Monday

July 19, 2021 by Amy Welborn

Those of you who’ve been around know that I often do a “digest” of what I’m reading, watching, cooking, etc. It’s just a way for me to exercise the writing muscles and share cultural nuggets that might not merit a space of their own.

So let’s digest, even though Monday is quickly waning. I actually started this blog post about ~~three~~ five hours ago, but was interrupted (nicely) by a phone calls from ~~one~~ two of the adult kids and then stress about the weather, with the youngest driving himself and two friends to boxing boot camp through storms.

But I guess they made it okay….because now I just got a text that they finished with boxing and are hiking in a local mountain park….

Writing: Lots of blog posts last week. Click back for those. Look for more Mary Magdalene this week, and if you like, grab a free ebook about her here.

I’m waiting on a contract for a new book. Should be getting it today or tomorrow. (Update: It’s tomorrow then, I guess….)

And…that’s it. Between people coming and going and someone having his wisdom teeth removed today, and that same person needing to register for college classes on the same day he was having the procedure (it was too late to reschedule the appointment to anything before December by the time we figured that out)…yes, there was stress around here today.

Reading: As I mentioned in the previous post, Trans by Helen Joyce, and I will take a run through Irreversible Damage tonight.

Then I have a couple of novels waiting: The Vixen by Francine Prose and Lorna Mott Comes Home by Diane Johnson.

It’s been rainy here so my usual magazine reading has been minimized. Yes, I’m somewhat a creature of habit. It’s just my favorite thing, if I can’t be at a beach – to sit out back in the sun with my magazines. As I pointed out here.

Listening: The usual piano repertoire from the practice room. A lot of Mendelssohn these days. As well as the usual practice for Mass. (That’s him playing in the loft)

Watching: All right, since last we spoke about such things:

Sweet Smell of Success. Wow, this one surprised me. Come for the sharp-tongued dark view of show biz and the news…stay for the…..maybe-incestuous Burt Lancaster obsession with his sister?

Not what I expected. I’d been wanting to watch this one for a long time, since sharp-tongued dark views of anything are my jam, but I ended up just a bit disappointed. So many chunks and aspects of it were brilliant, but because of that particular subplot, I couldn’t embrace it fully. It’s not that it’s an unimaginable thing or something that would render a piece of art unwatchable for me – it’s just that I didn’t want that in this movie. I didn’t want family drama of any kind – I wanted showbiz types and hack journalists tearing each other apart and eating each other for lunch at Sardi’s. Is that so much to ask?

There was, of course, a lot to like about it – the dialogue is sharp (Clifford Odets, so what do you expect), James Wong Howe’s cinematography – incomparable – and the New York City location work – gorgeous, gritty and immersive.

And then, well, there’s Tony Curtis as Sidney Falco. Widely seen – even by Curtis himself – as his finest performance, and justifiably so. I’ve always been a fan, anyway, and he really brings it here, embodying anxiety, determination and pretty-faced (“Eyelashes”) dissembling, often in the background, just as he observes what’s transpiring in front of him and contemplating how to exploit it. Never resting, even internally, and you can just see it. He was by far the best part of the movie.

But I ended up just disliking that central conflict related to Lancaster’s sister so much that it affected my take on the entire film.

I will say that the added attraction of watching this movie in my house was that Kid #4 owns a pair of glasses that look…a lot like Lancaster’s. So every time Lancaster came on screen, Kid #4 would ceremoniously don his glasses, which was entertaining.

By the way, here’s a great 2010 Vanity Fair article on the making of the movie. Just lots of juicy stuff about what a terror Lancaster was, the travails of Clifford Odets and, of course, the backstory of Walter Winchell and the impact these columnists had back in the day. I suppose, in the end, that’s what I was expecting – we see J.J. Hunsecker’s power wielded in Lancaster’s steely presence, in his holding court at 21, but I think I was looking for more drama related to that power – to see rises and falls as J.J. flicks these microorganisms up and down the ladder as he pleases.

The matter of the director. The Sweet Smell of Success was based on a novella by former press man Ernest Lehman, who was brought on by Lancaster’s production company to direct – a move widely understood later to have happened just because they wanted the property, and promising Lehman the role ensured it. He was released after a week, replaced by Alexander Mackendrick, the Scotsman who had (news to me) directed The Man in the White Suit and The Lavender Hill Mob. Which was probably not a bad choice, since Lehman had zero directing experience. But, irony! Lehman went on to be a hugely successful screenwriter. So there you go.

Last night: A Hard Days’ Night. We were thinking about Apocalypse Now, but I just flicked this on and we kept watching. I had seen it a couple of times before, but my viewing companion had not, and so that gave ample opportunity for the always-welcomed teachable moment in which I pointed out to him how much of modern cultural expression, from music videos to Tik Tok, began here.

It also really highlights the delightful personalities and characters of John, Paul, George and Ringo – utterly charming – and casts a startling spotlight on teenage fandom. Starting with Sinatra, moving on to Elvis, reaching some sort of peak with the Beatles – screaming and crying – and continuing, I’d suggest, to all of today’s obsessions, lived out online and in cosplay of all sorts.

Cooking: People are never here and when they are here, they are recovering from oral surgery. So what am I going to do?

I did make stew on Sunday – it’s been super rainy the past week, so I felt justified in setting aside my it’s summer so I don’t cook stews or soups conviction. Also, it gave the one who didn’t have his wisdom teeth removed something substantive to eat while the other sipped milkshakes and soup.

It was also my birthday a few days ago, and so on that occasion, we tried out a new place in town – the Little London Kitchen – it began as a food truck run out of a real double decker bus, and persisting through Covid, eventually opening a storefront restaurant – excellent food and wonderful atmosphere. We’ll be back!