Golden (Globe) Moments

Last night, a tragedy nearly occurred Chez Mel -- I ALMOST forgot to watch the Golden Globes! Granted, I had set the DVR to record them for me, but the Globes are something that need to be watched live, not days later when the list of winners is all over the internet. Luckily, my brain kicked in in time for me to catch the last 20 minutes or so of the red carpet before tucking in to enjoy the ceremony.

I love the Golden Globes. While they are virtually meaningless at some level and are often mocked as such, they do provide a faint hint of what the Oscars might hold. On top of that, they are filled with surprises whether it's courtesy of unexpected wins or drunken ramblings. The Globes just seem more chill (although not as chill as the Spirit Awards where nominees frequently show up in jeans and hang out in a tent) and like a fun party rather than the pomp and circumstance of the Oscars.

Overall, I thought the Globes were relatively entertaining and had enough surprises to keep me engaged. Kate Winslet's double win was a pleasant surprise. I think I've mentioned before how much I love Kate Winslet, and if I haven't . . . I love Kate Winslet. I think she is absolutely brilliant in everything she does. Her double win last night was a vindication of that. I cannot wait to see The Reader and Revolutionary Road, and 99% of my excitement to see them has to do with her. Her genuine shock (and almost embarrassment the second time) over winning was charming and real and made me love her all the more.

As much as The Wrestler intrigues me, I have to confess I'm reluctant to see it if only because the sight of Mickey Rourke makes me sad and uncomfortable. Remember how hot he was in Diner? Now . . . scary, sad, and unsettling.

If Slumdog Millionaire doesn't show up in my multiplex, I am going to be mad. I will NOT let that movie break my streak!

Renee Zellweger gets grosser and grosser every time I see her. I have officially decided I can't stand her.

I loved how the Steven Spielberg retrospective conveniently skipped over his flops/lousy movies -- like 1941, Always, The Terminal, or Hook. If that retrospective is to be believed, Spielberg has never created a suckfest, but we all know better.

I loved how Emma Thompson was there to give an encouraging pat to winners as they took the stage. Somehow, I imagine her presence would be comforting. And I loved how gracious Meryl Streep seemed to be as well.

I'm not buying the cold story, Colin Farrell.

I would hate to have Demi Moore for a mother. Of course, my mother would probably tell me not to slouch on television, too.

Tom Cruise -- class act for leading the standing ovation for Heath Ledger.

30 Rock . . . rocks! And how much fun must the 30 Rock table be with Tina, Alec, Will Arnett, and Amy Poehler? Their sides must have been aching from constant laughter. (Confession: Tina Fey and Amy Poehler often remind me of me and my best friend in that I imagine that the times they spend together are more fun than any times ever spent by anyone.)

When will someone finally give Neil Patrick Harris some awards loving?

I guess I should get around to watching Mad Men and tracking down that John Adams mini-series, huh?

My Oscar nomination predictions are coming soon, so stay tuned!

Tales of a Bad Ass

I am changing the name of this blog. Gone are the days of the wimpy Ginger Files. Oh, no no no. Today, I became a Bad Ass, and the title of this blog need to reflect that.

It was a typical day in the halls of my school. We're coasting into the end of a semester next week, so my students are working on final projects, book reports, stuff like that. Pretty low impact teaching, to be quite honest about it, but that's okay because I'm using that not-in-front-of-the-room-teaching time to get ready for auditions for the school musical next week as well as sketching out a preliminary set design. (Have I mentioned before that it's a one-woman department at my school? Yeah . . . .I know)

So after "enjoying" a lunch of yogurt and an orange, I was standing outside of my classroom to greet students to my fifth hour class. Suddenly, I heard a noise down the hall and turned in time to see two girls hit the floor in a blaze of flying fists and hair.

Girl fight -- the most dreaded of all high school discipline challenges.

The students immediately were circling, meaning I had to fight my way through the crowd to break the fight up. As I got closer to the eye of the storm, I suddenly realized that I was wading into this thing alone. I turned and saw one of my speech team kids and said, "Go find me help!" Almost immediately, another teacher was at my side. We reached the "ring" to find one girl on the floor with the other on top, fingers ensnared in each other's hair, fists flying. Another teacher was there already beginning the process of pulling one of the girls away. The other teacher and I headed to the other girl. While the other teacher hit the floor and started pulling, the fists continued to fly. As if in slow motion, I saw one of the girls rearing back to throw the fist. As it began its trajectory towards the face of her opponent, my hand came out and grabbed her around the wrist and began pulling it away. Of course, the entire time, the voice inside my head was saying, "WHAT THE FREAK ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!?" But then another voice was saying, "GO BAD ASS GO! STOP THAT FIST!!!" As the other two teachers held the two girls apart, I began the process of wading through the crowd to find administrators to deal with all this. When I returned, I noticed the blood on the floor -- emanating from the nose of one of the combatants. Yeah, this was serious stuff.

So I learned today that I can be a bad ass and stop a fight.

I also learned something else. I would make a bad witness in a trial. After it was all over, both the principal and assistant principal came to me since I was the first teacher to see the fight begin (although I didn't see the very beginning of it) and was one of the first people on the scene to break it up. I was of absolutely no help! I didn't know who the girls were (I've never had them in class); I couldn't even remember which girl's fist I had grabbed. I told my speech kids after school that the lesson of THAT was that they could commit a crime in front of me and I wouldn't be able to testify against them because I would probably describe them as 50-year-old black men instead of 16-year-old white girls.

A bad ass would have a good eye for detail and make a good witness, right? So I guess maybe changing the name of my blog isn't such a keen idea.

Well, at least I was a bad ass for a few shining moments anyway.

It Was 20 Years Ago Today (or this year anyway)

Today, I got to work, ready to tackle another day's worth of teaching -- tests and journals to grade, lessons to plan, a musical to plan auditions for next week (EEK!). Before getting down to business, I took a sip of my coffee from the new travel mug my sis gave me for Christmas and opened up my trusty e-mail -- and nearly spit a mouthful of Maxwell House all over the monitor. Along with the spam I can't seem to avoid offering me a credit card or a bigger penis (now THAT'S a miracle drug!) was an e-mail from a classmate of mine from high school with information about our reunion this summer. Our 20th reunion.

Holy crap. I am freakin' old!

It's hard to believe it's been 20 years since I walked across that stage and grabbed that diploma. Sometimes, it seems like it was just yesterday that I was staying late to edit the school newspaper (The Budget) or spending Thursday nights with my girlies at Alfano's pizzeria listening to Edie Brickell on the jukebox, toasting the death of Roy Orbison, and using the same coupon for MONTHS after it had expired. I look in the mirror and outside of the smaller framed glasses and longer, non-Flock of Seagulls hair, I still see that same girl.

Or do I? Because on the other hand, it seems like forever since I was in high school. I've lost touch with just about all of my high school friends -- or had until Facebook came along. The path my life has taken isn't quite the path I thought I was hopping on with that diploma. Not that I'm complaining although I often wonder what that 17 year old would think if I were to go back and say, "Okay, kid, here's the thing. Law school is going to suck, so that's not going to work out but you are going to LOVE teaching. Unfortunately, that means no BMW. Sorry. But Chrysler Sebrings are cool, too. No marriage, no kids, but you know what? You're pretty darn happy." Would she be okay with that? Who knows?

So now the big question is am I going to go to this thing or not? There are some people that it would be fun to see outside of Facebook. There are some people it would be interesting to see how they turned out. And hey -- it'll give me something to blog about, right? :)

Just a Quick One

If you're looking for a laugh, I've embedded a new video clip below. Enjoy!

Buttoned Up

I took my first official steps into the Oscar hunt this afternoon, joining a friend at our local multiplex to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. This film has arrived in theaters accompanied by the big buzz that it's a top contender for Best Picture, and I can see why.

Clocking in at just under three hours, the film is a cinematic bildungsroman with a decidedly different (and heartbreaking twist). Our hero, Benjamin, is born the same night that World War I ends, and we follow Benjamin from that night through a life made remarkable by the "affliction" with which Benjamin is born. Benjamin is aging backwards. He is born a seemingly shrunken, ancient man, and as the years progress, he "ages" into a better and better looking Brad Pitt. We follow Benjamin through his childhood in a retirement home, his journeys on a tug boat, and his relationships with two equally remarkable woman, Daisy and Elizabeth. It is a stunning story, beautifully shot and tenderly told. It's a lovely three hours, and while you do feel the fact that the film is long (something that, to me, is always compounded when the film in queston follows the span of a lifetime), there was a never a moment where I was checking my watch or fidgeting for the end to come. In fact, when the end came, I have to confess a slight feeling of disappointment, wanting even more time with these characters I had grown to love.

The movie hits so many of the "right" notes. There's the beautiful cinematography, the art design with a lovely eye for detail, the amazing visual effects that turn Brad Pitt into an ancient child who wanders down the streets of New Orleans with crutches as his body shakes off the arthritis and physical afflictions which make him unable to walk, a moving score. Director David Fincher (yeah, that David Fincher ) uses a gentle touch and lets the magic unfold at a lovely pace. How fun to see a director stretch his wings in such an interesting way as he journeys outside of his usual box. I've long admired his work, and my admiration grows even more to see that he's capable of something this epic yet intimate.

Of course, the most beautiful film would be worth little if the acting did not reach the same heights as the artists involved behind the scenes, and Fincher here has assembled a worthy, "pedigreed" cast led by Pitt who turns in perhaps one of if not the finest performance of his career. He gives a subtle, honest performance. I loved how he managed to exude youthful exuberance under the weight of the age makeup in Benjamin's early years. He never lets Benjamin go over-the-top and there's rarely a false note. (Okay, if I did have to quibble with anything, his accent at times does become a little "much" as his New Orleans drawl occasionally dribbles into more stereotype than genuine. But that's a small quibble)

Taraji P. Henson won my heart instantly as the woman who finds the abandoned Benjamin and adopts him, refusing to give up on the child that most label "doomed." She creates a warm, spirited, sassy woman whose faith nurtures Benjamin and gives her the strength to face such a monumental challenge in raising a child such as this one. She has a lot of Oscar buzz circling her, and it's well deserved.

Someone not generating much buzz and yet so worthy of it is Cate Blanchett as Benjamin's beloved Daisy. I'm not sure why she's received so little critical attention other than her work is so subtle and real that it isn't drawing attention to itself and the part of Daisy is a rather thankless role. She doesn't get the "big" moments, perhaps, that, say, Kate Winslet is getting this year. Or maybe it's that she's playing those "big" moments with such a gentle, subtle touch that critics are forgetting her. That's unfortunate. Blanchett is one of the finest actors in film right now (I'd put her with Winslet, Laura Linney, Frances McDormand, and few others), and this film is yet another fine, honest performance.

Tilda Swinton's time onscreen is significantly less than Blanchett's, but she creates a wonderful, memorable character as Elizabeth. Like Blanchett, Swinton hasn't been getting much buzz, perhaps because she just won for Michael Clayton last year (beating out Blanchett's Bob Dylan in I'm Not There among others). Or perhaps it's because, like Blanchett, Swinton isn't chewing scenery and making a "scene." Or perhaps it's just because Henson's "Queenie" is stealing all that buzz for herself.

Button is worthy of the buzz it is getting, and I wouldn't be surprised to see it be the leader when nominations are announced later this month. If you find yourself with three hours to kill, check it out and see if you are as charmed by the film as I was.

In Memoriam -- A Cherished Friend of My Youth

I went to the website of my local paper this afternoon and gasped aloud when I saw the headline. The Waldenbooks at my local mall is closing at the end of this month. This leaves my town with no real bookstore outside of the ones located at the two local colleges (where the non-textbook inventory is relatively small) and the Christian bookstore that I think is still open. Now, people in my town will either have to be satisfied with the meager offerings at Wal-Mart, Target, or K-Mart (although I will say the selection at Target isn't horrific as long as you're looking for relatively mainstream bestseller type stuff) or cruising online. Don't get me wrong; I love amazon.com as much as the next bookworm, but to me there's something almost religious about walking into a book store, inhaling that scent of paper, wondering at the countless possibilities contained on the shelves, and excited to dig in and find a new treasure. My sis often comments on the fact that when I walk into a bookstore, my hands start to itch from the excitement of being surrounded by so many books and eagerness to tackle the stacks. I love the feel of books. I love browsing the shelves, reading jacket covers, flipping through the book. It's heaven.

This closing, though, is even more bittersweet beside the closing of the town's only bookstore and the fact that it's yet another store to close in my economically drowning hometown. This store and I go way back. This store was one of the original tenants of the local mall when it opened in the mid-70's. My relationship with this store is longer than the one I have with my sis (who was born 2 years after the mall opened). When I was growing up, I spent many hours at this tiny little bookstore -- graduating from the picture book section to the young adult section to the front where all the grown-up books are. In my teens and even into my early 20's, I was a certified mallrat. Just about every Saturday of my youth was spent roaming the mall, and my journeys at the mall almost always began with a stop at Waldenbooks to check out the new releases, browse the magazines, and generally see what was out there. I almost always walked out with at least one book purchased.

Waldens is the last of my old mallrat haunts to abandon the local mall, which is on serious life support as more and more stores close due to the failing economy and a general lack of customers. (It's a vicious cycle here: people don't go to the mall because there are no stores left and there are no stores left because people don't go to the mall.) Gone are the McDonalds where I ate more Saturday lunches than I would care to admit, the Musicland where I built the music collection that defined my teens and 20's, the Spencer's where I bought cool stuff like my ceramic Beatles box, the Deb where my best friends from high school and I would spend hours trying on clothes, the movie theatre where I saw many of the films that defined my youth, and more.

And I admit my own guilt in all of this. As I grew older (and particularly when I returned to my hometown from my year spent living in Chicago), I realized how limited inventory was at Waldens, but the place held a soft spot in my heart. As more and more stores closed at the local mall, I found myself going to Waldenbooks less and less and purchasing more and more online since I was unable to find what I was looking for so many times when I did go to Waldens. But I always knew it was there if I needed it and now . . . . I guess it's true that you don't know what you have until it's gone. So long, my friend, and thank you for helping create the pretentious bookworm snob that I am.

Let the Games Begin

I have a sort of thing -- I don't know what to call it -- Compulsion? Addiction? Quirk? I don't know. Anyway, the thing is that I have a sort of obsession with the Oscars. I study the Oscars the way some people study baseball or Star Trek or science. Yeah, I recognize and embrace my nerdiness where this is concerned. I embrace the fact that I can recite Best Picture winners going back at least 20 years. Seriously. On top of that, going back at least 20 years, I have seen every Best Picture winner PRIOR to it winning Best Picture. I'm on a streak. Sometimes I gamble and just make sure I see the "sure bet," which is why I sat through the third Lord of the Rings movie despite the fact that I really hate those sorts of fantasy films. Sometimes, I get freakin' lucky, like when I watched Crash on DVD literally an hour before the ceremony started, a night when I was sure my streak was about to end because I had NOT seen Brokeback Mountain during the two weeks it was here in town.

The problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to make sure that my streak stays alive, a fact of which I was reminded in reading this article in the New York Times. The article talks about the seemingly snail-like pace that the major contenders are taking in getting out into theatres. I live in a very small market, so the chances of me actually getting to see something like The Wrestler or Slumdog Millionaire before nominations come out are pretty much zero. Heck, the chances of me seeing them even after nominations come out aren't much better. It's been four years since I've "run the board" of Best Picture nominees -- seeing all five prior to the ceremony. Of course, it's gotten a little more challenging for me since my Januarys are often consumed with speech and finding the two or three hours to hide out in a theatre and enjoy a good film is pretty tough. And my task is made harder by the studios' refusal to share the goods with the rest of America.

Now, I'm not one of those anti-urban whiners who rails against urban elitism. I love cities. If I could find a job just like the one I have right now, I'd move to a city in a heartbeat if only to enjoy the cultural opportunities those cities provide. What I have a problem with, though, is this attitude that culture ONLY exists in cities. Cities like New York, Chicago, LA, Boston, and such may gave more cultural opportunities, but that doesn't mean that smaller towns don't crave such opportunities. In smaller towns, films are often the only real culture available or are a more affordable culture. I'm fortunate in that my town offers quite a bit of culture considering the size -- a symphony, theatre, art gallery, et cetera. When I go to see these "city" films, the theater is often quite full of people like myself who want an intelligent couple of hours of film rather than explosions, slapstick, and talking dogs. Many people I know will often drive an hour to Peoria or the Quad Cities to track down quality films -- something I rarely have time to do particularly considering that the weather can often make such trips a challenge this time of year as well. The fact remains that there are people who want these movies, who crave these movies, who will spend money to go see these movies. It's time for the studios to recognize the market that exists in the rest of the country and start giving us our damn movies!