“Lion” was based on a Broadway play by James Goldman, and it is a darkly funny bit of work, with Anthony Hopkins, Nigel Terry and Timothy Dalton chipping in. I prefer it to “Lawrence,” which The New York Timesdismissed as a “huge, thundering camel-opera” in a 1962 review (I’d call that a little harsh).
Steven Spielberg had a different take. He called it “the first film I saw that made me want to be a moviemaker.” It made me want to read “Seven Pillars of Wisdom,” by T.E. Lawrence, and if you’ve never picked up a copy, I recommend it to you.
The film was restored, laboriously, for its 50th anniversary, and the book has likewise been abridged and restored. Alas, O’Toole could not be returned to youth and vigor. He will be missed.
Pabst Blue Ribbon, the choice of international filmmakers everywhere.
Herself and I were briefly patrons of the arts this week.
We had rented the House Back East™ to a gent name of Colm Ó Ciosóig, who was coming to town for an international film festival. Herself wondered how his name was pronounced — and so did I, being fluent only in American, Filth and Drunkard — so I looked it up.
Colm is also a film aficionado who shoots many of the backgrounds for the band’s shows, and he wangled a freebie to attend the TIE-Alternative Measures festival by agreeing to DJ at the closing soirée.
But it seems the festival endured a few hiccups and finally ended badly — some class of a dispute pitted the artists against the organizer — and come Sunday evening Colm popped round to inquire whether he might host a gathering of filmmakers next door. We were invited to join them.
We said sure, and before long there were a couple dozen artists, musicians and filmmakers from around the globe crowding the tiny house, merrily chattering away over barley pops. They were all quite delightful, and included us in their conversations, asking about the States and Bibleburg and complimenting the House Back East®. Marv’, the old saloon musician, would have had a wonderful time.
It was amusing to note that a thirst for Pabst Blue Ribbon is apparently not just a proletarian pose adopted by Yankee hipsters, because nearly everyone in attendance brought a suitcase of the stuff (we contributed a bottle of Bushmills). But perhaps the altitude affected consumption, because there was more than quite a bit left over after the party ended — about three and a half suitcases worth. A gaggle of journalists would have gargled the lot and eaten the cans.
So Monday afternoon, after Colm and the others had departed, I decided to support another class of artist — I hauled two suitcases down to Old Town Bike Shop as a gift to its long-suffering mechanics, who are always giving me freebies on annoying bits of work when by rights they should be charging me double.
“Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat” was the title of one of Bill Watterson’s “Calvin and Hobbes” collections. It’s also a pretty apt description of Turkish. When he’s awake, anyway.
The Hobbes to my Calvin enjoys a snooze in the sunshine.
Speaking of which, were you aware that there’s a documentary about Bill Watterson and his creations? True fact — “Dear Mr. Watterson” premiered yesterday, and NPR carried an item about it this morning.
“Calvin and Hobbes” is one of my favorite strips. I have a dozen or so of Watterson’s books, and tried to get an interview with him back when I worked for The New Mexican (through a minion, he declined, as he does pretty much any invitation to chat with the press; smart fella).
I made the mistake of listening to the NPR piece, and now I’m going to have to thumb through a few of Watterson’s books, goddamnit. If you’d like to take a bumpy trip down memory lane on your toboggan, with your best friend for company, you can read “Calvin and Hobbes” online at GoComics.com.
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