Posted on 07/09/2002 9:36:07 PM PDT by daisyscarlett
I haven't seen a movie in the theater since Spider Man so here's a rundown on recently seen DVDs. I liked Shallow Hal but I thought it was a bit tame for a Farrelly Bros. film. I'd recommend Orange County. Jack Black ('Hal' in Shallow Hal) was downright hilarious in that film and Colin Hanks (Tom's son) and Schuyler Fisk (Sissy Spacek's daughter) were really good also.
Saw I Am Sam with Sean Penn. I hated it although the little girl who played his daughter was outstanding. Everybody I watched it with loved it. I just couldn't buy Penn as a retarded person. Excellent soundtrack though.
Two surprisingly good films were The Last Castle with Robert Redford and James Gandolfini and Spy Game with Redford and Brad Pitt. Spy Game was the best of the two. It was an extremely intelligent, non-linear suspense thriller. These two films were surprisingly good because I am not a big Redford fan (for obvious reasons) yet he really did some good acting.
Watched The Royal Tenenbaums this evening. It was, well, different. I enjoyed it though (but I have strange tastes).
Beautiful Mind was great. Crowe got robbed by Denzel who should have won years ago for Malcom X but put in a lackluster performance for Training Day.
Gonna watch Hart's War tomorrow. I'm not expecting much from this one.
Best movie I've seen all year on DVD has had to have been Ghost World with Steve Buscemi and Thora Birch. I'd highly recommend this quirky -yet disturbing comedy.
That's all I can think of right now.
Daisyscarlett! Thank you so much for the great threads! I would have never thought of a "What book have you read lately" thread because I never have time to read one anymore. The only reading I get to do is FR. The last book I read was Barbara Olsen's. I started Bill O'Reilly's book that my son gave me for Christmas and it was booooooring. I'll give it another go later.
Latest movies I've seen were, The Power Puff Girls (sure it was goofy but I enjoyed it between the cat naps! hehe) The Others was good and Nicole Kidman was very good, the plot was okay, something good for a gray, rainy day.
Mr. Betty and I watched Deceived (1991) with Goldie Hawn last night. Excellent plot and Goldie did a great job with this drama. Mr. B. said Goldie Hawn?! when I turned it on, but since I had already seen it I knew he'd like it and he did. Catch that one if you haven't already seen it recently.
Good grief, look at me going on! I have work to do! I will be finished by lunch!! Hopefully my computer connection will work, because it was acting fussy when I turned it on this morning.
See you soon. Thanks again daisyscarlett!!
-------------------------------- Only now was Carol beginning to understand what she had missed by being so sheltered. Resentment swelled within, and her growing anger made it impossible to go back to sleep. With the dawn beginning to light her window, she finally decided to give up. Slipping on one of the cotton dresses from her steamer, she pinned up her hair and grabbed a coat Bessie had said she could use if she needed. Quietly, she let herself out the front door and followed the well-worn path to the beach.
The early morning air was crisp and cold, but the day promised to be warmer than the one yesterday. About a mile off the beach, a schooner was following the coastline, headed north under three-quarter sail. The clear air made the vessel appear closer than it really was, but the boat was too distant for Carol to hear the shipboard sounds of snapping sails and the shouts of the sailors. The early morning light and the absence of sound made the boat appear as though it were a ship of ghosts, sailing without direction or guidance from human hand.
Seeking out a sand dune well back from the water, Carol positioned herself to take advantage of the sun’s warmth while still being able to look out across the ocean. The brisk air and warm sun combined with the gentle morning hues, lulling her into a mood devoid of thoughts. Her mind registered the movements of the sea oats, the birds and waves without interpretation. Her consciousness floated freely, hindered neither by self nor by desire. For a few minutes, there was no New York, no talk of marriage, no self-doubt, no yesterday, no tomorrow – only this moment in which she was intricately and intimately intertwined. She sat that way for a while, unconcerned with the time. She was seeing the world through different eyes, and her only desire was to continue lying against its breast and revel in its glory.
The spell was nearly broken when she spotted a man slowly walking along the beach, lost in thoughts of his own. She quickly found, however, that the intrusion served to enhance the mood rather than detract from it. Being able to observe another person without them realizing it added to the sense of detachment. She had become a nymph of the island’s foliage, blending into the surroundings, able to see without being seen.
His age is hard to guess, but he’s not old, she thought. His hair is dark, though the tips have been lightened by the sun. He’s still too far away to judge his looks, but he appears to have a strong face. Judging by his walk, I’d say that he is a man of confidence but without destination.
She paused in her assessment long enough to take pleasure in knowing that he was oblivious to her presence. If she remained still, he would never know they were visitors to the same instant of time and place. On the other hand, if she made one small move he would become as aware of her as she was of him. It was both pleasing and powerful to know that she controlled the outcome, even if it was a trivial matter.
Coming to the top of a small sand drift on the beach, the man stopped and turned to look out across the ocean. He is looking for something, too, she imagined. It’s odd that two people who know nothing of each other would come to the same place at the same time, expecting the ocean to somehow provide answers to human affairs. If only things were so simple, and nature so obliging.
A few minutes passed, then he suddenly turned to look up the beach, using his hand to shade the sun from his eyes. Judging by his actions, it appeared that something in the distance had caught his attention, but the dunes kept her from being able to see. Spotting it, he clapped his hands then whistled. A moment later a puppy appeared, hesitantly making his way closer. Perhaps it was one of the puppies that had been following the yellow bitch, Carol wondered. There had been a good number of them. Tired of their constant feeding and sharp teeth, the mother must have used the rolling dunes to lose some of her maturing whelps, leaving this black one to die or survive on its own.
The man scratched the puppy’s head then pulled something from his pocket for him to eat. The grateful pup wolfed down the scrap then looked hopefully at the man. Obligingly, the fellow repeated the kindness then picked the puppy up, cradling him in one arm while scratching his head with his free hand. The stranger’s gentle act of kindness was endearing to Carol. In just a few moments, he had gained the creature’s trust and appeared to be ready to save him.
Though fascinated by the scene, she was still reluctant to reveal her presence. She continued watching unseen from the distance as the man ran his fingers over the puppy’s wiry fur, checking his condition. Finding something, he stopped the search and began walking toward the dunes. A wave of fear passed through Carol – surely he would see her! But the man never looked up, focusing on the puppy instead. When he reached the dunes he turned to face the ocean and sat down. Holding the puppy on his lap face up, Carol’s unwitting performer resumed grooming his new friend.
The thought of Hunter or one of his friends handling an animal in such a way was laughable. They were much too proper to soil their hands or allow hair from an animal to collect on their clothes. Such a thing would be too – provincial. They would also have been dumbfounded to know how much the sight of a man gently handling a puppy had moved her. To their way of thinking, a man should control animals, not become their friends.
The stark contrast between Hunter and the actions of the man on the dune made her recall the doubts she struggled with. For an instant, she was able to see herself through someone else’s eyes. She did not like what she saw. Had she made the right decision? She hated the question because it challenged her conclusions. It had taken a long time to find a situation she felt comfortable with. Too many questions now could reveal a truth she was not sure she wanted to face.
This is madness, she thought. Could it be that the perfect serenity of the morning had beguiled her? Had allowing her thoughts to wander so freely suppressed her ability to reason objectively? The stranger on the dune could well be an old man or a simpleton. Would reality hold up to her romantic notions? Why not test it and find out, she thought?
With his back turned toward her, the man did not see Carol rise from the cover of her vantagepoint and walk toward him, the soft sand muffling her footsteps. Absorbed in caring for the puppy, he did not know she was there until she spoke.
“Is there something wrong with him?” she asked. The man’s broad back stiffened for a second, but he did not turn around to look at her. He paused before replying.
“It’s the seed ticks,” he said with all the nonchalance he could muster. “They like the tender skin on his belly. They’ll sap him of every bit of strength this little fella’s got if you don’t keep them off.”
His voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t be anyone she knew, not here on the island.
“What will you do with him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a kid in the village would like to have him. Maybe I’ll keep him. The boys at the station would really go for a mascot, I think.”
Again the familiar voice, but from where?
“May I hold him?”
Stepping around to his front, she saw his face clearly for the first time. It was strong, just as she had suspected, but reserved. He was beyond his early twenties, but it was hard to judge how much so. His color was that of an outdoorsman, though his cheeks were lighter than his forehead and temples. A cleft on his chin lent youth to his appearance, balancing out the features that suggested age. His eyes were as familiar as his voice. She knew those eyes. They showed pain, wisdom and compassion all at the same time. But where had she seen them? She looked closer then felt her face flush – he looked so different without the beard.
Ethan handed her the black-hair puppy without saying anything. He had recognized her voice immediately. He knew it was hers because he could not get it out of his head. It had been haunting him now for hours. Why had she approached him so casually, he wondered? Had she changed her attitude for some reason, or was she playing with his emotions?
He studied her closely as she played with the puppy. The early morning light reflecting off her copper hair made her more beautiful than she had been the day before. Her face was delicate and strong. Around her neck she wore a ribbon of black velvet with a cameo on the front, which somehow served to accentuate her cheekbones. Her eyes were her most compelling feature, reflecting great intelligence and confidence. They revealed the qualities about her that so impressed him. Then he remembered the previous night’s rebuff and wondered if he had misjudged. Perhaps he was only seeing what he wanted to see.
“...or maybe he’s a cross between a German Shepherd and a Labrador, ” she said.
He had been so absorbed in her beauty that he had not realized she was talking. His early morning resolve to be cool to her melted away in an instant. Now that he was sitting so close to her, he did not have the will.
“More like a Setter-Lab cross I would say,” Ethan said lamely, hoping he had caught the gist of her comment. “I doubt that there are any German Shepherds in these parts.”
Carol continued looking at the puppy as she scratched his head. He was falling asleep in her arms. Ethan wanted to say something, but did not know what. He felt trapped. For a moment, he longed to be back on the water, heading out on another rescue with his mates.
“Who was the Madré?” Carol asked without warning. Ethan felt his past rush up from the dark recesses of his mind – memories he had suppressed for years. He looked at her in hope of finding a clue as to her motives, but Carol was still looking at the puppy.
“Superintendent Collins came to stay at the inn yesterday and he told us about you. He said that he once heard you call out for someone in your sleep; that you used a Spanish word, ‘Madré.’ That means ‘mother,’ doesn’t it? Were you crying for your mother? She wasn’t Spanish, was she?”
For Ethan, the sound of the waves and the cries of the seagulls faded away, as did the sand dunes and beach. The sea oats turned into tropical forest and the acrid scent of spent gunpowder from field cannons hung in the air. The blood of fallen comrades was all around, their anguished moans drifting across the battlefield.
There was horror lurking here he had never summoned the courage to face. In five years, he had not uttered a single word about these things. He had tried to forget about them, but the dreams would not let him. The dreams kept the horrible memories alive as if they had happened yesterday.
A voice inside screamed at him to flee, but he could not move. He lowered his head so that she would not be able to see his eyes. Her directness had caught him off guard. No one – no one had ever asked him about the war. The question pulled at him, urging him to submit to a need he had not known existed until this morning. He had to talk about it or risk becoming the emotional cripple people perceived him to be. But not now, he begged! Not with her!
Why did I ask such a question, Carol wondered in amazement. The words had just popped out. There is something about him, I admit that now. But what right do I have to ask such a thing? Though she did not understand it, her own desires, long hidden behind a veil of appeasement, would no longer be denied. Her long-suppressed personality came rushing forth to stake its claim, leaving restraint as its victim.
“You’ve never talked about it, have you?” It was more of a statement than a question. She could tell by the way he reacted that it was true. “Please don’t hate me, Mister Roberts. I’m afraid I’m not very good at making casual conversation. It’s just that . . . well, when we were on the lifeboat and you were unconscious, you called out to your friend Zeb. Superintendent Collins said that he was your best friend in the war. I know I'm being forward, but I thought that the two somehow might be connected.”
She stopped herself, not sure what to say next. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it, she thought. What was I thinking? One day I insult him and the next I pry into his private life. By now, he must think that I am just a silly girl who babbles on without regard for other people.
“It . . .is . . .very difficult,” Ethan said, forcing each word, oblivious to the brusqueness of her manner. “There . . .there was so . . .much . . .death. I . . .can’t . . .”
He stopped, unable to continue. Little by little the sights and sounds of the beach came back, relegating the memories of Cuba back to the darkness from which they had been summoned. If he was ever going to be whole again, there would come a time when he would have to talk about it. But now was not that time.
Afraid of making herself look an even bigger fool, Carol sat beside him in silence waiting for the awkwardness to pass.
During the silence, the puppy spotted a sand fiddler venturing from its hole. Walking sideways, the crab moved farther and farther from its haven. Jumping from Ethan’s lap, the pup started chasing the crab, which quickly disappeared down another hole. Baffled by the vanishing act, the little dog circled the hole three times, sniffed at it for a moment, then started digging up sand as fast as he could.
“Teach,” Ethan said, finally breaking the silence.
“Teach?” Carol asked, anxious to change the subject.
“Yes, like in Edward Teach. You know, Blackbeard the pirate. That’s what I’ll call him. Teach.”
“What made you think of that?”
“They say that Blackbeard used to have a home here on Ocracoke,” he began, relieved to be talking about something else. “The island provided a good location from which to prey upon merchant ships going up and down the coast. He knew the channels and he used them to escape the authorities – that is, on the rare occasions that they actually came looking for him. Trouble was, most of the colonials didn’t want to capture him. Seems his black market trade was good for the local economy – not to mention that they were more scared of him than they were of the local constables. When they finally did capture him, they cut off his head and dumped him into the water. The Ocracokers say that his headless body then swam around the boat three times before it finally sank for the crabs to eat.
“That’s what the pup just did. He ran around the hole three times, but he was after the crab rather than the other way around. And look, he has the black hair to boot. I think the name suits him.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” she asked, wondering if he could be so gullible. “I mean about the corpse swimming around the boat?”
“Of course not. How would a body without a head be able to see the boat?”
Carol hesitated, trying to make sense of the odd logic. Ethan watched her coyly, waiting for her to understand.
“You’re joking!” she said, laughing at her own gullibility. His unorthodox sense of humor delighted her.
Ethan smiled, both pleased and relieved that she had appreciated his joke.
“Well, if I don’t do anything else right today, at least I got you to smile,” she said. “Even if the joke is on me.” He smiles with his eyes, she thought. I wonder what terrible thing happened to him that would so completely rob him of his passion.
Tired of digging for the sand fiddler, the puppy came back to where they were sitting. Ethan tore off another piece of meat from the venison jerky in his pocket and gave it to the dog. Carol picked him up and handed him to Ethan.
“Now that he has a name, I think he should have a collar,” she said. Reaching behind her head she unfastened the cameo and removed it from her neck. Until that moment Ethan had not realized how close together they were sitting. Letting his gaze linger for as long as he dared, he wondered how he could have thought for even a moment that she would find him worthy of her attention.
He held Teach while she wrapped the velvet strap around the dog’s neck twice to make it fit, then fastened the clasp. He gently put the puppy down and watched to see if he would paw at the collar. As he looked back up, his eyes met hers and he knew – he knew he was lost to her, but he did not want her to know. Unaccustomed to such situations, he wanted to regain control of the moment and himself, but he just couldn’t think of the right words to say. Despite her change of disposition, he still had his doubts. Was her rebuff of the previous evening just a quirk? A simple misunderstanding, perhaps? Should I dare to take another chance?
Returning his gaze, Carol struggled to understand her swirling feelings. He’s so different from anyone I’ve ever known, she thought. The way he talks, his selflessness, his inner strength and gentle manner – these were traits she had never seen in a man before. Indeed, it had never occurred to her that a man might possess such attributes. At least not the way they were within him.
From the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Teach running toward them from the open beach. With his tail between his legs and his ears laid back, the puppy ran as fast as he could, finally taking refuge behind Ethan. Having safely made it to cover, he peered around Ethan’s side, growling as he looked toward the beach.
Peering between the dunes, Ethan and Carol saw a horse come into view, walking slowly toward the southern inlet. Then came another and another. They continued to watch silently until seventeen horses in all had passed by.
“It’s the Banker ponies,” Ethan whispered. “They roam free on the islands, but they’re pretty tame, really.”
“You mean they don’t belong to anyone?”
“They belong to the island and whoever happens to own it at the time. But nobody claims them. The Ocracokers say they’re Spanish horses, descended from the survivors of a Spanish galleon that wrecked here many years ago. Watch,” he said as he came to his feet.
Walking toward the beach, Ethan made catching sounds with his mouth to get the ponies’ attention. Curious, the last five in the herd turned around and cautiously walked back to where he stood. Used to receiving handouts from islanders, the ponies approached tentatively. Although he did not having anything to give them, Ethan put his hand in his coat pocket pretending to fish around for a treat. When he took his hand out he kept his fingers closed in a loose fist, as though holding an apple. Responding to the come-on, a young mare broke from the herd and cautiously began walking toward Ethan’s outstretched hand. Luring the pony up to his side, he quickly threw his leg over her back, coming to rest in a low profile. The other ponies scattered, then ran to catch the rest of the herd. Ethan grasped the mare’s mane and braced himself for her reaction. But the pony had been mounted before so she stood passively, waiting to see what her rider would do.
When nothing happened, Ethan sat up straight, smugly gloating at his cleverness.
“I haven’t sat a horse since the war,” he said, spreading his arms outward in triumph.
Sensing her passenger relax, the pony reared up, dumping her would-be rider onto the beach. The mare took off after the herd, leaving Ethan on his back. Carol ran to see if Ethan was OK, only to find him laughing at himself. She frowned at him, then smiled.
“You scared me to death,” she said. “You might have broken your neck.”
“Is that why they called ya the ‘Rough Riders!’” a gravelly voice shouted from down the beach. Ethan and Carol turned to see Superintendent Collins and Capt. Joyner walking toward them. “It must be purty rough falling on yer backside all the time,” Harry said, finishing his joke.
Ethan stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes. It was not the first time he had seen his district superintendent, but he was concerned that he had come down to the beach to find him.
“Superintendent Collins,” he said. “I heard you were here. I’m sorry, I should have come to see you first thing this morning.”
The video I immediately thought of was "Until September"
One of my favorites for many years...it probably stirred my first longings to go to Paris. A young American woman is stranded in Paris and meets a handsome (gorgeous!) French banker. He is married, but they fall in love and have a torrid affair. It's a beautiful movie and soooooo romantic. Fabulous scenes of Paris and the French countryside. You'll love it. (Maybe I'll live it! LOL!)
Daisy Scarlett, Elvis fan that you are, you will love the Anne George book "Murder Boogies with Elvis". What a hoot it is.
We don't get out to movies much, but I just rented "Kate and Leopold" and "Serendipity"... they were both cute. I finally saw "A Beautiful Mind" this weekend. Very interesting but definitely not a repeat view!! I couldn't keep up with "Ocean's 11". My mind is not so beautiful, I guess. Perhaps too many distractions at home...
Also a foreign film you may want to check out on video that we really enjoyed, especially Mr Z, was elMariachi, a black comedy about a mariachi musician mistaken for a wanted criminal. Subtitled in English. Starts out raw...stay with this one, its funny!
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.