"Is it too late/To do it again/

The Feelies feel it in Jersey

Or should we wait/Another ten?"

That is the opening couplet from The Feelies' fifth long-player, Here Before, officially released yesterday.  More on that later.

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I would love to play poker against Dems.  Time and again immemorial Dems refuse to call the evil GOP's bluff.  Time and again immemorial Dems concede half the pot before the betting begins.

The GOP know the debt ceiling has to be raised.  Their Wall Street/Koch Bros. Overlords have way too much to lose.  Still, here comes the White House, speaking of concessions, suddenly listening to the Cat Food Commission's heinous suggestions, and just overall saying all the wrong things about the deficit and programs that must be cut.

I'd be a millionaire playing poker against these fools.

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A couple more political quick-hitters before I get on to funner things.  (And yes, I know, funner is not a word.)

First, lately, I have been distressed to see some of my blogosphere/facebook friendies politely applauding David Brooks.  Perhaps it is because he has a new book out or perhaps it is because he writes for the venerable, majestic NYT.

My friends, David Brooks, is not a force for good, much less even a moderate.  Read driftglass.  Remember that Brooks wrote a whole fucking awful series of articles in the Atlantic and other magazines just after Bush 43 was elected, calling all those that live in Blue States a bunch of intellectual, snobby show-offs who instead should be reverent, respectful, god-fearing WalMart shoppers.  Us in the Blue States just do not understand the real (Red State) Americans who love to eat at the Applebee's salad bar.  Also, do not forget that Mr Brooks was one of the biggest Iraq War cheerleaders, writing then for the fucking Weekly Standard.  Then you should read more driftglass.  David Brooks is an evil GOP hack asshat.  Do not pay attention to a frickin' word he says.

Next:  some more of my friendies on the interwebs are lamenting the recent budget deal, upset enough to stamp their tootsies that the government is not shutting down and all government programs must be abolished herewith!

What a load of crap.  Uh, these Randian, deficit/tax/regulation hating folks had nary a word to say when Bush 43 got us in to two fucking wars (occupations, really) and lowered taxes, thus, along with banks acting like casino majordomos, wrecking the economy.  Why is it with these Randites that when a serious discussion of the deficit crops up they always want to discuss term-limits; abolishing Planned Parenthood, ACORN, the NEA, NPR, PBS, the EPA, OSHA, the Dept of Education, Medicaid, Medicare, Social Security; lowering US Reps and Senators salaries but yet, never once do they mention that large corporations like GE and Exxon/Mobil should pay fucking income taxes, or that we should fucking reduce military spending, which is by far the largest piece of the discretionary spending pie.

Bush 43 inherited a surplus, folks.  He promptly read My Pet Goat as the Trade Center collapsed and burned, went on vacation a lot, let the banks do whatever they fucking pleased, fiddled as the economy crashed, fired US attorneys that did not pursue nonexistent Democratic Vote Fraudsters, installed the PATRIOT act, and made a few Barney Xmas videos.

Enough.  It is okay to run a deficit in times like these.  In fact, the economy would be in much better shape today and the deficit would be larger if we had done a bigger, better stimulus package.  But Dems are cowards.  What else is new?

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The new Feelies album is splendid.  It is not radical or different in any way.  I would not expect that from them, besides.  The song titles are like haikus or koans, seemingly wise despite their vacant plainness, to wit:  Again Today, When You Know, Morning Comes, Here Before, Change Your Mind, Time Is Right, etc, ... There are guitar solos on every track, drum cymbals are almost never used and when they are it is strictly for punctuation.  My favorite track right now is When You Know.  It is a motorik monster with one of the most stunning guitar solos I have ever heard.  Million somehow makes his guitar sound like a backmasked recorder before unleashing a brief Neu-worthy panning airplane takeoff topper.

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Well, the masterful Todd Haynes' Mildred Pierce has wrapped up.  I do not want to spoil anything for those who might watch it in replay or on dvd but the series really began to take off for me in episode three.  By the beginning of episode four, however, each scene in sequence became better and better, more gripping, more addictive and intoxicating.  The slow pace of the series really does build up to a stunning, sweaty palms climax.  Phenomenal.  Ms Winslett has done it again.  Is she the finest movie actress alive right now? I think so.  Kudos also go out to Evan Rachel Wood, as well.

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Bouchon and Market were wonderful.  (Yes, I suppose I am one of those wussy, snobby, Blue State toffs that love to eat at fancy restaurants, much to Mr Brooks' chagrin.)

Here are numerous pictures:

Daddy at Bouchon

Daddy's salad

Pnut's pork belly "salad"

Daddy's roasted lamb

Daddy at Bouchon (Part Deux)

Pnut's beet salad at Market

While we were at Bouchon I noticed there was a small wait table where servers would let bottles "breathe."  One of the bottles was a 1993 Lafite Rothschild.  Well, actually, I just knew it was a Lafite.  I actually stood up and peered at the label to discover the vintage.  We tried to "follow" the bottle and see which table it ended up at but it vanished before we could discover that.  Then, just as suddenly, as we left, we saw it back in a server's hands being poured in to a small decanter.  I asked him where it was going.  He said, the customer left the rest of the bottle for the kitchen staff.  I said, was not it too young? He said the kitchen staff would appreciate it plenty, no matter.  

Good for them!

Love you all so much, Mwah, ... 

Mildred Pierce

About a year or so ago, there was an interview in a stuffy, but still good, film magazine with Todd Haynes, one of my favorite directors.  After discussing Superstar, Poison, Dottie Gets Spanked, Safe, Velvet Goldmine, Far From Heaven, I'm Not There, Haynes' let on to what his next project might be.  He sed he had just seen (or re-seen) Berlin Alexanderplatz and was v taken with it.  Haynes expressed a desire to work in television, busting the 120 minute barrier.

Fast forward aboot six months later:  I am fooling around on imdb.com and, lo and behold, there listed is Haynes' new project, a cable TV mini-series for HBO, starring one of my all-time favorite actresses, Kate Winslett.  It is a remake of Mildred Pierce, the old camp chestnut, starring Joan Crawford, Ann Blyth, Zachary Scott (gosh, he is good in this), Jack Carson (he is great, too), and, Heck! We gotta have a wisecracking second fiddle to Joan, right? So, the (early career) Ginger Rogers/Joan Blondell/Aline MacMahon part went to the fabulous Eve Arden.  Kate Winslett will play the Crawford role.  Evan Rachel Wood will be doing Ann Blyth's part and Guy Pierce will be Zachary Scott.  I was v excited to learn this.  If anyone can do a remake of Mildred Pierce it is Haynes.  And it really is the type of story that deserves five hours.

Anyhoo, HBO, promoting their new series, Boardwalk Empire, (a show I could care less aboot, notwithstanding Aleksa Palladino being in it) finally showed the trailer.  Here is the trailer.  So, excited as I was, I decided I had to watch the original on Monday, two days ago.  Renee has ne'er seen it, & I had not seen it start to finish in years.  My strongest memory of Mildred Pierce was seeing it with my Mum at a cool rep movie house in Dallas when I was a kid.

So, for $2.99, I purchased it OnDemand.

Michael Curtiz, the Hungarian Hollywood Auteur, who actors (stars) sed could never be understood on the set, who is always criticized for his non-flashy/storytelling camera style, and the director of these films:  The Adventures of Robin Hood, Angels with Dirty Faces, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, The Sea Wolf, Yankee Doodle Dandy, Passage to Marseilles, Night and Day, The Will Rogers Story, White Christmas, We're No Angels, King Creole, and of course, arguably the greatest American film-entertainment of all-time, Casablanca, delivered Mildred Pierce to Warner Brothers in 1945.  (And I bet you dollars to doughnuts it was on-time and under budget.)

Before we watched it Renee asked me what type of film it was.  I told her it was a combination of genres.  Mildred Pierce is a melodrama, a murder mystery, a "woman's picture", a film noir, a weepie, and a Camp Classic that plays v well at the Castro.  Then we talked about gays, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, etc, ...

Mildred Pierce is much much better than I remembered it.  It is based on a James M. Cain novel and his seediness and cynicism seep through the screen, coating the audience in ick.  Only two of the main characters are even remotely likeable (though Bert does redeem himself by the end):  Crawford's Mildred and her daughter Kay.  (Kay dies in the third reel, natch.)  Mildred does a have a fatal flaw, though.  Despite her toughness, smarts, and olympian-sized work-ethic she cannot seem to pick the right man.  Of course you could argue, she could do v well without a man at all.  Mildred's life is dedicated to her oldest daughter, and she marries for a second time just to bring her estranged daughter back in to her life.

There are three available marriage candidates for Mildred in the film.  She marries two of them.  The first ends in divorce, he is broke & cheating on her and the second marriage ends v badly, indeed.  I will leave it at that.  But before you think that the third candidate, Jack Carson, a real-estate agent, club impresario (though his clubs are dives that serve cheap liquor as a matter of course), and business partner in Mildred's restaurant chain, is the one 'who got away', amplifying her tragedy, consider this: He's disgusting, too.  To wit, On what should be one of the happiest days of her life, the opening night of her restaurant, Zachary Scott has brought Mildred some orchids.  Carson is instructed to deliver them to a v busy Mildred.  Carson throws them in the trash.  Carson and Blyth (daughter Veda) then work a scheme to blackmail Veda's rich rich boyfriend for ten grand.  Veda makes up a pregnancy that does not exist.  When Mildred finally gets all the facts, she tears up Veda's check and chucks Veda out of the house.  Mildred goes to Mexico for a long vacation but finds out upon her return (thanks to Bert) that Carson has hired Veda to be a 'singer' at one of his dives.  Finally, Carson sells his hefty portion of the business at a point when Mildred is over-extended financially, trying to keep Veda happy and close at hand, meaning she will lose the business and have to start all over.

That is the amazing thing that stung me about this film.  Basically it is a Jerry Springer episode on film.  But it was made in Hollywood! So all these reptilian slimeballs are lit to look like movie stars.  They do look like movie stars.  They are movie stars, with gowns by Irene and fantastic forties suits with the wide ties.  DP, Ernest Haller does some phenomenal work, pretty much laying the patent for how Crawford would be shot the rest of her career and achieving a high art type of seediness that you just never saw in noir films.  (Except maybe parts of Double Indemnity.)  The Curtiz version is set in Southern California and I do not know where Haynes' (looks to be a period setting) is set but this subject just screams Oklahoma or Texas to me.  Come on, a name like Veda! That is the most perfect white-trash daughter name, evah! Can you not just picture Homecoming Queen Veda of Midland, Texas or Ada, Oklahoma? 


In terms of just gut-level engagement, or film entertainment, this film is in the top one percentile.  Renee was like an old drag queen, yelling at the TV, to "Throw her down the stairs!" or "Get a job, bitch!"  I love the (prob unintended) irony of glamour laid atop a  white trash melodrama.  I love how everyone is just so awful.  And mean.  And small.


Good stuff.