Tale of a Movie Critic

For many years, the city in which I live hosted a film festival. Actually, it hosts several,  but the most established one was created and run by a friend of my husband. Several larger cities tried to “buy” it from the founder, but he wouldn’t give it up. The festival featured old movies. It drew a wide range of people from all over the world, including a Famous Movie  Critic. My husband owned several books by this movie critic, who also had his own syndicated TV program. Several people who contributed to his books also attended the festival. While I never met the Famous Movie Critic, I did become friends with the others. We went to baseball games together.

My husband always attended the film festival either alone or with his friends, while I stayed home and did the solo parent thing.

One evening, the children and I were on a quest for saxophone reeds when my cell phone–a very early version of one–rang. This was before talking on a cell phone was illegal in this state. It was my husband. “Famous Movie Critic wants the Turkey Buffet, and I can’t remember how to get there.” My husband’s sense of direction does sometimes leave much to be desired.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“In my car with Famous Movie Critic. I’m using Contributor’s cell phone.”

Wonderful. I’m in rush-hour traffic with our children in my car, the music store where I hoped to buy saxophone reeds was closing soon, and I’m supposed to give directions to a restaurant my husband should know how to find when he didn’t even know where he was. This restaurant was not difficult to find: the Interstate to the correct exit, then turn left at the end of ramp, then right at the next traffic light.

We managed to get everything straightened out, including the sax reeds. Famous Movie Critic got his Turkey Buffet. My husband got a tale to tell about how he got lost with Famous Movie Critic.

 

Musing: Getting Political

I had originally planned a movie review for this week’s blog. I had written about God Bless America, which is a dark comedy. After the events of January 6, I could not review that particular movie at this time with a good conscience.

I work very hard not to be political in my author persona. For today’s blog, I quit trying.

I had taken January 6 off from my Day Job so I could watch the electoral college vote be certified by Congress. Every instinct I had told me something was going to happen. I have not been on social media since July 1st, other than a quick pop on to check on certain friends and family. I couldn’t take the vitriol any longer. I stopped watching the news around that time, too, asking my husband to close the door between our family room and living room when he was watching. I curated my input.

Even without a constant barrage of information/misinformation, I knew something was going to happen on January 6, which begs the question why didn’t law enforcement?

But that’s not what my blog today is about.

As I watched the attempted coup in horror–but not surprise–another very weird thought wouldn’t go away:  School shootings.

Those elected representatives I saw hiding under desks, etc. could have been my son (a teacher) during a school shooting.  Now those elected representatives who won’t do anything about the pandemic of school shootings (which the COVID pandemic has appeared to eliminate) know what those children and teachers go through. The same feelings of terror and helplessness.

Welcome to the reality of America today.

Now maybe they’ll do something about it.

If the country ever finds “normal” again.

 

Book Review-Karen Robards: One Summer

Image credit: tieury / 123RF Stock Photo

Shortly after I joined my local RWA chapter, the longer-term members waxed poetic about a book called One Summer by Karen Robards. I was unfamiliar with the author. I borrowed the book from the library. A few days later, I purchased my own copy.

This is the story of a high school English teacher  who gets involved with a former student–after he’s released from prison for murder.  She is the only person in their small, Southern town who believes in Johnny’s innocence; the town does not react kindly to her helping him after his release.

Lots of tension here, including some incredible sexual tension, but also family issues mixed in with the always popular wrong-side-of-the-tracks trope. A compelling read.

Five stars.

 

MJ Monday-Movies: We’re the Millers

My husband and I watched We’re the Millers one night, and I couldn’t stop laughing. I bought my own copy of the flick and took it with me on my next writing retreat. My crit partners couldn’t stop laughing. At least one of them borrowed the DVD from me so she could show it to her husband.

Four disparate people come together to form a fake family on holiday in Mexico in order to smuggle marijuana into the US.  Their misadventures are hilarious. In the end, we learn that blood doesn’t necessarily make family.

5 stars.

MJ Monday: MJ’s Movies-What’s Cooking?

I’ve seen this movie only twice, but that doesn’t stop it from being my favorite Thanksgiving movie of all time.

It is the story of four ethnically different families preparing for  then participating in Thanksgiving dinner.  As one reviewer said, “There’s stress, there’s food, and there’s stressing over food.” The ensemble cast is wonderful.

My favorite part is the variety of textures. Textures in stories matter a lot to me, and this movie sets the tone for each of the cultures by using textures.

I’m truly surprised the movie isn’t better known.