More notes on my love for The Hunger Games

So. The Hunger Games blew my mind right out of the water.

Where to begin? The film was every bit as good as I hoped it would be and maybe better. No, it’s not as good as the book and some things are missing. But it’s as good and true to the book as film can possibly be.

Jennifer Lawrence is perfection as Katniss, and somehow conveys all the complexities of our heroine. I have such a girl crush on this actress right now. Her talent is raw and true, and not at all reliant on being beautiful—but she is beautiful, in a subtle yet startling way. Jennifer Lawrence is the real deal.

Woody Harrelson all but steals the show as the maddening and hilarious drunk with a big heart that is Haymitch.

Lenny Kravitz looks sexy in gold eyeliner.

I have to admit that Josh Hutcherson pleasantly surprised me. Perhaps because of all of the press photos lately taken of him that beg me to think of him as a brooding stud (a la the utterly talentless Robert Patterson). But Josh’s Peeta was just so loveable, I wanted snuggle right up to him.

The severe fashions, garish make-up and ridiculous hair-dos as well as every single impeccably styled set at the Capitol are a feast for the eyes. Peeta and Katniss are dumbstruck when they board the train and are greeted with crystal chandeliers, colorful sleek furniture and a buffet with riches of fruits and desserts. A stark contrast from the grays, browns, muted perpetually dirty color of their clothes and coal mining district where much of the population teeters on starvation. Effie Trinket, their escort from the Capitol, says (something along the lines of,) “I think its so wonderful that the tributes get to see and experience all this,” implying that seeing ‘all this’ and dying in the games is much better than living back in District 12 and never seeing it at all.

I read a review on the Village Voice that criticized: “Collins…through her very premise, astringently articulates her anger at a culture—ours—indifferent to inequity and war and besotted with its own stupidity. But the book's rage and despair are diluted here, focusing too much on the high-tech gimmickry of the Gamemakers…” I completely disagree with this. Take the example above—how could you miss Effie’s stupidity—that to experience high fashion, style and luxurious food trumps the very right to life? Was this reviewer not filled with rage and despair when the gamemaker, Seneca Crane’s, produced a self-satisfied smile as he sent in lethal mutts to chase after and kill these teenagers in one of those “high-tech gimmickry” scenes?

Books aside, here’s the Panem I saw in the film:

A culture in which there are the very rich and the very poor.

The rich are obsessed with beauty, glamour, big lights and spectacle—oh, and violence and reality TV. The night before 24 teenagers are sent off to fight to the death, they crowd the streets delightedly chanting Hunger, hunger. They feel entitled to everything they have, and don’t give a second thought to at whose expense their wealth is won. And the poor? Well they don’t have much say or choice in much of anything at all. Hmmm…sound familiar?

I was on the verge of tears for the entire first half of the film. I kept thinking: Why is the story so affecting? Why can't I stop thinking about it? Why do I want to read the books all over again and see the movie 10 more times? Maybe because it holds by the throat and shakes you awake. Because it rouses those deep human emotions--fear, hope, rage, despair...and love. The ones that make us feel alive.

And then there's Katniss. My hero. My brave-but-afraid, strong-but-vulnerable, ordinary-but-extraordinary, tender-but-kick-ass hero.

Right back at you girl.

The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games movie comes out today and I will be one of the hundred millions of people who go to see it- I CANNOT WAIT!!! (I do not use all caps lightly, my friends.) My heart is a-pitter-pattering with excitement. I just watched the trailer for the hundredth time and got chills yet again.

Dan’s been teasing me to no avail about my excitement over this film (and repeated trailer-viewing). The teasing took a turn for the worse when I sprung $6.99 to buy the People Magazine Hunger Games collector’s issue. I’ll admit: this was a low point. I like to think of myself as above celebrity magazines. But I am not above the cheesy interviews where the actors all pat each other on the back or the behind-the-scenes shots of Elizabeth Banks getting that crazy-awesome make-up done. No: I am down on the same level with all the other collector’s buying the COLLECTOR’S SPECIAL and I’m proud to be there.

I disappeared into these books. They engulfed me. When I finished them, I stared at the ceiling and clutched the Mocking Jay to my chest, not knowing how to leave them behind. I wanted to talk to everyone who had read them, but then I tried and realized that what I really wanted was just to read them all over again and go back that place, back to Peeta and Gale and Katniss and even Haymitch.

I worship authors that can create a reading experience like this, who inspire millions and millions of people to read. Suzanne Collins- you go sister! This is a great essay by Carolyn Ross on The Millions about the pleasure of reading YA novels, and the important purpose they serve for adults and children alike.

Katniss is a complicated heroine and she is rendered so well. She is brave because she has to be brave, and she is also afraid because she lives in a society that breeds fear. She is vulnerable, often in a state of despair, and yet she gives hope to everyone around her. She tries to hold on to her humanity while being forced to kill people or be killed.

My sister told me that Suzanne Collins came up with the idea for these books while flipping between Survivor and a news story about the Taliban, (or something along those lines.) Given this, it’s not hard to see why these books are not only great book to read, but also scarily relevant.

I look at the world and I look at Katniss and I wonder: would I…could I be so brave? Things are going on at home that deeply disturb me, and I keep asking myself: what are you going to do about it? Reading these novels reminded me that you can’t win if you don’t fight—if you don’t take a risk.

Happy Friday everyone. I’ll report back on the movie. For now, I raise a glass to brilliant authors, good books, real life heroines and heroes, the risk takers, the fighters. May we all be as badass as this:

Elizabeth Parker Hut

This weekend, Dan and I went to the Elizabeth Parker Hut in Yoho National Park. We booked this ages ago, originally for our friends Lana and Charlie's visit, but because of weather we had to push it back. Reasons not to go just piled on up last week: I was sick, Dan's boss wouldn't let him take Monday off (we had the hut booked Saturday and Sunday night), and my sister-in-law called me to tell me there might be some avalanche danger.

Avalanches be damned. We were going and I was determined.

So we packed up a medley of snacks (chips, cookies, beef jerky, fruit bars) a bottle of wine, tacos, pancakes, and headed for the mountains. Of course as soon as we hit the mountains, it was dumping snow. Our 12 k (that's 7.5 miles to you Americans out there) looked like this:


Sometimes we'd get a glimpse of the mountains. Like here:


Honestly, the snow really didn't bother us. I mean...look at this place! Amazing how fresh air will clear your head. The first 8 k were easy going. Dan and I were just cruising. The last 4 k were pretty much straight uphill and we both kind of wanted to die. But we didn't die... eventually we made it here:

...and we were happy. The cabin was the coziest place on the planet as far as we were concerned. (To be clear, this is a communal cabin we were sharing with about 15 strangers.) After about an hour of being a complete puddle, the wine started flowing and we had a crazy eights game in full swing.

It was around this time that Dan and I realized we had forgotten our Cesars. For two people who pride themselves on always having enough delicious booze on hand, this was a huge blow. Such a rookie mistake.

Then the Bulgarian arrived. And his two friends: Kallil and Kelly. Kelly had pulled a chariot the entire way! You guys, this was no small feat. Like I said, Dan and I with little backpacks wanted to die. A chariot would have sealed the deal. Anyway, at first we thought there was a baby in that chariot. Everyone in cabin audibly went "Awww..." and internally went, "Why'd you bring a freakin baby to a communal hut?!" But the Bulgarian, who was wearing one of those green plastic St Patty's Day hats wooped: "It's full of booze! Happy St. Patrick's Day!" The three men had brought a mini keg, two liters of wine, two bottles of vodka and a handle of rum.

When Kelly cracked his first ice cold tall boy, I could almost hear Dan start to drool. (We spent half our ski home wondering how on earth we forgot beer. Realize I'm making us sound like alcoholics between this and the cesars... but I think we're just deep appreciators of a delicious drink at the right moment.)

Anyway, much merriment followed and the Bulgarian and two K's kept Dan and I well lubricated once our wine ran out. There was a night ski, a thin trail of headlamps. We howled like wolves, swooshed down the trails. When you stopped, it was pure silence. Beautiful.

We woke to this:




Sometimes I'm still wondering what the f I'm doing here in Calgary. I don't really feel like I belong here in a lot of ways. I wonder what my purpose is, if I'm moving forward, getting anything done, and on and on and on....

Then we get out. We wake to a blue bird day in the middle of the mountains. We make pancakes, strap on our skis and head for Lake O'Hara.


There's no one there. Not one soul. Not a single sound.



Just us and the snow.



We'd never get to explore this landscape in the way that we will while we live here. Not in this way. I am so excited for summer, our tent, strapping our weekend on our back. But for now, winter is not half bad.


(anyone catching my feet on the beach reference here?)
One might argue that cookies and all sorts of goodies taste better in the cold.


The Kingman side of my family has a long history at Lake O'Hara. My great-grandfather loved the spot and my grandfather and mother used to come here as children. I loved imagining them here. I loved being here for the first time with my husband.

Heading home from the mountains is always bittersweet.

One wishes for a brief moment they might stay with whatever animal this is:

(as long as it's a friendly animal.)

But there's that sweet perspective that a weekend away brings. And the excitement to plan more adventures.


And even some excitement to get back to it. A renewed determination.



Thing is: I'd be pondering purpose and Life and all that wherever I am. May as well do it here.

Awesomeness

This video blew my socks off. I am humbled and amazed by what the human imagination is capable of bringing to life.



When I was young, I always dreamed about magical far away lands and getting there somehow. Fairy places. As an adult, I see that places just as mystical and wonder-inducing really do exist. I think it's just about the best when a creative genius transmits whatever's in their head to our planet. I mean look at this! Dang .

Wanderlust

Husband and I went to see Wanderlust on Friday night. For reasons obvious to people who know me well, a story about a married couple living at hippie commune was very appealing to me.

The theater closest to us playing the film was a 15/20 minute drive. A lot of things in Calgary are a 15/20 minute drive. In this case, it was Chinook Centre. Chinook is like the god of all malls here in Calgary--and people really seem to love (to hate) their malls here. It reminds me of Minnesota in that way, where going to the mall was such a big deal. I hate malls now. When I walk in, I feel like I've entered an alternate universe, where I'm drugged into wanting things (everything) and thinking my ass will look like this in panties when I walk by Victoria's Secret:
I also saw these at several shoe stores:


Is a high heeled rain boot something that makes sense to everyone but me? I don't wear high heels, but in general I respect women who do--they look freakin' amazing when done right. But when it's wet and potentially slippery outside, don't you want your feet on the ground? This reminds me of seeing girls in skirts that barely cover their asses when it's 40 degrees outside. Ok, sisters, it's not freezing out there, but it's not that warm. Sometimes practicality should trump style! (And to be honest, no matter what the weather, I don't want to see nearly-see your hoo-hoo ladies. You all give my husband a complex about having daughters.)

So, Wanderlust. I unabashedly loved this film, but I don't think everyone will. First off, Husband and I snuck in beers. We debated whether to get just two beers or four (total,) and we settled on three, but for those of you planning to do this, just go with two per person--it's Friday night and a movie is two hours. Don't feel guilty about wanting two beers! (why did we? no idea.) We also brought a tube of Ketchup flavored Pringles. I've only recently re-discovered Pringles and it is still true that once you Pop, you can't stop. Boy are they good. Point is: our refreshments were first rate.

In the first 15 minutes of the film, George (Paul Rudd) and Linda (Jennifer Aniston) buy an apartment they can't afford in the West Village, lose all of their job prospects, and decide they have to move Atlanta, where George's brother has a job for him.

The two pack their car to the gills and head south. The drive might have been my favorite part of the film. Maybe because Husband and I just went through this (lost jobs, financial struggles, leaving a city we loved, moving across country for new prospects). The couple waffles between singing joyfully along to songs they love, to screaming "We're so fucked!" at their separate moments, to blaming each other, to long silences just gazing out at the road in front of them. I was howling laughing, (think most of the theater might have been like, 'who is that girl?') I honestly felt like I was watching my own loving-but-imperfect relationship in action.

Exhausted, they pull into what their iPhone tells them is Elysium Bed and Breakfast, and, along the long, dark driveway, a naked man stumbles out of the bushes. They completely freak out, assume he's going to kill them, and end up flipping their car. But Elysium has a beautiful room for them and the drift off peacefully. That is until Linda is awakened by mysterious guttural noises coming from downstairs and finds George missing. She creeps downstairs and finds him partaking in a didgeridoo jam session, stoned. The whole place has transformed into a swinging party and they have the best night they've had in a good long while.

I think that's what I loved about this movie: the sheer ridiculous hilarity of the situations. You have to be willing to accept them, and laugh at them if you're going to like this movie. Like when a horse saunters into George and Linda's bedroom. Or when a couple of the hippies want to have a serious conversation with George while he's trying to poop. Nudists crushing wine. Or George's outrageous pep talk in the mirror about all the things he's going to do with his penis when he's getting ready to practice "free love." An Ayahuasca -enhanced truth circle. George mistaking a woman's onset of labor as a come on...only to see the woman give birth right in front of him.

I love over-the-top the hippies all are too. How upset one gets when George kills a fly. The placenta carried around in a bowl still attached the newborn baby. When one of the hippies gives George and Linda this gift:



They ask her what it is and she shrugs. "It's orange peels tied to twigs." (It's stupid you guys, but funny!)

I loved Jennifer Aniston and Paul Rudd in this film. Aniston looks great in the jean shorts she wears everywhere, and great in general. (I say this as a straight married woman, of course.) She's sweet and searching, and I can relate to that. And Rudd's George is just so cute as he tried hard to take this all in stride.

Ok, this is not the deepest movie, and yes, like with every romantic comedy, the ending is too simple and happy than real life would ever be. BUT, I appreciate some of what is here:

• the perspective a new place can give you on your life. How things that seemed so incredibly important in one context, suddenly fade to background in a new setting (like expensive lattes)
• of thinking, really thinking, about what makes you happy in life
  
• re-appreciating someone you've loved for a very long time
• and of course, embracing the spirit of throwing caution to the wind and embracing the unusual, unexpected adventure. It's always those unexpected adventures that have been the best in my short life. Don't we all have some version of this fantasy? Picking up, moving, going somewhere strange, maybe even crazy, and just seeing... what happens?
  

I do.

Whip It

Last night, Husband and I watched Whip It. I was a little cranky about watching a movie because I feel like we watch way too many movies. But Husband hasn't been sleeping well, was super exhausted (we took a nap when he got home, which we never do), and I've been wanting to see this movie, so we snuggled in on the couch.

While this movie isn't going to (and didn't) win any awards, it's a great movie--funny, smart, inspiring. And badass. While rom coms are ubiquitous in this world, there just aren't enough girl-kicking-ass movies where the power of self and female friendships triumph. Until I downloaded that spiffy image up-top, I didn't realize the movie's tag line was "Be Your Own Hero," but--Yes! That is what this movie is about. And I thank Drew Barrymore for great direction of this you-go-girl move.

In a nutshell, Bliss (the ever-awesome Ellen Page), lives in the small town of Bodeen, Texas not too far from Austin, Texas. Bliss' mom (Marcia Gay Harden) is a conservative former beauty queen who wants nothing for her daughters but for them to bring home crowns. We get a sense of what Bliss thinks of these pageants in the first five minutes when Bliss arrives at the mic for her speech with blue hair.

But Bliss' mom isn't all bad. She takes Bliss shopping in Austin and momentarily agrees to buy her a pair of clunky army boots that perfectly fit Bliss' alternative style (the costume designer did a great job here--I wanted all of Bliss' don't-mess-with-me rock n' roll outfits). That is until she (the mom) points in the case at a bong, says "That's a lovely vase," and the salespeople burst out laughing at her. (Bliss buys the boots with her own money). Four tough-looking girls float in on roller skates with flyers for the Roller Derby championships, and later that week Bliss and her best friend Pash (Maybe from Arrested Development) sneak away the next week.

Pash and Bliss in particular are dazzled by the Derby match, and at the end one Derby girl, Maggie Mayhem (Kristen Wiig) tells Bliss she should come out for tryouts.

"You don't have the balls," Pash says, when Bliss suggests they go for it.

"I can grow the balls!" Bliss insists. This got me thinking of my own lack of balls and need to grow a pair. After watching girls hurtle themselves full force at each other, I would have said, "Na-uh, not for me." And the fact hat it was illegal for Bliss in the first place (she was 17, you had to be 21), would have sealed the deal my resolve to avoid the rink at all costs. But notBliss. She's her own damn hero, climbs on the "Bingo Bus" full of blue haired seniors, and sets off for the tryouts in Austin with her childhood pair of Barbie roller skate, and makes the fucking team!

There's so much to love about this film, from the team names--the Hurl Scouts (Bliss' team), the Fight Attendants, the Black Widows--to the individual player names--Smashlee Simpson, Eva Destruction, Bloody Holly, Pocket Rocket, Jaba the Slut, and my personal favorite, Bliss' Roller Derby pseudonym: Babe Ruthless, (just about every time the announcer (Jimmy Fallon) called out Baaaaabe Ruthless! I repeated the name out loud and chuckled,)--to the sheer fun of an all-out female food fight.

But there the more profound parts too. This movie does a wonderful job probing the complexity of the mother/daughter relationship. Two people who love each other but just can't understand each other. We understand why Bliss can't stand how her mom exalts the pageants, and yet when we see her mom look at the picture of her younger self as a beauty queen wistfully and say, "Unfortunately the beauty doesn't last," we feel for her. And the moment when Kristin Wiig drives Bliss to school and advises her to cool it on her mom, she says, "You're lucky to have a mom who cares." Bliss coming to understand what a gift it is to simply be loved, even if it is in a flawed kind of way.

The best part is Bliss fighting for herself--both on the rink and in life. It doesn't come without consequences--she gets hurt, both emotionally and physically--but in that moment, when her secret is revealed to her parents and they are raging mad, she cries out, "I am in love with this!" we know she has already won.

Would we all be so lucky to love something so very much? Something we'd fight for, get bruised and beat up for? At the end, I was ready to start googling Roller Derby teams in Calgary, but that's not really the point. The point is to find your arena--the place where you shine, where get knocked down, tumble, and then get back up and hurtle forward full speed ahead.

My favorite moment was at the end of the film. Bliss' dad, (another great character I haven't even mentioned here), proudly walks onto the lawn and looks over at his neighbor. Already, we've seen his neighbor erect signs with his son's names and football numbers into his lawn, as I guess they do in Texas. Well, Bliss' dad pounds in his own sign with a proud smile. It says: Babe Ruthless. That's the thing--when you become your own hero, you kind of become everybody else's too.

Martha Marcy May Marlene

The other day, Husband and I watched Martha Marcy May Marlene. The film stars Elizabeth Olsen (yes, little sister of Mary Kate and Ashley) as a young woman who escapes from a cult in the Catskill mountains. In the opening scene, you see the men eat awkwardly in silence, then the women. It's strange, and even though you don't quite understand where you are or what's going on, you know it's creepy. The heroine steals away at daylight, the others chase her through the woods. Once finally in town, she calls someone on the phone in hysterics.

"Where are you?" the voices asks.

"Upstate," she manages to say through her tears. "I think."

The woman on the other end of the phone is Martha's sister, Lucy. Marcy May turns out to be name bestowed up on her by the cult leader, Patrick, played by John Hawkes (Winter's Bone).

The film bounces seamlessly back and forth between Martha with her sister, and flashbacks to her life in the cult. Slowly, very slowly, the details of Martha's past and two years with the cult unfold. I think that's what I admire about this film, and in the end what makes it so affecting: the restraint. Writer/Director Sean Durkin takes his time to reveal things to us, and earns every piece of the puzzle. By the time Martha's really losing it at her sister's house, we know exactly why.

I felt so sad for Lucy and her husband throughout this film. Martha tells them nothing--just alludes to an ex-boyfriend. She's been completely out of touch for two years. Lucy tries so hard. Even when Martha walks into their room when they are having sex, after Lucy's initial surprise and freak out, when she sees how upset Martha is, she becomes reasonable, exp

laining plainly: "It's private. Do you understand why this is not ok?" Then, Lucy puts her hand on Martha's head and tells her it's ok, to just go to sleep.

I was impressed with Elizabeth Olsen in this film. It couldn't have been an easy part to play. A vulnerable girl, brainwashed by a cult, not fully understanding what has happened to her. Her beauty is unusual and startling.

John Hawkes was also impressive. Freakishly thin, and evil, yet with a warmth about him that makes you understand why the cult members are drawn to him and worship him.

This movie is deeply disturbing. I recommend watching it early in the day, leaving enough time to do other things, remind yourself what happiness is. Husband and I watched it just before bed and both had tortured dreams. It sticks to you. I still can't stop thinking about it.

Today I start a blog

It's taken me a long time to start this blog. I have about a hundred million reasons (I'm not funny, interesting, blah blah blah). But as Dr. Suess would say, "Today is your day." Nobody knows I'm doing this. I'm sitting on a mattress on the floor in my little office. It's Monday, March 5 2012- 3:03 PM Mountain Time and there's a big white blizzard outside. Probably, no one will ever read these words, which is probably the only reason I'm able to write them.

Some things:

I live in Calgary with my husband. I never dreamed of living here, but here I am. I lived in San Francisco for five years before we moved here in August.

I want to be a writer. I'm supposed to be able to say I am a writer, but I have very low confidence when it comes to writing. I've had a few things published and that's been pretty sweet. People say it takes 10 years to become a professional writer. I'd say about two years into that 10. Which means I could feasibly be a professional writer at the age of 38. I've only just now come accept that. I'm not going to give up.

I love (in no particular order) the outdoors, movies, music, books, cooking, Parks and Recreation, running, and adventures. I'll probably write about those things here. And the married life. Oh-ho the married life. Not because I'm an expert at marriage- precisely because I am not an expert at marriage and my experiences might make you feel better about your own.