Well, dear readers, it is Memorial Day, thus it is a holiday and thus we do not have to work or do anything. For example, thus I shall do almost nothing whatsoever. I say “almost” because there is always something to do, thus I will do it, whatever it may be. Yesterday, I didn’t do much of anything and yet there is always something to do so I did it. For example, I went to a bruncheon at Mr. John Scott’s home environment. It was a very pleasant way to spend a couple of hours, even though I did not partake of the foodstuffs. But, I knew quite a few people, including our very own Mr. Nick Redman, Mr. Jon Burlingame and his ever-lovin’ Marilee Bradford, Mr. John Beal, Miss Samantha Eggar, and, of course, Mr. Scott and his ever-lovin’ Keiko. Prior to the bruncheon I’d done my longest jog since I started jogging again. Post bruncheon, I met up with Mr. Nick Redman for a little early supper at the Daily Grill, where I just had their yummilicious iceberg wedge with crumbled bleu cheese, tomatoes, bacon bits, and good vinaigrette dressing. That was just the ticket, and I was very good and had no bread or butter. After that, I came home but became very restless in the City of Studio, thus I got into my motor car and took a little drive, after which I came home and was still restless. No matter what I did, be it watching a DVD, playing the piano, walking around the house, I could not get rid of my restless feeling. In fact, I’m feeling restless as I write these here notes, what do you think of that? In any case, that was my day. I did manage to get almost ten hours of glorious sleep, and that felt great.
Yesterday, I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Tokyo Story, a film of Yasujiro Ozu, whose Late Spring I’d watched and loved a few weeks ago. Tokyo Story is generally considered his masterpiece, and while I really liked it very much indeed, I still liked Late Spring better. But, like Late Spring, Tokyo Story is a very simply told non-drama about an elderly couple going to Tokyo to visit their various children. The children, now grown, are of mixed feelings about the visit – the parents almost seem like an intrusion, and they can’t be bothered to take them places. The exception is their daughter-in-law (the parents’ son and her husband has died several years earlier), who is very nice and happy to see and accommodate them. Again, it’s a film of silences and slow pace, and there is virtually almost no drama, except for the drama of real life, and it’s mesmerizing to watch and amazing how you get sucked into the world being presented. Like Late Spring, there are less than a handful of moving shots (three to be exact, all short), otherwise Mr. Ozu sets his camera at a sitting position and leaves it there – no pans, no dollies, no nothing except beautifully framed shots. Ozu only shot with a 50mm lens, and there’s something to be said for it. The weight of every shot changes not by lens, but by placement of camera, actors, props. Tokyo Story runs 140 minutes, but never seems that long. By the end, it’s very affecting and touching. As soon as I finished watching, I then went to the second disc of extras and watched the two-hour documentary about Ozu, made in Japan in the mid-80s. It gives a really good history and overview of his life and career, with plenty of clips that made me want to see all of his films. Criterion has four others on DVD, which I’ll now have to seek out, and there are several box sets in the UK. It’s just wonderful in this world of quick cutting, hyped-up hyper motion pictures with lousy plots, lousy writing, and lousy direction, to watch a movie that knows what it wants to be and is rigorous in achieving it. There is an artist behind the camera, and that makes all the difference in the world. Some wiseacre once said that watching an Ozu movie was like watching paint dry – well, bring on the paint, baby, because I now join the ranks of the many directors and critics who think Ozu one of the giants of cinema. And he’s a giant without a bag of tricks – just simple humanity, simply told and shown.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because frankly I am restless in the City of Studio.
Have I mentioned that I am restless in the City of Studio? Today, I shall try to get over This Restless Feeling. I know that I’ll be jogging in the morning, and going to a bruncheon at noon (a last-minute invite to neighbors Tony Slide and Bob Gitt’s). Not sure if I’ll actually eat there, and yet, I’m feeling that I might just have something if it suits my fancy, or, at the very least, if it fancies my suits. After that, I have no plans and shall probably sit on my couch like so much fish, or perhaps take a drive in my motor car.
Tomorrow is going to be a bitch, for many reasons, and I shall just have to deal with it all as best I can. And I’m hoping Mr. Grant Geissman has something for me to hear for our little Music Center project. In fact, I think the next few days are going to be difficult and busy and stressful, but I shall keep head high, spirits up and I shall greet the days with vim and vigor, not necessarily in that order.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, brunch, jog, watch, drive, and whatever else suits my fancy or fancies my suits. Today’s topic of discussion: What was your favorite food that your parents made you when you were but a wee sprig of a twig of a tad of a lad (or ladette) of a youth? That dish that you always hoped your mommy would make you because you loved it so much – that most special dish of dishes. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, as I try not to be restless in the City of Studio.