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When life gives you lemons

Life, are you listening?
Some days, I get that serendipitous feeling that everything is in
its right place, ghosts of the past back in their graves, plans for the
future all providently arranged in a colour-coded excel sheet. Then along
comes a day like this one, to throw a monkey wrench into the works and
turn all those daylong good feelings into dump. Nothing salvageable. Worse
than kitty litter. Makes me rethink my life’s casting-screenplay-direction.
It all started when the air-conditioning decided to stuff my nose up
for me a while ago. South it went from there – my perky countenance in
a hooded heap surrounded by used tissues. My berating bronchus turning
heads everywhere for not-so-popular reasons. Between phlegmatic 10 a.m
presentations and fending off avoidance behaviour from the boyfriend at
10 p.m (I don’t want to catch your cold) I caught reflections of my rapidly
sinking eyes in ever-darkening circles in the mirror. Then I caught
something else too.
A pimple. The size of a global disaster. On the forehead.
Now I know what you’re probably thinking.
WTF! This girl has a pimple and it’s a global emergency?
#sooolamesooofirstworld
I was right I shouldn’t have bothered to read this in the first place and
now I kind of really can’t be bothered to give a shit.
You are right.
But I’m already here now so may as well…gosh buzzfeed is worse today…
what is she on about any way gawd this woman she’s so full of herself
So as I was saying, I was in an emergency. Then I remembered something
from my college days, when my landlady Linda once told me that
the quickest fix for a pimple is to put some toothpaste on it. She was a
remnant from back in the day when women used soup cans in four different
ways, founded vocations like fashion and interior designing while tidying
up their living rooms or sewing buttons on their blouses. They had a great
deal of general knowledge about the sundry other you’ll-never-guess uses
of kitchen ingredients and domestic cleaning products and belonged to a
posse of 1950s housewives who were later called raging feminists.
I rushed to my cabinet and squeezed some Colgate out and smeared
a white blob over the giant red dot on my forehead. Now all I had to do
was wait. For a few hours. And while I did, I fell asleep sashaying around
Linda. The poor thing. The once young and desirable Linda. All I ever
made of her was that she archetyped the kind and gentle if wayward aunt
– tending her herb garden meticulously or sorting her vinyl records by
year of release or living one day at a time while she spoke of adopting an
active interest someday in Rembrandt’s etchings. And her affection for
Amy Winehouse. Discernment.
A few hours passed.
Tell me she did about the menthol cooling the hot pimple. Worked
like a charm. Tell me she did not about the THIRD-DEGREE BURN
FROM THE SODA BICARB in the paste. Now my forehead resembles
Gorbachev’s. And Linda isn’t my landlady anymore.
So do I rub the lemon juice on my forehead now? Ouch, I guess not.
She used to say something about pomegranate…ah, what was it now? I
suppose I should google an aunt. Why not when it can find exact matches
straight from Galen’s handbook, name all skin specialists in my area and
get me there like now too?
Because in 1950, Linda and thousands like her didn’t have it when
their quick fixes and home-made cures turned into disasters. No. In her
day, troubleshooting involved the trouble, not just the shooting. Linda
used to have her girlfriends over, make pots of tea and bake cakes (using
the soda bicarb). They used to talk about someone’s new curtains, someone
else’s relationship woes, yet another’s hopes and dreams for Broadway and
what to do when confronted by fear, authority, the other woman in the
marriage. And pimples.
Somewhere out there, Linda is probably thinking of the wily young
things she’s provided boarding and lodging to over the years, wondering
what’s become of them all.
Then again, likely not.
But if she is, I’m sure she’d be happy to know that at least one of
them has discovered that clay baked potatoes also leave us with beautifully
burnished clay to later paint on. And that the nasty burn is fading away,
thanks to some scoured papaya seeds (pomegranate not in season).

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty- Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.

Life needs to be natural, not some tonne of a head full of horns, blowing into its own cave and blasting air to fan itself.

If you've felt this way, out on a walk, when you got out of a train at the station, or wherever…feeling perfectly numb somewhat and yet connected, and if you wondered why they never made movies about shit like that…you've finally got one- someone has been listening.

So, in the beginning, movie-goers wanted something larger than their own lives. They wanted heroes, superheroes, villains, song, dance, stories that could really never happen to them themselves. It was all about escaping into imagination that could let you live your life vicariously, through someone else’s imagination. You know- be that voyeur, who couldn’t really risk stepping out of his own clothes, his role, his lot in life and his daily bread.

But see, that changed. Then we had directors like Wes Anderson, Terry Gilliam, Jane Campion and the like, who brought stories that were weird, that didn't always involve heroes and villains. Rather, just those idiosyncrasies and methods in madnesses. These films were about outlying, being that sqaure peg in a round hole and the discomfort of maladjustment made us all laugh a lot and it created a space through which we saw things differently. To experiment, to step out of the bandwidth of the tried and tested and all perms and combs of the good vs evil theme.

And then again, this was subverted and it is just All that laborious gray jazz and we’ve had the same themes recurring of plain simple normal life in the burbs.

So 2014 opens with a remake of Walter Mitty- what is it? It is this very subdued and yet extraordinarily punchy story. The journey of a guy who wishes he was a hero- coming full circle with a protagonist playing an uncomplicated guy, an ordinary human being. I watched this movie with a friend which was great because this movie is something to watch with friends. Funny, insightful and memorable.






Walter Mitty- According to wikipedia, as I found out, has come into more general use and refers to an ineffectual dreamer, appearing in several dictionaries. The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as “an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs”.

So Ben Stiller remakes this movie. And I feel he’s really remade it. We already know that he’s a good actor. We know he’s a funny guy. In that smug understated way. We know that he’s also now capable of stringing a theory about life. And this makes viewing his portfolio interesting. Acting a part is one thing. But directing a series of events and finding ways to shoot scenes in a way that lifts what is needing to be expressed into what will be felt by the audience- this transition that he’s made comes through and we know he’s thought long and hard, about the little things- what makes that watercooler-type conversation interesting, how to communicate something profound about life that he’s observed in a way that he can be sure a lot of people will relate to- this type of creativity is challenging stuff.

Many directors have tried and do try even now, to introduce a way of thought, a how-to about life’s many ifs and buts, and many haven't really been taken up and owned by people. That resemblance to reality was missing. Ben Stiller as Mitty does it though, and he does it well.

Here, in this film, coming out of an industry that has been trying too hard for some time now or not at all to get at this kind of stuff— we finally have something to sit back and appreciate- from beginning to middle to the very end. With a smile dancing out the corner of us.

The whole plot is amazing. Time Life magazine’s last issue before they go online, an acclaimed photographer and an ordinary guy as protagonist who happens to find that he’s redundant for his job. What happens to him- and the way this is handled in this film is good.

The casting is great- there are some very unforgettable characters in this film, who stand apart from the story but in a good way. Like the only man in Iceland. And the old steer hand of a ship who promises Mitty that what’s swimming up to him is surely a porpoise. In the middle of the deep blue sea. With a fin. He he he

The use of special effects is totally unfrivolous through the art direction and the screenplay in this film. Someone really knows how to have a laugh at themselves. There are some amazing metaphors in this film, like a stretchable toy- man. A toy that can be pulled in opposite directions but won’t come apart. A reassuring feeling accompanies us from around 10 minutes into this film- we know that it is going to a good place - it feel a lot like planning a holiday and then enjoying every moment that leads up to it.

The soundtrack is really pretty. Major Tom gets a new cover artist. The cinematography is awesome. This film has so many beautiful attributes, it will be something to talk about in 5 years and in 10 years to come.

I’m giving it 5 out of 5 stars.