Succession

 I just finished watching Succession. It was grim and funny.  One of the funniest scenes is about the butter. My family was in the restaurant business and this is, in fact, a version of something I heard:

and then there is cousin Greg:

Sweet Magnolias

Just watched the first season of Sweet Magnolias on Netflix, a small-town romance based on the novels of prolific romance author Sherryl Woods. Three best friends, their marriages, children, romance and small-town shenanigans. Complete fluff but competently executed with a cliff-hanger season ending. I like the young actors. The principal cast includes a lot of talent; the actress who plays Dana Sue was the star of Drop Dead Diva, a show I enjoyed years ago. I don't know what Lifetime or Hallmarks shows are like, but this had a little bit of a Gilmore Girls vibe.

The Merchant of Venice

 In the next installment of this directing for the theater course with Carey Perloff, we read The Merchant of Venice. She directed a production in Canada with a woman (Seana McKenna) cast as Shylock, so today she told us about how she researched the play, made her casting choices, and how the language of the play was informed by that choice. Unfortunately I couldn't find any film clips of that show, but this interview with Jeremy Irons, Al Pacino and director Michael Radford talks about their process for the movie version with Charlie Rose. Jeremy Irons is very invested in denying the homo-eroticism of the Antonio-Bassanio relationship. Al Pacino is very eloquent on his process.

 

La cocinera de Castamar

La cocinera de Castamar is sort of Upstairs Downstairs meets Bridgerton in Bourbon Spain under Felipe V. Not as good as Versailles. Overall it is charming, but there are lots of little issues of plausibility or continuity that kept me from really enjoying it. The romance between the Duque de Castamar and his cocinera doesn't generate a lot of heat, in part because she mostly has to stay in the kitchen so we're not given a lot of interactions between the two to explain how he is so smitten with her that he is ready to renounce his wealth and titles.  He's supposed to be the king's right-hand man but he spends a lot of time in his carriage going back and forth to court. When he finds out that his mayordomo has been spying on him for the queen, he just lets it slide. The grand estate is an easy walk to a tavern filled with ruffians so that the conniving maid Beatriz can skip out of work and conspire with El Zurdo without any consequences at work. When the evil marqués outs the gay characters, he does it with hand-drawn folletos that must have been printed somehow, but how so fast? How did various characters conceal pistols until the opportune moment?  How did the kitchen prepare food for the staff as well as for the masters?  People recover from their wounds in no time at all. Apparently a little soup with sherry is just the trick to stop a miscarriage. Any time we see a shot of the courtyard that same guy is feeding the chickens. The ending was hasty. In spite of these crabby complaints, I did enjoy the Spanish (the dub is horrific) and watched the whole thing. The series is based on a novel that was a bestseller, and has been a great success in Spain.

The White Lotus

 I wasn't sure if I wanted to watch   The White Lotus, a show about people behaving badly, but it's a project by Mike White, who also did the series Enlightened with Laura Dern that I thought was so good because it was so excruciatingly real in its depiction of people's self-delusion. The White Lotus turned out to be very similar in the way it showed how each character played out a role as they seemed to believe themselves to be good people, even as they also did or said despicable things. The hotel guests are treated as if their every whim is to be indulged, and none of them displays any kind of self-awareness around their position in this transaction.  The staff need the jobs and are correspondingly willing to be exploited: a woman who is about to give birth  goes into labor but doesn't want to leave her first day on the job even after her water breaks; the young Hawaiian man, Kai, knows his family was ripped off when the land was taken for the hotel but he needs a job and allows himself to be persuaded to steal as a kind of pseudo-reparations act; the spa director Belinda knows the score about rich white ladies but still allows herself to be deluded into thinking that THIS one is going to invest in her business instead of just using her as an emotional crutch; general manager Armond is seething with rage but is in charge of making sure everyone who works for him wears their kabuki mask, until his double-booking mistake turns into a feud with the worst entitled man-boy and he falls off the wagon. Paula, the guest of the Mossbacher family and the only person of color among the guests, does see the colonialist dimension but isn't able to free herself from her role as rich girl's friend. Her act of rebellion in urging Kai to steal from the family, goes horribly wrong and she does nothing to help him. This NPR review by Linda Holmes does a great job of laying out how each of the characters--and especially Rachel, Tanya, and Paula-- comes under the show's scrutiny. Tiny acts of freedom are swallowed up by a system that overwhelms. Rachel knows Shane is horrible but she chooses to stay with him, to be the trophy wife and avoid the risks of trying to live up to her own ideals; Tanya makes a connection with Greg because each of them is honest about their biggest defect--she's crazy and he's dying, but she also leaves Belinda high and dry after claiming she was going to invest in her business; Paula, the guest of the Mossbacher family, does see the colonialist dimension but isn't able to free herself from her role as rich girl's friend. Her act of rebellion in urging Kai to steal from the family, goes horribly wrong and she does nothing to help him. An act of rebellion that will probably go nowhere is when the 16-year old Quinn runs away before boarding the plane in a kind of reverse Home Alone move. He has no money, no phone, and has been shown to be oblivious to his own privilege even as he suffers the bullying of his awful older sister Olivia. We want him to extricate himself from his screwed-up family but he's probably going to get his new buddies in trouble if he turns to them for help. The acting, music,  and costumes were terrific. Natasha Rothwell, whom I'd seen in Issa Rae's show Insecure, is great. It has apparently been renewed for a second season that will be somewhere other than Hawaii.

Valeria soundtrack: Rigoberta Bandini

The Spanish series Valeria's second season is up on Netflix. I watched the first one some time last year, but watched it again because I had forgotten most of it. It's romance fluff set in Madrid with great costumes and production design. It makes liberal use of a soundtrack of both English and Spanish songs to comment on the action. The end of the second season featured a song by the catalana artist Rigoberta Bandini, "Perra," that really caught my attention. It turns out that they had used another of her songs as well, "In Spain We Call It Soledad." Immediate flechazo, I had to go look for her songs on Spotify and Youtube. She has only put out singles so far, not an album yet, but that may be because she is very busy as a writer/voiceover actor/director all-around-creative-person. I sent the songs to my daughter and it turns out she had already heard them, and recommended her videos to me as well.

Here's a mini-concert:

 

The song "Perra" is great, and so is the video:

The Five Thousand and One Nights by Penelope Lively

The Five Thousand and One Nights by Penelope Lively is a book of short stories I read today on BART and the 38R Geary bus. Reading on that bus is serious business because the street from Union Square to Van Ness is cratered and the bus shakes as if it's going to fall apart. Lively is really good with a character in a situation and a place: a control freak woman and her husband stop to pick up a hitchhiker in the rain and it all goes horribly wrong; the mom from hell writes a Christmas letter and reveals all the awful ways she torments and humiliates her entire family; old loves get reacquainted at a wedding; a slimy creep hits on his ex-wife and she puts him in his place; a woman works the night shift and takes care of her family during the day, and a last minute school project blows her careful juggling act all to hell; after five thousand nights, Scheherazade and the Sultan have a fiction telling contest where she's telling plots of British women's writers and he's narrating action adventure stories and each of them is bored by the other. She's very efficient and often quite funny. I think I'd like to read her memoirs.

Electra by Sophocles

 I'm sitting in on a course on directing for the theater that my mother is taking through the Fromm Institute, a continuing education outfit in SF. The teacher is a Carey Perloff, writer, director and former artistic director at the American Conservatory Theater in SF from 1992 to 2018 (ACT); she has worked in Canada, France, Finland, Great Britain as well as the U.S. She staged plays by Pinter, Stoppard and did the first staging of Angels in America outside New York, as well as directing a huge number of plays, ancient and modern, at ACT and elsewhere. 

The class is on zoom, which is why I can attend, and has been a marvelous introduction to the work and process of directing a play. Last week was an intense overview of that process, and this week we read Sophocles' Electra and learned about ancient Greek theater production and the kinds of artistic choices a contemporary director might make in staging the play. Next week we'll talk about The Merchant of Venice, which I know I read years ago, so I'll have a chance to read it again. She is a passionate and effective lecturer. I'm thrilled to be able to sit in on this course.

Here's a very brief preview clip of the ACT production of Electra, with Olympia Dukakis as the leader of the Chorus:

 

And here is a clip of Carey Perloff explaining the play:  

I admire her accomplishments as the artistic director of ACT while being a mother of two small children. She came to the company when it was almost bankrupt, homeless after the 1989 earthquake, and in need of a complete overhaul. In her first seasons her productions aroused opposition: the Duchess of Malfi was too violent and obscene; Dario Fo's play made the Catholic Church mad; people didn't like her productions of classical Greek theater; her color-blind casting got some people riled up. She was surprised at how conservative the theater audience was. As a young woman, she didn't enjoy automatic support. She had to do incredible fund-raising. She was successful and rebuilt ACT. 

Across the Great Divide

 Kate Wolf's  "Across the Great Divide" is a song that used to be the theme music for a radio show back in the eighties, probably on KPFA when I was living in Berkeley. I truly love her voice.

American Factory

A 2019 documentary film that was awarded an Oscar, in 2020, American Factory tells about the re-opening of an automotive glass plant in Dayton, Ohio under Chinese ownership. When the plant closed, thousands of workers lost their jobs. The coming of a Chinese investor to open Fuyao Glass America was seen as an opportunity to return to meaningful work for many of the laid-off workers. But they were paid less than half of what they had been making before, and safety standards were not observed. When unionization efforts began, the company paid a million dollars to a "union avoidance" consulting firm, fired pro-union employees, and forced workers to attend multiple anti-union sessions. The film is good at following people around as they work, participate in corporate meetings and events, and tell us about what the jobs mean to them; the approach is very much of the "show, don't tell" version of documentary film-making. Some interviews with Chinese supervisors are included, but most of the information about working conditions in China is presented briefly without much context for their struggles, and next to nothing is said about their status as Chinese workers in the U.S.--they were apparently paid half of what their American co-workers were making. The Chinese managers speak openly about how American workers are slow, and talk about trying to manage them as if they are recalcitrant animals. To be fair, there are Americans--a lawyer, anti-union consultants, and a manager--who take the same stance. The film records a nationalistic rhetoric at times, but the tactics employed by the owners and management are the same as in any American-owned company.   It's a fairly polite movie given its topic, but it's possible to read between the lines about the need for global solidarity in the face of transnational capitalism. Barack and Michelle Obama's Netflix production company supported the film. The film is not available legally in China, but has been seen by enough people to spark vigorous conversations on social media about working conditions in both countries.

Word of Honor

 Just finished watching 36 episodes of Word of Honor, a Chinese drama that was extremely popular this spring. It's part of the wuxia genre, and also a BL romance that managed to get past the censors. So much of it went over my head, such as the use of poetry in the dialogue, but it had a lot of complex characters in the secondary characters as well as the OTP. This review (in two parts) gives some background on the production and the genre. There's so much that the translations cannot even begin to convey. Here's an explanation of the multiple meanings of the characters' names:

What We Wore: An Offbeat Social History of Women's Clothing, 1950-1980

 Ellen Melinkoff is the author of What We Wore: An Offbeat Social History of Women's Clothing, 1950-1980, published in 1984.  This was the perfect book for reading on BART, going to and from my mother's place in SF. She recounts in detail the way women in the U.S. dressed in those three decades: what we wore, how the fashion industry both dictated trends and responded to women's consumption patterns. She notes the styles, the fabrics, the undergarments and accessories worn by different groups of women, talks about the style icons that set the trends (like Jackie Kennedy or Audrey Hepburn), and the important role of peer influence, and changing relations to gender roles. The book covers the fifties, sixties and seventies but doesn't get to the trends of the eighties except to note the wider range of choices. I was too young for the fifties but we still have a few photos of my mother wearing the knock-off Chanel suit she sewed for herself, with white gloves and a Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat. She sewed a lot of our clothes when we were young, but as soon as our family could afford it she started buying our wardrobes in stores.  I was in Junior High in the early seventies when we were not allowed to wear pants to school until I was in ninth grade. I don't remember having to kneel on the floor so the length of my skirt could be checked, but I heard stories about it. When we were finally allowed to wear pants to school, we would only do it if our friends were doing it too. I remember a favorite skirt that was blue and green houndstooth, which I wore with a grey sweatshirt. I also remember a brown pleather jumper that was a favorite, and a suede poncho with a zipper and embroidered flowers that was a very special item. In high school, in the mid-seventies, we could wear pants but only hippies wore jeans and were regarded with scorn by the majority; we wore color coordinated outfits, mini-skirts with matching underwear, pastel sweaters. There were micro-trends: a particular long hooded cardigan sweater in three different colors was the dominant fashion item one season. I remember wearing raspberry-colored  hotpants that were in a mini overall style. I think I had suede boots with fringe that I wore with them. We also wore ridiculous wooden platform shoes. I had a pair that were denim with rhinestones on them. When I went off to college I found that my hip urban high school wardrobe (elephant pants and big platform shoes) did not fit in either with the sorority preppie styles or the more relaxed, denim-oriented campus style. I now wore cords, painters' pants, an Indian-print wrap-around skirt. We shopped in thrift stores. I started grad school in 1980 and observed the fashion trends from the sidelines because I didn't have the money for new clothes but also didn't really need a wardrobe for work that was any different from student fashions because I was a teaching assistant and rode my bike or walked everywhere; comfort was all. I never wore make-up. I remember realizing that I was unfit for a corporate job because I would not be able to tolerate wearing pantyhose. When it was finally time to apply for a tenure-track position in the late eighties, I wore a plaid blazer over a black pencil skirt that were probably hand-me-downs from my mother. I remember struggling with how I was supposed to dress once I got the professor job. I made a vow that I would not wear anything with a stain or that was ripped. Whatever I wore was too California for my new Minnesota gig, and I had to invest in  winter coats, boots and all the necessary gloves and mittens for my new climate. The last chapter of the book is an overview of the college issues of various fashion magazines, which we studied like a textbook.

I was reminded of the Mad Style archive of essays by Tom and Lorenzo on the costume design for Mad Men. I found this great YouTube channel of an LA vintage store entrepreneur, Doris Raymond called The Way We Wore, and I plan to explore it at my leisure.

Here's a YouTube essay on color in the fifties from The Ultimate Fashion History channel, another find, in which we learn about "saturated pastels" and other color palettes of the mid-century:

My Man Godfrey

 Criterion is having a Carole Lombard special this month, so I decided to watch My Man Godfrey (1936). I'd heard the title often but knew nothing about the film. Billed as a "screwball comedy," it's a gently satirical farce that has something to say about class during the Depression. William Powell plays Godfrey, a character whom we first meet as a hobo living in a dump but who turns out to be a Boston Brahmin fallen on hard times. Carole Lombard is the air-headed socialite who gives him a job as the family butler and then falls for him. Her wacky family puts Godfrey through his paces as he does his best to be a good butler in the face of the mom's alcoholic ditziness, the dad's brusque straight-man struggles to be heard, and the older sister's sinister plots to get Godfrey fired because he has stood up to her shenanigans. A favorite character is the "protégé" Carlo, the musician hanger-on who munches on hors d'oeuvres, strikes poses against the window, and obediently acts like an ape when commanded by his lady boss. Godfrey is sexually harassed by Irene who acts like a spoiled child throughout. We're supposed to find her charming but I didn't like how stupid she is made out to be. Four out of five stars for the annoyance factor. The costumes are splendid, the script and acting are great--it's a lot of fun, but I can't put it among my favorites because of how infantile Irene is. Carole Lombard had been briefly married to Powell before the movie was made; he apparently insisted that they cast her when he was offered the role. She died in a plane crash along with her mother and her husband Clark Gable's best friend while returning from a war bonds tour.

Podcast: The Plot Thickens (TMC) season two

The TMC channel has a podcast called The Plot Thickens. The first series of episodes was about director Peter Bogdanavich, a director who was very famous but whose work I've never seen.  He is also a writer and film historian. A lot of the episodes used taped conversations with him, and material from taped interviews he did with a variety of famous directors. What emerges is a portrait  that is very indulgent of his egotism and bad behavior with women. The second series of episodes is called The Devil's Candy, and is an in-depth story about the making of the film The Bonfire of the Vanities by Brian DePalma. A film critic, Judie Salamon, was given the opportunity to shadow the cast and crew for a year in order to write a book about the film-making process. She revisits her taped interviews and book notes for the podcast, and includes some follow-up material. It covers the process from green-lighting the picture through casting, location scouting, costume design, extras wrangling, how to shoot a five-minute tracking shot with a Steadycam, star insecurities and behavior (Tom Hanks is apparently a universally beloved human being), the post-production process, responses from critics and fans. The source material, the novel, is satirical and mean-spirited as well as entertaining. I remember reading the book and mostly being struck by how well it conveyed oral New York speech.

The Green Knight

 I ventured out to my local cineplex to see The Green Knight because I had heard about it on Pop Culture Happy Hour, and they said it was a gorgeous film and worth seeing. I ended up getting to the theater a half hour before showtime because I didn't check that day's listings, so I sat in the theater eating popcorn until the ads and previews started. There was not a single preview for a movie I wanted to see and most of them were disgusting in one way or another. The movie itself held my attention but left me feeling disappointed. The costumes were great. Some of the set pieces were interesting. But there was no through line that held my interest. The christian allegory of the source material was absent, so that took away motivation for Gawain and nothing was there to replace it. He's a happy-go-lucky jerk in the beginning and ends up being a sad jerk at the end. At no point do we see him engaged in any kind of moral struggle. The business with his own mother and the witches feels completely disconnected from the rest of the goings on, although it seems as if it's supposed to be central to the film. He staggers along between point A and point B, and has a series of encounters but the reason why he's persisting in going to meet his possible doom is not about honor, as he says at one point. He fails all the tests he meets along the way. The most interesting character (until it started talking) was the fox that joins him on his journey half-way through. The most despicable action comes after he has fled from his fate, when he steals his baby from its mother when he becomes the king's heir.  A lot of the disconnect for me was in the pacing. In other words, lots of style but short on story-telling, whether traditional or otherwise. I could see what seemed to be the connections but I just didn't care. There were several important moments where the dialogue sound was so muddy I could not understand what the characters were saying. I didn't recognize that Alicia Vikander was playing both his lover at the beginning and The Lady in the castle toward the end. I was just confused by why they looked alike. Two many questions are raised that are answered by "we never find out for sure." Too long at two hours. The entire sequence when he has become the king feels like an afterthought and the ending was just plain stupid. People over on letterboxd are all thrilled about it but it just made me tired. Oh, well. 

Mo' Meta Blues

 I'm reading Questlove's memoir Mo' Meta Blues right now. He's a great storyteller. I look forward to listening to the music he talks about. Here he is, nerding out about Marvin Gaye's song "What's Goin' On":