Please Happy

I’ve been thinking a lot about meat recently. About packaging. About how real and natural it felt in Australia to kill a lobster (called a “cray” over there) and eat it. About how when we went fishing with Dad as kids, we would thank for the worm for giving its life and thank the fish we would eat that night. Been thinking about the disconnect between people and food. Glad this issue is so publicized. Glad movies like The Cove and Food Inc. have brought this thinking to the fore.

On that note, Jake found this response to The Cove winning an Oscar. I think it’s worth re-posting his blog entry.

From More Perfect Market:

“Everyone around here knows about it. The water nearby turns red during the hunt. The actual killing is done in a concealed area because it is unpleasant to look at, as is true of killing cows or pigs or any other animal.”

Hisato Ryono said that. He’s a town councilman in Taiji, Japan. And he doesn’t think it’s fair that the Oscar-winning documentary The Cove calls Taiji “a little town with a really big secret.”

While I’m sure he’s downplaying the secrecy, he’s right to compare what happens in his cove to what happens in slaughterhouses worldwide.

So I hope we don’t dismiss him entirely. I hope we see that he’s accidentally reminding us to look.

Tonight, in Film Symposium class, we watched When in Rome. Some of the 350 student audience members laughed at the sentimental parts. I actually liked the gooey moments. I found the stars likable. But, I did not like the slapstick crashing into things, breaking things, falling through things. I did not really like the magical coin premise (for a detailed review, go here), which reminded me of the cursed Lindsey Lohan in Just My Luck (a movie I may have watched on a stationary bike at an indoor gym). Overall, too predictable, too easy. Too thinks it’s funny but isn’t.

After the movie, Professor Leonard Maltin had an on stage discussion with creative producer Andrew Panay, who joined the movie six weeks before filming. I felt nervous for him up there defending a film that the USC audience had laughed at.

(Panay said that opening day – tomorrow – is the scariest time for movie makers. He said, by the time the 11 a.m. matinee ends in NYC, he’ll know his fate. He’ll know if what he has devoted the last two years of life to creating is worth it.)

Maltin: What’s your competition this week?

Panay: Edge of Darkness.

For his sake, I hope there are lots of date nights this weekend that are more in the mood for cooing than murderous revenge.

Write what you know, they tell us in J-school. So, I’ll write about a class I’m in. It’s an extra class. One I need for an extra unit. But, also, one I should take. Because it’s at USC’s cinema school. Which is famous. And I’m only there for four more months. And we get to see movies and talk about them. And listen to Leonard Maltin talk about them. And then listen to directors of said movies talk about them. And then maybe ask some questions.

Thursday night, we walk into the theater. All 352 of us, line up to deposit our ID cards, take a syllabus and a handout. Alphabetically, like a concert Will Call window. I go to S-Z. My friends are stuck in the A-L line, which winds around the building. Once in, strict rules. No leaving midway through. No cameras, no phones, no food, no video. Some films will be so protected that dudes in suits and ear pieces will patrol the theater aisles just to make sure no one is pirating. If someone is caught, she’ll be kicked out of the class, possibly expelled from the school and maybe even federally prosecuted. Remember the FBI warning at the beginning of movies? That’s real.

Before Thursday’s movie (Diner – a star-studded oldie that reminded me of Seinfeld and Swingers), before the talk with director Judd Apatow (who didn’t direct Diner, but is heavily influenced by it – Freaks & Geeks, Knocked Up), we get to know our professor (who has neither office hours nor an email listed on the syllabus. Our TA takes question and Professor Maltin has a gaggle of graders with red pens at the ready).

He starts off: “I was not an athletic kid. I liked indoor activities,” which made me feel like because I was an athletic kid that I was doomed for a life of non success, of non brilliance. (Later, Apatow said the same thing. About sports.)

Maltin said he combined his love of writing and my love of film and started writing articles at age 13 for Film Fan Monthly. By 15, he had inherited the magazine. By 17, he was writing what would become Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide. That was in 1969. He has updated the book yearly since 1978.

“When someone asks how do you break into television, what do I tell them?” he asked. “Get lucky. Be in the right place. Be ready.”

He told us about his career at Entertainment Tonight and he told us about how much he loves the black & white cartoons from the 1930s that were just plain funny. No irony. No sass. Just laughs. He stood in front of the 350 of us for about 40 minutes just talking. Sharing. Neighborly-like, with a Mister Rogers’ sensibility, complete with the v-neck sweater.

Not sure if it’s the beard or the cheery, friendly smile, but Maltin has this timeless familiarity about him, as if he’s looked the same forever.

He told us he wants to open our eyes to something we may not have seen.

And I’m excited. I’m excited about the stand-up routine/on stage conversation I witnessed Thursday between Maltin and Apatow and the star struck undergrads in the front row. I’m excited at the chance I get to learn more about the Power that tempts people all over the world to pack their bags, kiss goodbye and make the trip to these star-studded streets in the hopes of one day making it Big. I’m excited to understand this city better. And, of course, I’m excited to see amazing films and hear what went into making them.

But, I’m also excited to get the college experience Bowdoin (pop. 1,600) never provided. Sitting in class with 350 other students. In the dark. Alone. Together. Looking forward.

If you’re watching this, you are alive. How amazing to be able to breathe in and out, smile and eat vegetables. Watch this video for inspiration on how to truly live. We are so fortunate.

Two days ago, I heard She’s Like the Wind while drinking cappuccino. I didn’t recognize it at first, ‘cause I think it was the Lionel Richie version, if there is such a thing.

Yesterday, I heard karaoke-ers belting out Be My Baby from one of the many cafés that jam from about midday to around 9 p.m. when Dalat gets quiet.

And today, my personal motorbike tour guide gave me a private performance of Unchained Melody.

The connection: Mr. Swayze. The first two references from one of my all-time favorites – which, if I ever get married, my fiancé and I must learn the final dance number – and the second from the movie where Demi is short haired and natural.

So, how is Patrick doing?

Sending loving kindness and deep breaths his way. On the wind.