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When I mentioned to my parents this weekend that Aimee and I had seen
Spellbound at the Parkway Wednesday night, my dad cracked, "So did
it bring back any memories?" We all looked at each other and then
shuddered. I had effectively blocked out the nights we spent drilling
from lists of words to prepare me for the regional spelling bee all those
many years ago, though it all came flooding back after watching this
documentary, which follows eight students as they head to the 1999
National Spelling Bee. When I wasn't laughing hysterically I was on the
edge of my seat with the tension of praying my favorite speller wouldn't
go down on a word. I can't recommend it highly enough, but like me
you'll probably give up on trying to spell along with the contestants
pretty early on. Those are some crazy words. Now I have to go dust off
my trophies.
I continued my recent streak of watching Woody Allen on DVD this week
with a viewing of Interiors, which seemed like Woody attempting
Ingmar Bergman (or perhaps even Chekhov) with a decidedly East-Coast
American slant. Three sisters struggle to make sense of their own
attempts at creativity in the shadow of their aging mother, who is
spiralling further into denial and suicidal thoughts. As the title
implies, the carefully-arranged rooms in which the film is shot come to
represent the interior lives of the main characters, and Diane Keaton in
particular is pure joy to watch. I loved one scene where she is trying
to write a few lines of poetry and keeps crossing out one word with her
pencil and rewriting it over and over again. Sometimes it can be
comforting to watch other people's lives unravel onscreen.
Saturday night a truly lovely evening with meriko culminated in the two
of us sitting in Milk with a drink each, grooving to the dubby funky
soulariffic music from their Disco Devil lineup. I thank Burning Man for
the fact that we got rock star parking right in front of the club.
Sophie was with her dad at the Strawberry Music Festival this weekend, so
Sunday morning Aimee and I packed up her new car and headed up to Tomales
for their Founders Day festivities. We arrived just in time to catch the
tail end of the parade, and after a futile search for an ATM we settled
in among the locals for a BBQ lunch in the park. Considering the fact
that the population of Tomales runs around 200, I'm sure we stuck out
like sore thumbs. But it was a great excuse to cruise northern
California backroads and ogle dairy farms on a gorgeous almost-fall day.
Spellbound
Interiors
Milk
Filthy Dog Recordings
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Heidi J. De Vries
