A Movie, A Few Years After the Beginning

I'm not sure if it still goes on, and I don't ever want to find out, but on Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings, if there were no sports to air and no reruns worth rerunning, CBS 2 in Los Angeles would air movies you've never heard of. It would be more expensive, I'm sure, to air the higher-profile movies, so we'd get movies like Mojave Moon, starring Danny Aiello, Anne Archer, Alfred Molina, and Angelina Jolie early in her career, circa 1996. All I knew about it when it aired one idle Saturday afternoon on CBS was that I liked the opening song, "Lavender," by Watsonville Patio, and wanted it on my mp3 player. I watched nothing more than those opening titles, those tracking shots through the desert in Palmdale, as I learned just a few minutes ago.

I've played "Lavender" over and over (Try it here), but never was curious about the movie until now, when I'm in the desert in Southern Nevada, when it's 104 degrees outside right now and expected to be 114 on Friday, 116 on Saturday, and 117 on Sunday. So why would I even be interested in a movie called Mojave Moon in the midst of this heat, which keeps me inside the house and unable to enjoy my city during the day? First, because it's called Mojave Moon, because it reminds me of the evening to come, the time of day I look forward to most during the summer because I can walk my dogs a longer distance and be able to have my desert back for a few hours. I know it's the desert and it's expected, but still being relatively new to Las Vegas over nine months now, I'm still getting used to it. And I will get used to it, but the surprise will take some time to wear off. Yes, surprise, and a little disappointment, even though this is expected.

10 minutes into Mojave Moon on Amazon Instant Video (I rented it), I like it so far because it looks at streets not always known in movies set in Los Angeles. But Mojave Moon isn't only set in Los Angeles. On IMDB, the sole filming location is Palmdale, where we went many times when we existed in the Santa Clarita Valley in order to go to the only Sonic near us, a 45-minute-or-more drive, but still going out to even further isolated territory. If Los Angeles wants to call itself the desert (and it's not because of what it's built and what it has become), they would have settled in Palmdale, and Palmdale would have been Los Angeles, and there they could have called themselves the desert and meant it.

I liked Palmdale to a degree. I liked that it felt more honest than Los Angeles. There's no bullshit in the desert, at least on the surface. With people in the desert, your mileage may vary, but I've met more nice souls here in Las Vegas in nine months than I had in nine years in Southern California, genuine nice souls, and not posing for some kind of advantage. But I think I'm also interested in Mojave Moon because I'm long gone from Southern California, because I never saw Southern California at the time this movie was filmed. That's why I want Buena Park to be the end of my first novel, why I want to write extensively about Anaheim for my second novel, because I don't have access to them anymore. I know them well enough from the dozens of times I visited, but now I can really think about them, what they meant to me, what they'll mean to my characters. I know Buena Park and Anaheim go on, that they may have changed in some spots after I left, but I think the general feeling remains the same, such as Buena Park remaining a quiet, small town next to Anaheim, that cares about its history, that wants people to know, and that's why the ghosts of its history hang heavily on it. Not necessarily bad history, just what it once was. That's why I always liked Buena Park.

And being nine months gone from Southern California, I can look at Palmdale in this movie and not have that little dread. I liked going to Palmdale, of course, for Sonic, and for the Walmart across from it that was there for you to get what you needed, and it had what you needed, and it had a hardy soul to it. Yeah, I know, Walmart with a soul. But in Palmdale, even the stores have little bullshit. But I've also never known a movie before to be filmed in this particular desert, so I'm curious about that, too. Even with it being 104 degrees right now. Plus, I've always liked Danny Aiello, and, to me, Angelina Jolie looks a lot more attractive here than she is today. But mainly, what do they do in a movie set in that desert? That's what I want to know.

Even more pressing is that there was some kind of Irish movie, or near Ireland, that was released in 1996, and involved children, with some kind of math thing, that aired on CBS 2 one late Sunday morning, and I can't remember the title. I keep thinking that Colm Meaney or Aidan Quinn was in it, but no luck through IMDB. It may come to mind one day, but not today. Today is for the desert in Palmdale, for Mojave Moon.

DVD Reviews Since....August

I've continued writing DVD reviews after a month away from them to readjust my priorities, to remind myself that I'm still writing them in order to keep an updated portfolio, but this time reviewing only what truly interests me, despite the temptation to ask Acorn Media for everything they have, which would put more pressure on me to review everything I've requested and to spend more hours in front of the TV than I'd want to because I have more books I want to read than DVDs I want to watch. As long as I don't look at the wholesale section of Acorn Media's website, which includes a list of upcoming titles, the temptation passes.

However, a month's hiatus means nothing in this blog because I just realized, while thinking about posting links to my latest reviews, that I haven't posted any links since August 8, a month and 6 days before we moved.

Here we go then, with my reviews since August, up to today's review of the Michelin Guide documentary Three Stars:

The Devil's Needle and Other Tales of Vice and Redemption

Dennis the Menace: 20 Timeless Episodes

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Lisztomania

Holy Flying Circus (One of my favorite reviews of late)

The Sinking of the Laconia

The Decade You Were Born: The '40s

Red Green Show press release with a little from me at the top

The Callers

Master Qi and the Monkey King

8:46

Airport

The Decade You Were Born: The '50s

James Bond Gadgets

50's TV Classics

Secret Access: The Presidency

The Good Wife: The Third Season (My final review before we moved to Las Vegas)

The Halloween Tree (My first review after we moved to Las Vegas)

Battle Circus

Kiss Me

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Complete Series

The Raw and the Cooked

The Clintons: An American Odyssey

Hazel: The Complete Fourth Season (My other favorite review of late)

A Simple Life

Three Stars

Next up for me is seasons 5 and 6 of That '70s Show and The Carol Burnett Show: Carol's Favorites (Collector's Edition), which came out on September 25, but I'm catching up on earlier DVDs since moving took priority as well as seeking full-time work.

I Locked Myself Away Until It Was Done

So I think I could rank last week as one of the least fun I've ever had. I spent nearly all of it editing the memoir of Sy Richardson, character actor, after he contacted me, asking if I knew any editors that could do it for him and not charge him like they were agents taking commission (my phrasing, not his). I sent him my resume and he hired me!

His manuscript wasn't the torture I'm talking about. He's got quite a story to tell. It's just that when you go line by line and go deep into a sentence, to take care of punctuation and grammar and sometimes the way a sentence reads, you do lose sight of the rest of the book. You have a vague idea of what the book's about, what the author's after, but each sentence becomes its own valley and the pages crawl, because that's the thorough job an editor's supposed to do. I hope I did. I have to make one more pass at it tomorrow, to be sure I've edited all that's necessary and to gather my suggestions for what should be added, especially more about his guest-starring roles on Cheers and Wings.

The last time I did anything as extensive as this in words was when I wrote reviews for Screen It!, and those reviews sometimes took as long as this editing job did, or at least it felt like it. But I know that no matter how tedious it sometimes felt, I got to learn more about how he was hired for Pushing Daisies, and his role in Repo Man, and how genuinely nice Tom Hanks is, by what he did for the cast of Larry Crowne during filming.

But the editing wasn't entirely part of how taxing the week felt. While I was editing, the forms I had to fill out and sign, and the training I had to do for the substitute services department in the Clark County School District in order to be brought on as a support staff substitute so I can eventually apply to be a full-time elementary school library assistant, were sitting heavily on me, nearly crushing me. They have to be in no later than a week from today, otherwise my file will be destroyed two days later and I'd have to start the application process all over again. Every day that I would edit, because I wanted to read more about Sy's life, I'd have it weighing on me that I also had to get those forms done and the training done and go to the Substitute Services office to hand it all in. I'm going in person. No one's going to tell me that something's missing after I've handed it to them right there.

Today, I got it all done. I filled out the forms, I went through what must have been well over two hours of online training, and I printed out the applicable certificates at the end of the session, showing that I passed everything. Tomorrow afternoon, Dad's going to take me to the district offices and I'm going to give them all the forms and the certificates. After that, I wait. They check that I did everything and then once the background check is complete and they're satisfied, they'll send me an e-mail giving me details of when and where to go for my half-day orientation for substitutes, for which I'll only be paid after I complete my first day of work, wherever that might be.

How to celebrate? I don't do Snoopy dances. And the bigger celebration is reserved for when I get that full-time job. I know! I've got a few movies in my Amazon video library that I rented, that I still haven't watched yet, that are nearly all expiring later this week, save for Littlerock and Beasts of the Southern Wild, which expire next week. I don't want my money to go to waste, and fortunately, A Bird of the Air, The Village Barbershop, and On the Bowery are 7-day rentals, which begin when I activate them. Littlerock is a three-day rental, Goats is a 48-hour rental, and Beasts of the Southern Wild gives 24 hours.

I'll start with A Bird of the Air, even though I haven't read The Loop by Joe Coomer, one of my favorite novels, again, as that's what's A Bird of the Air is based upon. However, I do remember a great deal about The Loop after that first reading (yes, it became a favorite after just one reading), so it'll be fun to compare and observe what the movie changes around or compresses or doesn't use. I don't expect the movie of any book to be slavish to the book. I'll be happy if they get the tone right. That's all that matters to me.

Time to celebrate. I'm relieved, and I finally feel more relaxed for the first time in a week. I have to remember this when I embark on whatever writing project is next. Writing is difficult, no doubt, but it doesn't have to feel like a three-brick bowel movement. Maybe if I had done the forms and the training first, the editing would have not felt as difficult, but to me, Sy's work takes priority. And I got all the other work done anyway. So it all works out. But now, as Joel and then Mike always exclaimed on Mystery Science Theater 3000, "We've got Movie Sign!"

Las Vegas Phone Number History (Or Lack Of)

Before my TV and DVD player are unplugged on Thursday and hauled away by the movers who will meet us at our new home early Friday afternoon to move everything in, I was planning to watch Lucky You (mostly crappy script, but one of the great movies about Las Vegas because it gets the actual feel of the city right and not how Hollywood usually sees it), Swing Vote (for the election season), and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (symbolic of a new adventure in my life) again. I watched some of Lucky You before the week started, but I can easily watch Swing Vote and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy after we're settled in our new home and everything's hooked up again, including cable service with CenturyLink, which offers the ability to watch recorded shows on any TV in the house. That's going to be a godsend.

Anyway, instead of those movies, I watched most of 10 Items or Less, starring Morgan Freeman and Paz Vega, early this morning, to remind myself that I have to get used to finding good people all the time in Las Vegas, which is hard to imagine at first after nine years in Santa Clarita. Most of them in Las Vegas anyway, but the majority leans toward goodness, because living in Las Vegas, you're in the desert and you have to make your life work. People are more real there.

While I watched Him (Freeman) walk into Archie's Ranch Market in Carson to do research for a role as a supermarket manager that he hasn't committed to yet, I saw the pay phone that he uses to call someone to pick him up after the production assistant (Jonah Hill) for the movie doesn't come back after dropping him off an hour before, and my mind wandered to the news the day before that we got our new phone number. I've memorized it, just like I have our new address after changing many magazine subscription addresses.

After revealing our new phone number, Dad said that it had been out of service for three years, and I perked up at that piece of news. Once in Las Vegas, I want to know absolutely everything about my home city. I want to explore every inch of it, along with Henderson, Boulder City, Summerlin, and North Las Vegas, as well as the rest of Nevada. I don't necessarily want to become one of the foremost authorities on Las Vegas and Nevada; I just want to know enough for myself, that wherever I go, when I drive by various casinos, I know their histories, that when I walk through downtown Henderson and downtown Boulder City, I know how long those buildings have been there and what the lobby of the Boulder Dam Hotel in Boulder City looked like decades before, also knowing that Clark Gable and Carole Lombard once stayed there.

I wish I could know the same about our new phone number. Three years out of service before it was given to us. Who had it? Was it a business? Was it a resident? Was it a transient resident who had had enough of the city and moved east or back to California or maybe Arizona or New Mexico? Was it a resident who died of old age or died in middle age and their family took care of the arrangements to release the phone number? Or did the number just float briefly from place to place during those three years before settling down on us? I like to imagine that it was a resident who eventually tired of the city, who left room for us. Something like that. I know that I won't ever know the history of our new phone number, but the speculation to come out of it, those potential stories, are endlessly interesting.

More New DVD reviews

I'm not afraid of the personal uncharted territory I'm going to explore in my books, going further than the length of an essay in What If They Lived?, and never having written a novel before. I have an inkling of what I want to write in those two Vegas-centered novels, the time period, a few of the characters, but I have to wait until I'm living in Las Vegas to get a feeling for the city as it is today, and to have the resources to see what it was like in the late 1940s, more than the books I've read have provided me with so far. Being in transition right now, I don't yet feel the sense of security I need in order to begin. I know that security in life is impossible since everything changes, but I mean the security of knowing that I'm home, that I can look to my city for inspiration and know that I'll get it all the time. A little bit longer, then I'll have it. As we get ready to move, I'm sure I'll have more to write about.

In the meantime, I've been pouring my creative energy into my DVD reviews, to keep my writing limber. I've written nine reviews in the past two weeks. I'm comfortable with this because I have to work within a certain framework, that of the DVD I'm reviewing, and figure out what kind of review to write with what I have, whether I can get personal in a review based on the subject matter or just write about if I liked a movie or didn't like it. This set of reviews runs the gamut of all that:

Black Hand

The Devil Makes Three

Rings on Her Fingers

Claudia

Kidnapped (1938)

The Kent Chronicles

Garrow's Law: Series 3

Vega$: The Third Season, Volume Two

Megacities

Lake Effects

Walken Will Be Walken

I'm reading For My Eyes Only, John Glen's memoir about his career and especially as director of all the '80s Bond movies, and I love this piece about Christopher Walken ("A View to a Kill"):

"The only problem I had working with Christopher was his habit of wandering off while we were on location. I'd turn my back for a moment, only to discover that he'd gone for a walk somewhere. I ended up giving one of the junior assistant directors the sole responsibility of keeping an eye on Christopher and making sure he was around when I needed him for a shot. This became something of a game for Christopher and as soon as this guy was distracted for a second, he'd nip off in the other direction."

A Random Assortment of My Life

There's been nothing going on to merit a full entry on its own, at least not until later Friday or Saturday, because on Friday morning, my co-author on my book about the making of the Airport movies has invited me along to the media opening of Lex Luthor: Drop of Doom, a 400-foot freefall ride clamped to both sides of the Superman: Escape from Krypton tower at Six Flags Magic Mountain. Ever since leaving San Diego and his job at a magazine there, and moving back to Venice, he's reconnected with publications he's worked for, and that includes an amusement park magazine that assigned him to write a profile of this new ride. He has a comp media pass for this that can get him and one other person in, and that's me. He has the ulterior motive of us finally meeting face to face and being able to talk more about the book than we have in past weeks since he's been busy with other writing assignments and working with a '70s actress on her memoirs. Plus, he may still have the Lang family scrapbooks that he's keeping safe for actress/singer Monica Lewis while she moves to a new house. She was married to Universal film executive Jennings Lang who was the executive-in-charge on Airport (he watched the dailies and made sure everything was going ok, but with a producer like Ross Hunter, he had nothing to be concerned about), and then produced the sequels. Lang died in 1996, and according to my co-author, the scrapbooks potentially contain a lot of information that only I might be looking for. He's already pulled out what he wants for the book, but wants me to have a look as well. He goes for an overall view. I want to go in deep. We're a perfect match in that way, also because of his connection to the Lang family, having worked with Lewis on her memoir, which was published in May of last year.

So I get free admission into Magic Mountain, and it's going to be my Third Farewell Tour. I want to go to all the spots I've liked, including Pistachio Park, and maybe, just maybe, up the Sky Tower to the now unfortunately empty floor, freed of all its historical artifacts, which were the one thing that distinguished Magic Mountain from the rest of the Santa Clarita Valley, that acknowledgement of its history. However, it has the benefit of being set apart from the rest of the valley by its location to the extent that you don't feel like you're in Santa Clarita. But that history was still important.

Nevertheless, this is the perfect opportunity to say goodbye to Magic Mountain, to silently give my thanks for the many times it sustained me, helped me keep my sanity in this valley. Plus, I've never been to any media event like this, so why not have a totally different experience at Magic Mountain than what I usually had?

- Next item on my list in Notepad of things to write about is my latest DVD reviews, or at least my DVD reviews since May 31. I can't believe it's been that long since I've posted anything about them. I liked my reviews of seasons 3 and 4 of That '70s Show, and I finally sorted out my feelings about Tyler Perry in my review of his Good Deeds. He would be better if he doesn't push so hard, and there's one scene in Good Deeds that shows a potentially great future for him as a filmmaker. So here's the many I've done since my review of Episodes:

Zero Bridge

Law & Order: Criminal Intent: The Seventh Year

Love is On the Air

Trial & Retribution: Set 5

That '70s Show: Season Three

That '70s Show: Season Four

Miss Minoes

Margaret

Designing Women: The Final Season

PTown Diaries

Tyler Perry's Good Deeds

The Fairy

Father Dowling Mysteries: The Second Season

- In my reading of all the issues of The Henderson Press, I'm on Vol. 3, No. 3, January 19-25, 2012, I'm happy to say that I can amend my opinion of the weekly newspaper. Editor Carla J. Zvonec has finally stepped back from writing every single article in order to actually manage the paper, and not only are her editorials well-written, but finally the Henderson Press has focus and passion for the area again. There are outstanding reporters in Buford Davis, Guy Dawson, and Brian Sodoma, and the level of silly writing that used to plague these pages has dropped dramatically. Unlike Don Logay at his worst, these reporters realize that the paper is about the city, not about them. I liked Logay for his passion for Lake Las Vegas, but I hated how he was so obviously marketing it instead of just reporting it. The writing is much sharper and the profiles of various people in business and businesses themselves do more than just point out that they're there. These reporters are finally finding out that there's a lot of interesting stories in these businesses.

After Mom and Dad came back from Las Vegas and gave me all the publications I wanted to read (including that week's issue of Las Vegas Weekly, a few issues of Las Vegas Seven, and Friday's edition of the Review-Journal), I found the latest edition of the Henderson Press and was very happy. Henderson won't be my home, but I know I'll visit often and I'm confident of always being well-informed because of the Henderson Press. They've finally reached a zenith from which I hope they never come down.

- Today, in honor of Independence Day, Turner Classic Movies showed 1776, one of my favorite musicals. As I watched yet again the business and arguments of the Second Continental Congress, I came up with an idea that could either be a biography if I can find enough information, or certainly a novel. So much has been written about John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and others in that Congress, but there's been very little written about one of those figures. A novel set around that debate on independence from this man's perspective could be interesting. I know that the debate probably wasn't what it looked like in 1776 (For example, Richard Henry Lee said to John Hancock that he had to decline a spot on the committee to draft a Declaration of Independence because he was asked to serve as governor of Virginia. In reality, his wife was ill), but it would still be something to see it all from this one perspective I want to pursue. I've gotta start writing some of these novels so I can keep my list manageable.

- Around where we're going to live in Las Vegas, there's nine Wienerschnitzels, five Sonics, a Walmart, a Vons supermarket, a 7-11, a Smith's supermarket, the Whitney library branch, and I'm sure I'm forgetting a few other things. Everything's accessible, and it's far back enough from the Strip to feel separate from it yet make you want to go as often as you can.

1776 is the only movie I've watched in full in a while. I'm favoring books more and more now and sticking to it. In the past three days alone, I've read five books, including The Age of Miracles by Karen Walker Thompson and Zombie Spaceship Wasteland by Patton Oswalt. When will Patton Oswalt write another book? He's got another career in this if he wants it and I want more from him. Also, read The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. Don't even ask "What? Why?!". Just do it. It may very well be the best book of this year and many previous years, even though it was published this year.

Just A-Wanderin'

Facing all the books I want to read that are in stacks in my room, I decided that I will not be on the computer if I absolutely do not need to be, and I have stuck to that for the past week. Because of that, I was able to write two DVD reviews yesterday instead of one:

I, Claudius: 35th Anniversary Edition

The Getting of Wisdom

The Getting of Wisdom was posted this morning. The only DVD I have right now to review is the new Titanic miniseries by Julian Fellowes, lately famous for Downton Abbey, which I've not seen yet, though inevitably I will, just not as quickly as others seem to have flocked to it. I know class distinctions were commonplace in that time period, but I'm never fond of people looking down on others. Of course, I could be completely wrong about Downton Abbey in that respect, but still I'll wait. With the books I have going, including my own, as well as the few things I watch on TV such as Jeopardy!, The Big Bang Theory, and occasional episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, it might be nicer to watch Downton Abbey after we've moved to Henderson. Something to check out of my new local library, whichever one it might be, on a weekend.

I originally Tivo'd the Titanic miniseries, but when I learned that it was available for review (though in a Blu-Ray/DVD combo pack that only has the audio commentary for the first episode on the DVD, which is fine with me because it's less to do), I grabbed it because now I won't have to fast-forward through commercials! I get it all right away.

My decision not to spend so much time on the computer came at just the right moment. The Garden of Happy Endings by Barbara O'Neal was released on Tuesday, and I received my copy today, along with The Presidents Club: Inside the World's Most Exclusive Fraternity by Nancy Gibbs and Michael Duffy. My love of O'Neal's The Secret of Everything, which continues to motivate my intent to travel throughout New Mexico in the years to come, spurs me on to read The Garden of Happy Endings at first, and then I'll read The Presidents Club not only to learn of the relationships between sitting presidents and former presidents (such as Truman and Hoover, which starts off the book), but as research of my own since one of the presidential history books I want to write involves former presidents, though not how Gibbs and Duffy have done it. That they've hit upon this topic shows that I need to get moving on my own because someone else is bound to think of my idea soon enough. I want to write this particular book.

Last night, I wrote what may be the beginning of my novel about the artist with an unusual interest. I'm still not sure what this artist wants, what the reason would be to write this novel. I'm not giving up, though, because I want to follow this guy, to learn about his approach to art, what he gets out of it, what he hopes his art will do for others. I don't see him as the sort who thrives in big cities, who wants their art in as many galleries as possible. He's passionate about what he does, but he's not in constant pursuit of glory. That's all I know so far. I would like to include a few of my favorite places in Southern California as a thank you for helping me keep my sanity during these eight years. I'm not sure if these will be direct tributes or pieces of the places included in other places this guy goes to. I do know that I don't want to use Las Vegas for this novel. First, I'll be spending my time after I arrive exploring every single inch of that valley and ransacking the Nevada history sections. Second, I want to write a book about a certain aspect of Las Vegas history, and would rather keep the novel separate. And third, as I've found out living in the Santa Clarita Valley, it's more of a challenge to create if there's nothing inspiring around you. However, this guy finds inspiration often because he looks where most don't, even if there's nothing remarkable around him. This novel should be about him, not always the city that surrounds him.

Even as I spend less time on the computer and more time reading, I want to listen to more chill music, more than I hear on the XM Radio in our house. I want to listen to more Schubert, more Gershwin, and I want to explore bluegrass music. I've always been curious about it, I've heard a bit on The Bluegrass Mix, but it's not enough. I want to learn its history, the pioneers of it, what it had back then that it retains today and what's different today. I think it stems from the soundtrack I heard waiting in line at Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World all those years, and, of course, O Brother Where Art Thou?. I know bluegrass music is more than just that revival, and I want to know. That would involve spending more time on the computer in order to learn. Well then, I'll just keep a book with me if I have nothing to do on the computer and just want to listen.

Once I figure out where I want to go with this novel, then there's all the music I want again. It may even inform my writing.

For now, I've got nothing else to do on here, and The Garden of Happy Endings is sitting on the dining room table. That's not where it should be. I've got reading to do!

Reunited with a Crush

In 2001, I had a crush on Alyson Hannigan because of American Pie 2, and saw it seven more times that summer. Last Saturday, which turned into a few errands rather that pushed our Passover dinner to Sunday, I went to see American Reunion at Edwards Canyon Country 10 while Mom, Dadm and Meridith went on those errands. It was the first time in such a short span of time that I saw two movies at the only two theaters in this valley. Mamma Mia! comes closest to that, even though we saw it at that same Canyon Country theater. We saw it one day and then went back the next day to see it again.

The same feelings I had about Alyson Hannigan, or at least her role as Michelle Flaherty (now Flaherty-Levenstein after American Wedding), welled up again while I watched this fourth installment in the series. Whereas Michelle had an unabashed quirkiness in American Pie 2, it's matured into a subtle, understated quirkiness, since she's a mom now. It's still very attractive to me, and Hannigan still has the talent of attracting much sympathy, this time for Michelle's marriage problems with Jim. Oh, I feel for Jim too, but considering that he's married to Michelle, why the hell does Kara, his former babysitting charge, matter in the least? Yet, this is what the plot hinges on, so we must watch. I didn't mind it though because American Reunion lifts the franchise up from the problematic American Wedding. The gross-out humor is here again, yet done with, ironically, more grace.

And good god, the number of times I wanted to be with Michelle while watching American Pie 2 zoomed past millions. It was still in the millions during American Reunion, but times have changed not only for these characters, but also for me: I can't see this one seven times because I can't afford these damn ticket prices all the time! I paid $9.50 to see this at a 4:15 p.m. showing. At the time of American Pie 2, I think I paid $4 or $4.50. And the movie industry wonders why box office totals drop off after the first weekend.

A Tale of Two Movie Theaters

There we were on Thursday afternoon, a foursome, sitting in theater 8 at Edwards Valencia 12, waiting for the 3:10 showing of Titanic 3D. When Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace came out, I toyed with the thought of seeing it, but decided to save my money for this one. It turns out I didn't have to spend my money, because Dad wanted to see it chiefly because of the song, Meridith hadn't seen it in theaters (It was my birthday, March 21, 1998 when Mom, Dad and I saw it, and there was a babysitting place near the movie theater where we dropped off her eight-year-old self, since it wasn't likely that she could sit there for over three hours), and Mom decided to join us because there's just such a great deal of things to do in this valley that she could have become totally indecisive over what to do first, so this was best. *Overreacting Sarcasmotron off*

At Edwards Valencia 12, you buy your tickets at the box office outside, walk in and to the guy standing next to the ticket receptacle, give him your tickets, take them after he rips them, and go find your theater. It's an average-person movie theater, and I like it, though I don't particularly like this one. I tolerate it because it's one of only two theaters in this valley, and you work with what you have.

Since Edwards is owned by the Regal Entertainment Group, the screens light up with Regal First Look 20 minutes before the feature, beamed through a separate projector. I used to be against commercials being shown, and making-of segments about upcoming TV shows, but it's what's at the movies now. It's not going to change. If you don't want it, then you have to find a theater that still preserves what the moviegoing experience used to be, where it's all about the movies and only the movies.

That would be The Landmark in Los Angeles. Ever since seeing the trailer for We Have a Pope early last month, I desperately wanted to see the movie. It's about Cardinal Melville, who's elected Pope by the conclave, but right before when he has to address the faithful, he cries out, and runs away from the world outside and the Cardinals gathered around him. He can't do it. The Cardinals and the Vatican spokesman are worried, because how is it going to look to the faithful when they've announced "Habemus Papum," and there's no Pope present?

The Cardinals decide to try psychoanalysis, and invite a psychiatrist (director Nanni Moretti) to try to figure out what's disturbing Cardinal Melville. He can't ask about the Cardinal's childhood or anything about his mother, but he tries. This leads to a visit with the psychiatrist's estranged wife, who he claims is "the second best after me", but is obsessed with "parental deficit." After Melville visits this psychiatrist, he slips away from his security detail and walks among the people of Rome for the next few days, trying to figure himself out, and this is part of what made me want to see this movie. This Cardinal does not feel he is above the people. He is among them. I have great respect for that. The ending was quite a surprise, a little disappointing, but understandable, and I liked the message that I perceived in it: Someone who is staunchly himself or herself is more holy than any religion.

From the outside, The Landmark is a steel-and-glass building, with shiny white tile flooring after you reach the second floor by escalator or stairs. You go to the ticket counter, and after choosing the movie and showtime, you lean over a flatscreen monitor looking up at you and choose which seat you want. Then after you pay, depending on when your movie is, you either go right in, or wait until it's time for seating in your theater.

We nearly didn't make it on time for the 11:15 a.m. showing of Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a subtitled documentary about an 85-year-old master sushi maker in Tokyo. I saw it on the schedule, showed Meridith, and she wanted to see it. As soon as we got our tickets, she went right into her theater and I had some time to wait, because through the wooden slats of the closed wine bar (I'm sure it opens later in the day), I saw a vertical monitor behind the bar that counts down the minutes until seating begins for each theater. For We Have a Pope, the monitor said, "Seating Begins in 18 Minutes," so I had time to start reading Sin City by Harold Robbins (written by someone else under his name since he died in 1997), which takes place in Las Vegas, and which I've had in my Las Vegas stack for a while. Since I'm working on shrinking it, it was next in the stack.

18 minutes later, I got up, walked to the first ticket guy, who ripped the side of my ticket that belongs to The Landmark, and then I walked to theater 7, handing my ticket to the guy at the door.

It wasn't enough that the theater looked upscale by the architecture alone, or that the digital board showing what movies were playing and the showtimes at the box office counter was crystal clear. The guy looked at my ticket, saw that I was in seat D3, and escorted me to that row, floor level, three rows back from the screen. I found the seat in that row, sat down, and the screen loomed like Godzilla above me, but I was ok with that. At least it wasn't Titanic 3D, which wasn't one of the movies being shown at The Landmark, since they show some Hollywood movies, but mostly independent and foreign films, We Have a Pope being an Italian film.

Seated where I chose, I opened Sin City again, and listened to The Landmark's own music program which plays before the movie begins. I remember there being a music program that played before the movie at Muvico Paradise 24 in Davie, Florida, but it was a national program, not customized like it was for The Landmark. They can afford it.

Before the movie started, the guy who had escorted me to my seat walked to the front of the theater, welcoming everyone, and announced the movie, giving us the running time, as well as when it would end. He then said that if we had any questions or needed anything (probably if the film suddenly went out of focus, which didn't happen), to find him or someone dressed like him, "in this lovely shade of burgundy," he joked, holding out his shirt a bit with two fingers. "And now: We Have a Pope," he announced, and then walked out of the theater. Right at that point (because before the guy made his announcements, he told the projectionist over the radio to start theater 7's projector in two minutes), the lights went down and there were trailers for Darling Companion, Bernie, Monsieur Lazhar, and Trishna. Then the movie began.

I'm tempted to consider The Landmark great luxury in moviegoing because they have great respect for movies in general, but it feels too cold to me. The glass-and-steel design doesn't help it much, and though I do like the organization involved in presenting a movie on time with announcements to boot, I'm happy with a regular theater. It feels like this movie theater is for what I'm sure The Landmark perceives as a higher class of people, but I'm not part of it. I don't like class distinctions and I don't observe them. But considering that The Landmark connects to a Nordstrom which then leads into the high-end Westside Pavilion mall, well, that's a world that doesn't fit me. For sheer respect of movies, I love that dignified treatment, but it's not my kind of theater, even though the guy introducing the movie requested that there be no talking or cell phone usage during the movie. That was nice. However, I can ignore such things. At one point during the sinking of the Titanic yesterday, I heard sirens on the road outside the theater (the walls are that thin, though not between auditoriums), and ignored it. I'm there to see the movie, and it matters nothing what's going on around me. That's other people's business.

I'm sure there are theaters just like The Landmark in Las Vegas, but I hope they feel more accessible than this. Same dignified treatment, but more welcoming to all. I think that balance can be achieved.

Changes and More Changes

Lately, I haven't written much about anything else besides The Henderson Press, my DVD reviews, my newfound, but probably long-simmering, love of sandwiches, and my new lifetime goal of reading all the Star Trek novels available. It's because over the past few weeks, up to spring break this week, Dad has been at work at La Mesa Junior High and the weekends are really when we do anything, but then it's just errands which aren't always worth writing about. I can find a story in anything, but over myriad visits to Walmart Supercenter and various supermarkets, we just know what we need to get and then we go. No real need to observe what's around me because I've seen it all before, with the long lines, the one line at the Redbox machine, kids spread around the store, whichever one we're at, and more. There's less personal value in it for me because I know all this too well. Meanwhile, once we get to Henderson, with Las Vegas nearby, I know I can flood this blog with stories for years on end. If you can't write in Las Vegas, then you should quit. I will never quit.

There was something telling today when we went out, though. The food court has begun to change in the Westfield Valencia mall. Kato Japan, which we've known for years as what we pass when we enter the mall through the food court and that we've tried once or twice, is gone. The former location has a black curtain across it. The sign has been either taken down or covered up in the same black fabric. On the second floor of the mall, right when you get off the escalator that's across from the mall's main entrance, there used to be a dog shop, with dogs in cages behind plastic windows. It closed last year and was replaced by a motorcycle accessory shop, which has also closed. On our way back to the food court from the Shops at The Patios (as the area is called), where we went to see if any new eateries had opened up before we four fully decided on the food court (Mom and Dad were waiting at the food court while we checked), Meridith and I saw that the motorcycle shop was gone, yet there were black plastic curtains covering the windows from behind, with a slight view right down the middle at the entrance. We peeked in and found that there's going to be an arcade there, and someone was inside, installing one of the machines. No pinball machines from the little I could see, but it makes sense. The only arcade in the Westfield Valencia shopping district is next to Edwards Valencia 12, called Full Tilt, and it's a sad-looking arcade, with the machines perpetually on sale, with price tags stuck to them.

My only question is: How does the mall plan to manage this? I can already sense occasional fights among teenagers, and kids hanging about for hours, so what's the plan? It's probably why I didn't see an arcade at Galleria at Sunset in Henderson. Security at the mall doesn't want the added burden of that, although kids are much more polite in Henderson than they are in Valencia. They're more genuine too.

While Meridith had a salad from Burger King, Mom a Whopper, me a Double Whopper, and Dad something from Panda Express, I noted how when we live somewhere for many years, nothing really changes in the area. And when something does, such as a furniture store being replaced by a bank, as it was next to the Sheriff's station near the mall, it's so subtle that it doesn't mean anything. But now, with the makeup of the food court changing, with two as-yet unclaimed spaces that have been boarded up for some time, with an arcade going into the mall where I'm sure no one expected one (though I'm sure the owners are going to get some good business from it), it's clear that massive changes only happen when we're getting ready to move.

Another case in point is when we went to Big Lots in Canyon Country before we went to pick up Tigger and Kitty from Precious Pets Grooming. Every single time we've gone there, from the first time to the time before this one, when Big Lots was offering 30% off items on a Sunday in early March, I've always struggled with how many DVDs and books to get, based on what interested me. I spent a lot of time each time counting books, counting DVDs, gauging my interest in every title I held. Some I kept because I absolutely needed to read it, such as Never Break the Chain: Fleetwood Mac and the Making of Rumours, and some I gave up, like Slam by Nick Hornby, because I still wanted to read A Long Way Down and wasn't ready yet for Slam. I know one doesn't lead to the other, but I've got to really want to read a book and I didn't want that one yet.

Today at Big Lots, for the first time ever, I bought nothing. I had picked up I Know I Am, But What Are You? by Samantha Bee, and That's Entertainment! III, and Michael Clayton, and carried them as I looked at an utterly devastating book section, but decided that I didn't need them so badly. I thought of watching Michael Clayton to see how Tony Gilroy is as a director before The Bourne Legacy comes out, but it doesn't matter; I'm still going to see The Bourne Legacy. Samantha Bee's book seems more like a read from a library, and I bought That's Entertainment! because of the crumbling MGM backgrounds, showing the stark reality of Hollywood, while actors like Fred Astaire and Esther Williams introduce clips. I don't think I'd find the same in That's Entertainment! III, since that came out in 1994, well after the MGM lots had been sold off, which is why they were in such a state of disrepair in the first movie. I like watching reality puncture Hollywood puffery.

That I walked through the book section--picking up one book, briefly reading the inside flap, and putting it back not five seconds after, with the process repeated a few times--without picking up anything that I really wanted to buy, shows the sorry supply at Big Lots right now. I don't know if it will change, because there were at least 10 copies of the extended two-disc set of Peter Jackson's King Kong, at least 15 copies of The Astronaut Farmer starring Billy Bob Thornton, and I lost count of how many SpongeBob DVDs I saw. No Star Trek DVDs that I had hoped to find, which was really worrisome because there was a slew of them when I wasn't looking for them three visits ago. But there were the same Star Trek figurines from the latest movie that were there last time, yet still no model of the Enterprise. Shouldn't that be part of this collection of figurines? I have no favorites among that group in the movie, but I do love that starship.

Disappointing as it was not to find one book or DVD that I just had to have, I'm happy at this development because things always change when we're getting ready to move, besides the moving part, life will change, and this time, it will be for the best and greatest, as high as those adjectives can go. It makes me wonder what else might change in this valley before we leave. It's bound to happen more and more. That's just the way it works.

Boldly Going...Where So Many Have Gone Before

In the summer of 2010, severely overweight, buzzing on caffeine (not knowing that caffeine was causing most of my problems), staying so deep inside my body, worried about what was going on and not doing anything about it until mid-September, I watched a lot of TV. I lived for afternoons of That '70s Show, I watched episodes of iCarly (created by Dan Schneider, who also created All That, which I grew up on, so I had an excuse besides worry pushing me toward these places), I even sat through episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, against my better judgment, which I didn't have then, which explains why I watched it. I also remember episodes of The Galloping Gourmet, which would have been fun if I hadn't been feeling so badly about myself.

Then there were afternoons in which I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Star Trek: The Next Generation?! Me?! This was when I worried that something had turned inside out in my brain because I never watched this in elementary school or middle school or high school. I knew some things about it through pop culture osmosis, but not as much as talented Trekkers (Trekkies? What's the latest on that?) do. Nothing of it really interested me.

And yet, why the hell didn't it interest me? My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, which I proudly own on DVD. I also read various sci-fi novels then.

When we went to the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in the years after we moved to South Florida, I spent the entire day in Tomorrowland, riding Space Mountain as many times as I could, depending on the line, admiring the star map at the entrance and the photos of galaxies that you pass in line. I looked up at the ceiling projection, watching shooting stars, staring at all that futuristic design in wonder. Obviously the seeds of full-blown sci-fi exploration had been planted a long time before I got to the point of watching TNG. There was also a day during this mind-and-body worry that I didn't want to go out and face the world because Star Trek: Generations was on BBC America. It helped me ignore my immediate world.

Since that summer, I watched either one or two episodes of TNG, but that was about it until late last year, when I got more into it. I watched a few more episodes; oh, and there was also the movie in 2009 that I saw on the strength of the trailer that I watched over and over, awe-inspired by it. So that had to push it along faster.

There's the old Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument, and I side with Star Trek. More planets, more galaxies, more starships, more impressive technology. I don't want a lightsaber as much as I want a holodeck. I'd rather have the USS Enterprise than the Millennium Falcon.

I admit, however, that TNG is the only Star Trek series I've seen thus far. Eventually, I'd like to see the entire run of The Original Series, The Animated Series, all the episodes of TNG (I know for sure I haven't seen all of them yet), Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise, and all the movies, save for Generations, which I not only saw on BBC America, but I also bought it for $5 at Big Lots along with Insurrection, which I still have to see.

This past weekend, I pulled out of one of my book stacks Star Trek by Alan Dean Foster, the novelization of the movie. I enjoyed Foster's skill at descriptions, but I wanted better. I know that no book can possibly top the movie, but I wanted that same sense of wonder I felt when I saw the movie, what made me buy it on DVD. So I've decided that I want to read all the Star Trek novels. A filmmaker friend on Facebook referred me to his nephew who recommended the Destiny, Titan, Typhon Pact, and Deep Space Nine books. I will read them all.

Another filmmaker friend on Facebook, upon reading my intent, said, "Good lord, you know they've been publishing Trek books longer than you've been alive, right?" I do. I am not intimidated by the sheer number of novels that have been published. In fact, two days ago, I ordered from a seller on abebooks.com Mission to Horatius, the first Star Trek novel. I want to read all these series chronologically, despite the sheer number of some of them, and if it takes years, that's fine. I'm an easy traveler. I'm just looking for continuous adventure in my sci-fi reading. I'm not here to argue about which captain is better, which series is better, which whatever is better. My only favorite character thus far is Riker. I'm sure I'll have more soon enough. I know there's widespread hatred toward Wesley Crusher on TNG, but having read Wil Wheaton's books, and reading his blog regularly, I just watch him with fascination.

So here I stand, boldly going...where so many have gone before. And if there are any Star Trek fans who read my blog, who have read the books, what are your recommendations? What should I look forward to? (If one of my followers is indeed who I spoke to on Facebook, I've got your recommendations down in a Word file. But any additional insight from you is always welcome.)

My First Review in Two Years

I love the arrangement that Rebecca Wright over at Movie Gazette Online offered me, of reviewing only what truly interests me, and writing as many or as few reviews as I want. As I work on my next books, I like having the opportunity to write reviews again, this time without my once-fervent desire to be a full-time film critic somewhere. I can have a lot more fun with it now!

My first review in two years was posted yesterday, about the documentary Hey, Boo: Harper Lee & To Kill a Mockingbird. After you read the review (or before), click on my name and you'll find the bio I wrote for the site.

The Family-Without-Electricity Club Forms and Disbands in the Same Day

I don't wanna get up. Maybe she won't call, like last time.

I went to bed a few minutes before 3:30 this morning. I have to be in front of the computer by 8 for a phone interview with actress/singer Andrea Marcovicci, who played Russian Olympian Alicia Rogov in The Concorde: Airport '79. It's 7:45. Her assistant originally set up the interview for this past Monday morning at 9. Ms. Marcovicci didn't call, and her assistant apologized by e-mail later.

I actually wouldn't mind if she didn't call this time either because I want to get back to sleep. But I have to do this because her assistant offered no other time in the forseeable future, citing a tight schedule. I learn later that that's not Hollywoodspeak. It's actually a tight schedule.

I should have gone to bed earlier. I wish I didn't feel like I'm trying to pull my face from a puddle of glue. But last week, Southern California Edison sent a notice that the power would be shut off from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., to ease the load on the system and to hopefully prevent rolling blackouts during the summer. Or something like that. An electric company's reasoning is like trying to figure out the true motivation behind Scientology.

Therefore, the 9 a.m. time I requested for this interview, which was rejected, would not have worked anyway. Mom suggested last night that I print out my questions and have a notepad handy just in case the power cuts out during the interview. I took that precaution, but hope I won't need it because I can type interview answers much faster than writing them.

I finally get out of bed. Bathroom. Teeth. I'm still a little tired, but I know I'll feel the effect of a little over four hours' sleep later. I wanted Cheerios soaked in Silk Very Vanilla soymilk as usual, but it's 7:56. No time. Just a banana. At least it's hefty in the stomach.

I sit down at the computer, with printed questions, notepad and pen in front of me. I stick my flash drive into a port at the bottom of the computer, open my "Questions for Andrea Marcovicci" Word file, and make sure I have all the questions I want to ask her, especially about filming in the Concorde set on stage 12 at Universal.

The phone rings. It's 8:06.

"Rory?"

"Yes, that's me."

"It's Andrea Marcovicci."

"Yes; I know that very well." (I don't tell her that her name appeared on the Caller ID at the computer, but I know the voice well enough to be able to recognize it without a Caller ID, before she said her name.)

Regretting McCambridge

When Ms. Marcovicci didn't call that Monday morning, I was worried that I was going to interview someone who was full of herself, only giving time to me because she ought to throw some peanuts sometimes. Her assistant gave me the impression that that's who I might be talking to, because she was firm in her approach, and I worried that requesting another time, if I had to, would make me persona non grata. You form your impressions, right or wrong, from the experience you have at the start.

I was totally wrong.

Ms. Marcovicci begins the conversation with an apology for not calling on Monday morning, telling me that she was involved with something else, and said I probably wouldn't want to know about why she hadn't called. Yeah, I would like to know. After all, I don't interview singers every day. But I don't press. I don't think it would be polite.

For 20 minutes, Ms. Marcovicci is as I imagine her singing must be. She's playful, laughing many times throughout while remembering what she deems "the worst Airport movie." She had hoped The Concorde: Airport '79 would make her a more well-known actress, just like director David Lowell Rich hoped that this would lead to more features for him. Neither happened.

Her biggest regret of '79 is not paying attention to Mercedes McCambridge, who played Nelli, Alicia's minder. She says she was a "young pup," "and kind of scatterbrained at the time and not as appreciative of her as I should have been." She understands now that that's why McCambridge was "relatively impatient with me and harsh to me."

Then, Ms. Marcovicci gives me the information I was jonesing for, about the Concorde set itself, and what the crew did to help simulate the plane being upside down and depressurized. I'm saving all that for the book, but it represents fully what I'm looking to do with this book. Ms. Marcovicci also expresses great pleasure at my idea, saying that fans of these movies would certainly want to know all about them, as well as disaster movie fans and others. Genuine delight.

At the end of the interview, she has time for only one or two more questions. I skip the one asking about her on the set at the end of the movie after the Concorde lands under snow in the mountains because in describing the scene to her before, despite appearing onscreen, she says she doesn't remember it. She trusts me, a fan, though. I ask her about working with indie director Henry Jaglom on two films, admiring his tenaciousness in filmmaking, and I ask about her experience working with the late Martin Ritt on The Front, Ritt being one of my favorite directors. Great admiration for him.

Earlier in the interview, she reveals something stunning to me in passing while talking about the filming: She's great friends with Susan Blakely, who played Maggie Whelan. My final question to her is a request for her to pass along my contact information to Blakely, since I couldn't find any contact information on her online, nor an agent's contact information, and an e-mail to her husband's PR firm bounced back with "unauthorized mail is prohibited." I was going to call the firm directly, but available interviews come first, and I've got a few more to do at the moment.

Ms. Marcovicci tells me she'll let Ms. Blakely know about me and my project right away. How she does it, I don't know, but I trust she will. She warns me that once Blakely gets on the phone, she doesn't stop talking. It suits me. Blakely was on the Concorde set and filmed scenes in Paris and Washington, D.C., so she could be one of the greatest resources I'll have about the making of '79, besides Peter Rich, the son of the late David Lowell Rich. Plus, on the Concorde after the final depressurization from the device that opened the cargo door in flight, she was involved in one of the main special effects, in a section of the floor bursting below her, creating a hole through which shots of the snow-covered mountain can be seen. I want to know how they did that and what they told her it would involve. I hope she contacts me. With the backing of Ms. Marcovicci, how could she not? I've no doubt she'll play up the uniqueness of this project to Ms. Blakely.

That was the end of the interview, and after saying goodbye and hanging up, I look up Ms. Marcovicci's tour schedule, finding that she's performing on March 14 and 15 in West Hollywood, and for two dates in April at the brand-new Smith Center in Las Vegas. I immediately e-mail her assistant, mentioning that my family and I are planning to move to Henderson, expressing my disappointment that I probably won't be able to go to either show, and asking her to convey my sincerest hope to Ms. Marcovicci that she'll return to the Smith Center in the years to come. Also in April, I'm missing a Gershwin concert performed by the Las Vegas Philharmonic at Smith Center, so I'm hoping that the Philharmonic will have another concert of that next season.

One Book Out, Another Book In

A few minutes after 9:30, the power goes out. Expected, but it means that we can't open the fridge. Therefore, warm water bottles and lunch will have to come from whatever's in the cabinets and on the counter near the stove. I still need to eat more for breakfast, but since I don't want to open the fridge to get the Silk milk, I settle for another banana and a Quaker oatmeal raisin granola bar. It's lucky I made Mom some tea before the power went out, because our hot water dispenser in the kitchen runs on electricity.

Suppose I had a Kindle that needed to be charged and I forgot to do it the night before, remembering to do it today, but the power being out, I can't for all of the morning and most of the afternoon. This is one reason I will never get one, but also because I love real books. And it's better just to open one up instead of waiting for a Kindle to turn on (which I imagine doesn't take long), and then going through the menu, finding what I want to read, and there's the book, but flat on that screen. Too impersonal for me.

Yesterday, I received a book in the mail called How Pleasure Works by Paul Bloom, positing that pleasure goes much deeper than simply having favorite foods and favorite music and favorite activities, and setting out to explain it. I had been thinking of other books in my room that I wanted to read, but with a title like that, and my love of pleasure, I opened it right away. But

Today, I read it more slowly than I usually read, which is a sign that it wasn't as interesting to me as I had hoped. Bloom presents many timely examples and shows that he's hip to pop culture without sounding like he's overreaching, but the apparent science he explains began to bore me. I make it to page 93 and put it in the Goodwill box. With how many books I have in my room, and how much I want to read throughout my life, I can't waste time on a book that isn't working for me. I don't have a set number of pages I adhere to before I give up on a book, but I try to give more of a chance to a book that has a topic that interests me, such as this one.

I go back to my room to look for my next book, remembering the Charles Kuralt books I want to read, including his memoir, A Life on the Road. But then, On Gratitude shoves the Kuralt books out of my thoughts. It's interviews Todd Aaron Jensen conducted with celebrities about what they're grateful for in life, what gratitude means to them, and it delves into parts of their careers and what they love in their lives. The list includes Jeff Bridges, Ray Bradbury, Elmore Leonard, Morgan Freeman, Hugh Laurie, Ben Kingsley, and Francis Ford Coppola. Some interviews were conducted by phone, others in person, and you can easily tell which were which. It's also my kind of book because it delves into pleasure in different ways, and I open it up, and judging by the speed at which I'm reading, I know I'm devouring it gleefully. It works for me.

While reading, I find such peacefulness without the humming of electricity, the refrigerator keeping cool, the TV on, and I know the refrigerator's functions are necessary, but I really like this for today. Meridith pulls out the radio that Mom has on when she takes a shower and tunes it to KUSC 91.5, Los Angeles' classical music station. I can listen to classical music like this, and did when I was a kid. But put me in an auditorium with an orchestra performing pieces from various composers, and I am deathly bored. I can't sit there and listen to it like that. I would make an exception for Gershwin, but I generally can't do it for other composers. Maybe I should, though, just to see if anything's changed since I attended a classical music concert as extra credit for a music class at the Pembroke Pines campus of Broward Community College. I could imagine it in my mind as my own Fantasia, thinking up my own images. It might help. I want to support the Las Vegas Philharmonic after I become a resident, and actually, if they have a Schubert concert, I would go to that. The sitcom Wings uses a piece of his in the opening credits, and that's how I first heard of him and wanted to hear more of his music, because I love that fluttering piano sound.

This works so wonderfully: A book and classical music on the radio. No TV. No Internet. I can't keep myself from spending hours on the computer, since I'm working on my book, but I want to scale back the hours and do things like this. I am, in some respect, reading a lot more in past months. But more, more, more. I do have a radio in my room, and I'm sure I can get 91.5 on there. Mom can't get any radio stations in her room; such is the injustice of hillsides and mountains. She's excited about moving to Henderson for many reasons, the greatest being moving out of Santa Clarita, but the second reason would be that she can have radio stations again. Complete flatlands in Las Vegas and Henderson. None of the seven or eight different climate zones that Southern California is known for, separated by mountains. And no radio signals getting cut off because of the mountains.

The First Time in a Long Time for Lunchtime

At 1:07, Mom, Meridith and I decide to have lunch, which is most unusual because while Meridith has been at work since the beginning of the new school semester, I eat at about 1:30, and Mom eats after she gets off the computer. Quick, simple, and after, I can get back to reading.

Since Bella, the woman Meridith was subbing for in the school kitchen, came back, and Meridith's home, it's back to eating together at lunch, at least this time. Otherwise, if the electricity had been on, I think Mom would have been on the computer a bit longer.

Lunch is for peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches for Mom and Meridith, a peanut butter and honey sandwich for me (My first time trying one, since I usually have peanut butter and honey on a Quaker rice cake (there is a difference. Store brands of rice cakes are never as good)), bagged movie theater-style popcorn, Andy Capp hot fries (made of corn and potato), and then for dessert, a banana for me and a banana for Mom, a Rice Krispies Treat for me, and apple slices for Meridith with honey. As simple a lunch as you can find with a power outage.

I always enjoy the company. And the cordless radio sits in a pottery bowl Meridith made in high school, still tuned to the classical music station, so it's my kind of afternoon. I'm not sure why I stopped listening to classical music, but it might have been that concert for extra credit that caused my interest to waver. It shouldn't have. Listening to classical music on the radio, you can read and do other things while it's playing. Nothing stops you. I do listen to ambient and chill music, so maybe it's an evolution for me since those kinds of music involve instrumentals as well. Perhaps it was an evolution of my interest in classical music. But rediscovering Gershwin, and developing an interest in Schubert, I think I'm going to go back to it and try again. I fondly remember listening to 93.1 in South Florida when it was a classical music station. It shouldn't be difficult to get back into it. I'm going to need a lot of music when I finally begin writing this book, so I'll explore now and see what suits me besides Gershwin and Schubert, but giving more attention to them because I haven't heard all their works yet.

This works. Not all the time, but these hours without electricity, this book, this music, this company, and the wisps of good feeling from that interview with Andrea Marcovicci, it all comes together to provide an afternoon that usually only happens on Friday, a feeling of contentment, of the universe having aligned. You might think a feeling of contentment couldn't happen here in the Santa Clarita Valley what with how many times I've railed against various facets of it, but I mean internal contentment. I have books, and music, and there was lunch with Mom and Meridith, so I'm feeling good. External contentment will come after we move, but as long as I have books and exploration of music, I can exist well here until we move, because I know that day will be coming soon.

Lunch is over and I go back to the couch to continue reading On Gratitude. Near 2:30, the power comes back on, and I'm on page 126. 235 pages are in this book, not counting the index. 109 pages to go. This book works for me.

I go on the computer to see if anything interesting has come to my inbox, if Ms. Marcovicci's assistant has replied to my e-mail of deepest thanks, and if Rebecca Wright of Movie Gazette Online has forwarded any new press releases, asking us three writers if any of the titles in those press releases interest us. Nothing new. Since I can be choosier about what I review, I wasn't disappointed. This time, I've got to really feel that I want to review something, that I can write something hopefully worthwhile. I've got ideas for my first three reviews, now including the final season of Adam-12, that I want to try, and see where they go. It's quite different from when I wrote review after review of completely independent movies and inevitably wasn't interested in a few of them but I reviewed them anyway.

With nothing else to do on the computer for now, I give it to Meridith, who hasn't had the chance to use it during the day because she's been at work. I turn on the Tivo and play one of the episodes she has of The Chew, four days' worth built up, without today's episode because it didn't record. Power outages do that.

Every Friday, with that feeling of contentment, I tell myself that I want to feel that all the time. I don't want it to be limited to Fridays. I want this feeling all the time, too, of being at peace, of enjoying myself like this, with books and classical music and all the other music I love. I'm going to lasso this feeling and have it with me all the time. A continuous atmosphere like this would lend itself to much creativity. That's what I need when I begin writing this book, and I'm going to have it. This is the type of day to have every day, interviews with singers or not.

DVDs at Big Lots = My Kind of Collection

The only use I've ever gotten out of the DVD aisles at Best Buy was last Thanksgiving Eve, when tents had sprouted next to the store in Valencia for Black Friday. In the ad of what was on sale, only valid until that evening I was there, I found that they were selling the DVD set of Married with Children: The Complete Series for $29.99. I despise the majority of those DVDs because Sony wasn't able to get the music rights to Frank Sinatra's "Love and Marriage" for the entire run of the series, so there's a crappy instrumental ditty in place of that, which has no relation to the twisted spirit of the show. "Love and Marriage" did because it was used ironically. I considered this for about 10 seconds and decided to buy it because first, it's never that cheap, and second, I'd rather have my favorite episode, season 7's "Movie Show," available to me whenever I want, and not only on the Tivo, where I had it until mid-January when I deleted it to make room for other shows.

Otherwise, Best Buy's DVD offerings are too slick for me. It doesn't have the feeling of discovering new movies to watch. There's no sense of excitement in seeing what they have. The same goes with Walmart, although it's a little more comfortable than Best Buy, but not by much. They've got those $5 DVD bins, which I've lately only found useful to skim the top, see what's there, dig a little bit below, and then give up. My last great find in one of those bins was Clerks II, nearly two years ago.

Yesterday afternoon, we went to Big Lots because for that day only: 20% off whatever you buy. Dad had collected five "20% off" coupons from school (Four for us and one extra in case we lost one), but it was apparently not needed because at the register, everything scanned 20% off. Dad wanted to find a well-fitting cell phone case, Mom and Meridith came to look around and see if there was anything I wanted, and I was of course there for the books and DVDs.

I love shopping for DVDs at Big Lots, even when I don't need them, even though I'm much more into books than DVDs now. But I still love movies. I always will, and eventually getting tired of writing reviews will never sour me on them.

At Big Lots, there's very few horror movies on DVD, which matches me, because I don't like horror movies, and I can submerge myself in memories by what I find. For example, there's still copies of Ringers: Lord of the Fans, of which I'm quoted on the front, the first and only DVD release by a major company that I was quoted on. I freaked out when I found that I was quoted on the front of the DVD box of the documentary Cinemania, my first one, but I'm especially proud of Ringers: Lord of the Fans, because I'd never, ever imagined being quoted on a Sony DVD release, and it kept to what I always hoped with being quoted on DVDs, that I would only be quoted on movies I passionately supported. That was one of them.

Big Lots also holds part of my own DVD collection. On one of the shelves of a four-sided display rack, I spotted Swing Vote, which I proudly own, and on one of the $5 two-sided display racks, I saw Brick, a modern-day high school-flavored film noir starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, that I bought again for my collection last year. But DVDs I wasn't even thinking of when I walked in are the ones that bring me further back in memory, and even further back still.

After I had an anxiety attack at a mall in Henderson in May 2010 that wasn't Galleria at Sunset (though I had one there too), brought on by being vastly overweight and having consumed far too much caffeine and not eating at all well while on that trip (Little sleep doesn't help either), I spent months over that summer not even trying to figure out what was wrong with me and what I needed to do to fix myself. I didn't even think of being overweight as being the trouble. Well, that and the caffeine. There were many, many days in which I watched endless hours of TV with no discernible goal toward anything. And I remember watching Star Trek: Generations on BBC America one Saturday in late summer, with no idea why. I had never been into Star Trek before, and I wonder if my brain had been twisted around during those anxiety attacks. Me and Star Trek? No. It didn't make any sense.

But I suppose it had to happen eventually. My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, with that shiny, shape-shifting spaceship, and, living in Casselberry, we used to run out to the backyard whenever we heard on the radio that the space shuttle was lifting off, and it was so close to us that we could see clearly the American flag on the left wing, and "U.S.A." on the right.

During those listless months in which I felt like I was in a prison inside my head, I also watched a few episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, not paying much attention to them because neither my body nor my head felt right. I spent a lot of time in self-pity.

Late last year, I decided to try a few episodes of TNG again, and I like it. My answer to the question of Star Wars or Star Trek is Star Trek, because it seems to encompass an expansive universe that has a lot to explore. I also saw the new Star Trek movie when it was theaters, after going nuts over the trailer and watching it close to 70 times, and I loved it, so that must have triggered something.

I don't think I could ever be an out-and-out Trekkie, though, arguing the fine points of Star Trek lore, debating characters, loudly proclaiming a certain episode or movie to be the best one. I wander around in my own good time, seeing what I like, what more I want to explore.

I found Star Trek: Generations on DVD at Big Lots. $5. The last time we were at Big Lots, I found Star Trek: Insurrection and bought that, disappointed to find that the special collector's edition of Star Trek: First Contact was gone, which I was thinking of buying on the visit before the purchase of Insurrection, but decided to hold off until I learned more about the Star Trek universe. I should have snapped it up.

I seem to want to know more and more about science fiction now, especially in light of a time-travel idea I have for a novel. I want to explore these different worlds, see what fits me, and keep following that path. Star Trek might very well be one, and it's fortunate I found both those movies for cheap at Big Lots so there's no pricey regret if I decide not to keep them. I still regret not buying First Contact. $5 for that double-disc set was a lot better than $11.75 on Amazon. And I would have had it right away.

In one of the $5 racks, I found In the Line of Fire, which will forever have John Malkovich's creepy, disturbing performance as its main attraction. If the space shuttle launches and Flight of the Navigator were what propelled me to exploration of all things Star Trek, then there are so many explanations for why we are the way we are, in everything we do. In the Line of Fire has been with me since July 1993, when I was 9 years old. Every summer, my mom, my sister and I went every week to the morning summer movie program GCC Coral Square 8 had. I think admission cost a few dollars, but not as much as regular admission. I don't remember the movie we saw that week after In the Line of Fire, but when we walked out of the theater, I looked at the lighted paper sign between both doors of that theater, which had the In the Line of Fire logo to indicate that that's what was playing inside that theater, and I wondered what it was about. But since I was 9, and it was rated "R," there was no way I was going to be able to see it. I had no idea who John Malkovich was, then, and it was only after I saw him in Of Mice and Men in 10th grade English class, when he had become one of my favorite actors, that I finally saw In the Line of Fire. I really like it on its own merits, and I bought it at Big Lots for my collection.

I also bought That Championship Season (curious to see how another play is adapted into a movie), Lonely Hearts (Australian movie that I've always been curious about), Shaft (1971) (It may go into my collection because I admire how director Gordon Parks keeps everything street-level and real enough, a product of his masterful, stunning photography decades before), and That's Entertainment (I love the contrast of clips of beautifully-designed movie musicals, and introductions by actors against backdrops of a crumbling MGM that had already been sold at the time of filming), which went into my collection because I love a great many of those musical sequences.

I like Big Lots because it's open to everyone. Best Buy feels like you have to have at least $200 in your checking account and if you don't, all the flatscreen TVs are going to glare at you. Whereas in Big Lots, you just walk in, see what suits you, and most of the time, you'll find something you want. What you find feels like it had been waiting for you, like the diecast model of the presidential limo that I found for $9. There's always something there that is uniquely you.

How Will It Feel This Time?

I became a former film critic in 2009 because I was tired of the hamster-wheel feeling, such as Hollywood's release schedule, reliably awards contention-heavy at the end of the year, and the summer movie season having a lot of loud noise and empty vessels. That was only part of it, the other part being that as a member of the Online Film Critics Society, I had to participate in the year-end voting of which movies and actors and others we deemed to be the best of the year. We received awards screeners in the mail, and I always felt compelled to watch everything I got because I wanted to feel at least 10% well-informed, and I didn't review mainstream releases like other critics do, including attending press screenings. I did when I wrote for the South Florida Sun-Sentinel's now-defunct Teentime pages, but it was a novelty to me back then, just like receiving awards screeners were in my first and second years as a member of the OFCS. Back then, writing for Teentime, I wanted to be a full-time film critic some day.

In my third year of receiving awards screeners, I began to feel like I was on a hamster wheel. The same activities the same time every year. I was having some fun with it, but not as much as I should have if I was really into it. And there was no way to become a full-time film critic like Ebert or Anthony Lane of The New Yorker, or Josh Bell of Las Vegas Weekly, because those jobs weren't there anymore. Journalism had caved in on itself. There was no way to receive a paycheck and medical benefits for writing movie reviews. I didn't want it anymore anyway. I wanted to write books, to explore other topics that fascinate me, and then came What If They Lived?, with its crash course in research. And here I am now, working on my second book, and thinking of the books and novels and plays to come. This is what I want to do. This is where I belong. But what if I could review movies as I probably should have during those 10 years, not taking it as deadly serious as I did, and having more fun with it?

On Saturday, I received a message on Facebook from Rebecca Wright, who I talk with occasionally. She runs a DVD and Blu-Ray review site called Movie Gazette Online, posting links to her reviews on her Facebook account, which I see. I don't think a great deal about it because I've got my own work to do and I'm more deeply into books nowadays.

She asked if I wanted to contribute the occasional DVD review to her site, being that she gets a lot of DVDs and Blu-Rays now, and is adding more writers. She's read my past reviews, which I assume is why she contacted me.

I thought about it for a bit. I didn't want to get tied up in reviewing again. There was a lot of work to do for Film Threat, and I wasn't even getting paid for that. I wanted the experience and the clips so I could possibly parlay that into finding a full-time position as a film critic, which never happened. I'm not disappointed about that, since it led to What If They Lived?. But now, I'm busy writing books.

It might be good, though. Rebecca's site reminds me of the five reviews I wrote in 2005 for a site called The DVD Insider. I decided to be totally uninhibited in those reviews because I had nothing at stake. I looked at those reviews while I considered Rebecca's offer, and while the writing is embarassingly rough in spots, I clearly had fun writing those. That's what I should have been doing all 10 years, and also not putting all of my energy in those reviews like I did, because eventually, no one at Film Threat really did anything for me like I did for them, save for Phil Hall and my first book. That's what made it worth it.

Despite the Movie Gazette Online writer's agreement stating a requirement of 4-6 reviews per month, Rebecca told me that I could contribute as much or as little as I wanted. The number didn't matter, but she hoped I would feel comfortable enough to contribute something on a monthly basis. That's markedly different from the pressure I felt throughout those 10 years, pressure that I should have realized I was bringing on myself, but was too ambitious to notice.

There was another difference between this offer and my 10 years' worth of work: I'm not greedy anymore about DVDs. When I began writing for Film Threat, and requested DVDs from various PR firms while writing reviews of totally independent movies (Movies that not even the smallest label in Hollywood knew about), I was so impressed at just being able to get any DVD so easily. I overused this benefit with such zeal, that I got many DVDs every single day from UPS and FedEx and in the mail. The house filled up with them. Of course, where the DVDs used to be, books now reside, but I'm happier with the books.

I don't want DVDs anymore like I used to, so there's that benefit of writing for Movie Gazette Online. Plus, the site feels as comfortable as The DVD Insider was to me, and as if Rebecca wasn't already doing her best to try to reel me in, the writer's agreement states that "submissions must be 500-1,000 words." Oh god, what a relief! For me, it's like the hour or two I spent writing guest posts for Janie Junebug and Bloggerati, followed by careful, focused editing. Not only can I do this, I can use it as relaxation while working on my books! I can finally relax while writing reviews!

I accepted Rebecca's offer, promising her an up-to-150-word biography for my staff page, as well as signing up for an account on Gravatar, in order to produce a photo that can accompany my reviews. She then sent me press releases announcing forthcoming DVDs from Lionsgate and A&E, and told me to let her know if I wanted to review any of them.

The first press release announced Lionsgate's release of Gwyneth Paltrow, Nicole Kidman, and Renee Zellweger 4-Film Collections, coming out April 3. Re-releases of movies previously released on DVD, this time under the Lionsgate banner. I immediately scrolled down to the listing for the Renee Zellweger Collection, since she's one of my favorite actresses for various reasons (including being one of the leggiest actresses in Hollywood), and I had seen Bridget Jones's Diary and Chicago, both of which are included in this collection. Cold Mountain and New in Town are also here, neither of which I've seen, but I was already forming a review in my head, analyzing Zellweger's career choices, not how good or bad they are, but how she seems willing to do what other Hollywood actresses would probably be horrified about, such as the granny panties bit in Bridget Jones's Diary. She's adventurous, and willing to explore. I e-mailed Rebecca with my request, and it was done. This one's mine to review. And I think I want Chicago in my DVD collection again.

Next, a press release from A&E announcing its April releases. Rebecca sent me a separate e-mail with a list of DVDs she has right now, and not even Titanic: The Complete Story interested me. Quite different from when I also wrote reviews for NP2K, and was maniacally excited about the DVDs to be split up amongst us three reviewers. That was how I got the Clerks X DVD set that's in my collection next to Clerks II.

I scrolled through the A&E press release, stopping dead at The Presidents DVD set, which is merely being re-released in thinner packaging, but is still available for review. With my passion for the history of the presidency, this one's MINE! And Rebecca acknowledged it.

When I wrote for Screen It, Jim Judy, the owner, lived, and still does, in Germantown, Maryland. Rebecca lives in Vermont. I seem to have a great deal of luck with movie reviewers on the east coast from all the way over here. It's even more fortunate that I can write about what interests me, since I don't see movie reviewing as a potential future anymore. Renee Zellweger movies and an eight-part documentary about the presidents is an auspicious start. Plus, since I've ended my obsession with free DVDs, I have far less work to do now! I can finally have fun with this.