Tag: marriage

Shapes And Colors

When I was a baby, I stared at everything with wide-eyed wonder. Of course I don’t actually remember this but I’ve been told it over and over again, until the story implants itself as memory. The same can probably be said of my first actual “memory” of this world: me sitting on my dad’s lap and watching ET, completely mesmerized. I was only two years old at the time, could I actually remember this? Does it even matter anymore? The story has been with me so long, no matter whether it’s actual memory or not, at some point becomes irrelevant.

My father would always whisper to me, right in my ear, as I stared out at all the beautiful shapes and dazzling colors: what’s that? So much so, that when I was old enough to begin talking, it was a constant barrage of questions about the state of everything around me.

I’m still like that to this day and it’s still incredibly difficult to get me to shut up once I get going. I’ve learned a lot about myself since I made the move from New York to Texas. For one, There’s a rage inside me which fuels me in my daily endeavors, both creative and otherwise. I think I’ve been angry and frustrated at the world and at myself for not being better at handling the world on a daily basis. Writing has always been an outlet, allowing me perspective and time to see things in black and white. But the world isn’t black and white, is it? And it’s reductive to try and force your problems and issues into a singular camp. You’re not dealing with anything, rather, you’re compartmentalizing. When writing wasn’t enough, I’d just sulk and act bitchy with everyone and anyone around me. I’d project my own shit onto them. And then I’d retreat into myself.

My pets have always been the driving force for good in my life. They know. They always know. And they’re always willing to crawl through the storm for me. My pitbull knows that plopping her metric ton head into my lap can burn away nearly all the negativity in a room. She’s magic.

What I’ve learned to do over the course of 2021 is recognize when darkness is descending on me and deal with it head on. Ask myself questions and actually answer them. It’s like a flashlight with the power out — a beacon guiding you home. It’s daily work but it’s good work and it’s worth it.

I stepped away in June of 2021 because I was lost. I didn’t know what to do about anything. Earlier in the year, my wife of eighteen years began having an affair. To call the revelation devastating is an understatement. But what are you going to do? Give up? Quit life? And yeah, I thought about it but what’s even the point of that? You have to be willing to dig deeper and arrive at an absolute truth. Sit there in the depths of the bottom and look around before you look up. My marriage had gotten lazy and communication dried up. We spent ten years in bliss and then her accident changed our relationship — except we never acknowledged that. We carried on for another seven before moving to Texas and Covid hit — changing everything once again. The next year saw us both fall into unacknowledged, un-discussed, and un-dealt with depressions. We reacted differently. I shuttered in and she acted out.

It was easy at first for me to just blame her and be angry and bitter and hurt. She stepped out. But it’s not black and white. And once I looked around there in the depths, I saw my own failures and it was oddly comforting. It was okay because I was still here. Yes, life was going to be different. We separated. She moved out and began a new life with this person. It hurt but it was also okay. Things happen. Human beings are messy and life is hard. Mistakes are just that and sometimes mistakes aren’t even totally mistakes. They happen and then turn into flashlights themselves, showing us a new path. We’ve looked around and now the beam is shining up.

So I got a new job — one I’ve wanted for a long time. A rep for a paint company. I’ve been in the industry now for over twenty seven years so it was about damn time I really put the knowledge and experience to proper use. I crushed the interviews and began with a fervor. Turns out, this job is the EXACT job my entire skill set has been designed for. I’m paid to talk to people and teach them things. It’s a match made in heaven. Hell, I’ve learned about the four main types of people you encounter: talker, supporter, controller, doer. You guessed it, I’m a talker. And talk I must. And talk I do. Everyday. All day. I’ve met tons of awesome people at the five stores I’m responsible for and every day is just a little bit different. I love it and I’m happy again.

And sure, the personal stuff is still there to deal with but we’re finalizing the divorce and it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. There’s no bitterness or anger. Why spend your time holding onto to this resentment — it’s pointless. So I don’t. I smile and think about the great run we had and I allow myself to be excited for the rest of my life. I’m forty-two, there’s a lot left. I’ve met someone new and she’s pretty much the coolest person I’ve met since I’ve been out here in Texas. She gets me and that’s a great head start.

So yeah, I’m back. The writing never really stopped but it did get too sad at one point and then fragmented but soon, the fragments began taking shape once again and the fire began building once again and here they just exploded into shapes and colors.

And I still find them beautiful and dazzling.

Next week, my favorite films of 2021. Until then, love each other.

Poem Or Essay? You Decide

I’m floating
among the debris
all my hopes and dreams surround me
weighed down by my failures and hang ups.

Haven’t been myself for a while
tried so hard to stop every tomorrow from becoming today
lost myself for too long
ignoring all who love me because why?

Because I couldn’t handle what was happening and I didn’t like who I was. And so I shuttered myself in, battened down the hatches, determined to retreat into the cellar. But the storm was already here. It was already inside and I was the one who let it in. At first, it tricked me but soon it was me who was the driving force. I was the storm and I was out searching for anything to destroy. The infection grew to the point where I lost the will to do anything about anything. A feeble acceptance of a faux fate. I couldn’t even recognize my own face in the mirror.

Joy became a four letter word
deception breeds obsession
or is it the other way around?
I wonder.

Words felt like an unending gun fight
punctuation piercing me like lead
and then the unthinkable happened
and I really didn’t know what to do.

I searched for answers but the quicksand caught hold. They tell you not to struggle but something told me to fight. Something told me this was it. All or nothing. Yet I spiraled. Then I prayed. I prayed to a God I’ve never believed in. I did this because I was all out of ideas on my own. All of a sudden I realized that I really want to be here. I really want tomorrow to be today. And so I tried. And then the day after, I tried again.

Failure isn’t to fear
the complex isn’t real
even though it feels like it is
hope always burns brighter.

A piano plays somewhere off in the distance
melancholy yet poignant
pain and joy are siblings
and families love no matter what.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself again. The face I see in the mirror is the face I’ve missed this whole time. And I know I’m still floating but my failures and hang ups are floating right there next to me with my hopes and dreams. There’s no longer an anchor because I’m buoyed by love. I know it won’t always be easy and I know that I’m not instantly all better but I’m trying and more importantly, I want to try. Everyday. All day. Each moment is one you never get back. Each moment matters.

Joy spreads
you can find it anywhere
if you know how to look
it doesn’t have to be hard.
Don’t fear the dark
but life needs balance
the equation is always different
but the math is actually very simple.

I choose to love with ferocity. Because the ones who love me back deserve my all. Every ounce. And I’ll gladly give it. Because there’s nothing more important. Every single day is a gift. Every single one is like Christmas morning. The joy is returning, even for the smaller things because when you zoom out, they’re all the same anyway. I am filled to the brim with love but I’ll somehow find a way to make room for more. I want more. I want to give more. I want the work. I want the struggle. I want the satisfaction. I want.

And I’ll shout, “I love you!”
to the ones who matter most
no more hiding from anything
even if a cloak seems inviting.

I was shown a path
bathed in warm light
which kept the darkness at bay
and allowed me to return home.

Sofia Coppola Friday #8 – The Recap

It’s the end of the line. I’m sad to let these films go for now but the beauty of art is that it’s never fully gone. Art exists all around us and even within us. Great art stays somewhere deep inside for us to draw from whenever we want or need. This project I’m embarking on with some of my favorite filmmakers has been even more rewarding than I initially thought. I’m learning things about myself that were previously hidden or unobserved. Growth is always a good thing.

With that said, let’s recap what we’ve learned from Sofia Coppola’s films.

First, she is a filmmaker who always has something to say. She makes you do the work but her message is ultimately always clear. Her films are never stagnant — they don’t just exist, they live. She is frequently inspired by depicting the reality of celebrity and tabloid culture. This makes a ton of sense considering she grew up in one of the most famous Hollywood families our generation has ever seen. Coppola is also consumed with dissecting the pitfalls of love and lust and the need to be loved. She also knows that love and obsession are completely different — this is a distinction a portion of our population routinely fails to make.

Sofia Coppola is a confident filmmaker. In fact, she’s one of the most confident filmmakers working today. Everything in her films always works in concert in order to present her specific vision. Her work is so real. How does she accomplish this? First, her dialog is always great and perfectly matched to what each film requires. This is no easy fete. She has to match her writing to the film’s tone and subject matter while also delivering something unique to not only each character but the actors portraying those characters. This is the secret sauce for a screenwriter and most aren’t nearly this good. It’s part of what makes Quentin Tarantino’s scripts so amazing. People jump to obvious conclusions about how “cool” it is and they try and mimic that. Hollywood then becomes inundated by bad imitators. No, the great ones, (and Sofia Coppola is definitely one of the great ones) match their writing with what is required and only what is required. This brings me to another aspect of why her films are so universally great: her ability to cast to the role. I will argue that this is actually a super power. Last, her needle dropping is on point. I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it bears repeating: she makes the best use of pop songs in her films. That’s it, nobody else does it better.

Now, what I’m most excited to get to is a realization I made as I rewatched her first six films. Sofia Coppola has created a trilogy of sister films. For the record, all of her films have aspects that either resemble or build upon previous work but there is more. First, On The Rocks is the odd one out. Being her newest film, it has yet to find it’s sibling. We’ll just have to see what Coppola cooks up for us in the future before revisiting. As for the other six, they break up like this:

The Virgin Suicides and The Beguiled are a perfect pair. Coppola revisits material dominated by men. TVS is based on a book written by a man and The Beguiled is a remake of a film starring Clint Eastwood. Coppola takes these stories and either reframed them around the women involved or alters the focus so we concentrate on the women and their own daily lives. Both films are about young women living under strict rules while blossoming into adults. They are curious and sheltered but possess ferocious spirits. They will leave their mark upon the world.

Lost In Translation and Somewhere go hand in hand. Both films center around men who are at sea. Both men are world famous actors but at different points in their careers. In some ways, Somewhere feels like it could be a prequel to LIT in relation to their respective main characters. Both films are unafraid to explore the ennui fame can bring with it and the trappings it holds. They also each center around a hotel that serves as a sort of prison for its inhabitants. The characters are constantly searching for a way break out and run free and that metaphor cuts deep.

Marie Antoinette and The Bling Ring belong together. These two films are Coppola’s most celebrity obsessed. Both are based on true events and real life people. Both are stories of celebrity and tabloid and excess and depression. These two films get under our skin more each time we revisit them. She digs deeper into motives of why these people would choose to either do these things or live this way. They both also deal with the youth revolting against norms and then suffering the consequences set upon them by the populace.

This brings me to the end of this particular section of my project. What have I learned? Where my first filmmaker I studied, Terry Gilliam, unearthed new observations that make me think less of him as a human being, Sofia Coppola has only grown in my estimation. She is my favorite Coppola. I said what I said. Not only that but she has climbed the mountain and reached the summit. Sofia Coppola now stands shoulder to shoulder with David Lynch as my favorite filmmakers. I can’t choose right now. Perhaps we will have to do David Lynch next.

Now to the rankings:

7 – The Bling Ring
6 – The Beguiled
5 – On The Rocks
4 – Marie Antoinette
3 – Somewhere
2 – The Virgin Suicides
1 – Lost In Translation

Next week, we’ll lay the groundwork for the next chapter in this project. Until then, love each other.

Sofia Coppola Friday #7 – On The Rocks

I am a sucker for a New York film. I grew up about an hour north of the city. Some of my family grew up in Hell’s Kitchen, some in Queens, some are on Long Island, some in Sleepy Hollow, you get the point. New York is in my blood and my heart. As a kid, I was always excited to go to the city. That never changed. I remember going on school trips to the Museum of Natural History and sneaking out to go record shopping — haggling with the dude at Bleecker Bob’s, going to Kim’s video off of St. Marks and my Holy Grail, Generation Records on Thompson. When I met the woman who I would eventually trick into marrying me, she was living on West 80th. Goddamn I loved that apartment. I remember her introducing me to Big Nick’s and then Vinny’s, where the greatest calzones on the planet reside. Going down to Chinatown to eat at Shanghai Joe’s was always a favorite and for the record, the Chinatown location is the best of the three (we’ve eaten at all of them). It’s set back in an alley and if you’re not there when they open, you may not get the soup dumplings you so crave. There is no English on that menu and the staff is rude in the best possible New York way. I fucking love that place. And don’t get me started on Halal Guys — the greatest 30 minute wait in line you’ll ever have. That food is the greatest fucking thing on planet Earth. Seriously, it’s so good you won’t make it twenty feet before sitting anywhere you can find and digging in, even if it’s snowing (I know this because I’ve seen me do it). I know I’m talking at length about food but that’s because eating is what we always did. When you’re in New York, you’re always on your way to doing something and eating is always a part of that something. New York is always alive, the sidewalks vibrate and breathe, steam rises and random shit fits break out amongst total strangers. And I love and miss it so much.

I haven’t even talked about the Italian restaurant we always ate at, Coppola’s. It’s funny because Coppola’s is what set off this trip down memory lane. The first time I went there I thought it was owned by Francis Ford Coppola. I was an idiot but there it is.

Anyway, the reason I bring all of this up is that Sofia Coppola’s newest film, On The Rocks, is set in New York. It’s her first film set in the greatest city in the world and good goddamn did she shoot the ever loving shit out of this film. It just FEELS like New York. I can smell it and I love it and it brings memories flooding in like a dam broke.

And finally, we’re ready to fully dig in to Sofia Coppola’s seventh feature film, On The Rocks. I’m not going to quite dig into spoilers because this film is so new. I want people to experience this film fresh, like I did. With that said, we will still get into the themes Coppola explores.

On The Rocks is the story of Laura (Rashida Jones) and her dad Felix (Bill Murray). She’s stuck in life and fearing that her husband (Marlon Wayans) has fallen out of love with her to the point that he’s cheating on her. Felix is a wealthy art dealer and a bit of a cad. He loves his daughter and perhaps he loves everything in life a bit too much. He cheated on Laura’s mother and then left. He’s a womanizer and heavy drinker — always up for a party. Laura leans on her father and he takes this opportunity to embroil her in a caper to catch Laura’s husband Dean in an affair.

From the start, we are all the way in Laura’s shoes. We feel her paranoia and how she begins looking at everyone sideways. Her trust in Dean is eroding and so we do not trust Dean. More than this, we feel the loneliness Laura is experiencing. She’s surrounded by millions of people but the one she wants is never around. She suffers paralysis with her work and is overwhelmed with the task of raising two children by herself. Coppola adds two nice touches to cement Laura’s uncomfortable stasis: making boxed macaroni and cheese in a Le Crouset and then that fucking Roomba just banging away on every possible surface. I love these subtle touches.

At her breaking point, her father calls and then shows up. Now it’s Felix time and man does he rule. Bill Murray is the only actor who could play this role and Rashida Jones is the perfect foil for his antics. They come across as a real life father and daughter. Again, perhaps Coppola’s greatest strength is her ability to cast to the role. Their dialog is so crisp and rat-a-tat-tat on point yet natural. One of the “big” scenes of the film is when Felix convinces Laura to tail Dean to a business dinner. Felix, in a near broke down convertible, with caviar and champagne as a snack, is ridiculously hilarious in this sequence. Murray turns into a teenage boy before our eyes as he runs red lights, cuts people off, speeds, bottoms out, and does it all while cackling. They eventually get pulled over by the police and well, that scene ends up being even funnier. In fact, this is easily Coppola’s funniest film. It resembles a madcap road trip film as much as it does a mediation on married life. It’s great at the former but the latter is where the film truly shines.

Felix and Dean share a scene at the door to their building that gave me goosebumps. It’s a father and a husband, who size each other up and let one another know something about the other without actually giving up much ground. Like I said, goosebumps. It’s here where we begin to understand Felix a little better. He’s not just being a protective father. Felix sees some of himself in Dean. Felix is beginning to reckon with his past failures. He doesn’t know how to change but he knows that his lifestyle has consequences for others. The film takes us down to Mexico near the end and Felix again unfurls a bit more. He confesses to Laura why he did what he did and it’s proof that in life and love there are no easy answers. He knows he’s wrong but he’s finally being honest about why he did what he did. It’s wonderfully naked. For her part, Laura does not allow Felix off the hook. She gives him his medicine. He’s earned it and even though he may not like it, he knows it’s deserved. It’s tough for us because Felix is so likable. Maybe he reminds us of people in our own lives. Telling someone you love that you’re angry or disappointed or even disgusted by their actions doesn’t mean you don’t love them — it’s the opposite. Love requires honesty. Again, there are no easy answers.

This is what Coppola is pointing out to us above all else. The film is about relationships and the give and take they require. Relationships cannot be a one-way street. Marriage cannot exist without work. Love cannot work without trust.

Another great film from Sofia Coppola — one I will be rewatching over and again. Next week, our wrap-up. Until then, love each other.

My Blue Heaven and Goodfellas are Siblings, Who Knew?

Well, I button-hooked ya, didn’t I? My intention was to write about The King Of Staten Island this week but some interesting news came my way and I switched things up at the last minute.

The year was 1990 and two mob movies came out within a month of each other. Those movies were: Goodfellas and My Blue Heaven. I saw them both as a kid and loved them both. In the spirit of honesty, My Blue Heaven is a movie that has largely fallen by the wayside for me in the decades since its release but the other day, I stumbled upon a story about its release which led me to a rewatch and an idea for this post.

The story is this: Goodfellas is the true story of Henry Hill, a mobster who turned on his friends and associates in exchange for immunity. He then went into witness protection. My Blue Heaven is also about Henry Hill though they changed the name in the film and the events are fictionalized for comedy.

I never knew this and just you wait because the story gets better.

Henry Hill, while in witness protection began meeting with a writer in order to tell his life story. That writer was Nicholas Pilleggi and over the span of a few months, he got to know Hill and began writing his story. The book was called, Wiseguy, and when Martin Scorsese got ahold of it, there was no denying him a chance to put that story up on the screen. We know it as Goodfellas.

But we are not done.

While interviewing Hill, Pilleggi’s wife began conceiving an idea all her own. Her name was Nora Ephron and she was a screenwriter. She took her husband’s experiences with Hill and wrote a comedic take on everything which became the movie, My Blue Heaven. The same studio optioned both of the movies and released them one month apart. I find this all marvelously interesting. We could even look at My Blue Heaven as a quasi-sequel to Goodfellas.

So, onto the movie. How does it hold up?

It is still a wonderful film, all these years later.

The production of the film got off to a rocky start because they couldn’t lock down a cast. Steve Martin was originally hired to play the FBI agent Coopersmith with Arnold Schwarzenegger slated for the role of the mobster Vinnie, er Tod. Schwarzenegger dropped out in order to star in Kindergarten Cop which left a huge hole in the production. Steve Martin stepped up and suggested he could switch roles and play Vinnie. Rick Moranis was soon hired to play Coopersmith and the rest is history.

Starting with the cast of this film, we are in for a treat. Steve Martin is a treasure and was always a big part of my life growing up. From SNL to films like The Jerk, Three Amigos, Dirty Rotten Socundrels, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Parenthood, etc. Martin was a mainstay in our house. The same could be said of Rick Moranis. There was SCTV, Ghostbusters, Honey I shrunk The kids, Spaceballs, Little Shop Of Horrors, etc. so yeah, no-brainer. Joan Cusack is also wonderful in this film, another 80s star who found her way into many of our favorite movies. Last but not least is Bill Irwin. He steals this movie for me. His dancing is super humanly hilarious and put a permanent smile on my face. In the last few years, watching Legion, Irwin’s character became my favorite and I had a hard time figuring out why I instantly connected with him. I remember now. His performance in My Blue Heaven is spectacular.

The movie is exactly my kind of movie as it’s not interested in plot at all. Instead it sets scenes for these characters to use and shed a little light on who they are. Not to sound like a broken record but I ALWAYS prefer character over plot. Steve Martin is so brilliant as Vinny, perfectly capturing the larger-than-life persona in one of his silliest performances. Rick Moranis, for his part is one of the greatest ever at conveying awkwardness. You can’t help but root for him in every role he’s ever played. I miss him dearly. Hollywood misses him dearly. I’m holding out hope that he’ll eventually return to acting and continue spreading his brand of joy to the world. Speaking of joy, My Blue Heaven is chock full of it. You’ll know if you’re in or not within the first five minutes and if you are, the smile will never leave your face. The jokes are stellar and multi-layered, sometimes you’ll find yourself laughing at a joke told a few minutes prior. The script is tight and the dialog fantastic. Martin is an impeccable asshole and plays Vinnie like a quasi-sequel to his character from The Jerk. Again, he is a treasure. The production design is vibrant and full of life. The shot composition adds to every moment — I swear I could sense the weather in every scene. I don’t think the film gets enough credit for how incredible the entire production conveys multiple things at one time — supreme talent on display here.

What started as an exercise on a story told from two different perspectives became a wonderful examination on what breathes excitement and life into our lives. This is a story about people and what a wonderful story it is.

Next week, Staten Island gets its due, I promise. Until then, love each other.