The Doctors are In

Bill and I watched the movie Fences the other night. Fences is one of the movies nominated for an Academy Award for best picture. It is also one of the movies nominated by the Screen Actors’ Guild for best ensemble cast, which is SAG’s version of best picture. So it’s quite predictable that you would want to slit your wrist after watching it. It’s Hollywood, after all.

I didn’t like the movie very much, though Bill enjoyed it more than I. That’s because Bill’s way smarter than I would ever hope to be, and so he appreciates art. I appreciate art, but only if it’s art that is drawn by one of my grandkids.

Fences had a very weird style, and watching it was almost like watching a play. There were basically two sets: one outside of the home in which the characters played by Denzel Washington and Viola Davis lived, and the other in the kitchen of the house. It was, in fact, originally a play written by the famed playwright August Wilson. Though Wilson died in 2005, he wrote the screenplay before he died, (I am Queen of the Obvious) and it has been sitting, oh, I don’t know exactly where, since then, apparently awaiting the arrival of someone willing to make it into a movie. Denzel Washington was the man.

Though I didn’t care much for the movie, I will tell you that IN MY LIFE, I’ve never seen performances like those of both Washington and Davis. Oh. Em. Gee. They were both amazing. And because of the style of the movie (basically all dialogue and no action), the actors had to memorize about ten million lines. It’s almost worth seeing the movie just to see their performances. Almost.

I love Denzel Washington. I always have, ever since he was one of the characters way back in the eighties in a television program called St. Elsewhere. I loved that show. I think, for reasons I will never understand, I really like medical programs. I’m currently a big fan of CBS’s Code Black, except when they have patients die of bowel obstructions, as they did recently. But, whatever. I was glued to NBC every Tuesday at 9 o’clock, after tucking Court into bed. I liked all of the characters, but I remember thinking that Denzel Washington was a great actor and oh-so-handsome. “He will go far,” I said to myself, because I was the only one in the room. Court might have tiptoed out of his room to see to whom I was talking.

Since I’m writing a rambling post about nothing in particular, I will remind you that George Clooney also got his start in a medical television program called ER. He played the yummy-looking Dr. Ross in this drama about a hospital located in Chicago. ER was on NBC in the mid- to late-90s. I think it was more popular and more critically well-received than St. Elsewhere. But because it was a medical show, I watched every program, front and center. But this time when I said, “George Clooney is going to go far,” Bill was there with me, saving me from becoming a crazy-talk-to-yourself-about-medical-television-programs nutcase.

And since I seem to be talking about famous movie actors who got their start on television, I feel compelled to remind everyone that Meg Ryan, Marissa Tomei, and Julianne Moore all got their start in a soap opera to which I was addicted as a young woman called As the World Turns. I have to admit that I have no recollection of Marissa Tomei or Julianne Moore. They might have been involved after I stopped watching. But I vividly recall Meg Ryan playing the role of Betsy Stewart….

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And then there was this…..

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Two things: Despite all of the time I have spent with doctors over the past few years, I have never had a single doctor that looked like that.

Also, I knew Meg Ryan was going to go far.

This post linked to Grammy’s Grid.

Road to Perdition

Road_to_Perdition_Film_PosterBack in the early 2000s, Bill and I went to see the film Road to Perdition at the movie theater. Very uncharacteristically, neither one of us knew the plot of the movie, knowing only that it starred one of our favorite film actors, Tom Hanks. We had seen him in many movies of course. In fact, we had seen him a couple of years before in Castaway. Though Bill probably wouldn’t admit it, we both liked him in Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail. (Bill was a big fan of Meg Ryan before she got so much plastic surgery that she looks more like Bozo the Clown than Meg Ryan. He always used to say she reminded him of me. I cling to that very thought. And at least most of my face isn’t tucked behind my ears.) Hanks had been the voice for Woody in Toy Story, for heavens’ sake. We seriously anticipated a lighthearted film, in fact had not a single notion that it would be anything but a sweet movie.

The film, of course, is the story of a mob enforcer and his young son who are out to avenge the murder of the rest of their family. It is horrifically violent, concluding with Tom Hanks dying in the arms of his son after successfully shooting their enemy in the face. About three-quarteres of the way through the movie, Bill leaned over to me and deadpanned, “Well, this is about the worst comedy I have ever seen in my life.” I began giggling so hard I thought they would kick me out of the theater.

So, just as Road House has become synonymous in our eyes with bad movies, Road to Perdition has become the term we use when a comedy isn’t funny.

Yesterday afternoon, Bill took a rare afternoon off from yard work. It was kind of chilly and overcast, and he mentioned he was feeling caught up with outdoor chores. I suggested he sit down with me and we could watch a Netflix movie. Much to my surprise, he agreed. After perusing all of our choices, we selected Million Dollar Baby, a 2004 boxing movie starring Clint Eastwood, Morgan Freeman, and Hilary Swank. It’s not easy to find a movie we can both agree on, but Bill likes the sport of boxing and I like Clint Eastwood.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Neither one of us was anticipating a comedy. The story line was about a grouchy boxing manager who was estranged from his daughter, and who agrees to train Swank’s character for the title fight. It was fairly graphic, and got me wondering why on earth anyone would ever CHOOSE to be a boxer.

But about halfway through the movie, I began getting a bad feeling. Things were just moving along too positively for an academy-award-winning movie. Hollywood doesn’t do cheerful.

I have mentioned before that I hate books where a character to whom you have gotten attached dies of cancer or anything else. It simply irks the living daylight out of me. It is for that reason alone that I refuse to watch Steel Magnolias or Terms of Endearment. I hated Love Story. As many times as I’ve read Little Women, after my first reading, I skip the chapter where Beth dies.

As my bad feeling continued to grow, I picked up my iPad and googled the movie. Here’s what I learned….

SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT

In the title fight, Swank’s character trips over the stool that had been placed in the wrong position in the ring and BREAKS HER NECK. She becomes a quadriplegic. After months in the hospital, she develops such severe bed sores that she has to have one of her legs amputated. Her family comes to visit her ONLY after visiting Disneyland first, and ONLY to have her sign a paper signing all of her money to them. She apparently spends the last part of the movie begging Clint Eastwood to kill her, which he eventually does. The end.

I say “apparently” because it was about that time that I told Bill I was going upstairs to work on my computer.

“Why?” he asked me.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” I responded. He assured me he did.

“Well, let me put it this way,” I said. “It makes Road to Perdition look like a comedy.

And that, my friends, was the end of that. Life’s too short to go through that kind of movie-watching misery, even if it’s an excellent and award-winning movie. Bill put on his jacket and went outside and found some yard work to do, and I wrote this crabby blog post.

I’ll take Doris Day and Rock Hudson any day of the week.

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