Mr. Rabinowitz

Did you see who had the best seat? I’m somebody now, Harry. Everybody likes me. Soon, millions of people will see me and they'll all like me. I’ll tell them about you and your father, how good he was to us. Remember? It’s a reason to get up in the morning. It’s a reason to lose weight, to fit in the red dress. It’s a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow alright. –Sara Goldfarb

I love you, Harry. You make me feel like a person. –Marion Silver

I like how I feel. I like thinking about the red dress… –Sara Goldfarb

I dreaded watching this movie. The Netflix envelope sat on my floor for several weeks before I finally mustered up the nerve to watch it. I'd heard from multiple people that this movie was depressing – the most depressing movie many of them had seen – and I'd received many sympathetic looks when I mentioned it was on my list for this project. Going into it, I only had one concrete piece of information: it was about drug use and withdrawal. I actually read the blurb on the envelope for this one before starting the movie. I needed to know what I was up against.

Ellen Burstyn scored an Oscar nomination for her stunning performance as Sara Goldfarb, a widow whose growing dependence on amphetamines and the boob tube parallels that of her junkie son (Jared Leto), his gal pal (Jennifer Connelly) and his buddy (Marlon Wayans). An unnerving tour through the agonizing nature of addiction, this riveting indie drama also stars Christopher McDonald as the host of an odious self-help show.

So let's start with the acting. I can certainly see why Ellen Burstyn got an Oscar nod for her role: she was excellent. As a viewer, I felt for her character. Even when she's strung out on speed, you can't help but feel for her. Her addiction started innocently enough, with a visit to a doctor – who turned out, of course, to be a quack – in search of a way to lose weight. She wasn't looking for an addiction, which is actually even scarier than the illegal substance abuse in which the others are engaged. The other three main actors are convincing, too, and I feel like I'll have a hard time thinking of Jennifer Connelly in any other light.

For what it's worth, I thought the movie was perfectly cast and written. But the filming… that was what really got me. The way the scenes were shot and edited, and the way a series of 2-second vignettes served as a repeated plot trigger – the characters scored a fix: sniffed, smoked, swallowed their hit – was unnerving, and genius.

The first two-thirds of the movie, I felt like maybe I'd been oversold on the depressive quality of the film. It was dark and sad, sure, but I wasn’t overcome with despair. I felt I’d been taken on an increasingly crazier path of addiction and dependence. But I thought I was going to make it out unscathed.

And then I got to the final third of the movie. The last third made my stomach turn. Over and over and over again. I found myself curling up into a ball, biting my nails and sinking back into the couch as far away from the tv as possible. Many times I wanted to turn off the screen or at least shield my eyes. But I forced myself to watch on. I saw almost every minute… I just couldn't stomach seeing Harry stick the needle in his blackened and pus-filled arm. Even typing this, I feel queasy as the image of his arm flashes into my mind.

Watching each character's desperation lead him/her down roads no person should have to travel quashed my hopeful mood of not being touched by this movie. Being a woman, I think it was probably Jennifer Connelly's journey that pushed me over the edge. Watching what she was willing to put herself through to feed her need left me feeling as hollow as she must have. By the time the movie was over, I knew that I hadn't been oversold on the desolation of it… I was depressed.

My takeaway: There is no such thing as a quick fix or a free ticket – anything worth having (like a clean, happy, prosperous life or even a slimmer waistline), is worth taking the tough road to reach. And I will never, ever, ever partake in drugs not prescribed to me by a licensed physician who has taken the time to review my medical records, current health and future goals.

Army of Darkness - S-mart's Top of the Line

Army of Darkness

Director: Sam Raimi

Well hello, Mr. Fancypants. I've got news for you, pal; you ain't leading but two things now: jack and shit. And jack left town. –Ash

Yo, She-bitch. Let's go. –Ash

Give me some sugar, baby. –Ash

Are all men from the future loud-mouth braggarts? –Wiseman

Say hello to the 21^st century. –Ash

I may be bad. But I feel… goooood. –Sheila

Honey, you got real ugly. –Ash

This movie is a cult classic. You only need to see the first 10 minutes to realize that. It was made in 1992 but feels older; it's chock- full of idiotic, though quite repeatable, one-liners; and it stars Bruce Campbell. Here's the Netflix description:

Bound in human flesh and inked in blood, the ancient Necronomicon, or Book of the Dead, transports department store clerk Ash and his 1973 Oldsmobile into the Dark Ages. There, he faces legions of undead beasts in a battle for his life.

To me, the movie seemed one part Three Stooges, one part Monty Python and one part Tales from the Crypt. There was slapstick, there were bad jokes, there were lots of creepy undead things. I shouldn't have liked this movie. But, for some reason, I did. It's one of those so-bad-it's-good movies that The Ice Cream Man strove to be (and failed miserably).

One of my favorite parts of this movie – aside from the cheesy lines, which I honestly couldn't stop writing down! – are the skeletons. They are brilliant: from the skeleton band, with their leg-bone flutes and skull snare drums, to the skeleton battering ram crew, with their resourcefulness and determination. There are skeletons shooting arrows, skeletons wielding swords and shields, skeletons catching fire and getting their heads knocked off. And even the Big Bad becomes a skeleton and continues to fight our hero.

One scene that served no real purpose to me, other than entertainment value and time-fill, is the scene where Ash's multiple reflections in shards of broken mirror come to life outside the glass. They wreak havoc à la the three stooges, and one of them heads into Ash's mouth, only to reappear as an eyeball on his shoulder, which then grows into a full-sized replica (though with both hands in tact) and then splits from his doppelgänger. It does force you to face the question: if I were staring at the "bad" version of myself, would I be able to shoot it with my boomstick? I guess I won't really know until I'm faced with it…

My takeaway: The enemy of my enemy is not always my friend; especially if that enemy of my enemy is an army of deadites, in which case my enemy is really my friend. And when told to remember a trio of magic words, I will be sure to repeat them correctly, or mayhem is bound to ensue.