Plane Movies

I have spent an awful lot of time on planes in the last month. First the trip to Florida for Spring Training. Then the trip to Ireland and England. I'm not complaining, but I've spent at least 24 hours on airplanes in March.

Which, for the most part, means MOVIES. Only one of the flights had the stupid DirecTV - pay us $6 to watch anything system, so for the most part, I got to see a lot of movies I would never otherwise have time to see. And most of them were good. So I figured I'd share my thoughts with the world.


The Blind Side - I hadn't actually heard of this movie before, but it was the only one showing on an overhead screen on the flight from Portland to Minneapolis. It was fantastic. Sandra Bullock shows she has real acting chops, not just silly comedy skills. The actor playing Mike was a firestorm of silent torture and joy at various times. A well made film, and Ms. Bullock deserves the Oscar she won. A friend said that the movie cheapens the book, takes a lot of the depth out. Well, movies can do that, and I haven't read the book. But now I might. When I get the time.

Everybody's Fine - If you have a dad, this will make you cry. DeNiro gives a masterful performance as a regular guy - a former laborer struggling to keep in touch with his adult children eight months after his wife's death. When they all cancel on a family gathering, he sets out via bus to visit each of the four kids in various cities across the US. He discovers their lives aren't exactly as rosy as his late wife pretended. DeNiro is heartbreaking in this role - and Drew Barrymore and Sam Rockwell ain't bad either.

Old Dogs - I've always loved Robin Williams, but I only made it about a half hour into this film before I had to turn it off. And bear in mind, it was the only thing showing.

The Men Who Stare at Goats - Hilarious. Who doesn't want to BE George Clooney, honestly? This was a great film for the first half - unexpected, funny, engaging... Clooney and McGregor have great chemistry. The second half was still fun, but it suffered from a lack of direction - where is this going? What's it about? Still worth watching, but it leaves off feeling like they didn't know how to wrap it up, so they just stopped.

Precious - Well this is a treat for 3 AM on an international flight. Leaves you feeling fresh and cheery. Do note the sarcasm. What a powerhouse. I had said earlier that I thought the Oscar clips looked overdramatic and overacted. Boy was a wrong - put them in context, and you'll be riveted. If DeNiro was heartbreaking, this is heartrending. Be sure to watch a light comedy after.

Couples Retreat - I will watch Vince Vaughn in anything as long as he's being funny. The tasteful answer to Will Farrell. This movie is hilarious, heartwarming and fun. I didn't think I'd like it upon hearing the premise, but knowing the actors involved, I gave it a go. And I was not disappointed. This is what comedy should be, and so often isn't. This is the sort of movie that you could put the wrong actor in and watch it go MILES over the top - but with Vaughn, Jon Favreau, Jason Bateman and Kristen Bell, it's dead on. Absolutely fantastic performances from relative unknowns Carlos Ponce and Peter Serafinowicz.

Planet 51 - Cute cartoon about a human landing on an alien planet. Lots of references to 50's Sci Fi - great fun after studying that genre for an improv show last year. Great work from some celebrity voices, decent animation and a fun story. Worth watching.

After that I ran out of movies. The only one left on the choose-your-movie thing you get on international flights was New Moon and I just couldn't bring myself to do that. I watched a few episodes of CSI and the new show The Forgotten and called it a day. The Forgotten was pretty good - I may have to check that out online. (Remember, we don't really have a TV...)

So that's my mini-reviews for all the movies I saw on the planes. Rumor is that next month Continental will be showing Avatar. Because that's meant to be shown on those tiny airplane TVs....

I Love You, Phillip Morris

There is a great movie out there. And you probably won't get to see it.

This movie is called I Love You, Phillip Morris. It stars two very bankable actors, Jim Carrey and Ewan MacGregor. It's receiving rave reviews in the UK, and has done well in France, Taiwan and Estonia.

It had a hard time finding a US distributor, even though it is a very, very funny romantic comedy that will appeal to both men and women. It's even based on a true story, though you wouldn't believe it if they didn't tell you. It is finally going out on a limited release in the US starting April 30, after being re-edited to appease Consolidated Pictures Group. My guess is the release will be so limited you might not hear about it, even though the poster is plastered on damn near every wall in the London Underground.

Why?

Because the romantic part of the romantic comedy is about two MEN.

I Love You, Phillip Morris is a hilarious and touching love story of Steven Jay Russell, possibly the most successful and notorius con man and prison escapist in US history, and his lover, Phillip Morris. It is well-acted and funny. Both Carrey and MacGregor are at the top of their game. The storytelling is refreshing, constantly punking the viewer by changing realities and challenging perceptions - don't read too much about Russell before you see this film, because the story is told in such a way as to allow the audience to be conned right along with everyone else.

Carrey gets a chance to be silly, and though he gets close, he's never over-the-top. And when he plays pathos, he's right on the mark. MacGregor is vulnerable and heartbreaking. The film treats homosexuality as normal, which may be its death knoll in the US.

Don't let US anti-gay prejudice keep you from seeing this film. It comes out April 30 on limited release. Find a theatre near you and see it. Prove to the film companies that this sort of story is exactly what we want to see, and that we're willing to put our money where our mouth is.

I'm putting it in my planner right now - the evening of April 30, I'm going to see it again. If you're in Portland, I invite you to come with me. If you're not, I invite you to plan your own outing.

Meanwhile, check out a review:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/scotland/article5908016.ece

What You Take With You

Today was a lovely day, if an easy one.

We met Erin's friend Matthew for lunch. We went to a movie (for free!) called I Love You, Phillip Morris, a movie everyone should see when it comes out in the US in April. In fact, I think I'll write a blog about it.

Then we went up to Marine Ices, possibly my favorite restaurant in all the world, and a treat w'd held off til the last minute. Their pastas are fantastic. Their hot fudge is made in house, and is absolutely exqusite. And you know how Erin is about dessert. It was a great night.

And an early one. An 11:00 flight out of Heathrow means leaving here by 7:00 AM. I'm already up too late.

With the time change tomorrow is a 31 hour day. But we'll see Portland tomorrow.

Endings are always hard for me - from the time I was a child and cried when the Sesame Street Christmas Special was over, through now, when the end of every show pains me. I hate endings. (So I chose a profession with NO stability. Clever.) I'm sad to leave tomorrow. I'll miss hanging out with Thierry, I'll miss London and all the memories it brought back. I'll miss the freedom of only working 2 hours a night instead of 16.

But what makes it not-so-bad is that I get to bring the best part of it home with me. I don't have to leave Erin behind, and that makes all the difference.

Nuts

Things were going along just fine, wonderful in fact, and then.... nuts!

We've been having a great time stomping around London. Spent Sunday night checking out all the famous sites (South Bank of the Thames, Leicester Square, Picadilly, Covent Garden, Trafalgar...) and she said she was happy to have a guide that knew the area. I suppose it would take a bit longer if you were navigating by map...

Monday we had lunch with an old friend of hers, then went up to North London so I could show her around the area I used to live. We had a great time shopping in Camden Market, which is so much better to explore on a weekday when the crowds are less insane. The view from Primrose Hill is stunning, even in the rain. We'd meant to eat at my favorite London Restaurant, Marine Ices that night, but we got tickets to Billy Elliot, and with a late lunch, we just didn't have time to eat. We'll catch it on Wednesday.

Billy Elliot was great. We'd debated what show to see, but a London original, and a dance show at that, available at the half-price booth settled it pretty quickly. We both really enjoyed it, and are trying to figure out how soon we can direct/choreograph the show in Portland. We had a nice wander down by Big Ben on the way home, before hitting the tube.

Today, it seemed like everything was going wrong. We got up in time to go see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. They only do this a few times a week, and today was our only chance to see it. We got there in time, despite a slow tube with many delays, made our way through the massive crowds of school groups and tour groups, found a decent spot where we could see.... and five minutes before they were due to start, the funny little policeman in the hut by the fence put out a sign that said "No Guard Changing Ceremony Today." Nuts.

We went for a walk. I showed Erin the Royal Stables, where they have other Royal Guards on duty that you can get even closer to. We took some pictures. We wandered up to Oxford Circus to meet my friend Nick, who I used to play baseball with back in the day. Erin and I had "get a traditional London Curry" on our list of things to do, so Nick took us to a local spot.

The food was great. But... both the starter and the curry that Erin ordered had nuts in them. And if you know Erin, you know she has a very severe allergy to nuts (and seafood). It didn't taste like nuts (it was mostly in a marinade) so she didn't realize right away. But after a bit, she interrupted with the news that her throat was closing up. We hailed the waitress, who said "Oh, yes, lots of nuts" and ran to get the manager, who showed us a little laminated card with their policy that they accept no responsibility for allergy reactions. Hilarious. Maybe that should be on the menu, if you took the time to laminate it. But he was very nice, and brought her a non-nut-infested curry. By that time, she had gone off to the druggists to get some Benadryl. She made it through the meal, but didn't touch the new curry.

After saying goodbye to Nick, we headed back to Thierry and Bob's. Erin took another pill, rested, took a nap, and felt much better when she woke up. Crisis averted. She is fine - please do not worry. The hives have all but disappeared, she's breathing fine. Nothing to worry about. All the same, I'm going to insist that her Epi Pen be surgically attached to her somewhere.

We ended up having a truly lovely dinner at a restaurant that Thierry and Bob suggested. These two guys have made this half of the trip so lovely. Getting us at the airport, opening their home to us, taking us to the markets, inviting us to do our laundry here, suggesting places to go, being the best hosts possible. Thierry was the one true friend I took out of my time here in London six years ago, and as crap as I am at keeping in touch, it's been lovely to reconnect. So thanks to them for making this trip so much easier, and so much better. There's nothing like old friends.

One day left!

No frills

Ryanair, you are dead to me.

I forgave you after you stranded me in Sandefjord, Norway overnight six years ago, mostly because it led to one of the most memorable adventures of my life.

But this time you've gone too far.

Ok. It wasn't your fault that my carryon bag broke. The zipper just gave out. That bag was a gift from my ex. So I suppose I can blame it on her.

And I don't mind the not having an assigned seat. We scored exit row, so that was great. And I don't mind (much) you not even offering me a drink of water on the flight. It's just an hour long anyway. I'll live.

But the whole baggage restriction thing is ludicrous. Every other airline allows a carryon AND a personal item. Except you. Every other airline has sensible weight restrictions. 50 lbs for a checked bag, for example. But you limit us to 15 Kg per checked bag. That's only 33 lbs. And then you limit the two carryons to 10 Kg, or 22 lbs. Suddenly our two carryons and one checked bag are ALL overweight. We had to repack right there in the ticket line. I don't mind the embarrassment and all that. But our packing is all confused, dirty laundry mixed with clean, shoes separated between carryon and checked luggage, cats and dogs, living together....

Sorry. It was just a bit overwhelming. We had to pay an extra $45 to check a second bag, that we wouldn't have had to check if no for your silly weight restrictions. Remember, this is ALL the same baggage that Continential brought us over with, and no problems. (Ok, we added ONE package of Hobnobs... And a necklace that Erin bought. But that's ALL.)

And then there was all this ROOM on the plane - plenty of SPACE under the seats where we couldn't stow anything. Why? Everyone else lets us. I didn't realize that storing my laptop under the seat in front of me was a FRILL.

Ok, ok. I'm calm. And the trip into Dublin was fun. And seeing my friend Thierry after five years was amazing, and they made a lovely dinner, and there was all this wine and champagne... I suppose that's why I'm rambling on.

But Ryanair, you're dead to me. Who knew Carol Burnett would predict your existance? The prophetess foresaw exactly this sitation here

Killkenny? You Bastards!

Ok, that isn't on a T-shirt out here. But it really aught to be.

Leaving Blarney today, we travelled first to Cashel, which is the home of Cashel Castle, and Bru Boru.

Bru is the Irish word for Brian. Bru Boru, or Brian Boru, was a Irish King-Chieftain who was a major Patron of the Arts back around the year 1000. A rather famous quote of his has him saying "Stand Ye Now for Erin's Cause!" in battle. Erin meaning Ireland. We flew into Shannon Airport. Truly, we are linked here. Though the Irish would probably laugh at the idea. (Did I mention that Jason, our drunk friend from a few days ago, upon learning Erin's name on St. Patrick's Day, responded with "Well, Happy Birthday!" Not that St. Patrick's Day is any sort of Independence Day, but still, we thought it was funny.)

Bru Boru is the National Cultural Center at the foot of the Cashel Castle. And it's really cool to wander through for a while, learning bits and pieces of the history of Irish music and dance (sadly, not much about theatre, though they have a nice one upstairs.) But bits and pieces are all you get - its so massively disorganized that its impossible to get a picture of the whole. Instruments from the 10th century are next to an audio lecture on famous battles of Brian Boru, are next to a video on cultural dance. Then in the next room its back to instruments. No rhyme or reason. But well loved. Worth stopping. And I'll probably do some research.

After that we stopped at Killkenny on the way to Dublin. We've been sampling the local fast food lately - a chicken burger at a food cart, some chips (fries) with salt and vinegar from a chip shop, and a Kebab from Abreakebabra. Mostly because we've been short on time and money, but also because its fun. And the Kebab was really good.

Got to Dublin, took the DART (think MAX) in for an hour or two, but had to rush back because it doesn't run late. Got a pint at the local bar - The Bloody Stream. Nice. Back to the B&B. Early morning tomorrow - day in Dublin, then fly to London.

Stones in His Pockets

It's always good to check out the local culture. And being a theatre artist....

Stones in His Pockets is an Ireland original. It's done well on the West End, and on Broadway, but it started here. A couple of minor Irish celebrities are currently touring it around the country, and it was in Cork tonight, just a short drive from where Erin and I are staying in Blarney. In fact, it was the first night in Cork, which meant the tickets were half price. And we got two of the last.

It was a great experience. I've been to the theatre in London, in Madrid, and all over the states, but this felt... authentic. Cork is a cultural hub, after Dublin it's the "second city" (does that make it Ireland's Chicago?) and this theatre felt important. The audience was pure local - I was even more conscious of my stick-out American accent. Also, half the audience chattered, whispered or otherwise made noise during the performance. A phone went off. We aren't the only ones.

But the show itself - about a small town in Ireland overrun by an American movie crew - felt utterly relevant. Both to Ireland, and to us. The actors were spot-on - two actors playing 30-some characters. Their American accents (on some of the characters) were better than any I'd ever heard in London.

A short drive back to small-town Blarney, a pint at the local pub, and back to the B&B. A nice night.

And yes, I did kiss the Blarney Stone, earlier in the day. Even though many might say it was redundant.

The Next Best Thing to Traditional (Limerick)

Jason was "twisted," as he put it - Erin and I needed to actually help him keep his beer upright as he talked to us. It was a full pint, and it threatened to spend more time on our clothes than in his glass. Jason wasn't making a lot of sense - in fact, he said he was so twisted he couldn't remember his name, and then he introduced himself. He was having a good time, though, he wasn't sure where the spray can of Axe Body Spray had come from. Near as he could tell, he just found it in his hand. After about three sprays at ME (one to the head, two to the chest), innumerable jostles from the crowd, and the most threatening pint of beer ever, he moved on down to the end of the bar.

Tom and Jerry's is known in Limerick as being a fairly tame pub. Go in on a normal night, you'll see gentlemen in their 40s and 50s quietly drinking a pint. It's not built for crowds - the bar takes most of the room, with a lane about 5 feet wide running down the side to allow access to a smallish area with tables and a door back to the toilets. Add in bar stools against the bar and another row against the wall - it's about three feet of passing space.

St. Patrick's Day in Ireland is sort of like what would happen if you mixed the 4th of July with a 21st Birthday. Lots of National Pride, and more drinking than you can possibly imagine. There's lots of traditional music being played in some of the pubs, and Erin and I had a nice time listening to some at a pub called Dolans. But we'd had Tom and Jerry's recommended, so we stopped by on the way home.

They were having a Karaoke Night to celebrate St. Paddy's, and they were packed. Pushing our way through to the back to hit the loo (we'd already had a couple of pints and a bit of a walk) was a challenge. On the way back, as a dodgy rendition of a classic Irish country song was being wailed over the PA, one elderly gent said to Erin "This is the next best thing to traditional!" He wasn't wrong. In a lot of ways, this was the Ireland we were looking for.

The Traditional Music scene, in a large town like Limerick, seems to be geared toward the tourists looking for an "authentic" experience. The thing is, like molecules, as soon as the tourists start looking for "Traditional" it stops being traditional and starts being for tourists...

But this wasn't for the tourists. This was insane. After meeting Jason, we decided to push a bit further into the pub, rather than staying at the back near the door. We saw an empty spot and went for it.... and arrived just in time to be pressed to the wall by a bar fight. Now - given the 3-5 foot passing lane, the fight didn't have anywhere to go - and as soon as it started, three other large guys were locked in trying to pull them apart. So as five burly Irishmen in various states of drunkenness locked in and tried to move in one direction or another, Erin and I, pressed to the wall, could do nothing but watch. Eventually the coeur-de-coeur broke, and the aggressor was dumped to the ground. Slowly, they managed to get him up, and with the crowd parting reluctantly, half pushed, half carried, half arm-locked him out of the bar. There was no bouncer, per se, though there had been at the other bars. One of the patrons, who sort of looked like a cross between Vic Mackey and Richard from Lost, seemed to take charge.

Add in some broken bottles, a man refusing to leave even though he had a wedge of glass embedded in his hand (Just wrap over it! I'll go to the hospital tomorra.) a good rendition of some Billy Joel songs and some really bad American Country, a blond 20-something girl who fell into us at least four times, and was later making out with a rather elderly gentleman, and the handful of the regulars at the back wondering what had become of their local, and that was St. Patty's at Tom and Jerry's.

Padraic (Galway)

Irish Bed and Breakfasts supply you with more than just the Bed and the Breakfast. They supply you with a host. You get varying degrees of this - some are barely present, some are ready with advice, and some are practically a tour guide. Padraic was the latter. We arrived late, around 8 PM, and neither Erin nor I had slept much for two days. The drive to Galway had been stressful - driving on the left has been a challenge for me, and the automatic car that we had been promised by the travel agent was very much a manual. I can drive a manual, but shifting with the left hand, while fun, is just another thing to do when you're a bit panicky about the narrow lanes and how close that car is to you, and how close the brick wall is on the other side and I think we just scratched the rental car up with those branches and every time I look for the rearview mirror its in the wrong place and I just tried to shift with my right hand and nearly broke my window and how can the speed limit be 100 kph? I can barely get to 60 I don't care if you're in a hurry you'll just have to drive around me you crazy Irish driver....

So yeah, a bit of a long day. But we were up for going out - it was our only night in Galway, and being the night before St. Patrick's Day, you can't just stay in.

We were the only one's staying at Padraic's B&B that night, and even though he had the football match on, he volunteered right off to drive us into downtown and drop us off. "Take a taxi back - that way you can have a pint and not worry about it." Which was a brilliant suggestion since the last thing I wanted to do was get back in that car.

We had a lovely time wandering around downtown Galway, the only city in Ireland that I really know, having spent a week there 6 years ago at an arts festival. But time compresses the memory, and Erin and spent a good half hour looking for the Spanish Arch in the place where I remembered it - which we discovered the next morning was absolutely nowhere near where it actually was.

We got some food, and found a pub that I remembered. We got a pint, but unfortunately the "band" that they advertised was neither Traditional, nor Original. It was a crappy cover band that played classic rock and the Killers. We managed four songs before we'd had enough. We took that taxi back the B&B for some much needed sleep.

The next morning, Padraic's Irish Breakfast was enough to feed an army. We literally didn't need to eat again until dinner. He chatted with us for a while - turns out he's an amateur actor (of course) and was appearing in Hedda Gabler that night in the role of Judge Brack. We were tempted, but it was an our of town performance, and in the wrong direction from where we were heading. A shame that, it might have been a great time.

We had been planning to go to Cork for the St. Patrick's Day parade there, but Padraic said that there was one in Galway, and that we would enjoy it, so we went and we did. What a difference from America, though! The police (Garda) were about, but only vaguely keeping people back to the curbs. Mostly the crowds spilled into the street - kids in front, their parents in the back, a few rows behind, not worried at all that they would wander off or someone would interfere. Everyone seemed to know everyone, waving at friends in the parade, shouting out.. People running across the street during the parade, sometimes joining the parade for a bit. A much more small town feel than you would get in Portland - bearing in mind that Galway is about half the size of Eugene, despite being the 5th largest city in Ireland.

After that, we got out of town. Next adventure.