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For the last few years, my family (specifically my brother, his wife, my husband and I) have been taking once-a-year field trips around Los Angeles to take in some iconic and/or historic sights. So many of us grew up here, smack dab in the middle of a rich, cultural stew, and have never seen so much of it. We’ve toured places like Griffith Observatory, the Getty Museum, Angel’s Flight, the Bradbury Building, etc. We augment our little trips with out-of-the-way eateries and unexpected side forays. For our Downtown venture, we boarded the lite rail and took it to Pershing Square. We took time to admire a stories-high, vintage painting of Anthony Quinn as Zorba the Greek on the side of a brick building.
Read more about Anthony as Zorba
This year, we decided we go in search of stars’ graves. Funky, perhaps juvenile, I know; but it caught my fancy so off we went to Glendale. After first partaking of a delightful lunch at the Los Feliz Cafe, we headed on over to the one of the most beautiful cemeteries ever. Forest Lawn in Glendale is also unbelievably huge. Over 300 acres, with over 300,000 gravesites. It is the single largest final resting place for movie stars–over a thousand individuals of some level of show business notariety. My brother and I are both film buffs and truly appreciate many of the legendary stars of the past, so we looked forward to seeing how they…ended up. But you won’t find any “Maps to Stars’ Graves!” at Forest Lawn. Quite the contrary. The young man at the gate was polite and quietly explained where we might find James Stewart and Liz Taylor, but beyond that, we were on our own. According to Seeing-Stars.com, the establishment can be downright hostile about sightseers.
While touring the park, we came upon the Museum, which is currently hosting “Revolution 2: The Art of Music.” Can you imagine my delight? Here was a treasure trove of original album cover art, rock star portraits, magazine covers, and a special section showcasing the art of William Stout. Unfortunately, no photography was allowed, but above [Beatlesongs!] is a sample of Stout’s work. You may also know him from Firesign Theater and Life of Brian.
A video was playing, and we sat a while to watch Live Aid 1985, the portion offering Elton John, Kenny Loggins, and George Michael. Talk about being in hog heaven.
Afterward, we entered the Hall of the Crucifixion-Resurrection for a telling about the painting and refurbishment of Jan Styka’s “The Crucifixion” – a canvas that is 195 feet wide by 45 feet high. The video accompanying the display was very entertaining and informative.
Finally, we got back into the car and went in search of Jimmy. We found him, right where the gate attendant had said he’d be, beside his wife Gloria. We were humbled by the simplicity of this wonderful man’s grave.
From IMDB: A family man finds the body of a young boy while jogging and becomes the prime suspect. He has no choice but to try to find the real killer as his marriage, his kids, his reputation, and his sanity are all at stake.
I watched the first two hours (season premiere) and by the end, I felt exhausted. I told my husband, “there should always be some periodic relief for the viewer. This show has none.” It literally doesn’t let up on the tension. First of all, it breaks the rule about showing dead children onscreen. Little Tom Murphy has been murdered, and there is a brief showing of blood on the hand of the man who finds him.
That man is the belabored protagonist Ben Garner (well-played by Ryan Phillippe), whose drunken memory-lapse casts the only minute shadow of doubt over his innocence. The cop doggedly harassing him really has nothing to go on, yet she is so annoying in her pursuit I almost just turned off the show. Juliette Lewis’ portrayal of Detective Andrea Cornell might be considered great because we hate her so much.
Reviewers have used the words “catchy, perfectly flowing” but also “boring,” “annoying,” and “irritating.” I understand, people! Apparently, it is a remake of an Australian effort that was (again, apparently) much better.
Will I tune in next week and give it a third hour of my life? I kinda want to just skip to the end to see Detective Cornell eat crow, which she undoubtedly will. We’ll see.
Another film I missed first time around (which pretty much describes all films these days).
From IMDB: “As Cecil Gaines serves eight presidents during his tenure as a butler at the White House, the civil rights movement, Vietnam, and other major events affect this man’s life, family, and American society.”
This film tries to keep focus on the modern history of civil rights in America, as viewed through the eyes of the main character(s), but while enjoyable in parts, I found the storytelling uneven and the timeline off-balance. I realize in the interest of time, some periods were depicted in great detail and others merely skimmed over, but this pacing was disconcerting to me. There is some historic value – recreations of actual events bring familiarity; however, it’s difficult, perhaps, to recreate historical events for viewers old enough to have experienced them first hand (and who know better). Scenes involving the various presidents are cliched and uninspired. The sub-plot surrounding Gaines’ wife’s (Oprah Winfrey) addiction and pursuit by their friend/neighbor feels forced, although the acting was first rate by all.
The inclusive of so many stars takes away from the story. I found myself marveling at the big names rather than experiencing their roles. (“Gee, why did they pick John Cusack to play Nixon? Hey, is that really Alan Rickman?”) Despite the irony, however, I did love Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan.
This was supposed to be a true story yet I understand a great deal of poetic license was taken. But what else is new? Most film adaptations do.
All in all, not as good a film as I’d expected. Grade: C.
Today’s writing prompt asked: “If you had lived hundreds of years ago, what kind of work do you think you would have done? What job would you have wanted to do?”
My first response was to question whether or not I would be restricted what what were probably rules & laws that didn’t favor women in traditionally male roles. This led me to think about the women of Downton Abbey, so I modified my prompt to ask what role I’d play there.
When I think about the females at Downton, I realize that they are clearly divided: the workers and the ladies. If given the choice, I’d step into the role of Isobel Crawley. She’s a little more independent, a little less Victorian. Interested in science and philanthropy. Unafraid to express her opinion. Friends with the Dowager but rarely snooty. According to Downton’s wikisite, Isobel is “well-educated for someone of her social standing and breeding, and trained as a nurse. She comes from a middle-class background and values family, charity, and education.” Except for the nurse part (which I haven’t done but could) the description fits. But would I marry Lord Merton? Probably not.
Were I to find myself working downstairs, I’d likely be Anna or Mrs. Hughes. Anna for her gentle strength, her tolerance and devotion; but I’d have trouble dealing with Lady Mary. Mrs. Hughes for her no-nonsense reason, compassion and Scottish spirit; she reminds me of my late mother-in-law. Plus, she’s the only one who can stand up to Carson and get away with it!
Note: Isobel is played by the lovely and talented Penelope Wilton, OBE. (The “OBE” stands for Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, a designation she acquired in 2004 for her service to Dramatic Arts.)
Philomena is a lovely film. When I first saw the trailers for this true story about a mature Irish woman in search of the child was forced to give up while living in a convent as a young girl, I knew I would love the BBC drama. Judi Dench portrays Philomena, a remarkable, if frustrating, protagonist whose sad tale inspires tears more than once throughout the film. In the course of her search, she partners with the recently unemployed journalist Martin Sixsmith, competently played by the film’s writer, Steve Coogan. From a historical aspect, Philomena brings to light some — dare I say sordid? — practices of an Irish Catholic convent during the mid-20th century. I can’t say too much without crossing the “spoiler” line, but the story weaves an intriguing journey through the past as Philomena uncovers clues to her son’s identity and life. A strong, underlying subplot draws attention to the role faith plays in how people respond to life’s unexpected adversities.
While mothers will find Philomena’s tale most poignant and emotional, all viewers will likely marvel at the unusual turn of events that leads to a surprising and bittersweet revelation.
I enjoyed the entire production. The cinematography, music, landscapes, and the talent all combine to make this a worthwhile watch. Grade: A-
Today, Beacon Street welcomes Southern California author William Blowers, who shares a thought-provoking essay on why he–and many of us–write. Enjoy and nod your head!
Ask me why I breathe, or why I love the beauty of a morning sunrise at the beach and the fresh smell of the mist of cool salt air as waves crash against sand. Writing is a part of me long waiting to be released. It is a seventh sense that operates in reverse, one that enables me to express my innermost feelings to others. Writing is me on paper, my hopes, dreams, fears, and desires laid out in black and white for me and others to touch, taste, see, and hopefully appreciate.
The written word has been described as being mightier than the sword. Only now in my later years as that part of me bubbles to the surface in an endless stream of imagination and wit, or, God forbid, a babble of meaningless drivel, am I able to appreciate the meaning of those words.
For me, writing is more than an expression of the inner self, the telling of a good story, or the song of a good rhyme. It is a lubricant for my brain, loosening and freeing parts that have been corroded with ingrained motive and prejudice. It allows thoughts to morph into words, and beauty to be perceived through my ears and eyes as I listen to and read the work of others.
As writers we come from all walks of life, and bring to the page differing life experiences—drama, humor, fear, tragedy and joy. We are male and female, old and young, liberal and conservative, black and white. But through our words we connect at a level that is blind to difference and one that finds unity and intrigue in the appreciation of our mutual love of written expression.
Whether we be the lyricist, the poet, the novelist, the playwright, or the historian, when we sit in groups and share and critique, we experience a bond that few can know or even understand. Who else but writers can get excited over clever rhyme structure, or will struggle to create the ideal sonnet written in perfect iambic pentameter? Are others willing to take three unrelated words and create a cohesive story around them? Can the non-writer appreciate the power of something as simple as an em dash, in fact, would they even know what it is, or care for that matter?
And who else sits at their word processor at 4:00 on a Sunday morning writing something like this.
I consider myself blessed with this gift of the written word. To be among others who share this passion is a privilege that few understand. Despite those times when one word refuses to follow another, when I question if I am a foreigner in a land of giants, when I read and hear others’ incredible work that makes mine appear to be little more than childish scribbles, I refuse to give in to that inner demon that says quit.
It is said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
Well—I guess I enjoy being in the asylum.
William Blowers (Bill) is a retired businessman, entrepreneur and the author of an upcoming historical novel, The Vendetta That Sank Titanic, due out this year from Morgan James Publishing. In the creation of this novel, fictional as well has historical characters interact in a tale of what might have been. Could the Titanic disaster have been planned, the ultimate act of revenge by a brilliant but psychotic mind? Why did Titanic sink? Keep up with Bill at his website and watch for news about the release of this much anticipated book! I know I can’t wait. Essay is reprinted with permission from William L. Blowers.