I've Been Living With A Lie
I want to let you in on a secret that I've never told anybody. It's not earth shattering or something you'll remember long after you read it. But if I don't admit it now I'll be continuing to live a lie.
I don't keep up with pop culture. There, I said it. Phew.
I have no idea who most of the people, movies or television programs splashed across the covers of PEOPLE, Entertainment Weekly or Us Weekly are. I don't know one Kardashian from another, and believe it or not I am not personally acquainted with The New Jersey Housewives. (Yes, I've been asked.)
Can they please move to Iowa or somewhere else?
I read blog posts every day about young starlets or upcoming movies that are unfamiliar to me. I'm embarrassed to admit I have no idea what they're talking about. I usually turn to imdb.com for answers.
If I'm asked who my favorite movie star is, I pause and act like I have one who's still alive.
My interest in most movies stopped somewhere in the mid 1960's. Don't get me wrong: I love movies and the art of filmmaking. If a new movie comes along that is well-made, I'll be the first person to purchase a ticket.
But the glitz, glamour and decadence of Hollywood - and the popularity of violence in movies - frequently turns me off.
I think movies should trust the viewer to be smart enough to visualize what happens after the camera stops rolling. A movie doesn't need to show the blood and guts of violence, or what happens after the bedroom door closes.
Of course there are exceptions. "Saving Private Ryan" is one movie that comes to mind. It's accurate depiction of what happened during the Normandy invasion and the landing on Omaha Beach had a responsibility to the soldiers we fought and died during that war. If Stephen Spielberg chose not to show the horrors of war it would have been a disgrace.
For those of you who know me well please skip this paragraph. My Utopia would be spending a week in Hollywood with Robert Osborne and Ben Mankiewicz at the Turner Classic Film Festival, or going on their TCM cruise.
Last Saturday night my husband and I spent a perfect evening together, eating a delicious meal and snuggling up to watch an old movie.
The film was called "Call Northside 777" a 1948 documentary style film noir directed by Henry Hathaway and starring James Stewart, Lee J. Cobb and Richard Conte. Based on a true story about a man who was wrongly accused, Stewart plays the persistent reporter who tries to re-open the case to prove the man's innocence after spending 11 years in jail.
This film is available on Netflix and I recommend watching it. Other film noirs I'd recommend are "Double Indemnity", "The Maltese Falcon", "The Third Man", "The Big Sleep", "Laura", "The Postman Always Rings Twice" (with John Garfield and Lana Turner), and "Strangers on a Train."
No explicit sex or violence, relying only on well-written scripts and superb acting, directing and filming.
So that's my big secret. I hope you understand me a little better now. And if you happen to mention names like Shaillene, Analeigh, Felicity or Chloe (I had to look those up) and I have a blank stare on my face, please don't think I'm being rude. It's simply because I have no idea who you're talking about.