Month: January 2006

I have this fun little book called “Uppity Women of the Renaissance.” I bought it on an utter whim a few years ago because I liked that title. I still do. Anyway, the book offers very brief, amusing histories of, well, uppity women of the Renaissance, well-known and not.

So I thought I’d start a regular series of these, putting these entries up intermittently. I have my favorites that I’ve read several times and it’s tempting to start with those, but instead, I think I’ll just close my eyes, open the book, and see who comes up. Ready? Here I go. Just wait a sec. I have no muzak, so hum “Muskrat Love” to yourselves or something.

Okay. Today’s Uppity Woman is …….

Anna of Austria!

Here’s the entry:

“The Better to Eat Chocolate With”

Every great family worth tabloid-bashing has had a curse and the Hapsburg girls and boys were no exception. The only dynasty to rule for twenty generations without ever having had an actual country, the Hapsburgs’ power began with a small dukedom in Austria and spread like crabgrass across Europe via marriage.

The original curse was pretty meager — something about a pregnant peasant girl and a randy Hapsburg teen. But the true family curse was The Lip (in point of fact, the entire jaw). Populations of good-sized cities could have taken shelter under a Hapsburg chin. Wobbly and red as cherry Jell-o, The Lip made many males of the family look positively moronic. So you can just imagine how Princess Anna of Austria and all the other Hapsburgs Annas, Marys, Elizabeths, and Christines felt when they looked in a mirror.

Among other thankless tasks, Anna married King Louis XIII, produced a Louie heir, and ran France as queen regent from 1643 to 1661. Spanish-born Anna brought new ideas to the French court. Naturally, they all tittered when she first lifted a cup of some dirty brown substance to those Austria-sized lips. But Anna persisted, jutting out a chin that would stun Jay Leno into silence. The drink she introduced — hot chocolate — eventually became the only beverage fit for the Beautiful People to quaff, once she got the hang of adding sugar to it. For ages, the drink was deemed to be an aphrodisiac in the bargain. Ole! for Queen of Chocolate Anna, who gave women of the world the serotonin-loaded solace they so desperately needed.

So here she is, Princess Anna, as painted by the great Peter Paul Rubens, whose portrait of his beautiful daughter graces this site. (Oh, I love Rubens!)

Hmmm … I don’t see a Jay Leno chin. It’s not a great chin sure; I mean, it has a twin, but Lenoesque? Well, maybe Rubens was being kind.

I also notice the distinct lack of a hot chocolate mustache.

Still, thank you, Anna of Austria, for the wondrous, warming goodness that is hot chocolate. How could you know that generations of faces after yours would light up at the sight and smell and taste of your delicious “dirty brown substance.” You really ought to try it with marshmallows or …. ahhhhhh …. a dollop of whipped creme! Er, uhm, if you can.

So, Princess Anna, I will drink some of this happy, creamy nectar THIS VERY EVENING and think of you!

Just dashing off some thoughts here, rather random.

My Beloved and I went to see “King Kong” the other day for a practically paltry $5 apiece. We’re so used to paying at least 9, 10 bucks apiece these days, that we actually asked the bored, mumbly cashier WHY it was so cheap.

“First show of the day,” he muttered without looking at us. The “duh, idiots” part was merely implied. What a nice boy.

Now, let me say: I was never a “King Kong” fan. Always seemed more about screaming and grunting and chest thumping with a creepy bonus threat of rape by an ape than anything else. But that was then, this is NOW. I have to admit: This new version of “King Kong” is just some rip-roaringly good entertaiment.

Great things:

— the ape himself — really phenomenal. I never for a moment thought he wasn’t actually there. I was thoroughly swept up in the absolute reality of a 25-foot gorilla!

— the creepy natives — just really scared the beejezuz outta me.

— the shots of a reimagined 1930’s New York. Not truly real, but even better — kind of magical.

— the backstory at the beginning of the movie. Now, I’ve heard several reviewers say things like “Oh, just show up an hour into it; that’s when you finally see the ape.” To that I say NO! You need to see what’s happening with the Jack Black character and the Naomi Watts character, in particular, to know what’s motivating their decisions. They’re both desperate; but you’ve gotta be desperate or else INSANE to end up on a place called Skull Island. I mean, it ain’t exactly a lazy Sunday afternoon picnic spot.

But also, what “creature” movie worth its salt shows the creature at the very beginning? “Frankenstein” didn’t. “Jaws” didn’t. You saw what he DID, but you didn’t see him. That’s how suspense is built. So DO show up at the beginning and allow the build to happen.

— Naomi Watts. I like her so much as an actress. Loved her in “21 Grams.” I believed every moment of this performance where she’s acting alongside a freaking nonexistent 25-foot gorilla! She moves past the one-dimensional, shrill screaming of Fay Wray and the creepy, sexualized performance of Jessica Lange and imbues the ape-girl relationship some genuine poignancy and heart; you really feel that these two come to understand each other. It sounds almost ridiculous to say it — but you believe the love between the two of them. And that’s — in large part — because of Naomi Watts.

— the T-Rexes and all the rest of the, ah, “critters.” Really squirm-in-your-seat scary. A lady sitting by herself in front of us kept cracking me up — she spent half the movie gasping and jumping out of her seat, then falling back and covering her eyes. Whenever I felt I couldn’t look at the screen, I watched her. She was wildly entertaining.

— the pace of the movie. It’s kind of an intangible, pacing, but every good movie, every good play has it — a spot-on sense of pacing — not too slow, not too fast and nonsensical, but with reasonable, well-timed ebbs and flows. If “Jaws,” for instance, had SHOWN us Jaws right away, it would have been too soon; it would have rushed the pace; we’d have become bored — oh, yawn, HIM? AGAIN?

Our senses adjust, become complacent. We NEED to be kept off-balance, never sure when we’re going to see IT again. We almost need to feel that we’ve EARNED the right to behold the creature. And here, in “King Kong” the comparative quiet of the opening builds substance and anticipation for the thrill of the coming adventure. Not every moment can be or should be a fever pitch moment. Trust me, there are PLENty in this movie. I can honestly say that I didn’t even notice the 3-hour length until I left the theatre and looked at my watch. I was thoroughly engaged. IN A MOVIE ABOUT AN APE, NO LESS! Just a good ol’ rollicking epic adventure.

(But if I might add a wee critique in the midst of this giddy endorsement: Jack Black, I like you, I DO, but someone has to tell you to ease up on that rather freaky, maniacal, “I’m so intense” expression you do. It’s funny, to a degree, but overused, and in some moments, it’s just REALLY out of place. Or maybe you think it’s some kind of emotion intensifier, that look. Oh, Jackie, it’s not. It’s REALLY not. It makes me feel a tad icky, as if you practiced saying “I love you” in the mirror just ONE too many times. So just as someone, it appears, FINALLY got to George Clooney and told him to stop with the annoying Bobble-Headed twitch he had, I do this for you, Jack Black. Oh, and Adrien Brody? Trim just a smidge off that clawlike nose of yours. It’s a little too far gone on a reckless downward path towards your mouth. You must NOT let this happen. Repercussions galore. )

Great Thing #2 —

A book I just finished — “Life of Pi” by Yann Martel.

Read it yet? You SHOULD. A tale, as one character says, to “make you believe in God.” I found it alternately disturbing and horrific and magical and delightful, a curious blend.

In the tiniest of nutshells — it’s the story of a castaway boy left to survive on a lifeboat with a 450-pound Bengal tiger.

But what sounds like a basic adventure tale is so much more. I loved that the book asks you to be innocent, to hurl yourself into wonder, to squelch that inner, jaded voice that wants to say, No — that’s just … just IMPOSSIBLE!

I guess that’s where I’m at right now — with this movie and this book — LOVING being able to believe the impossible, to be swept away.

And shouldn’t great movies and books do that?

Oh — and add to that: FINALLY a book ending simultaneously surprising and satisfying and thought-provoking. (I’ve had rather bad luck with that in my reading this year, er, LAST year. Whatever.)

Thank you, Yann Martel!

So …. see the movie. Read the book. Enjoy ’em both!

Also —

I promise. NO predictions for 2006.

So bless my little soul.

And yours.