Monday, May 30, 2011
Although we have over a hundred posts on When We Swam, we have yet to write a single entry on the major motion picture known as Road House (1989). A huge oversight on our part, my apologies.
Road House is possibly one of the GREATEST MOVIES OF OUR TIME. It speaks of a world that resembles our own but abides by different rules. It is lawless Swayze country, in which Jeff Healey is the headlining (and only) act in a tough bar in a tough town that is run by a tough old business magnate that is trying to run Swayze and his friends out of said tough town. Swayze's character, Dalton, is brought in to tame the Double Deuce, an unruly bar that is in desperate need of a stiff arm enrobed in tight denim. The task proves challenging in the face of Wesley, Dalton's wealthy nemesis who is systematically trying to kill everyone he knows. The antics at the Double Deuce become too overwhelming for Dalton, and he seeks the council of his mentor Wade Garrett, a "legendary" (aka old) bouncer whose slight frame indicates he used to do soundcheck at bars, rather than regulate them.
The film has it all - arson, motorcycles, blonde bombshells, even a scene in which Dalton RIPS OUT A MAN'S THROAT WITH HIS BARE HANDS. The film ends with a dramatic and orderly shooting in Wesley's home, in which all kinds of law-abiding citizens kill Wesley and his henchman, taking back the night without legal repercussions. Our protagonist returns to the now safe Double Deuce, which continues to play Jeff Healey and sling pony-necked beers, as if a horrendous murder did not just occur days prior.
Monday, May 23, 2011
My love for edible rituals and weekend meditations is not a secret to this blog. Sundays are for baking muffins or making a batch of granola, preparing some bread dough for the week, or a chance to simmer several quarts of chicken stock on the stove. These efforts are always consumed with great satisfaction, in that feel good wholesome eating way, but also in the incredulous, "I can't believe people can make these things with their own two hands" kind of way.
Last night, at our usual Sunday dinner with dear friends, we took a step back to observe the array of food on our table and we were all quite pleased with what had been prepared. An organic pork loin, roasted with gala apples, rosemary, garlic, and onion, served with homemade apple butter, accompanied by a spring salad of arugula, red cabbage, radish, walnuts, and apples soaked in lemon, with a gently roasted butternut squash from the recently opened Farmer's Market. A fresh loaf of peasant bread and butter were available for the more gluten-friendly folk. For dessert was an orange and clove sorbet made with my trusted hand-me-down ice cream maker from my boyfriend's mother, and the always classic Rice Krispie treats, made with the addition of fresh rosemary and lavender flowers (are you still with me?). Meals such as this remind me of just how wonderful the produce is on the west coast, and makes me eager for my new Sunday ritual of going to the Farmer's Market to hoard all the delicious fruits and vegetables. When the next rapture comes, you know where to go first.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
By the end of the month, I'm told, my favourite movie theatre will be closed. I am heartbroken.
My husband and I have seen dozens of movies at the Hollywood Theatre. Sometimes not even because we were really jazzed about the feature, but because there is something tremendously comforting about octogenarians in the ticket booth, a $7 double bill, a delicious nanaimo bar, and a theatre so elegantly disheveled that it makes the very act of watching movies seem just a little bit more special.
(Also, we saw Incendies, which was incredible - I'm too speechless to write about it....and how does one write about it at all, without ruining it, I wonder?).
Goodnight Hollywood. We will miss you.