True Grit, Tron, and Tuesday movies

I should preface this by saying that I thought I was going to henceforth steer clear of my life in this series, but I'm going to get into it, because it's all part of the race.

Last year, I did this thing where I sort of tried to watch every movie nominated for an Academy Award before the ceremony. Now, I was in my last semester of college and prone to fits and starts, so I gave up when I saw how difficult The Most Dangerous Man In America would be to find. But I like the idea, so I'm coming back for round 2. And this time, I'm coming fully armed with charts, budget lists, and a supportive (if vaguely confused) boyfriend. He's even helping me with my spreadsheets.

Anyway, about Tron. I love Jeff Bridges. As anyone who knows me is aware, Crazy Heart was my favorite nominated movie last year and he was a big part of that. I think he is just swimming in talent--in the right movies. And I simply adore his voice. I, like Maggie Gyllenhaal, could find myself falling against my will for him if he showed up in my life and looked at me -- but that was all last year.

Okay, so a few weeks ago, the HomelessBoy and I were driving through a snowstorm to get groceries for the family I'm staying with and decided that we needed to stop and see a movie, since we'd set the date before the snow was ever predicted. So we stopped at the Hampshire Mall Cinemark and asked them what the next movie was. Something lame, like The Tourist (sorry, Johnny, but you're not making me want to overcome my Angelina revulsion) or Season of the Witch. So we asked what movies were starting in the next 45 minutes. And between Tron, True Grit, and The Fighter for viable options, I acquiesced because he showed up that morning with hot chocolate and a bagel at 9 AM and he'sjustsosweetomigodstopmeplease. And so we had a pretend first date (since how we met and all was not conducive to that at all) and I let him choose Tron. And that's how that mess happened.

Positives: I was pretty certain it would be nominated for at least a technical Oscar so it would help me out in my eventual quest. Also, it was my first 3D movie experience, so I thought, "Could be cool." Olivia Wilde is hot, too.

Negatives: It sucked. Not even the 3D could make it interesting and I learned something important about 3D in movies. It doesn't actually enhance my experience of the film. Anyway, the movie was boring, made very little sense to a newcomer, and when Jeff Bridges shows up as The Young Dude at the beginning and again once his son is actually inside the game, he looks like some creepy character from The Polar Express, a movie that gives me night terrors. Anyway, it was SO EPICALLY DISAPPOINTING to see Jeff Bridges on screen. And to know that because it was "first date night" HomelessBoy paid twenty whole dollars (that's almost ten hot chocolates for those keeping score at home) for that nonsense. But it was okay because seeing a movie on a weekday afternoon in the middle of a snow emergency can have its upsides. And the absolute worst part of the movie? When Tron, who had up until that point been fighting rather hard AGAINST the users (stupid concepts for a stupid film) suddenly, in the last two minutes, decides, "I fight for the users!" and saves Olivia Wilde's life and apparently the world. But what I don't understand is exactly what power the characters in the video game would actually have in the real world and why it would be such a disaster for their army of a thousand or so to get loosed on America. Explain it to me so I understand, please, geeks.

Also, Dear Jeff: JUST STOP. Lovecommaenter Ashley

On the flip side of the Jeff Bridges coin is True Grit. Have I ever told you how much I love cowboys? Cause I so do. Also loved: Tuesday Night is bargain night in almost ever city. At the Hadley Cinemark, that means every movie is the "First screening of the day" price -- a paltry $5.25. That's actually less than the price of a small popcorn. And it was FANTASTIC. I had never seen a Cohen Brothers movie before, a fact that was a proverbial thorn in my literal side for ages and this was a pretty decent way to start, I think. Even knowing it's not their typical, it makes me want to see more. Within minutes of the movie opening, I was in love with the lead actress (weirdly nominated as a supporting character, but heytherepolitics!) I can't say too much about it, but when Josh Brolin showed up on screen, I wanted to applaud. I know he was the "bad guy," but I feel an instinctive need to root for him (which will not serve me well should I ever be forced to view W.) Also, surprisingly violent and racy for a PG-13. Well done, Joel and Ethan. On that note, also much more pleasant to watch movies that involve chopping off fingers when I can hide my face in HomelessBoy's shoulder.

Dear Jeff: All is forgiven. Carry on making movies. Lovecommaenter Ashley

I think this might be a good year for the Oscars

Seen it yet? The first teaser for February 27th. I AM RIVETED

I'm BAAAACK and I'm better than ever

Oscar season rolls around again, the nominees are in, Leo is jilted (once more), and everything is right with the world. If boys get to watch football playoffs and March Madness, and hockey semi-finals -- well, I have this. The Oscar season.

The finalists are in! And this year, I intend to accomplish my goal, goddamnit. I will see (and blog about?) every single Oscar nominated movie before this year's ceremony. I'm sure you've all seen the list of nominees by now. How dull. No Leo. No Mahky. Very little Benny. Boston was, all in all, woefully under-represented. Not even a single mention of The Ghost Writer, which I had so been excited to watch. But now I have 33 days to see 32 movies and about 15 short films. And because of how dull the list of nominees looks (and how can you really keep track that way, anyway?) I've made my own chart. Alphabetical by film, with the nominations listed beside it and a way of keeping track of how and when I can see these movies.

Anyone know how I can get my hands on Biutiful? I've loved me some Javi since the Before Night Falls days. (In fact, that movie is the reason I'm so in love with Latin American culture, a fun fact I bet you DID NOT know about me.)

CLICK ME to see my handy-dandy chart, as of today. :)

Yes, top students reap rich rewards, even as egg donors - The Boston Globe

Yes, top students reap rich rewards, even as egg donors - The Boston Globe

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Proof 1: Dressing rooms > Hotel rooms. Proof 2: Dressing rooms = classier than hotel rooms.

Follow my logic or not, it's the truth. Being asked for rolling papers is way cooler than being asked for 70%. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Typical. Let's begin at the beginning. (We're lovers and we're losers; we're heroes and we're pioneers. Skirting 'round the edges of the ideal demographic, we're almost on the guest list but we're always stuck in traffic.)

I do wish I could sing, but wasn't gifted with it. Might be tone deaf, actually.

Anyway, last night marked a new adventure with Awkward Ashley. (I have been scaling those Awkward Heights lately, always managing to achieve new and exiting levels of awkward like I've got the hand of God beneath me, lifting me toward the goal of Most Awkward Ever.)

Let's recap briefly some of my Awkward Concert Moments:

1. The time I refused to speak to Warren Zevon and he had to coax me into the picture.
2. The time I begged members of Low Millions to leave their trailers in a rainstorm to meet me and then I confused one of them for Adam Cohen and told him I loved his father. Oops...
3. The time Jess J and I noticed this realllly hot guy walking by and asked him to take pictures with him, after she said "Hey, hottie!" loudly enough for him to hear. Turns out he was the bassist for the Fray.
4. The same day, when I saw Ari Hest and was like, "Oh, hey! Do you know who you are? You're Ari Hest!"
5. The first time I met Ben Jelen, when I forgot how to talk, forgot my name and how to spell it, and managed to tell him he looked like "an old man."
6. The second time I met Ben Jelen, when we talked about my cousin Bailey the whole time.
7. The entire Teddy Thompson Debacle. Especially Prop 70/30.
8. The time I met Cory Branan and was like, "Ehhh, I like you because I like James Dean."
9. The (first) time I met Jonny Burke and Dad was all, "I'm her father" when I was trying to have an "I'm all grown up" moment.
10. The (second) time I met Jonny Burke and Brian made me drink Scotch. (Though that turned out less awkward because by the end of the night it was just.... something else entirely.)
11. The Jackson Browne Event? The screaming, the tears, the refusing to let go of his hand?

All of those are awkward. Most of those are embarrassing. I won't apologize for any of them. And do you notice anything that is conspicuously absent from that list? Loudon Wainwright III is the least awkward person ever. He puts you right at ease. So for the record, he's not the conspicuously absent musical encounter. And I'm not even getting into "Awkward encounters with roadies and tour managers." Because Cory Branan's tour manager and I had a rather fun discussion that left Brian nearly apoplectic, but that's not even the worst.

But there's this band you know I love. The Young Dubliners. And let me just say that they are incredibly awkward. Except they're not. Not with me. With me, it's all just staring at each other and laughing and texting and putting me on the guest list for Jethro Tull concerts. While texting Brendan Holmes might seem awkward to outsiders, to me it just feels right. (I think that if he and I were the same age, we'd be best friends. I'm not the only one who sees that, either. You know I've got a thing for bassists, too.) Anyway, this isn't about any of that. And I'm still getting ahead of myself and rambling as you know I do.

Parents came to town yesterday to visit me. Well, not for me, really. For him. Either way, it's generally pretty cool when they come to visit, even if Dad has the palate of a three year old. (Ehhh, it might actually be less diverse than that.) Anyway, The Great Todd Snider came to town, too, to visit me.

Well, not to visit me. To visit a sold-out Iron Horse. But still. I've seen some good shows there. Catie Curtis. Freedy Johnston. My boys. On the walls are the remnants of more shows -- Tommy Makem, Jon Pousette-Dart, David Lindley... Warren Zevon's comb-over days are immortalized on the cover of the menu, for Chrissake. It's like a little Ashley-haven. Anyway.

Todd was, as always, ON. He opened with "Greencastle Blues" and played three in a row before stopping. If you've never seen a Todd Snider show, this seems so "Meh, so what?" But in between the second and the third song, Todd said, "I'll play one more and then we'll catch up." Because that's what he does. Todd Snider is all about his audience. He doesn't just play to them; he speaks to them. He is, as I've mentioned in a previous concert review, a whole universe smarter than you or I will ever dream of being. Whatever your IQ, whatever the name of your college, however many degrees you've got hanging on your wall -- doesn't matter. Todd knows the only thing worth knowing: not a single one of us knows what happens next.

Not next "tomorrow" or next weekmonthyear, but Next.

And if he is, as he claims and as his concerts and music seem to support, truly an evangelical agnostic, well, I'm onboard with the Good News that we don't know jackshit about what's heading in our direction. There's a fair amount of comfort in that.

Listen: I can't say much more than I did previously about Todd Snider's concerts. He's funny, personable, affable, has the broad and guileless smile of one of my many toddlers... His live shows are an Experience. You can't duplicate them, though everyone tries. He encourages you to make and share recordings. He sells recordings of his shows online. He wears pinstripes and polka dots together! Bucket hats and bare feet! Sometimes he reminds me of Mr. Rogers in his online videos and promo material. He's happy; he's sad. He doesn't take himself seriously at all, at least not on stage.

I can't tell you why you should go to a Todd Snider concert and there's no showing what goes on at one. It's not like talking about how Jackson Browne makes me feel like the only person on the planet or how the Young Dubliners make me feel like the most important. Todd Snider does something else with his shows -- he makes me feel like I'm a part of the world. Like simply by being at his concert, I've not missed a single important experience. Like there's some community I actually belong to.

Which brings me to what I said at the beginning, about the adventure.

As you may have guessed by this particular post, or as you know if you're my one regular reader (you do exist, don't you? Mom?) I have a tendency to meet musicians. Call it Susannah's Strategic Hover if you want. I call it a genetic predisposition to being found where music is being made. And for the most part, all of those people have been really, really cool. I've met them in all sorts of ways: accidentally on the sidewalk, waiting in the cold for two hours (guess who!), hanging around their tour buses, offering them band aids, pressed forward by my mother, entirely by accident, right place right time, all of it. I once manipulated my brother into being the best wingman in the history of wingmen. It just works out for me, usually.

I say strange things like "I named my dog after your song," or "You look like an old man," or "I like 'Knickers.'" They say things like, "But you only have to do, like, seventy percent of the work!" or "I smell terrible" or "What you do is -- you get a fake ID and then you come to Ireland with us and drink."

I've been asked where the afterparty was, invited to hotel rooms (yes, rooms, yes, it's happened more than once), asked on dates, asked for use of the slogan on my shirt, gone out partying with them, been put on their guest lists -- and as of Mach 3d, 2010, been invited to the dressing room.

There are two experiences prior to this moment that I cherish and hold dear (as far as music is concerned). Which is to say that I've had a lot of "Meet your heroes!" moments and most of them have been positive experiences, with a few really unfortunate moments in there to make me feel terrible about myself. (The "Your cock is huge, Teddy" moment still makes me blush and fills me with undeserved shame.)

1. Meeting Jackson Browne. I was incoherent and a shattering mess for it, but he was the slice of perfection I always dreamed he would be.
2. Todd Snider left me a voicemail that got me through several all-nighters whilst I finished my finals.

After Wednesday night's concert, my parents left and I politely asked Elvis, the tour manager, "Excuse me, but would it be at all possible for me to get a picture with Todd tonight, please?"

His response? "A pretty girl like you? We can make it happen."

I've always thought Elvis was funny; turns out he's a bit of a charmer, too. He told me to wait a few minutes while things settled down and then, after a bit of staring at impressive photos on the walls of the Iron Horse, Elvis walked by me and said, "Follow me." Oh, oh, okay! I followed him right into the dressing room, where he informed Todd I was just too cute and he couldn't say no when I asked for a picture. Seriously: ladies, look out for Elvis; he will make you blush.

So I got to meet Todd Snider. With my awkwardness, the conversation was strange and delightful -- at least on my end. I'm convinced I petrified him. He asked how old I was (22), if I liked to sing (ha!), and what I wrote about (historical fiction, but I really want to write about music). He asked if I was going to school for writing and I said I was graduating in May. "You're so young!" he said. "I just... powered... through..."

Then this happened...

Me: My parents actually met you about a year and a half ago when you played Johnny D's in Somerville.
Todd: Yeah, with Don Was and Was Not Was -- wait, don't tell me -- we didn't call you?
Me: (in shock) YEAH! I'm THAT girl!
Todd: It's so great to meet you.

Then I spilled some nonsense about Woody Guthrie and Robert Johnson and Ben Shahn and Arthur Rothstein and the FSA. I swear to god, every time I had the chance to open my mouth, I put my foot right in it.
Todd, of course, was incredibly gracious, funny, disarming. When I told him I couldn't believe I was able to put sentences together after what happened with Jackson Browne, the screaming and the tears? He replied, "Was that in Chicago?"

He actually made me feel like less of a fool for responding that way to Jackson Browne because, apparently, it's not so uncommon. (!) What an utter gentleman he was, so unlike the Hoteliers. Oh, they also asked me if I had any rolling papers -- nah, don't smoke, sorry.

I'm not saying he's a perfect guy, just that whatever flaws he has, they are not ones that prohibit him from being ridiculously wonderful to be around. When he says he is having fun on stage, oh dear, but you believe him. He's funny -- I cannot stress this enough -- and even when he is saying something tragic, well, he says it from the newspaper's point of view, the tree pulp, so you have to laugh.

When I met Jonny Burke the second time, we spent most of James McMurtry's set chatting and some of time we talked about what a cool dude Todd Snider is. Jonny had just finished a stretch of opening for him, and so we were just talking about how excellent his music is and how some musicians, when you meet them, are bitter letdowns, but not Todd. I hadn't met Todd at this point, but something told me he'd be more Jackson, less Thompson. Jonny had pretty much all nice things to say about Todd, and my opinion of him was already pretty inflated. Now that I've met him -- it's only gotten worse.

There was just one thing I meant to ask and totally forgot in the "Wow" of the moment:

"Hey, Todd, will you play my graduation party?"






PS. I am well aware this post isn't REALLY about the concert. I'm not sure what I could possibly say about it. It was an hour and a half of fun times. Todd taking requests, playing songs he'd never played before, songs that weren't even his. The highest possible compliment I could give a concert is that there is no describing it; you just have to see it. And this is exactly the case with Todd Snider. Drive to the nearest show he has scheduled, I don't care if it's six states away, just get your butt to one of his shows.

PPS. I finally got my Todd Snider teeshirt. About five years ago, my brother went to a Todd Snider show in Virginia and I gave him twenty bucks to get me a tee shirt. Promised me he got it. Told me he had it. Told me he just forgot to bring it home. A few years later, he finally admitted that he never bought me a shirt. Now, I have a Todd Snider tee shirt all my own. Thanks, Brian!

Die for something useful and you don't die in vain.

Don't misunderstand. It's a terrible tragedy. But maybe something good will come out of this, after all. I don't have much time or inclination to get into it right now, but I will write over the weekend and explain exactly what I hope this terrible event brings about.

Man of the Hour

In praise of vulnerability.

Allow me to elaborate on my feelings about the issue of Leonardo Dicaprio. Because I think there might be one person on this planet, maybe in some remote jungle in South America, who was raised by a bear named Ragu, who doesn't know. Although I think you all misunderstand my meaning and my reasoning when I say that I love beyond love one Leonardo Wilhelm Dicaprio.

In honor of our sixteenth anniversary, I thought I would write about the longest and most rewarding relationship I have had with a man.

I was six. It happened at the Cameo. I don't know why and I won't pretend to know how it happened, but it did. Later, Mom would acknowledge that of the thousands of movies I have seen in my life, it's pretty clear that there is one that reached me beyond all others.

What's Eating Gilbert Grape?

(Match in the gas tank, boom-boom.)

Maybe six was too young for that movie. But I've never let being too young stop me from going after anything I wanted. Doesn't mean I'll always get it, but I'm always going to go for it. Anyway, it was a rather epic introduction to Leonardo Dicaprio.

Then on December 26th, 1997, Mom took the four of us to see Titanic. And folks, my fate was sealed. It wasn't so much the blonde hair or the way he squints into the sun in that one particular shot, right before Rose comes to him and makes her choice. It was the way he looked at Rose, the way he loved her. The moment when he accosts her in the gym, when he's so completely vulnerable and exposed -- it's breathtaking. He puts himself entirely at her mercy.

And I never looked back. (Except one, but that was because there were rumors that he had been with Lindsay Lohan and let's face it.... She's RANK.)



And then there's always this




And here is where Leo and other men are different: he understands the difference between weakness/sensitivity and vulnerability. People aren't just vulnerable; they make themselves vulnerable. I don't want to deal with boys who think the way to win a woman is to be sensitive and feminize themselves. Crying over homeless puppy commercials is not a good thing. But if you can walk that fine line between being weak and being vulnerable... You're Leo.

Movies where he really excels at this? Marvin's Room. Titanic, yes, I said it. Catch Me If You Can. Gangs of New York. The Departed. Blood Diamond. Shutter Island. In each other these movies, he plays a character with a wellspring of emotions just under the surface. Who he chooses to reveal them and how he chooses to reveal them -- or not reveal them in most cases -- is incredibly telling. And rather than coming off as whiny, over-sensitive, feminine, or weak like most boys I've met in my life, for him, revealing his emotions is counter-intuitive and thus an act of strength. And I think that there in lies the difference between being "sensitive" and thus "annoying" or being vulnerable and sexy.

Watch this clip from The Departed. It's not in English, but I've seen it enough, and his body language says more than words ever could.



What makes this such a compelling love scene is not the fact that his body is gorgeous and his shamrock tattoo is hot, or even that it's forbidden. It's two lines of dialogue.

Vera: Your vulnerability is kind of freaking me out right now. Is it real?
Leo: I think so.

It's the way he hesitates, then leans on the door frame. It's the way he bites his lip and speaking seems like an obstacle to what he wants to say. It's the fact that he is so genuinely infatuated -- in love? -- with her that he is giving her something he doesn't just hand out like candy. Where Matt Damon comes off as smarmy and insincere throughout the film, and that's the point, Leo takes up the role of being the heart-breakingly vulnerable character. Surprisingly delicate, but only to a certain touch. As he says, his hand is steady. His voice doesn't crack. He doesn't need Vera Farmiga's character; he wants her. And not getting her isn't going to send him into the arms of someone else; he doesn't just run around flirting with every girl he sees. When he expresses interest, it's because he's interested. And not just because you're female.

You think I'm reading too much into it, I know you do. You're shaking your head saying, "No way. You're just seeing what you want to see. Maybe I am. Maybe I imagined the way he looked at the nurse who was setting his arm at the hospital. Maybe I read too much into the juxtaposition of Matt's approach to women and Leos in the film. But watch it again, paying close attention to the early scenes. Watch how they each deal with Vera. How phony Matt seems, how standard and boorish he is compared to Leo.

Now think about Scorsese and think about Dicaprio and think about the fact that neither of those men ever make an unintentional move with film.

Why is this all coming up now? Easy question. Shutter Island. Listen, I know it's February and I generally have a rule about saying so-and-so is going to win an Oscar before last year's ceremony has even happened. But I have the same feeling I did in 2004 when the Yankees crush the Sox in the second game of the ALCS. "What's everyone so worked up about? We're going to win the World Series."

I know a lot could happen between now and then, and I know a lot of people are still prejudiced against Leo. It's the only way to explain why he was nominated for Blood Diamond instead of The Departed. People want him to not win. They hate him because he's beautiful and he's talented in ways most actors (ahem, BradTomBruceJude) only dream about.

But look at the movie poster. He's looking rather wary and quizzical, is he not? Now look again. There's pain there. Deep and abiding pain. (In the slant of his eyelids, not that I'm crazy; I'm just detail-oriented when it comes to pictures. And it's not in his eyebrows, I swear. But it's in that general area.) So let me just say this about Shutter Island without giving anything away. It was the most heart-breaking performance I have ever seen from Leo. And if you don't believe that says something when it comes from me, well... What are you? New? I've never cried watching Titanic. Arnie gets left in a bathtub for hours and nearly freezes. The Departed? Marvin's Room? (Which, by the way, is still the Leo that I see when I go into Leo-geek mode.)

I've seen every Leonardo Dicaprio movie released in the United States. I've seen every episode of Growing Pains he was on. Hell, I've seen every episode of Growing Pains. I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that not one of his performances has hit me quite as viscerally and as squarely in the gut as his performance in Shutter Island.

And I know that those movies are full of characters, and he plays characters, not Leonardo Dicaprio. I'm cool with that. I haven't been saving myself for Leo, folks; maybe be Jack Dawson, maybe, but not Leo. I'm just saying that if boys want to know how to be men, they should maybe watch some of his movies, take notes, and then practice.

I would like also to add that similar to how my love for Jackson Browne is born of a love for his work, so too is my love for Leo. It always has been. While my peers were busy spelling his name as fast as they could to prove their undying love for him, I was diving into his film catalog. I remember every time I saw every Leonardo Dicaprio movie for the first time. I once had a dream that he died. It was infinitely worse waking up from that than it was realizing there was no waking up from the Heath Ledger nightmare reality.

Now I'd like to leave you with some Leo quotes from the new issue of Esquire.

On East of Eden:

I remember seeing the hunger in Dean's eye and the angst and confusion that he put onscreen. He became the poster boy for cool, but he was at his most vulnerable and exposed. I watched it five times in a row.

(Exactly what I mean. More than James Franco, who I love for inexplicable reasons, LEO is James Dean. If only he looked more like Jeff Buckley, he could play him so well.)

on honesty:

"I don't think I'm capable of honesty to the extent of my grandmother. But people tell me I have that quality. If it's true, it must come out in different ways.