Saturday, August 31, 2013
For all her massive diva behavior at home, she is freaking terrified of the world outside this condo. So today -- the carrier, the cab rides, being handled by a stranger and those three shots -- was especially hard for her.
She got a clean bill of health, except that she probably should get her teeth cleaned this winter and she lost 2 lbs. It might be the better quality catfood they're all eating now. Or she might have the beginning of a thyroid problem. (Another reason for her to return come winter time.)
I've been encouraging her to build a life for herself out there. To reach out and try to make friends. To get out of her apartment and enjoy the ambiance that attracts tens of millions of tourists to Southern California every year.
Sometimes I feel like I've been talking to a stapler.
Well, she does hear me. I am helping! I woke up this morning to an email where she detailed her trips to local public library, how she found a nearby coffee shop to sit and read. She's also signed up for a meet-up in her neighborhood. All things I've recommended, and all things that seem to make lighten her mood.
I'm so relieved that she's doing better. She's a good person and she deserves good things. I'm so happy I could make a difference.
I just didn't like it.
The script is smart. The editing and story construction are masterful. The acting -- especially Cate Blanchett and Alec Baldwin -- is impressive.
But I think Woody Allen hates all his characters. Even the "good characters" -- especially the kid sister played by Sally Hawkins -- are condescended to by the script and the direction. Her "dumpy" apartment is at least 2BR with a fireplace and an eat-in kitchen, and lots of artwork and books. The woman manages to afford this with waitress and grocery store jobs. And somehow we're supposed to pity her. I admired her.
Woody Allen is immensely talented. He's also no paragon of virtue -- there's a conversation between Blanchett and Baldwin toward the end of the movie that uncomfortably mirrors what we know of Woody Allen and Mia Farrow. And he's 77 years old. Maybe he's been cossetted in Manhattan too long, maybe he's too out of touch with the rest of us.
So while I understand the movie and was impressed by its strengths, I was turned off by how toxic it felt.