Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Get a Home Version of the Neil Diamond Concert Experience with Hot August Night II

I’ve been a Neil Diamond fan since about the age of eight, so when I decided to host a write-off for the month of August, the phrase “hot august night” popped into my head immediately. Diamond released two live albums by that title; Hot August Night II was recorded in 1986, 15 and a half years before I saw him live and 14 years after the first Hot August Night was recorded. Folks looking for a nice collection of his hits will find most of them here, though you’re probably better off going with a Greatest Hits version if you want the best renditions of these songs.

Hearing a favorite performer live is an exciting experience, and the energy of the crowd and the thrill of close proximity make up for melodic deficiencies, but listening to it on an album, it gets a little grating to hear all that cheering, as well as the way he often shouts out lyrics in order to make them heard over the roar of the crowd. Still, if you’ve never been to a Neil Diamond concert, Hot August Night II will give you a pretty good idea of what it’s like.

Song of the Whales - The concert kicks off with this short, spooky-sounding tune with pounding drums, crashing cymbals and synthesizer blasts approximating the sounds of the ocean. Presumably this is what plays as he takes the stage; over the aquatic-styled music, the cheers of the crowd rise.

Headed for the Future - Neil sounds a bit growly in this one, which I suppose is mostly to get the crowd riled up. The notion of moving in unison toward a communal goal seems fitting for the opening of a concert, and the future element works with the fact that this concert was recorded more than a decade after the first. After the song, he gives some introductory remarks that indicate this and greet the throng of fans who have come to hear him in Los Angeles. “Time don’t wait around forever. We gotta do it right now; let’s do it all together.”

September Morn - While this album was recorded in August and the title phrase appears in a later song, September is the only month to turn up in a title. This is a slow but rather over-the-top song with a nostalgic bent as he recalls a long-ago September, confessing how September mornings often inspire a reminiscent mood. “Look how far we’ve come. So far from where we used to be, but not so far that we’ve forgotten how it was before.”

Thank the Lord for the Night Time - Neil introduces this song by showing off his “Everly Brothers acoustic guitar,” apologizing that the problem with it is that it only plays oldies. He proceeds to play this peppy song with the old-timey chorus of voices in the background. By the end, it’s more than just acoustic we’re hearing as he discusses the disappointments of daily life and the reprieve that comes at the end of the day. “Talk about plans, well, baby, I got plenty. Nothin’ ever seemed to turn out the way it should…”

Cherry, Cherry - This upbeat little number is a guaranteed crowd pleaser. It’s a simple little song of young love and mild rebellion with blasts of brass to help set the rhythm throughout the song. A fun number. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, you know what I’m sayin’. Can’t stand still while the music is playin’.”

Sweet Caroline - But not as fun as this one, which is the one Neil Diamond song that people just can’t seem to resist singing along with. It’s not a particularly melodic version of the song, since he spends half his time shouting rather than singing, but it’s a rare performer who sounds better on a live album than a studio one. He addresses the verses to the crowd, to a series of massive cheers. I wonder if this crowd was instructed not to sing along because it seems strange to hear the song and not the “BUM BUM BUM” that usually follows “Sweet Caroline” in a big group. Still, it’s easy to tell how enthused the audience is. “Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good. I am inclined to believe they never would.”

Hello Again - This is another slower song, with violins and piano the primary accompanying instruments. Like September Morn, it feels a bit over-the-top when those strings swell, but this tender song of apology and appreciation is a nice, mostly quieter moment in the set. Again, he addresses the song to the audience, changing the word “friend” to “friends.” “I couldn’t sleep at all tonight, and I know it’s late, I just couldn’t wait…”

Love on the Rocks - Two slow songs in a row, and this one gets a bit maudlin as he mourns the loss of a relationship, occasionally snarling his way through the chorus. It’s a bit of a downer, but then so is the experience of falling hard for someone and then having that romance fall to pieces. “I got nothin’ to lose, so I’ll just sing the blues for a while.”

America - After two slow songs, it’s time for one of the most energetic songs in the set. This one is just so much fun to listen to with the multi-faceted accompaniment and the lyrics capturing the immigrant experience. At times the music reminds me of Aaron Copeland as he tries to express the tumult and joy of people from a variety of backgrounds embarking on life in a different land and finding newborn patriotism. One of my favorite tracks, though hearing it second-hand doesn’t quite compare to the energy of seeing it performed live. “Everywhere around the world, they’re comin’ to America. Every time that flag’s unfurled, they’re comin’ to America.”

Forever in Blue Jeans - I’m also a big fan of this ode to simple joys. The upbeat tempo and generally optimistic tone puts a smile on my face, as does the idea that material pleasures can’t compare to the happiness derived from the company of certain people. Incidentally, this song is strongly associated with A Crooked Kind of Perfect, one of the most delightful mid-grade novels I’ve read this decade. “As long as I can have you here with me, I’d much rather be forever in blue jeans.”

You Don’t Bring Me Flowers - A piano-heavy lament about a relationship that has grown mundane. Linda Press joins in this duet of a long-together couple wishing they could inject some fresh romance into their marriage. “It used to be so natural to talk about forever, but used to be’s don’t count anymore, they just lay on the floor till we sweep them away.”

I Dreamed a Dream - It’s funny to listen to Neil introduce this Broadway classic as a song from a brand-new musical. First he speaks, then he sings a sort of introduction as well, setting the tone for the song that is now associated as strongly with overnight sensation Susan Boyle as Les Miserables. It’s interesting to hear such a strongly pop version of this, and one such by a man at that. He also adds a couple of unique touches to the lyrics, ending it more optimistically with “But life can’t kill the dream I dreamed.”

Back in L.A. - This is an appropriate song to break out at this concert. Basically a love letter to Los Angeles, it talks about all the traveling he does and the special place in his heart that he reserves for this bustling city. “This is my time, and I like to be free. I know I can do it if L.A. is there for me.”

Song Sung Blue - A mellow, acoustic-flavored song with a fun intro. “This song goes back so far that I usually forget the words to it myself,” he jokes before asking the audience to help him out by joining in. It’s a very simple and cheerful song about how singing sad songs can make you feel better. “Song sung blue, everybody knows one. Song sung blue, every garden grows one…”

Cracklin’ Rosie - This is one of those songs that is a lot more melodic in the studio version, and I miss the way he exploits his lower register; here, he doesn’t stretch his voice much, and a lot of the time he hollers more than sings. Still, a very peppy song. “We got all night to set the world right, find us a dream that don’t ask no questions.”

I Am… I Said - A rather despondent song about figuring oneself out and feeling very lonely in the process. Some unusual lines in this one help make it especially memorable. “’I am,’ I said to no one there, and no one heard at all, not even the chair.”

Holly Holy - Not a Neil Diamond song I’m very familiar with, and I find it a little hard to figure out the point amid its tongue-twistery lyrics. It seems to be using religious imagery to describe a desired romantic relationship. A little odd, but I dig the choir singing backup. “Touch a man who can’t walk upright, and that lame man, he’s gonna fly.”

Soolaimon - This fast-paced, guitar-driven track is the shortest on the album. The lyrics consist mostly of variations on the title, giving most of it a chant-like feel. Just a snippet leading into the longest song on the album.

Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show - This song incorporates the words “hot August night” as he sets the stage for an old-fashioned tent revival. There’s more talking, in the manner of a charismatic sermon, than there is actual singing, aside from the Gospel chorus of “Alleluias”. A very boisterous song. “Take my hand, sweet Lord. I will never stray. In my heart I know I will find my way.”

Heartlight - This song, inspired by the movie E. T., makes an appropriate ending for the concert as he once again addresses it to the audience, expressing his appreciation for their presence and his hope of seeing them again. A low-key closer, and it’s easy to imagine a crowd of thousands swaying back and forth with lighters in hand. “Turn on your heartlight. Let it shine wherever you go. Just let it make a happy glow for all the world to see.”

I saw Neil Diamond on a cold February night, but the sense of fun in gathering with thousands of others to hear these timeworn songs was undiminished by the lower temperatures. While I wouldn’t listen to these tracks in lieu of the studio versions, Hot August Night II is a solid album for all those who have ever wished they could attend one of his concerts.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

A Modern Londoner Struggles to Keep the Prime Directive in Lost in Austen

I’ve been in an Austenish kind of mood lately, so when I heard about the 2008 miniseries Lost in Austen, I decided to check it out. The three-hour-long fish out of water tale finds Amanda Price (Jemima Rooper), a contemporary Londoner in her late 20s, stranded in her favorite novel, Pride and Prejudice, after its protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet (Gemma Arterton), discovers a doorway into her world in an upstairs passageway. Amanda knows this book by heart, but living in it isn’t exactly the fairy tale she’s dreamed about for so long in her mundane modern existence. Immersion in the early 19th century presents numerous challenges, not least of which is trying to follow what my Star Trek geekery compels me to call the Prime Directive. Amanda must not interfere with the way she knows the story is meant to unfold. But how can she avoid it when her very presence is an interference and when Elizabeth has made it impossible for her to return home?

This is a mostly entertaining twist on a classic novel that is probably best appreciated by those who have read it or at least (and maybe especially) have seen the 1995 miniseries. Writer Guy Andrews and director Dan Zeff seem to have great affection for Austen while at the same time wanting to bring their own twists to it. The miniseries looks very much like the 1995 one, with the same sort of attention to detail in costumes, landscapes and other aspects of the setting that root it so firmly in 1800s England. The sprightly score composed by Christian Henson is perhaps where the homage seems strongest.

On the other hand, bringing a modern woman into regency England stirs things up a fair bit. Hence, some characters proceed to act differently as a result of her presence or because of changes she has inadvertently made to the storyline, while in other cases, Andrews plays with the idea that some of these characters harbor secrets of which Austen herself remained unaware. No logical explanation for the connection between the two worlds exists; this is pure, unexplainable fantasy. It’s also unclear whether, at the end of the movie, the portal will become defunct or whether it will be possible for characters to navigate freely between 21st-century reality and 19th-century fiction.

Amanda is a fairly likable character, though I found myself a bit frustrated with her, first because, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, she desperately yearns to escape to this other world but the instant she gets there, all she wants is to immediately return home. I mean, wouldn’t she want explore a little first? What’s more, despite her deep familiarity with the novel and her determination to let everything unfold according to Austen’s dictates, she doesn’t really seem to make too great of an effort to make herself inconspicuous. Some of her interactions with the characters she encounters are flat-out crass; if she’s so taken with the courtly manners of the time, she might try harder to adopt them herself.

On the other hand, we get her interior monologue, and usually her thoughts betray a deep love for these characters and regret that her own actions may be causing them grief. Additionally, she’s in a difficult spot because as far as she knows, the only way back to her flat is through the Bennets’ attic, so she has to stick around the one place where she is most apt to get into trouble. Her best qualities come to light in association with Jane (Morven Christie), the eldest Bennet daughter who is radiantly kind and gentle as always. When Amanda foolishly does something that sends Jane’s destiny spiraling into a ghastly direction, a desperate desire to restore her new friend’s happiness compels her to get more deeply involved.

The Bennet family comes across much the same as in the book. Hugh Bonneville is wonderful as the sardonic but twinkly-eyed Mr. Bennet, while Alex Kingston makes an acceptably over-the-top Mrs. Bennet. Lydia (Perdita Weeks), the youngest Bennet, is appropriately silly, while Florence Hoath’s Kitty is suitably nondescript. Mary (Ruby Bentall), the bespectacled middle daughter, is the only Bennet to veer significantly from the book, morphing from a self-righteous bore to a young woman who is plain and rather timid but perfectly amiable. Bonneville and Christie have the strongest presence of the bunch, and their characters serve as Amanda’s key anchors in this strange land by becoming her first allies.

What essentially happens here is that Amanda replaces Elizabeth, replacing her in the primary Pride and Prejudice storyline, albeit taking unusual turns here and there. Elizabeth herself spends the majority of the miniseries out of sight and mostly out of mind. While her spunk makes her desire to immerse herself in modern London understandable, the look of wide-eyed astonishment that is most often upon her face makes her seem almost too childlike. Meanwhile, her complete detachment from Jane after abandoning her, possibly with no intention to return, seems out of character for such a devoted sister. Really, though, we see too little of Elizabeth to get to know her very well.

It’s with the side characters that the most interesting departures come in. For instance, the disreputable George Wickham (Tom Riley) gains a more complex backstory, and the life of Charlotte Lucas (Michelle Duncan), Elizabeth’s level-headed best friend, takes a surprising detour. Guy Henry makes a positively slimy Mr. Collins, and the direction in which Andrews takes his character made me squirm the most, though a reasonably believable loophole is written into this part of the storyline to prevent it from becoming completely icky.

Probably to no one’s surprise, Amanda falls for the dashing Darcy (Elliot Cowan) despite concluding at the outset that he’s much better on the page than in real life and that Elizabeth is too good for him. Cowan broods his way through the role, mostly just coming across as a grump, and I didn’t find his more vulnerable moments sufficiently tender to make up for that. He’s certainly no Colin Firth. Tom Mison is better as Bingley, who I prefer anyway, but I like this version of Bingley less than any other version I’ve seen. In the beginning, he comes across as fairly shallow and fickle, while later, when he believes Jane to be forever beyond his reach, he becomes a belligerent drunkard. Despondent I can see, but belligerent? That doesn’t seem to fit.

Then again, Andrews takes liberties, perhaps trying to flesh these characters out and make them feel more realistic, less idealized. I don’t always like the directions he chooses, but it’s certainly an interesting exercise, and for the most part, I think it’s well done. I suspect that someone unfamiliar with Pride and Prejudice really would get lost in Austen here, and certainly those who know the story as well as Amanda does will get more out of it than the uninitiated.

As someone who was always a smidge more taken with Pride and Prejudice’s secondary couple, I love that Jane and Bingley’s romance moves to the forefront to become the most pressing of all possible pairings, particularly since, while Bingley leaves a little to be desired, Jane lives up to the book perfectly. While I could have done without the crudeness Amanda sometimes injects into this well-mannered world, I think most Austen fans will look upon this as an affectionate tribute and be inspired to ponder the potential repercussions of tumbling headlong into the pages of a beloved book.

Betty White Delights in the Light, Breezy If You Ask Me

Back when it was on the air, I used to watch The Golden Girls, mostly because I loved sweet, naïve, animal-loving Rose, portrayed by Betty White. I’ve seen her pop up in all sorts of other places since then and shared in the amusement of many mall visitors when the calendar kiosk where I worked last year stocked dozens of calendars bearing her image. It seems she is quite the star. So when my friend lent me her latest book, If You Ask Me (And of Course You Won’t), I was interested to see what she had to say for herself.

Practically her first assertion is “Writing is my favorite thing.” This particular admission is actually written in longhand, which she integrates into later portions of her book as well. It’s funny to think of a beloved actress claiming such a quiet pursuit as an even deeper passion, but it’s nice to know that she enjoyed herself while penning this memoir. The book is a pretty quick read at about 250 pages, which are grouped into eight sections of loosely related reflections. With 46 chapters, none of them is more than a few pages long. The most extensive chapter is the one dealing with her 2010 appearance on Saturday Night Live, and even that is not quite ten pages long and includes several photos.

Of course, every chapter has at least one accompanying photo, and there’s a blank page following each chapter, plus a separate page for section headings, so what you’re really getting are fewer than 150 pages of actual text. The tone is very conversational; you feel like you are just sitting down for an afternoon with Betty and she is relating some of the stories of her life as they come to her. I haven’t read any of her other books, so I can’t say whether this is the way they all are, but it works pretty well. It just feels a bit like we’re only scratching the surface because she’s barely begun to discuss a topic before she’s moved on to the next one.

The timeliest section is the one that prompted the writing of this book. Hollywood Stories discusses Hot in Cleveland, The Proposal, The Lost Valentine and the immensely popular Snickers Super Bowl commercial that prompted the Facebook campaign that led to her co-hosting of Saturday Night Live. Through all her successes, she maintains a humble attitude, repeatedly saying what a joy it is to be able to do something she loves for a living and to make enough money at it to feed her other passions. She never seems to forget that hers is a life that many would love to have.

She reveals nothing shocking in her recollections. This memoir is as courteous as Donny Osmond’s, and she spends no time spewing venom on anyone. She seems to go out of her way to see the good in people. For instance, in one chapter, she discusses film projects she declined because they contained scenes she found distasteful. However, she also indicates that the writers who penned the offending screenplays are very talented. She comes across as a woman of both integrity and tact.

Perhaps the most interesting revelation for me was that she never wanted to go into show business as a child. Instead, it was always her dream to become a park ranger or a zookeeper. This love of animals permeates the book at all turns, whether she is recalling memorable encounters with creatures like Koko the gorilla and Beethoven the beluga, discussing the idiosyncrasies of her beloved pets or confiding the comfort she has derived on set from fans who bring their dogs to meet her. While she has glowing remarks to make about many colleagues and friends, not to mention her adored late husband, she admits that she has always felt more comfortable in the presence of furry companions.

This is a very lightweight book, but it really is a delight to read. From her self-effacing comments about her struggles with stage fright and connecting faces with names to her fond memories of her parents and her easy-going attitude about approaching 90, If You Ask Me is relentlessly cheerful, almost inevitably provoking a sense of uplift. Betty White is an American icon and a very considerate woman, and if you ask me, her words are well worth reading.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Let John Denver Fill Up Your Senses With the Annie's Song Ornament

Over the years, I’ve embraced thousands of songs by various artists, but I think no single musician has had a more powerful impact upon me, both through his music and his life, than John Denver. Granted, the Western singer-songwriter didn’t always live up to the squeaky-clean image he presented to the world, and his intense dedication to music and humanitarianism ultimately came at a cost to his family life. Nonetheless, his gentle ideals and homespun melodies have permeated my consciousness for as long as I can remember.

I was delighted, then, when my brother pointed out the John Denver Annie’s Song ornament to me when we were browsing our local Carlton Cards back in 2004. Because the store was in the last stages of clearing house before closing, I bought the ornament, third in a series honoring country singers, for a song, which is appropriate given its theme.

John rests on a rocky base of about three square inches, with the back portion creeping up to form a boulder on which he can comfortably rest. One of his brown cowboy boots is firmly planted in the moss that covers the rocks up to the edge of a tranquil mountain stream. The scene looks so picturesque that I would love to step into it. He sits in a casual pose, his other boot resting on a small rock so that it is slightly elevated. He’s in definite cowboy mode here in his blue jeans and his cream-colored shirt with the snazzy brown Western design around the collar. While he’s not wearing a cowboy hat, I think that’s mostly because his head makes a sturdier perch for the loop for those who want to suspend it from an evergreen branch.

John’s hair is brown and fairly short, and wire-rimmed glasses cover his eyes. On his face is a wide smile. He has a brown guitar strap slung over his shoulder, and he holds a shiny silver guitar that he is meant to be in the midst of playing. His right hand strums from above, while his left hand, on which his wedding ring is clearly visible, reaches up from below to handle the chord changes. It’s a very good likeness that really captures what Denver was all about. As a nice bonus, the light gray base has his distinctive signature scrawled across the front in black. Of course, this ornament came out several years after he died, so he didn’t actually put his stamp on it, but I’m sure he would have approved of this keepsake.

One of the best aspects of the ornament is the music. In the back you have a tiny knob that you press in to hear the clip, and just above that is a little speaker. What you’ll hear, naturally, is a snippet of Annie’s Song, and a pretty generous one at that. In fact, you get the whole first verse, complete with strummed guitar accompaniment. One of his earliest and most popular songs, it was written for his wife and was one of those gifts that come in a single flash of inspiration. A celebration of simple but profound joys like the beauty of nature and the love of a kindred spirit, the song has been a centerpiece at countless weddings in past three and a half decades, and many consider it to be him at his most romantic.

You fill up my senses / Like a night in a forest, / Like the mountains in springtime, / Like a walk in the rain, / Like a storm in the desert, / Like a sleepy blue ocean. / You fill up my senses; / Come fill me again.

It’s sad to listen to this song and realize that the marriage it celebrates didn’t last, but it doesn’t diminish the sense of euphoria encapsulated in its few short lines. While it can go on the tree, the ornament, at over five inches in height, is a bit on the large side for hanging. However, its flat, sturdy base makes it ideal for placement on a surface such as a desk or a side table. I keep mine out all year in a little corner of the piano dedicated to musical inspiration; accompanying him are a small headshot of Art Garfunkel clipped from the paper when he was in Erie in 2000 and a statue of Schroeder playing the piano. They make a merry trio. The ornament takes three AAA batteries, and in all these years I’ve never had to change them. If they ever run out, though, I will be sure to switch them out; there’s nothing like a few lines of Annie’s Song to provide a quick pick-me-up on a gloomy day.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Laura and Her Family Battle Hardships With a Smile in Little House on the Prairie

With my mom recovering from surgery, we’ve been watching a lot of television this summer. One series that has captured our attention is Little House on the Prairie, a series that has been referenced in formats as disparate as the latest VeggieTales video, which spoofs it, and LOST, in which snarly cynic Sawyer secretly considers it one of his favorite shows. While both of us had seen various episodes before, many of the episodes in the first season, which my friend lent us, were new to us, and the repeats were still entertaining the second or, in a couple of cases, third or fourth time around.

Little House on the Prairie is the long-running television series that is rather loosely based on the beloved autobiographical books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The show, which takes place in the late 1800s in the tiny town of Walnut Grove, centers around the Ingalls family, though individual episodes sometimes focus more on other townspeople. Still, at least one Ingalls is usually integrally involved in the story.

Laura (Melissa Gilbert) serves as narrator in some of the episodes, a device that harkens back to the books. This spunky pig-tailed child has a heart of gold but a knack for getting into trouble; her tomboyish tendencies are part of the reason she shares such a powerful bond with her pa, who calls her Half-Pint. Michael Landon is a bundle of warmth and humor as Charles Ingalls, though he has his stubborn and ornery moments as well. His relationship with the practical but fiery Caroline (Karen Grassle) is the cornerstone of the show, and theirs is a model marriage, albeit infused with a more modern flavor than the Ingallses we see in the books.

Less prominent than Laura but still a major player is her older sister Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson), who is ladylike and studious and often irritated by Laura’s behavior, though never for long. She’s a bit of a goody two-shoes, but there’s nothing mean-spirited in her outlook; she’s just not usually quite as fun as Laura is. Completing the Ingalls family is toddler Carrie, played by twins Lindsay and Sidney Greenbush. Because she is so young, she never has much of a role in anything that is happening throughout the first season, and most of her dialogue consists merely of repeating the words of others.

Beyond that core family, however, are many colorful residents. Chief among these are the Olesons, the owners of the local mercantile who stand as a sort of antithesis to the Ingallses. Richard Bull is wonderful as Nels, a hen-pecked man with a good head for business but also a kind heart and a sense of fair play. He’s a decent fellow who seems to envy Charles his devoted wife and well-mannered children. Poor Nels is stuck with Laura’s nemesis, haughty Nellie (Alison Arngrim), and her destructive little brother Willie (Jonathan Gilbert). Worst of all, though, is his shrewish wife Harriet, the scourge of the town who is played with devilish glee by Scottie MacGregor in the most consistently laugh-aloud funny role in the series.

Other recurring characters include warm-hearted Doc Baker (Kevin Hagen), whose gentle bedside manner and hearty sense of humor give him the perfect disposition for his difficult job; jovial Swede Lars Hanson (Carl Swenson), who owns the lumber mill employing several of the town’s residents; even-tempered Reverend Alden (Dabbs Greer), who ministers eloquently to his yearning congregants; and disheveled Mr. Edwards (Victor French), an earlier acquaintance whose gruff manner Laura adores and who is the only character on the show with his own theme music. While most stories focus on recurring characters, some involve characters who only turn up in that particular episode. In many cases, these are just people passing through. For instance, Red Buttons turns up as a one-man circus peddling peep shows and placebos. This storyline, which primarily involves a phony powder he passes off as a miracle drug, amused me since Buttons went on to play a similar role a couple years later in Pete’s Dragon.

Because of the harsh conditions and plentiful opportunities for injury, many episodes have a grim streak to them, and it’s not uncommon for at least one character to die. In one episode, an elderly widow on the cusp of her 80th birthday concocts a plan to pretend that she has died in order to get her children into town for the funeral. In another, Laura and family dog Jack are feared rabid after both are bitten by her pet raccoon. In the most morbid episode of the season, a typhus outbreak causes life in Walnut Grove to grind to a halt as residents begin dropping off. The sense of peril is acute, and it’s easy to imagine that even the most beloved characters could fall victim to the whims of the harsh landscape.

Nonetheless, levity is hardly hard to come by. The music of Landon’s laugh rumbles through most episodes multiple times, and Laura’s antics often elicit a chuckle, to say nothing of the calamitous occurrences in the Oleson household. It may be a time of simple pleasures, but those pleasures are very visceral. There’s genuine joy in the pick-up baseball games and the picnics that are such a favorite after-church pastime, with homemade goodies spread out over blankets under a sunny sky. The faith of these hard-working and hard-playing residents helps sustain them as they move along toward their next set of challenges.

And of course, there is love. The Ingallses are a model for the whole community in this regard, both in terms of the familial relationship and the strong partnership between Charles and Caroline. The Olesons model a very different sort of marriage, but love is present there as well, as evidenced by the conclusion of the episode in which the two of them have an explosive fight and nearly split up. We see puppy love when Laura falls for an older classmate, who, in a later episode, falls for a burlesque dancer he meets when he decides to run away from home. The romantic storyline that intrigued me most involves Doc Baker and Harriet’s visiting niece forming a swift mutual affection for one another, only to be thwarted by an unfortunate circumstance, though not the one I expected.

The first season includes several iconic episodes, including Harvest of Friends, in which the Ingalls family sets up house at Plum Creek and becomes acquainted with the townspeople, and The Lord Is My Shepherd, the two-parter in which Caroline has a baby who dies and a guilt-stricken Laura, who was bitterly jealous of him, literally heads for the hills in an effort to convince God to swap her life for that of her baby brother. This episode covers a span of at least a year, which throws the timeline off a bit. For instance, in the Christmas episode, Mary mentions that this is the first Christmas at Plum Creek, but it would have to be at least the second. Nonetheless, it’s a powerful episode and one of several in which Christian faith plays a significant role, which is one of the reasons the show is so popular with people like my grandma, who bemoans the lack of traditional values on contemporary television.

Little House on the Prairie is a wholesome show that blends the old-fashioned with more modern sensibilities. Charles and Caroline sometimes seem a little too hip for the 1880s, and some of the topics they broach seem to reflect the 1970s more than that earlier era. It’s definitely a different animal than the books, but if you enjoyed reading about Laura’s pioneer adventures, chances are you will like watching the stories that unfold in a mildly fictionalized version of that world. And if the old-timey setting doesn’t appeal to you, give it a try, and you may just find that the residents of Walnut Grove are not so very different from us.

Divorcees Juggle Kids and Career in One Fine Day

Journalist Jack Taylor (George Clooney) and architect Melanie Parker (Michelle Pfeiffer) are divorced New Yorkers trying to juggle high-powered careers and parenthood. Jack’s daughter Maggie (Mae Whitman) and Melanie’s son Sammy (Alex D. Linz) are kindergarten classmates. After a carpooling attempt gone bad causes them to miss their field trip, their parents have to spend all day trying to figure out what to do with them in the 1996 rom-com One Fine Day.

This is one of those movies that I’ve stumbled upon multiple times while channel surfing, and I finally decided to watch it from the beginning recently when it came up for Instant Viewing on Netflix. This PG-rated movie is part romance, part parent-child bonding film. Jack and Melanie have never met before this day, but they immediately clash as his lackadaisical tendencies set the day’s chaotic events into motion. Jack does not have primary custody, and although he loves his little girl, he finds it hard to be bothered with the minutiae of looking after her when his ex-wife drops her at his door unexpectedly. Control freak Melanie is the primary parent, but her focus on her career is so intense that Sammy sometimes gets left in the lurch. Both of them are extremely distracted, which causes problems for them as they try to pull off career-saving moves while keeping their kids busy.

Sammy and Maggie are both adorable and aggravating. While his primary problem is a propensity for putting objects in his nose, hers is wandering off quietly so that no one realizes until moments later that she has disappeared. Both are sweet-natured but oblivious to the trouble they are causing with their fidgety actions. Some of the mischief they get into is funny, while at other times it’s cringe-inducing. This is a big, dangerous city, after all, and both Jack and Melanie, who alternate supervising the kids, have a very difficult time keeping a close eye on them. Several scenarios would really be pretty alarming if they occurred in real life.

Of course, part of the development of the characters over the course of this single day is the adults realizing they need to be more attentive and, to a lesser extent, the kids realizing they need to stop running wild. The lesson doesn’t sink in so much with the children, but I would say there’s a least a hint that they will make more of an effort in the future. Then, of course, there’s Jack and Melanie, and while they mostly meet each other briefly before going their separate ways, they gradually get to know each other and begin to understand that their initial distaste for each other may have been misplaced.

In the midst of this jam-packed day, we see the four of them interact with a variety of people as Jack tries to find a key witness to back up something he printed in the paper and Melanie attempts to sell her latest design to a high-powered bidder. These brief interactions are fun, and I especially liked Charles Durning as Jack’s irascible boss and Ellen Greene as his key witness. However, this movie is mostly about the kids and their parents and how their being thrown together leads them to a better understanding of themselves and the possibility of more meetings to come. Epic romance this is not, but it is a cute movie showing that sometimes, a single day can tell two people quite a lot about each other.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Eighth Grade Neighbors Try to Figure Each Other Out in Flipped

It isn’t too often that I watch a movie and immediately feel compelled to read the book, but when I realized that the 2010 Rob Reiner film Flipped was adapted from a young adult novel, I knew that I would have to try to track the book down. Now that I’ve finished it, I must say that the movie is one of the closest adaptations I’ve ever seen, and yet it also manages to subtly improve on the book, which I would already say is quite good.

Bryce Loski and Julianna Baker are neighbors who have lived across the street from each other since second grade. Now it’s eighth grade, and Julianna – Juli for short – continues to harbor a not-so-secret crush on Bryce, who mostly just wishes she would go away. Before the year is out, he will have his wish, but not before coming to realize that as much as her clinginess annoys him, there’s more to Juli than meets the eye. Personal traits like her obsession with an expansive sycamore in the neighborhood and her odd habit of keeping chickens and distributing their eggs suddenly start to make more sense, especially after Bryce’s grandpa Chet begins to forge a friendship with Juli while helping her fix up the family yard. But will Bryce’s realizations come too late to fix this relationship?

Author Wendelin Van Draanen divides the book into 14 chapters, with Bryce and Juli alternating as narrators. Both are likable, though Juli is a bit more so, or at least that was my perception. I certainly find it easier to relate to her position of really liking someone and not being sure of his feelings than to Bryce’s of trying to evade a relentless pursuer without being rude. Juli does go a little overboard with her public affections at times, and you would think that it wouldn’t take six whole years for her to decide that Bryce flat-out isn’t interested, but then being smitten with someone does have a tendency to reduce one’s ability to think logically. While her behavior sometimes put my sympathies with Bryce, I generally preferred her gently artistic voice to Bryce’s rather flip tone. Still, one of the best things about the book is seeing their different takes on the same situation.

Reading the book really made me appreciate what a good adaptation the movie is. There’s very little in the novel that doesn’t come across in the film. I would say Juli’s brothers and dog are slightly more integral to the plot of the book, but there’s nothing significant lost in translation there. I do find it curious that her brother Mike becomes Mark in the movie while her brother Matt retains his name, but that’s a minor issue.

I do think that it was a smart idea to change the setting from the early 2000s to the 1960s; the characters feel more at home there, and elements like a backyard chicken coop and a fundraiser involving auctioning off picnic lunches with mortified eight-grade boys seems to fit better with that era, while the bubblegum soundtrack reflects with the innocence of first love. In the book, the setting is fairly ambiguous until about three-fourths of the way through. It’s not hugely important, but I think making the time period more integral to the story improves it.

While I generally think the narrative voices are effective, at times Van Draanen seems as though she can’t decide if her characters are writing from the perspective of the end of eighth grade or are just speaking immediately as things happen. There’s a lot of present tense in the book, and while I guess it’s there mostly for emphasis, it does muddle the narrative a bit when it comes to the protagonists’ degree of self-reflection. I would go so far as to say that it is definitely inconsistent at times. For instance, Bryce tells us in the beginning that eighth grade is almost over, but when he first mentions his grandpa, he says that as far as he can tell, “the thing he likes to do best is stare out the front-room window.” This would be a fair initial observation, but Bryce knows his grandpa much better by the end of eighth grade. A couple of tense changes would probably clear up the problem, but as it stands it’s a little contradictory.

The book is a quick read at just over 200 pages, and it’s an enjoyable one. However, this is one case in which skilled screenwriters – Rob Reiner and Andrew Scheinman – took a promising story and, without changing much, managed to polish it up and make it truly shine for the screen. I recommend the book. However, while I don’t often say this, given the choice between reading and watching Flipped, I would advise watching the movie. Hopefully you’ll flip for it just like I did.

A Sleepyside Antique Pulls a Vanishing Act in Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper

I started reading the Trixie Belden teen mystery series in January. When I glanced through a list of titles to see what was coming up, one that really leaped out at me was The Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper. “Phantom grasshopper???” I wasn’t sure just what that meant, and I looked forward to solving the mystery of what exactly a phantom grasshopper was. And how would just a small insect provide enough intrigue to sustain an entire novel? I have finally read this 18th volume in the series, which was written by a ghostwriter under the name of Kathryn Kenny, and I now have the answer to that question.

Phantom Grasshopper is another hometown mystery for the Bob-Whites, who had some pretty wild out-of-town adventures in volumes 11 through 15 before settling down to more ordinary exploits in Sleepyside, NY. This time around, 14-year-old Trixie, her best friend Honey, Trixie’s older brothers Brian and Mart, Honey’s adopted older brother Jim and their neighbors Dan and Di are back in school after a seemingly endless summer, and they’ve made the acquaintance of Miss Lawler, a young woman who is helping out with history classes by showing off the coin collection in her care. Kind but reclusive, she seems as though she may have a secret of two to hide.

Thanks to that coin collection, this book incorporates the word numismatist, which is another term for a coin collector. It’s one of several interesting tidbits sprinkled throughout the novel, which also includes references to Benjamin Franklin, old-timey music and a movie that I can only assume is King Kong. In addition to having my favorite title in the series, Phantom Grasshopper also boasts what may be my favorite chapter title: A Squirrel Gives a Clue. Given my lifelong fascination with those bushy-tailed creatures, that one gave me a big smile.

As someone who doesn’t drive, the discussion of the peculiarities and challenges involved with being an adult non-driver struck a chord with me, and as someone who has always wanted a tree house, I loved seeing the “see-crud” arboreal hangout belonging to Trixie’s little brother Bobby. It also made me happy to see that Regan, the horse expert who works for Honey’s parents and is my favorite regular side character in the series, has a fairly large role to play here, mostly because of an adorable little horse named Mr. Pony who he is teaching Bobby how to ride.

The mystery itself does not, rather to my disappointment, involve an actual grasshopper but rather a local artifact in the shape of a grasshopper that disappears after a wicked storm. Trixie’s fondness for this piece of local history drives her interest, which leads to an investigation as well as a chance for the Bob-Whites to take to the radio in an appeal to help them find the missing Hoppy. The intensity of her investment in this object seems a little goofy, especially since it hasn’t come up in previous books, but then it does seem in her nature to throw herself wholeheartedly into things once she has latched onto them.

Unlike with some of the books in this series, nothing in the writing style really stood out to me. The characters seem themselves, and there seems to be a good balance of dialogue and narration, but the quirkiest thing about the book is the title object. It’s not an especially memorable entry, and none of the dialogue particularly jumped out at me as being quote-worthy. Still, I found the story fun, and it has some moments of real peril. While I think the book is ultimately a bit more mundane than the oddball title suggests, it still offers an excellent chance to see the Bob-Whites at work on their home turf.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Wedding Bells Bring Tangled Webs in Something Borrowed

Level-headed brunette Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin) and fun-loving blonde Darcy (Kate Hudson) have been best friends since childhood. Now that their 20s are coming to an end, the differences between their personalities are striking, but with her wedding fast approaching, Darcy has no doubt in her mind as to who she wants as her maid of honor. The only trouble is that it was Rachel who introduced Darcy to her fiancé Dex (Colin Egglesfield), who she secretly adored all through law school. When the surprise 30th birthday party Darcy throws for her leaves Rachel drunk and despondent, it leads to a quiet moment in which she unthinkingly blurts out her long-repressed feelings and discovers that they were mutual. Are mutual. Shenanigans ensue. Will Rachel confess? Will Dex? Was this a horrible one-time mistake, or was the bigger mistake Dex’s proposal to Darcy?

This movie, directed by Luke Greenfield and with a screenplay by Jennie Snyder based on the novel by Emily Giffin, is a PG-13 rated romantic comedy, and it’s really less of a comedy than it at first appears. There’s some unsavory language to wade through, but the bigger reason for the rating is the steamy stuff that, while rarely shown, frequently seeps into the dialogue and is a big part of the storyline. The film unfolds in such a way that the audience’s sympathies are likely to be divided. On the one hand, Dex and Rachel’s untimely shedding of their inhibitions makes us inclined to see them in an unfavorable light, with one betraying his fiancée and the other her best friend. On the other hand, Rachel and Dex have a deeper relationship that stretches further back. They have far more in common, and Dex’s face lights up whenever he sees Rachel. Thus, one can’t help rooting for these two to get together, to finally course-correct from the unfortunate directions their lives took as a result of their toxic timidity.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen Egglesfield in anything before, but he thoroughly captured my attention here. In Darcy’s presence, Dex is polite but almost unfailingly uncomfortable, while he seems at blissful ease with Rachel. One wonders why he ever wanted to marry Darcy, since they seem so totally mismatched. It seems to be a combination of sheer physical attraction and Darcy’s forceful personality overpowering his reserved one, though I think Goodwin actually looks a lot prettier in this movie than Hudson does. Her quiet performance grabbed me as much as Egglesfield’s, particularly the sparkle in her eyes in the flashbacks to grad school, before everything got so complicated.

While I found both Rachel and Dex more innately likable, I may have been most impressed with Hudson’s performance because it’s so hard to know what to make of her character. In some ways, she’s really quite obnoxious. She’s frequently drunk, and she has a tendency to behave in outrageous, embarrassing ways. However, whatever else she is, Darcy appears to be a genuinely loyal friend who would never dream that Dex and Rachel could be going behind her back with each other. Hudson emphasizes just enough of her sweetness and vulnerability that we’re not allowed to forget what a crummy thing those two did.

That isn’t to say that, once those feelings came to light, I think they should have been immediately ignored and the wedding should have proceeded as planned. “You can’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else,” Captain Von Trapp declared in The Sound of Music. So what did he do? He broke off his engagement and proposed to the right woman. Here it’s just give in to passion first, think later, and above all, avoid owning up to any wrongdoing at all costs, including your own happiness.

While I hadn’t heard anything about this movie before my friend brought it over last night, she mentioned that The Office’s John Krasinski has been receiving accolades for his role as Ethan, a mutual childhood friend of Darcy and Rachel. While he has shortcomings of his own, particularly when it comes to how he deals with Claire (Ashley Williams), a woman with whom he had a fling but in whom he has no lingering interest, Ethan serves as confidante and counselor to Rachel, and it’s through him that we get the strongest sense of what makes this woman tick. Meanwhile, Steve Howey reminds me of Ashton Kutcher in his role as the libidinous, borderline repulsive oddball Marcus.

It took me a little while to warm to the movie, but once I did, I really found myself drawn in. Frustratingly, romantic comedies that restrict themselves to lip-locks are increasingly rare these days, and this certainly is no exception to the rule, though even if the main characters were as chaste as the Jonas Brothers, it would only slightly lessen the driving conflict. What makes the movie intriguing is the fact that our protagonists are two people who should have gotten together in the first place and whose failure to communicate has turned a beautiful relationship into something shameful. We want them to get together in the end, but we don’t really want them to get off scot-free either. And where does this all leave Darcy, let alone her long-standing friendship with Rachel, which she claims to cherish even more than her relationship with Dex? How, too, does Ethan fit in?

By the end of the movie, what really struck me about it was that it felt more realistic than a lot of movies in this genre. All of the main characters have likable characteristics, and all of them do despicable things, sometimes in the name of friendship. A desire to avoid hurting another’s feelings degenerates into more reasons for that person’s feelings to be hurt. From its chaotic beginning to its untidy ending, Something Borrowed aptly demonstrates the problems that can arise when clear communication and courage are absent, in friendship and love alike.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Mark Twain and Hannah Montana Merge in Princess and the Pop Star

More than a decade ago, the Christian computer-animated video series VeggieTales introduced LarryBoy, a cucumber superhero who has since gotten three full-blown videos, along with several lower-quality videos and a number of tie-in books and toys. With action-packed storylines appealing especially to boys, the LarryBoy videos have found an honored place in Veggie lore and helped pave the way for more cinematic side-trips like the expeditions of Minnesota Cuke, an adventurer whose exploits offer a tip of the fedora to Indiana Jones.

With last year’s Sweetpea Beauty, VeggieTales began branching off into videos specifically aimed at girls. While previous installments have featured female protagonists, never before had the packaging and merchandising so thoroughly indicated that particular focus. This summer, we have Princess and the Pop Star: A Story of Trading Places. When LarryBoy first appeared, we were merely getting Larry dressing up in a costume. He didn’t want to be plain old Larry; he wanted to be special. He wanted to be a superhero. There are some echoes of that in this video, in which Princess (a name, not a title) Poppyseed (Laura Carrot) dreams of meeting her lookalike idol, Vanna Banana, and of becoming a pop star like her.

Princess lives on a humble farm with her inventor father, practical mother and chaotic siblings, and she resents her chores and her lack of glamour. Mostly, though, it drives her crazy that she can never get any privacy. The biggest offender when it comes to infringing on her space is her adoring little brother Pepper. When his exuberance causes Princess to miss out on the chance of a lifetime, she reaches a breaking point. Meanwhile, Vanna is unhappy too. Shuttled here and there by her manager mother (Madame Blueberry) and a gaggle of personal assistants, she yearns for the life of a regular kid. She wants some time away from the spotlight. Most of all, she craves the warmth of a loving family. When the two girls bump into each other on the playground, they compare sob stories and notice their striking physical similarities. If each wants exactly what the other one has, why not trade places?

This is an upbeat video that marks the first time that the main storyline stars a character who is a female child. For the third time in the past year or so, childlike Larry the Cucumber is cast in the role of parent; it seems like they are trying to mature him a bit, or at least the characters he portrays; he’s still pretty silly in the countertop scenes, though at least he is attempting to proactively answer a youngster’s question. Aside from Larry and the double Lauras – one of whom is played by a different actress with much more of a pop star sound – the only other major Veggie characters to make an appearance in this story are Madame Blueberry and Jimmy Gourd, who plays a television personality, though Pa Grape has a cameo on a charming Little House on the Prairie parody that I especially appreciated since I recently watched the first season of that classic 70s show on DVD.

I think the theme is generally well done. Both girls are likable but not entirely contented. Of the two, Vanna seems more serene and wise, while Princess is a bundle of angst and ambition. While Vanna is the one who comes up with the switcheroo to begin with, Princess is the one who is unwilling to let go of the ruse when the jig is up. Presumably the intention was for this to be a short-term thing, just a couple of days that would allow Vanna a break and Princess a shot at her dream, but the corn-fed youngster seems to think that filling Vanna’s shoes permanently is an actual option. As much as anything else, this is a video about contentment with one’s circumstances, which makes it a tad repetitive since we got that same theme only two videos ago with It’s a Meaningful Life. Princess needs to realize how blessed she is to have such a large, loving family and appreciate her unique place in it. Vanna, on the other hand, could use a reminder of what a privilege it is to have her life and of the capacity she has to touch people’s lives as a result.

On the other hand, especially after watching the special feature in which Mike Nawrocki talks about how they were trying to convey an idea that God has a special plan for each person, I wonder if the message is a bit mixed. The lesson as stated on the cover is “being yourself,” and both girls have legitimate complaints about their lifestyle. Vanna wants to feel like a beloved daughter instead of a commodity; Princess wants a little space to dream her big dreams. I think part of being yourself is realizing where changes might be made and acting on them. That’s not to say the video discourages this; it does encourage clearer communication with one’s parents, especially on Vanna’s end. But I do think there’s a danger of confusing contentment with complacence. It seems to me that following God’s will often requires stepping outside of one’s comfort zone. For the target audience, it’s appropriate to urge them to simply count their blessings and try to be the best they can be right where they are, but I don’t think kids should feel pigeonholed either. With enough practice, Princess could grow up to become a singer, and Vanna could hang up her microphone and raise a family out in the country. However, that would be years down the line, and it would have to be the result of conscious decisions rather than insertion into another person’s life.

I love the cozy Poppyseed farm, which has a rambling, lived-in appearance. This is not a rich family, but neither would I call them poor. They have enough, and their land looks like a marvelous playground. I’m less enamored with the flashy Vanna segments. Obviously, this video takes its inspiration from two major sources: Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper and the mega-popular Disney Channel series Hannah Montana. Twain’s tale is a classic that has been adapted time and again, but I have my doubts that Hannah Montana, the saga of a pop star trying to live like both Vanna and Princess without mixing up her very different identities, has that kind of staying power. With that show having concluded in January, it’s already moving into the realm of yesterday’s news, since its trendiness was its main draw. Because of that, this video feels just a bit dated right out of the gate, which is not a complaint I have had about any previous VeggieTales videos. I just wonder if they were trying to be a little too topical.

Like most of the videos in the series, this one has a Silly Song. Entitled Astonishing Wigs, it allows uppity Archibald Asparagus the opportunity to expound upon the history of wigs as fashionable items. Archibald is one of my favorite characters, and given his absence in the story, I’m especially glad to see him here, and his extravagant style cracks me up as always. As a song, it’s decent but not that melodious. My main complaint, though, is that at one point, a trio of bewigged pigs gets up and sings. Aside from Barbara Manatee, a television character within the world of VeggieTales who we hear but never actually see, and a couple of invertebrates, I can’t recall any instance of talking animals in this series, and the pigs just feel out of place. Dozens of children’s stories involve talking pigs; including them here just feels old hat and not really VeggieTales’ style. I doubt I would have objected to their presence if they had just acted like regular pigs wandering around in mild confusion over the heavy objects on their heads; it’s the singing and dancing that annoys me. Otherwise, though, the song is enjoyable.

Naturally, with two main characters who love to sing, this video is heavy on the music, and while we maybe hear one of the songs a couple more times than necessary, Vanna’s hits are very catchy and definitely have the Hannah Montana sound to them. At the same time, they don’t feel out of place in a Veggie video. The girls’ individual songs asserting their longings both establish the characters well, and Vanna’s is quite poignant. Meanwhile, the final song ties the video together and expresses the main theme well. With as many times as it gets repeated in the video, I suspect that Vanna’s most popular song will get firmly lodged into the minds of many young viewers. I know I can’t get it out of my head.

I bought my DVD at Walmart, where it came packaged with a bonus DVD entitled Girl Power! This DVD includes the contents of three older videos with female leads: Madame Blueberry, Duke and the Great Pie War and Esther: The Girl Who Became Queen. While the latter two feature heroic characters, Madame Blueberry is petty and greedy at the beginning of her tale, not to mention too easily manipulated. She does eventually come to her senses, but I’m not sure the video is really an example of “girl power.” However, the only other video that would really fit is Sweetpea Beauty, which presumably is too new for them to want to put in a package DVD.  Besides, Madame Blueberry also includes Annie, the soft-spoken, bespectacled young leek who is the one Veggie who reminds me most of myself, and her role, while small, does fit the theme better than the title character’s. Incidentally, if these female-focused videos continue, I hope Annie gets a starring role soon.

For longtime Veggie fans, this bonus DVD will most likely be superfluous, though even if you weren’t getting a bonus, you’d probably still pay less at WalMart than just about anywhere else. For those new to the series, however, this is a great way to get acquainted, as you’re basically getting four videos for the price of one. While VeggieTales has a number of female side characters, Madame Blueberry and Petunia, from Duke and the Great Pie War, are really the only fairly major characters aside from Laura and perhaps Mom Asparagus. While an oddball female character from Esther has made appearances in subsequent videos, Esther herself hasn’t, and I wonder why that is. I would think she could be a valuable addition to the ensemble.

Princess and the Pop Star isn’t perfect, with its excessive trendiness and its mildly mixed message. Nonetheless, the video is fun and heartfelt, and the relationships between Vanna and her mother and Princess and Pepper are particularly touching. Having immersed myself in the Trixie Belden series this year, I found that Princess’s boisterous home life, complete with a plethora of chores and a tagalong little brother, made me think of Trixie, while Vanna’s longing for a deeper connection with her mother reminded me of Trixie’s best friend Honey. One hopes that after the events of the video, these girls will remain friends and share their worlds with each other, even as each becomes more satisfied with her own. There’s nothing wrong with a healthy curiosity about how other people live, but perhaps after watching this video, young viewers might be more inclined to look at their own lives from an outsider’s perspective and see the advantages familiarity has caused them to overlook.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Tom Cruise Flies Into the Danger Zone in Top Gun

Do you feel the need? The need for speed? My brother did after he watched Top Gun, the adrenaline-soaked 1986 movie about a cocky fighter pilot living in his father’s shadow. Like many others who watched those jets zoom past each other executing fancy maneuvers, he eventually joined the Navy, and while he didn’t end up becoming a pilot, this movie remains a favorite in my house.

It stars Tom Cruise as Maverick, a hotshot whose overconfidence is his biggest asset and liability. He’s a brilliant flyer, but he has a tendency to take unnecessary risks. As the movie begins, he and his best friend Goose (Anthony Edwards) have just enrolled in Top Gun, a program that trains the most accomplished pilots in the Navy. While the jovial Goose is generally well-liked, Maverick faces some hostility, especially from Val Kilmer’s Iceman, who sees his methods as dangerous.

For aviation enthusiasts like my dad and brother, much of the movie’s appeal is in the explosive firefights. While these are what make the movie so distinct, I find the spectacle a bit dizzying, and I prefer the human drama unfolding on the ground. In a classic scene that has rendered the Righteous Brothers’ You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ taboo in most karaoke joints catering to Naval officers, Maverick meets Charlie (Kelly McGillis), a no-nonsense beauty he soon learns will be his flight instructor. Maverick may have the moves when it comes to MiGs, but can he win over this cool-headed teacher, especially when such a relationship would have to be clandestine?

This is the movie that brought us Take My Breath Away, the steamy song that seeps its way into the score at nearly every opportunity. I prefer the fist-pumping Danger Zone, though the former was the theme song for my senior prom. But when it comes to music, what I like best are the performances by Cruise and Edwards, which are more exuberant than melodious, aside from Edwards’ perfectly passable piano playing. While Maverick and Charlie heat up the screen, it’s his friendship with Goose that is the true heart of the movie. I also like Maverick’s relationship with the accomplished Viper (Tom Skerritt), who serves as a mentor both as a skilled pilot and a friend of his late, wrongly maligned father, and Meg Ryan turns in a sweet performance as Goose’s boisterous wife.

Whenever my dad watches Top Gun, he likes to point out inaccuracies like pilots taking off their masks mid-flight, which no doubt was done primarily so we could see their faces better. Certain aspects of the movie paint the Navy in a rather unflattering light, though that didn’t stop thousands of boys like my brother from feeling inspired to take to the skies after watching it. With the movie smack in the middle of the 1980s, some of the dialogue is a bit on the cheesy side, but that adds to the fun, as does a running joke involving an officer who really ought to know better than to accept a steaming cup of coffee when an irrepressible pilot is coming in for a landing nearby.

While Top Gun is not my favorite Tom Cruise movie – that honor goes to the underrated Far and Away – it did serve as my introduction to him, so it’s little wonder I tend to think of him as being pretty hot on himself. Of course, that demeanor does seem to permeate many of his roles, and like those others, Maverick can be pretty hard to take. All the same, I can’t help but root for him as he faces daunting challenges in the air and a painful maturation process on terra firma as he goes from a man whose “ego’s writing checks [his] body can’t cash” to a man truly ready to face the world.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Dueling Perspectives Accentuate the Communication Gap in Rob Reiner's Flipped

One of my favorite moments in all of LOST occurs in season three, when we get a glimpse into the childhood of Benjamin Linus, arguably the most complex character in the series. In this scene, a girl named Annie shows him two dolls she has made, one to represent her, the other him. She presents him with the Annie doll and explains, “Now we never have to be away from each other.”

It’s a shining moment of true friendship in the otherwise deeply troubled life of a Machiavelli in the making. So powerful was its impact that although she only appeared in that episode, Annie remains one of my favorite characters on the show. When I discovered that Flipped, a 2010 Rob Reiner film I found while browsing IMDb, features Madeline Carroll, the actress who portrayed Annie, I knew I had to rent it. The cover photograph of two 14-year-old friends sharing a tree perch, reminiscent of Annie and Ben sharing a swing set, was the icing on the cake.

In Flipped, adapted from the Wendelin Van Draanen novel by Reiner and Andrew Scheinman, Carroll plays Juli Baker, an eighth grader who has been smitten with her neighbor, Bryce Loski (Callan McAuliffe), ever since he moved in across the street six years earlier. Bryce considers her more of a nuisance than a real friend, while she treasures their relationship and imagines that his feelings run deeper than he is willing to let on. It’s the early 1960s, and painful secrets lurk beneath the surface of a seemingly placid neighborhood. Everything is about to get more complicated for both Juli and Bryce, and how they relate to one another will have an important effect on their lives in this year of transition.

The look and feel of the movie is appealing, with Thomas Del Ruth’s sunny cinematography reflecting the innocence of the chief characters, while early sock hop hits pepper the soundtrack. Bryce watches Bonanza with his family; Juli confesses to a crush on the Everly Brothers and can’t decide which of the duo she prefers. Both of the central families are close-knit but don’t speak with each other as freely as they should; the communication gap there mirrors the chasm that exists between Bryce and Juli.

In Juli’s family, the most engaging character is her eccentric dad (Aidan Quinn), who looks at the world with an artist’s eye but fails to see that his unkempt lawn has become the bane of the neighborhood. The family is struggling, but we don’t really understand why until an eye-opening visit with Juli’s uncle (Kevin Weisman) partway through the movie. Her mother (Penelope Ann Miller) is frustrated but kind, and both parents encourage the musical aspirations of her twin brothers (Michael Bolten and Shane Harper).

Cheerful teens Mark and Matt spend a lot of time with Bryce’s older sister Lynetta (Cody Horn), much to the disapproval of Bryce’s spiteful father (Anthony Edwards), who has had nothing good to say about the Baker clan from day one. Bryce’s mother (Rebecca de Mornay) is more understanding, but it’s his withdrawn, widowed grandfather, Chet (John Mahoney), who has the largest role to play thanks to his fondness for Juli, which gradually brings him out of his shell and helps to bridge the division that develops between the youngsters.

While I found this movie thoroughly enjoyable on several levels, what appealed to me most is the way we alternate between Bryce and Juli’s perspectives. One narrates for a while, and then we switch over to the other, usually with some overlap that gives us a very different reading on what we just saw in the previous scene. Bryce’s narration, especially toward the beginning, is a bit aggressive; he just can’t understand why Juli won’t leave him alone, and he would be mortified to realize that she thinks he is giving off encouraging signals.

Meanwhile, her tone is generally dreamy; she spends a lot of time with her head in the clouds, which may partly account for the disconnect between her perceptions and reality. Bryce thinks she’s a loon, but Chet, who begins spending his afternoons helping her landscape her front lawn, insists she’s special. Finally, Bryce’s impression of her begins to change, but not before his insensitivity causes Juli to seriously reconsider her long-held affections…

McAuliffe, who I’d never encountered before, turns in a good performance as Bryce, who generally comes across as shallower than Juli but matures as the year progresses. However, it was Carroll who really impressed me. Of course, I was predisposed to like Juli because of LOST and Chet because of Frasier, so that may have influenced me, but I generally found that Juli’s half of the storyline was more poignant and profound. Most often, her problems are more pressing, and she reacts with more compassion to the trials of others.

Chet’s admiration for her blooms after she makes a brave stand to save the majestic sycamore tree that serves as her favorite thoughtful spot, and she takes it upon herself to beautify her family’s property, accepting her neighbor’s aid in part because she realizes his need for kindred companionship. Later, she comes to understand the painful truth behind her family’s financial difficulties, and her kindness compels her to make a surprising decision during a school fundraiser. Carroll has more dramatic material to work with, while McAuliffe’s veers more often toward the comical.

Flipped is a mirthful movie that exposes the very different ways in which people, especially teenage boys and girls, think. It’s common for one person to be completely oblivious to something the other thinks is obvious, and these missed signals have great comedic heft. At the same time, all these misunderstandings have the capacity to derail a friendship, and one wonders while watching whether it might be better if two people in such a situation could simply, as Gordon Lightfoot wistfully proposed, read each other’s minds. Or would knowing too much present just as many pitfalls as not knowing enough?

What is clear after watching the movie is that everyday interactions only skim the surface of a person’s innermost thoughts, and whether you’re 14 or 41, delving deeper is a dance whose complicated choreography is never the same for any two people. For Juli and Bryce, the steps are awkward indeed, but the final waltz is as graceful as the slope of a sycamore limb under a fiery sky.

Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck Embark on a Whirlwind Roman Holiday

A princess tired of having her life dictated for her decides to spend a day living as a commoner. Two kind-hearted opportunists intending to use a young woman’s royal connections for their personal gain begin to think twice once they get to know her. The first plot element reminds me of Disney’s Aladdin, the second of Don Bluth’s Anastasia, but I recently encountered them in a live-action classic predating them by decades.

William Wyler’s 1953 comedy Roman Holiday features Audrey Hepburn in a star-making role as the young Princess Ann, whose demanding schedule of royal duties on an official visit to Rome leaves her desperate for a little time to herself. After a doctor gives her an experimental treatment to help her relax, she wanders dazedly out onto the streets, where jaded journalist Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck) notices her erratic behavior and reluctantly rescues her from the poor end she may meet if she remains in this state on her own.

It isn’t until the next morning that he realizes this glamorous vagabond is the princess and could therefore be very valuable to him if he manages to convince her to stay in his company for the remainder of the day. His plan? Feign ignorance of her identity and take her out for a whirlwind tour of the city, then write an in-depth article about the experience, supplemented by photographs snapped on the sly by his friend Irving (Eddie Albert). He’ll make a mint, and she’ll never know until too late that he was using her.

Hepburn is all grace and charm as the princess, even when the doctor’s prescription has made her loopy. No matter what the situation, she exudes elegance. She is at her most endearing midway through the movie as the princess simply soaks up the pleasure of doing whatever she pleases. While this is a well-traveled young woman with extensive experience in foreign affairs, the exuberance on her face as she runs wild in Rome is infectious.

Peck is equally excellent as the world-wise journalist with the wry wit who wants to make a quick buck but has scruples enough to nag at him as he contemplates the humiliation the princess will face if he makes their dalliance public. Peck was about 13 years Hepburn’s senior; her character seems younger than her actual age and his older, so the way he relates to her is almost fatherly at first, but despite the age gap, there’s also room for realistic romantic tension to develop.

Albert’s interaction with both of them has a chummy flavor to it. Irving is a bit of a goofball, and he’s certainly not as clever as Joe. Some of the funniest moments involve his pratfalls as Joe spills beverages on him in order to make him stop talking before he blows his cover. Meanwhile, he comes to admire the princess’s feisty spirit, though he doesn’t feel quite as conflicted as Joe does about their plan. Albert’s presence increases the comedy of the film, which occasionally feels more like a drama or romance. Also amusing is Hartley Power as Joe’s cranky editor, Mr. Hennessy, who fervently hopes there’s actually something to Joe’s promises that he can secure a private audience with the princess.

This movie is in black and white, which a documentary in the special features explains was a choice made in order to make the Roman scenery more of a backdrop than a centerpiece. Cinematographers Henri Alekan and Franz Planer still capture the beauty of Rome wonderfully, and the setting enhances but does not overwhelm the plot. That making-of segment also discusses how blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo wrote the screenplay for the film but gave another writer (Ian McLellan Hunter) credit. The vibrant comedy with a splash of melancholy demonstrates his skill.

I’ve always been extremely prejudiced toward color in movies, so I was disappointed in the decision to use black and white, but the characters are colorful enough that I didn’t mind for long. Hepburn, Peck and Albert make a truly winning trio in this funny, mostly feel-good film about the joy of stepping outside of expectations.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Trixie's Most Pressing Enigma in The Mystery of the Uninvited Guest Is Herself

When I started reading the Trixie Belden teen mystery series in January, I took the first two books out at the same time, and I was glad I did, since the first ends on a pretty major cliff-hanger. Meanwhile, the third introduces Trixie’s older brothers Brian and Mart and includes the formation of the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the club headed by then-13-year-old sleuth Trixie Belden and her neighbor Jim Frayne, and the fourth brings a sixth member, Di Wheeler, into the group. After that, order isn’t quite so important, as events from one book rarely carry over into the volume immediately following it. I was a little surprised, then, to get warned off of reading the seventeenth book, which is in my library system, before the sixteenth, which isn’t, but I held off until I got my hands on the missing installment, and it was worth it.

The Mystery of the Uninvited Guest brings back several characters from the preceding novel, most notably Jim’s cousin Juliana, whose August wedding among her new friends in Sleepyside, New York, is the event around which most of the book revolves. The title pulls double duty as it refers to both Miss Ryks, an elusive elderly woman who wrangles her way into an invitation by claiming a close connection to Juliana and her fiancé Hans, and Hallie Belden, the spunky cousin who arrives at Crabapple Farm for an extended visit, much to Trixie’s aggravation. While Miss Ryks is one of the key players in the mystery, Hallie becomes a shadow detective, often adding valuable suggestions that aid Trixie and her gentle best friend Honey Wheeler in their investigation.

Hallie’s presence helps to make this one of the most introspective books in the series thus far as Trixie is forced to examine her attitudes about her younger cousin and contemplate the ways in which both of them have grown up recently. “It’s hard being a teen-ager, isn’t it?” she confesses at one point during a fairly deep discussion, and I suspect that most of those who have navigated the rocky roads of adolescence could agree with that. While Trixie’s argumentative nature in the first few chapters is a bit grating, it allows for growth later on as she allows herself to make a fresh start with Hallie, leaving old squabbles in the past.

Ultimately, I think the dynamic between these two may be my favorite element of the book, though I also love being able to see them participate in an intimate outdoor wedding, a lovely ceremony that reminds me of the golden nuptials that precede the chaos and darkness marking most of the final Harry Potter book. It’s fun to watch the girls help with the preparations, enlisting the aid of both kindly Dutch widow Mrs. Vanderpoel and practical Miss Trask, who helps run the Wheeler estate. The elegant simplicity of the wedding and the obvious affection the bride and groom have for each other casts a warm glow over the whole book, particularly for those who got to know Juliana over the course of the previous volume.

But all is not happiness and light here. Curious circumstances begin piling up, reaching a crisis point when Juliana’s ring vanishes and Dan Mangan, the seventh Bob-White, disappears shortly thereafter. Dan often takes a backseat, so it’s nice to see him so integral to the action here, even if he does spend several chapters missing. Meanwhile, Trixie’s mischievous little brother Bobby gets caught up in the mystery as well, becoming a more centric character than he usually is. In fact, he has a bigger role to play here than the older Belden boys, though they maintain a prominent presence, as does Di, whose family suffers a shocking blow toward the beginning of the book that helps set the mystery into motion.

While Uninvited Guest is clearly a sequel to The Mystery of the Missing Heiress, the writing style is very different. Instead of being dialogue-heavy, this book is more focused on narration, and there’s an artistic flourish to the descriptions that impressed me. This particular ghostwriter has a knack for metaphors and for finding new ways of expressing ideas that are present throughout the series. For example, she makes several comparisons between Trixie’s brain and a computer, a tribute to her tendency to process information quickly and make great mental leaps. Additionally, while I’m not sure if this was intentional, I like the fact that in a book in which a wedding is the focal point, the hotel room around which much of the mystery centers is number 214, as in Valentine’s Day.

I wouldn’t exactly call the ending of the sixteenth book a cliffhanger, but it does set readers up for the idea of Trixie and the rest of the Bob-Whites participating in a summer wedding, and I’m glad that whoever was in charge of these decisions felt that this event merited a book of its own. The mystery is intriguing, particularly Dan and Bobby’s roles in the strange events that unfold, but it’s the changing relationship between Trixie and Hallie, a great new character in her own right, and the joint effort to prepare a beautiful wedding for a deserving couple that made Uninvited Guest such an enjoyable read with which to begin the month of August.

The Serpent Came To Gloucester and Made a Big Impression

Before the new Disney animated feature Winnie the Pooh is a short entitled The Ballad of Nessie. This charming retro short paints the fabled Scottish sea serpent in an endearing light, which seems to be the case more often than not. While Nessie is probably the most famous of these legendary creatures, they have been spotted by sailors and coast dwellers in many parts of the world, particularly prior to the 1900s. M. T. Anderson’s The Serpent Came to Gloucester recounts the true story of the time when hundreds of residents of the Massachusetts seaside town reported seeing a sea serpent splashing in the waters of the harbor between August of 1817 and September of 1818. Appropriately, the book is narrated by an aged man relating a marvelous story to a young child, recalling the time when he was just a boy and saw the monster with his own two eyes. Hence, there’s the sense that he, like so many wizened storytellers before him, weaves in threads of the fanciful in order to make his tale more flavorful.

Anderson narrates in lyrical rhyme reminiscent of a sophisticated sea shanty. His wording is complex and poetic, but each two-page segment concludes with two lines that describe the state of the sea at that particular time. The word “sea” appears two or three times in each refrain and is accompanied by different adjectives. For instance, when the speaker suggests that the beast is merely frolicking, “frothy” and “wobbly” describe the sea, but when he speaks of the men who set out to kill it upon its return the next year, the sea becomes “murky and murderous.” The final words he uses to describe the waters are “ancient and wrinkled,” like the speaker himself, who does not reveal his age until the final stanza, though his narrative tone suggests it throughout the story.

Each verse is made up of two sets of four lines, followed by the refrain. The basic rhyme pattern is ABCB, though in some cases the first and third lines rhyme, and internal rhyme is sprinkled throughout with no particular pattern to it, catching readers by surprise when it appears. Anderson is also fond of alliteration, with the “s” serving him particularly well. In addition to the refrain, Anderson frequently uses repetition in the verses, which adds to the shanty feel. Most often this occurs as a sort of transition between stanzas. For instance, “They vowed they would drown or would stab or would stifle / The beast, if it cost them their lives. // If it cost them their lives, they would catch it, / By net or by hook or by crook.”

The rhythm is mostly consistent, faltering a bit in places, though this may be intentional in at least one case as a way to express hesitation. While it seems a bit lengthy to actually sing – twice as long as Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which always seemed pretty epic to me – it wouldn’t be too hard to set the poem to music. Just out of curiosity, I tried pairing the verses up with the tune of Phil Coulter’s Home From the Sea, and it mostly works. Again, the scansion isn’t perfect, but an undeniable potential for musicality is present.

The speaker’s sympathies lie with the creature, whose wild thrashing he interprets as playing. Other villagers react differently. Some see it as an atrocity to be feared, others a prize to be attained. While many merely join the boy in fascinated observation of the serpent from a distance, others feel that its presence merits action, and this is where the chief conflict comes in. The idea of civilization encroaching upon the splendor of nature seems to be a favorite topic of Anderson, who also wrote Me, All Alone, At the End of the World, a picture book about a boy who revels in the quiet solitude of his home in the mountains until developers threaten his way of life. An elegiac tone pervades both stories, but especially this one, as the speaker suspects that such wonders as he witnessed as a boy are slowly fading into the realm of foggy memory.

Bagram Ibatoulline, who illustrated Kate DiCamillo’s luminous Christmas book Great Joy, furnishes paintings that perfectly complement Anderson’s lyrical writing. There’s an old-fashioned look to the acrylic gouache artwork, which depicts the town, its residents, the serpent and the ever-changing sea. Seven paintings stretch across two full pages, leaving plenty of room to show the town at a glance or the expansive nature of the sea. Meanwhile, the remaining seven paintings fill one page each. The title painting and the nearly identical painting that accompanies the final sad, slightly elongated refrain are also two-page spreads.

I find Ibatoulline’s depiction of the sea itself, particularly as it relates to the sky, to be the most effective aspect of his illustrations, as he evokes a range of emotions from terror to serenity with his brushstrokes and color choices. Some of his depictions are truly harrowing. While the people are well-drawn, they fade into the background; the only figure who truly pops for me is the old man who wistfully gazes out the window as if hoping to catch one last glimpse of the elusive friend whose portrait hangs on the wall behind him. Like the little girl curled up in his lap, the reader must rely on his recollection to recapture the enchantment of that experience.

“Though I hope you shall see it, / I fear it is gone,” he laments, never suggesting that it might never have been there in the first place. The old man knows what he and so many of his fellow villagers saw. Anderson seems to side with these eye-witnesses from centuries past and even provides a list of additional reading material supporting their case in his author’s note at the end. Whether or not you believe this creature was anything more unusual than an oversized fish, set aside time to read this ancient mariner’s artful account, and you too can see the spectacular sight of the serpent swimming and slithering in the summertime sea.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The Prince and Me II is Superfluous But Entertaining

This year, the world watched as Prince William and Kate Middleton tied the knot. Royal weddings have a way of capturing the public’s imagination. That’s certainly the case in The Prince and Me II: The Royal Wedding. In this 2006 sequel to the charming Julia Stiles rom-com The Prince and Me, Paige (now played by little-known Kam Heskin) is happily engaged to Prince Edvard (Luke Mably) of Denmark and studying at a Danish university while wedding preparations proceed. But complications are about to come her way…

The Prince and Me II is the first of three superfluous sequels to a cute stand-alone film. The premise is a fairly tired one. A scheming relative digs up an obscure law necessitating that the prince marries someone of royal blood. Edvard already is feeling the pinch because law also dictates that he must marry by his next birthday, which is coming up quickly. He knows who he wants to marry. But will the tug of duty lead him instead into the arms of his conniving cousin Kirsten (Clemency Burton-Hill)?

While Heskin is not as nuanced as Stiles, she does what she can as her decent stand-in, and she and Mably make a fairly convincing couple. I wouldn’t say the sparks are flying, but at least it’s plain they like each other. Catherine Cyran, who also directed the third and fourth movies, takes over the franchise here, and the movie has a definite made-for-TV quality about it. While none of the major characters are children, this definitely feels like more of a kids’ movie, with abundant slapstick and a very simple storyline.

Burton-Hill alternates between extreme sweetness and cattiness as the comely woman who used to be the prince’s closest friend. While her father is clearly only interested in power and money, it does seem as though Kirsten might have genuine feelings for her childhood chum, so I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her, though her behavior become increasingly abhorrent as the story progresses. Still, I found her performance the most engaging in the movie. I also enjoyed Jonathan Firth as Soren, Edvard’s personal assistant and Paige’s devoted friend, and his down-to-earth kindness and clever ideas come to the rescue on more than one occasion. He’s played by a different actor this time around too, but the change is not as noticeable, at least without having seen the first one in several years.

The movie is quite pleasant to look at, with plenty of views of royal architecture and gardens and the recurring appearance of blue butterflies. I don’t know enough about Denmark to be able to say whether there was much accuracy in the portrayal; perhaps it would have been better to invent a country, as Meg Cabot did with The Princess Diaries. It does make aspects of the country look a bit silly, but the cinematography presents Denmark in a favorable light, though it was filmed in the Czech Republic.

The fact that Paige is still studying to be a doctor is an interesting point. The implication is that when she becomes queen, her duties will be extensive, but nobody seems to think that serving as both doctor and monarch will be too much to juggle. The movie is careful to balance the traditional fairy tale notion of a prince sweeping an ordinary girl off her feet with a more modern sensibility, allowing Paige to continue pursuing her long-held career goals. Paige never needs to choose between dreams, but if Edvard truly loves her, he might need to abdicate. But can he bear to relinquish his duty to his country if it comes to that?

The Prince and Me II is a rather silly movie with several over-the-top sequences involving a series of calamities. These are probably funniest for younger viewers, who might also take away a worthwhile message about the value of education and diligent study. While there’s a reason this went directly to video, it’s still a fairly fun and family-friendly modern-day fairy tale. For what it is, I’d say it works pretty well.

Robin McKinley Weaves a Timeless Tale in Beauty

When I was ten, I found out that Disney’s next animated feature would be Beauty and the Beast. My initial reaction was surprise that this was a fairy tale they’d never tackled. I knew the story, or at least one version of it, quite well, and I was a little disappointed that the movie would be such familiar territory for me. As it turned out, however, it wasn’t. In the Disney version, Belle is an only child, so there are no petty, unkind sisters to contend with. Moreover, when her father seeks shelter in the Beast’s castle, it is his mere presence that sparks his host’s ire, not an act of thievery. Meanwhile, Gaston, the arrogant huntsman so intent on marrying Belle despite her lack of interest, was an entirely new character to me. Despite a few key similarities, the movie ultimately bore fairly minimal resemblance to the fairy tale I knew. Robin McKinley’s novel Beauty, published in the late 1970s, comes closer to the version I remember from my earliest years, though it too differs in some fundamental ways.

In this retelling, Beauty is the nickname of Honour, a young woman who has grown up reasonably happy despite the loss of her mother at an early age. She loves her father, a kind businessman, and her two sisters, Hope and Grace, both of whom are more obviously beautiful than she is. Beauty, who narrates the novel, considers herself plain, but she has an intellect that sets her apart from the others in her family. Growing up in luxury, she has easy access to books, and reading is her favorite leisurely pursuit. But when her father’s fortunes change, she and the rest of her family must adjust to a new way of life, one that involves hard labor and meager possessions in a town several weeks’ travel away. Industrious Beauty fares well in her new life, working as tirelessly as any man and tending to her beloved horse Greatheart, one of the few remnants of her old existence. Nonetheless, she feels a yearning for adventure, and when her father returns from a journey with a harrowing tale of an encounter with a fearsome Beast, she sees an opportunity to live up to her birth name and bring some excitement into her life.

The book is divided into three parts, with the third taking up more than half the book. Still, that leaves nearly half the book before Beauty even meets the Beast, who in this version is both hospitable and elusive. He provides Beauty with everything she could possibly want – except her family. Indeed, that is arguably the central conflict of the book. While his monstrous appearance makes her nervous, especially initially, what truly grieves her is the separation from her close-knit family and the thought that, though they reside only half a day’s journey away, she may never see them again. Because we spend so much time with her family beforehand, we understand the depth of her bond to them, which only deepened when the family’s fortunes took a tumble.

While I love her doting father and find her gentle sisters a refreshing change from the norm, the most dynamic member of her family is Hope’s cheerful husband Ger, a talented blacksmith who helps the family rebuild after bankruptcy seemed to spell their ruination. Beauty develops a special connection to her brother-in-law, who seems to understand her independent spirit better than her own flesh and blood. At the same time, the depth of the relationship between him and Hope is never in doubt, and Grace, too, demonstrates her capacity to love deeply in circumstances as trying in their own way as Beauty’s. I almost think the sisters’ names would have been better switched, as hope is such a fundamental part of Grace’s character and fuels the novel’s climax. Truly there are no villains in this book, just unfortunate events that often come about due to uncontrollable forces. Because of this, elements of the climax require Beauty to act illogically just for the sake of heightening tension, which makes the denouement slightly less satisfying than it could be.

The Beast does hold Beauty captive, though she has agreed to live in the castle of her own free will and is at liberty to spend her days as she pleases, riding the devoted Greatheart over the beautiful grounds and spending hours in her room or the library poring over books. While she is hardly treated like a prisoner and she comes to look forward to her conversations with the Beast, it’s easy to understand why she is reluctant to accept his declarations of love at first. As in the movie, I think it has less to do with his appearance than with his behavior, particularly the threats, idle though they may have been, that he lodged against her father. Additionally, Beauty is haunted by her own insecurities; her sojourn with the Beast is as much about learning to see the beauty in herself as it is about seeing it in him. McKinley shows Beauty’s perception gradually expanding in intriguing ways as she finds herself reading and even comprehending books that won’t be written for centuries and hearing snatches of conversations between the no-nonsense invisible servants who attend to her every need.

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast remains my favorite version of this story to date, in part because Belle and the Beast fall in love simultaneously. Here, the Beast asks her to marry him as soon as they meet. I get the sense that he’d been watching her for a while from afar and orchestrated the incident with her father to get her there, which reminds me uneasily of the vile Gaston’s manipulative tactics in the movie. And if he didn’t, then his love at first sight smacks of desperation because he knows the love of a woman can break the spell that holds him in his current form. Nonetheless, he grows as a character too, and as his regard deepens from a possessive fervor to genuine love, the landscape begins to change accordingly. As friendship gradually blooms, birds and blossoms reflect the alterations occurring within the castle’s primary occupants.

Beauty is a lovely novel with a fairy tale flavor that nonetheless feels steeped in realism, particularly in the scenes away from the castle. My friend Beth, who recommended this to me, mentioned that McKinley has written another retelling of this “tale as old as time,” and I would be interested to see how she approaches it from a different angle. In this case, I would say that the novel she crafted certainly lives up to its name.