i might fade away with the coming of the new dawn
Yesterday afternoon, I got a text from fleurdeleo saying she had free passes to a screening of Morning Glory, would I like to go? I said yes, of course, and so after work we met up at the AMC Empire in Times Square for the movie (if it had been that Loews on 34th St, I might not have gone - it's been five years, but she still reminds me of the, uh, incident with the staff there during a screening of Serenity, though I'm sure all the theatre staff have moved on since then).
The capsule review is that I enjoyed it. It's sweet and it's funny and if I have a hard time buying that someone who took a huge pay cut (and who probably wasn't making all that much to begin with) would run around in Louboutins, I can write that off to Hollywood.
I really liked that it was about Becky and how much she loved her job and was good at her job (whether her job is something to be applauded is... well, as much as it makes me wrinkle my nose, she's right when she says in the battle of news v. entertainment, news lost), and how she wasn't punished for it. She reminded me in some ways of Dana and Natalie from Sports Night, except that she got to keep the awesome boyfriend and also didn't screw the relationship up too badly with her neuroses or her dedication to her job. Also! She wasn't Harrison Ford's love interest! (I loved the bit at the end where he and Diane Keaton adjourn to his dressing room for implied sexytimes.)
This ties into something I really like about The Good Wife: how they could have made Diane brittle and/or frigid and/or a raging virago, all of which are current typical media presentations of a single woman who is good at her job and in charge of her career, but they didn't. They made her a person, which is all you can ask for any character to be, and what is so often lacking in the presentation of female characters in film and television - they're used as symbols, cyphers, stereotypes, short-hand (e.g., love interest, good mother, bad mother, whore, evil ex-wife, angelic dead daughter, uptight career woman who needs to loosen up, magical pixie girl who will loosen up the uptight man, etc.), but they're rarely allowed to be fully-fledged people the way men are. Because white straight (Christian, able-bodied) male is still the default "person" in the US (in Western society), the only ones who get to have depth without it being an afterthought (and the ones to whom depth will accrue even if it hasn't been provided in the actual writing). And The Good Wife has done a fantastic job of having three main female characters who are people, and also recurring ones who are, as well.
Anyway. After the movie, we went to the diner in my neighborhood, and I had some lovely pancakes and bacon and chocolate milk, but my stomach this morning was unhappy with me, which is sad. I feel like bacon has betrayed me.
***
in other news, yesterday afternoon, I got an email from a friend with the news about Wade Phillips being fired, and I was like, "Ah, nothing brightens a rainy Monday like some schadenfreude at the Cowboys' expense," and then this morning,
alittlefaith emailed me a link to this article about Eli Manning. My Giants-loving heart is happy.
***
Right now, I am having a very complex and unpleasant breakup relationship with SPN (both canon and fandom), but every time I think I've detached, something reminds me that I haven't at all. Yesterday, it was hearing Meet Me at the River's Edge and automatically changing all the "Sally"s to "Sammy"s in my head. *hands* What can I say? Gaslight Anthem remains the Winchesteriest band ever. (I also have to wonder how they come off to people who aren't Springsteen fans. I mean, the title of this particular song is an allusion to "The River," and it starts out with "No surrender, my Bobby Jean." It's not like I'm reaching for it - it's right there in the song.)
This is the part that really made me go, "Oh, Sam," though:
And now I drive the 101 in the California night.
And I'm amazed at all the stars beneath that old Hollywood sign.
And they waltz to a place we never kept.
And I'm not sure if we belong here, if I ever really left,
or if I can go home.
And Sally said, Sally said.
I can't take no more regret.
It cut us deep, into our souls.
Came and climbed into our bed.
And Sally said, Sally said.
Meet me by the river's edge.
We're going to wash these sins away.
Or else we won't come back again.
No retreat. No regrets.
Meet me by the river's edge.
Sigh. Stupid boys, getting their hooks into my heart.
***
Man, what is it with people interrupting me every five seconds! You think they expect me to work or something!
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/242520.html.
people have commented there.
The capsule review is that I enjoyed it. It's sweet and it's funny and if I have a hard time buying that someone who took a huge pay cut (and who probably wasn't making all that much to begin with) would run around in Louboutins, I can write that off to Hollywood.
I really liked that it was about Becky and how much she loved her job and was good at her job (whether her job is something to be applauded is... well, as much as it makes me wrinkle my nose, she's right when she says in the battle of news v. entertainment, news lost), and how she wasn't punished for it. She reminded me in some ways of Dana and Natalie from Sports Night, except that she got to keep the awesome boyfriend and also didn't screw the relationship up too badly with her neuroses or her dedication to her job. Also! She wasn't Harrison Ford's love interest! (I loved the bit at the end where he and Diane Keaton adjourn to his dressing room for implied sexytimes.)
This ties into something I really like about The Good Wife: how they could have made Diane brittle and/or frigid and/or a raging virago, all of which are current typical media presentations of a single woman who is good at her job and in charge of her career, but they didn't. They made her a person, which is all you can ask for any character to be, and what is so often lacking in the presentation of female characters in film and television - they're used as symbols, cyphers, stereotypes, short-hand (e.g., love interest, good mother, bad mother, whore, evil ex-wife, angelic dead daughter, uptight career woman who needs to loosen up, magical pixie girl who will loosen up the uptight man, etc.), but they're rarely allowed to be fully-fledged people the way men are. Because white straight (Christian, able-bodied) male is still the default "person" in the US (in Western society), the only ones who get to have depth without it being an afterthought (and the ones to whom depth will accrue even if it hasn't been provided in the actual writing). And The Good Wife has done a fantastic job of having three main female characters who are people, and also recurring ones who are, as well.
Anyway. After the movie, we went to the diner in my neighborhood, and I had some lovely pancakes and bacon and chocolate milk, but my stomach this morning was unhappy with me, which is sad. I feel like bacon has betrayed me.
***
in other news, yesterday afternoon, I got an email from a friend with the news about Wade Phillips being fired, and I was like, "Ah, nothing brightens a rainy Monday like some schadenfreude at the Cowboys' expense," and then this morning,
alittlefaith emailed me a link to this article about Eli Manning. My Giants-loving heart is happy.
***
Right now, I am having a very complex and unpleasant breakup relationship with SPN (both canon and fandom), but every time I think I've detached, something reminds me that I haven't at all. Yesterday, it was hearing Meet Me at the River's Edge and automatically changing all the "Sally"s to "Sammy"s in my head. *hands* What can I say? Gaslight Anthem remains the Winchesteriest band ever. (I also have to wonder how they come off to people who aren't Springsteen fans. I mean, the title of this particular song is an allusion to "The River," and it starts out with "No surrender, my Bobby Jean." It's not like I'm reaching for it - it's right there in the song.)
This is the part that really made me go, "Oh, Sam," though:
And now I drive the 101 in the California night.
And I'm amazed at all the stars beneath that old Hollywood sign.
And they waltz to a place we never kept.
And I'm not sure if we belong here, if I ever really left,
or if I can go home.
And Sally said, Sally said.
I can't take no more regret.
It cut us deep, into our souls.
Came and climbed into our bed.
And Sally said, Sally said.
Meet me by the river's edge.
We're going to wash these sins away.
Or else we won't come back again.
No retreat. No regrets.
Meet me by the river's edge.
Sigh. Stupid boys, getting their hooks into my heart.
***
Man, what is it with people interrupting me every five seconds! You think they expect me to work or something!
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/242520.html.
people have commented there.