The promo for HBO’s Grey Gardens has been released. And what’s more, it looks great.
I’m sure that some die-hard Grey Gardens fans will have problems with the film, which is not a remake of the documentary, but rather goes back in time and tells the story of how Big Edie and Little Edie went from rich, regal elites to living in a condemned home. But I’m on board.
Don’t get this confused with the musical, which does goes back to the ’40s in the first act to set up the relationship between Little Edie and her mother. The HBO production is a separate piece, though I’m sure the musical served as an influence.
I saw Grey Gardens last year, in preparation for seeing the play. Before that, I knew it as a great song by Rufus Wainwright, as well as the movie Lorelai and Rory are watching in A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving (one of my favorite episodes of Gilmore Girls).
I’m not going to lie – I was horrified. The film is so cacophonous, so busy, so dirty. I got angry at Albert Maysles for exploiting these women. I wondered why no one had saved them, why Maysles thought this would be a good idea for a documentary. These women were crazy, and people just let a film crew into the house?
It’s not perfect; at least not the version I saw. The first act dragged, the actress playing Young Little Edie was lackluster, and the music was kind of uninspiring. But the second act, the second act just broke my heart. It takes place in 1975, and is basically a theatrical adaptation of the documentary. Many of the lines come straight from the film, and the music is much, much better. By the end of the show, everyone was crying.
And therein lies the paradox of the musical: The second act is so powerful, yet you need Act I as a set up. But maybe that’s just me. The show did okay for itself – it ran for almost a year on Broadway, won three Tonys and was nominated for Best Musical.
For me, the musical was much easier to watch, partly because I knew what to expect, having seen the documentary days before, but mostly because I was watching two actors and not actual people. There was distance. And though I knew they were playing characters based on real women, it wasn’t real. I could laugh at Little Edie’s ramblings, and Big Edie’s ballad about corn.
Ever since seeing the musical, a little part of me has understood the obsession with the documentary and with these women. I don’t think I could sit through it again, but I am anxious to see the HBO production. From the trailer, it looks like they go even further in speculation than the musical. Somehow, this makes it even less real for me, and therefore, easier to watch.
Check it out. Does HBO know how to make a trailer or what? I can’t wait till April 18th.
I’m tearing up already. Also, can you believe that’s Jessica Lange under all that make up? Wow.
Video of the Day:“It’s the most disgusting, atrocious thing ever to happen in America.” Here’s a little taste of the musical – this is the song that opens Act II. Da da da da dum.
I got a new shelf this weekend. Fascinating, right?
Well, I was pretty excited about it. After having the same one since graduating from college, I needed something bigger. My DVD collection was spread out about the apartment – some on the shelf, some in my closet, and some downstairs in my storage room. So I made my maiden voyage to IKEA and, after feeling like the Goldilocks of shelves (too big, too small, too weird, not spaced right), I finally found one that was juuuust right.
This thing is big. It stands over 70 inches tall. So I figured I would have more than enough room to fit all my DVDs. I could finally take Buffy and Angel out of the closet, and bring up Scrubs and Studio 60 from storage. Those Cheers videotapes I ordered when I was 12 would have a new home (I just can’t get rid of them yet, not until I have the whole series on DVD). All this, with surely tons of room to spare!
Or…not. See for yourself.
You know how in the movies or on TV, someone will realize he/she has a drinking problem by looking in trash and seeing how many bottles are there? It’s all there, in his/her face and they can’t deny it. That’s kind of how I felt on Monday, after I finished putting my DVDs away. Granted, I am leaving space, so I probably have half a shelf more space than appears here. And some of it is stuff from my childhood that I feel I should keep, like my high school’s performance of Guys and Dolls and this video I made with a friend on U2 for FANatic. (Remember FANatic? My friend was going to be the ultimate fan, and I was going to be the friend that sent in the tape, and gets to tag along and meet the band. This tape is horribly, terribly embarrassing and I don’t want anyone to ever see it. Maybe I could put that one back in the closet.)
But still. Damn. I own a lot of DVDs. (And still want more. I don’t even have all of Angel!)
Video of the Day:
Dear Ricky Braddy,
If you are going to attempt A Song for You on American Idol (which I suggest you do not) this is how it should be done. C’mon, man. You really think you’re going out sing Elliott? I didn’t see Paula making a mess of herself over you. (And that’s not even hard to do, Danny Gokey.)
In 2005, I tried to watch Six Feet Under. I got through the first season and partway through the second before I had to stop.
It’s not that the show wasn’t good; it was excellent. Maybe a little too excellent. I was going through an awkward period in my life -that post-college phase where you’re no longer a kid, but you don’t quite feel like an adult, and have no idea what you are supposed to be doing in life. You spent 20-some years going to school and now that it’s over…what do you do next? (Anyone? Anyone?) I wasn’t in the happiest state. So, watching a show where bad things continue to happen to (semi) good people was a little too much to handle. For weeks, I found myself in this constant state of melancholy. It wasn’t overwhelming; it was just always there. I tried and tried to place it, and then one day it just hit me: it’s Six Feet Under. I had to stop watching, or I’d end up in a permanent state of depression.
So I did. And I felt better. (But don’t worry – I caught up in 2007 during the Writers’ Strike, and damn, that’s some good TV.)
I have had a similar feeling all day today, and I know why: I had the most depressing weekend of film and TV watching.
With the Academy Award nominations announced last week, by Friday, I had added a slew of films to my Netflix queue. The problem? I currently had three movies from Netflix sitting on top of my DVD player, where they had sat, untouched, for weeks. I wanted to see them; they just weren’t exactly, “Hey, come watch me!” movies. But I have a goal to see as many nominated films/films with nominated actors and directors, etc. as I can before the awards. My actual goal is to see everything, but I know this is not possible.
So, Friday night, I watched Mr. Saturday Night, on my queue from when I added Helen Hunt films after The Great Mad About You Re-watch. You guys…this is a real downer. And honestly, not particularly great. The only real reason to see it is for David Paymer’s Oscar-nominated performance. But seriously – the life of a mediocre-at-best comic, who’s basically an asshole? Not exactly uplifting. Why, Billy Crystal? Why?
Saturday, I had tentative plans to hang out with Liz, eat soup, and have an Aaron Sorkin/presidential marathon. But, I was sacked with a major headache that took up most of my day. So I stayed in bed and watched Stevie, a documentary by acclaimed filmmaker (and graduate of my school and film program!) Steve James. I saw this movie when it premiered at my school’s film festival back in 2002. It’s a great piece of film-making, if self-indulgent on James’ part. However – the story follows this dude, Stevie, whom James mentored while a student at Southern Illinois University. Years later, James decides to visit Stevie, see what he missed, and it turns out Stevie has been arrested and charged with sexually abusing his 8-year old niece. The film follows Stevie and his family for the 2 1/2 years in between the abuse charges and Stevie going to jail. Again, this is a great film. But not exactly uplifting. Also, it has these great shots of the southern Illinois landscape, which just made me homesick for my college town. (Weird, I know, in a documentary about child abuse, but there ya go.)
As if that wasn’t enough, I accompanied my parents to see The Wrestler on Sunday. I’d seen it before, and wanted to see it again, to soak it in a little more. The first time I saw it, I liked it a lot, thought Mickey Rourke and Marissa Tomei were excellent, and that the film was sad but not overwhelmingly sad. This time…I was heartbroken. It affected me so much more. I don’t know if it’s because I had already seen it, and so could concentrate more on performance and noticing little things, or if it was because I was with my parents, whom I knew would be more affected by it, or what. But by the time Randy walked in for his last match, and Sweet Child of Mine started playing, my heart was beating a mile a minute, my lip couldn’t stop quivering, and the tears came.
So there was that.
Then there were the SAG Awards, which were kind of depressing only because Sean fucking Penn won best actor over Mickey Rourke AND Richard Jenkins, Hugh fucking Laurie won best actor over my boy Michael C. Hall, and Dexter did not win best acting ensemble.
To top it all off, I decided to end my weekend by watching the Cheers season 5 finale (More on this re-watch in a later blog post.) I wrote my immediate reaction to that in my personal blog. Here is what I said:
“Have a good life.”
I just watched the last episode of season 5 of Cheers. The one where Diane leaves. And um….I just spent the last 10 minutes weeping. WEEPING.
Maybe I am a little overly emotional this weekend, but, damn.
I watched the first four seasons pretty quick. (Side note – the final episodes of season 4? When Diane is spying on Sam and the politician? some of the hardest laughing I’ve ever done, right there.)
Then I got to season 5, and Sam and Diane were finally happily together, and I started slowing down my watching. I didn’t want to get here. I remembered what this episode did to me.
It’s weird, how I watch old TV. I can watch it through my adult eyes, but I can also turn that off, and watch it through the same eyes I did as a child. So, when I watch old episodes of Lois and Clark, for example, Adult Sarah recognizes that this is not stellar television. But Child Sarah remembers how pretty they are, and how wonderfully schmoopy they are, and how I would get so excited on Sundays, waiting for 8 o’clock. It’s a nice thing to be able to do, actually.
This is how I’ve watched Cheers. And it doesn’t help that Cheers is actually a stellar show, both in acting and writing. So, Adult Sarah can get some of the more adult jokes she didn’t get as a kid. But Child Sarah still holds on to that feeling and joy she got to watching Sam and Diane. And Child Sarah was absolutely heartbroken when Diane left. (Let me just stop here and say – I totally watched the show through repeats. I was only a year old when the show started. I discovered it in sixth grade, and fell in love immediately. So, Child Sarah was heartbroken watching the reruns. In case there was any question.)
Anyway, Child Sarah was heartbroken. Even though she knew that Diane left the show. She cried then. And it hurt just as much tonight, even though I knew it was coming. Again.
But you know what I had forgotten about? I forgot that Sam flashed forward in time halfway through, and imagined his life with Diane, and that they had grown old together. And I completely forgot he flashed again, and that is how the show ended. So, I was already getting ready for a good cry during the scene where they say goodbye to each other. But the part after? Oh, man.
Sam and Diane were the first TV couple I ever cared about. I LOVED them. LOOOOVED. Just ask my parents or my sister. You think Luke/Lorelai was bad? They had nothing on Sam and Diane. I don’t remember this, but my sister said that when the show ended, I cried and cried – not because the show was over, but because Sam and Diane didn’t end up together.
And yeah, it’s just a TV show, and I know that, and I’m tired and it’s been kind of an emotionally exhausting week, and weekend, so that isn’t helping any. And yes, this now happened over 20 years ago. But, it still makes me sad that Shelley Long left the show. Sure, we wouldn’t have had Rebecca, or Robin, and maybe Lilith wouldn’t have joined the cast as a series regular. Maybe the attention would have stayed on Sam and Diane, and the supporting cast wouldn’t have gotten more to do. And without that, maybe there would have been no spin off, no Frasier, and then we wouldn’t have Niles or Marty Crane, and that would be a shame in the world of TV.
But I do wonder what would have happened, had she stayed. Because this right here is freaking beautiful.
~~~~~~~
Now, my reaction was most likely 50% Cheers and 50% emotional exhaustion from all the other media I’d seen over the weekend. But the bottom line is, I cried for a good half hour last night. And getting ready for work this morning, a bit of the song from the above video got in my head, and I got all teary again and had to force it out of my head. (Which, BTW, is not an easy thing to do.) And all day today, I have had the same feeling of melancholy I expressed above.
The point of all this? Well, I guess it’s twofold:
1.) It’s kind of amazing how much good storytelling can affect a person.
2.) I am in need of a laugh, and some mindless, lighthearted entertainment.
To that end, I give you something that never, ever fails to make me laugh, as my Video of the Day
If you don’t already know, Oscar nominations were released today.
For the most part, I wasn’t surprised. There’s still a lot of films I have to see (including Milk, which I know is supposed to be great, but I just have no desire to see it.) so I can’t give final verdicts yet.
BUT
I was beyond thrilled to see that Richard Jenkins has been nominated for Lead Actor for his performance as Walter Vale in The Visitor!
For those who are unfamiliar with the name, Jenkins is best known as playing Nathaniel Fisher Sr. in Six Feet Under. He was also the owner of the gym in Burn After Reading, though I wouldn’t count that among his best roles.
I saw The Visitor a few weeks ago. I’d wanted to see it for awhile, and it was one of those movies far down the line on my Netflix queue. After hearing an interview with Jenkins on Fresh Air, I moved it up. I am so glad I did.
The Visitor is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time. It’s a quiet little film (the best kind, really). It didn’t go where I expected it to. It didn’t try too hard, and hit all the right notes. And Jenkins is incredible in it. I’ve liked him since day one on Six Feet Under, but was blown away by his performance. (Even though I knew he could do it; everyone on SFU had serious acting chops.)
I was disappointed that Jenkins didn’t even merit a nomination at the Golden Globes. So now I am thrilled. (Have I said that already?)
Normally, when I have a favorite in an award category, I am crushed when they don’t win. (I mean, not forever, usually for a few minutes, until the next award is given out) But this time, I really don’t care if Jenkins wins. It’d be great if he did; mostly I’m just happy he was recognized. It’s so deserving. And we all know Mickey Rourke is going to (also deservedly) win anyway.
If you haven’t already, check out The Visitor. It’s a really beautiful film. And if you don’t weep at the last shot like I did, well, you may be made of stone.
Retrowatching 