8.21.99

    Just to clarify on my little rant about the evils of the Internet the other day. I didn't mean exactly what I said. I think I implied that someone taking advantage of my willingness to share parts of my life with virtual strangers is the fault of the Internet. It's not. However, it's people like Jackie Collins who can make the Internet an unpleasant place to be. It's the people that feel safe typing away at their computers to let all their nastiness run rampant and unchecked on a undeserving populace that make the Internet unpleasant. Thankfully, my run-ins with those people have been few and far between. I've met many more interesting, thoughtful, inspiring, witty people through this medium than I ever expected. Ms. Collins just isn't one of them.

    And, having said how much I truly like to reach out and touch people, I'm very behind on my email. If you've written me in the past two weeks about this site or journal and I haven't gotten back, I apologize. I usually write a quick little something as a reply immediately but I just keep getting farther behind. I'll try to make up for it on Sunday.

    Last night, T. and I headed out to our local movie theatre to catch The Thomas Crowne Affair but someone had pulled the fire alarm in the theatre and there were gobs and gobs of people outside. We waited awhile to see if they were going to open things up but they never did so we turned around and went home. In a fit of spontaneity, I decided that we had to go into Portland and see Run, Lola, Run. T. very nearly dug in his heels and refused to go but I convinced him.

    We went to Northwest Portland (the tragically, yuppie-hip section) and the Cinema 21 (21 because it's on 21st street; there's only one theatre). It's a cute, old building with big, roomy chairs and balcony seating. We got there a bit early and mowed on popcorn and soda. Their popcorn was pretty good, the best I've had at a cinema in ages. I don't know what it is with movie theatres and their crappy popcorn these days but I don't understand why it's so atrocious. What's changed in the world of popcorn?

    The movie was excellent. We were transfixed. The music, the characters, the plot devices, the pace — all brilliant. I laughed. I cried. I got angry.

    In case you were wondering, this is a German movie (subtitled) about Lola. Lola is a teen-something girl who has to get 100,000 marks to her boyfriend in twenty minutes or else he's going to rob a grocery store and/or get killed by the thugs that he owes the money to. When she doesn't get it right and arrives late then she has to do it again. So, there's a sort of supernatural, fantastical element to the whole thing but the way it's done is just brilliant. It also shows how each time she does something a little different which affects how the events lay out in front of her and also affects the people's lives she comes crosses while running across town. And yes, Lola does run.

    I think everyone in the theatre fell in love with Lola and we rooted for her the whole time. The end of the movie brought much cheers and applause.

    Two things I found startling about Run, Lola, Run were its depictions of violence and love. I've gotten used the the 90s, American version of violence and love which is that these two things are passionate yet unimportant. The scene where Manni (the boyfriend) holds up the grocery store, shooting into the ceiling and ordering everyone onto the floor is very uncomfortable. I could feel that it was wrong and that it was very unfair. The way it was shot made me feel slightly off-balance and very wary of what might happen next.

    In the two scenes where we see Manni and Lola talking quietly in bed, we see a couple in love. For better or worse they have found each other and it makes them happy. We see Manni talk openly about his feelings and Lola feel a little confused about hers. And it's all silly and sweet and sad which is just the way it sometimes is to lovers. No one really cares about these conversations except the couples who have them. But, to them, they are vitally important. In American movies, the boy, when asked if he loves her, must either fall to his knees in an over-the-top display of unabashed emotion or he must refuse to say the word "love" and admit a weakness. To just say "yes" must seem awfully mundane to American writers and directors.

    Go find it in a theatre this weekend! Hurry! Now! Why are you still reading this? Go!

    And, now I'm off to a romantic interlude with my husband of one year. He sent me flowers at the office yesterday. Total surprise. Made my heart go thump, thump. Here's our engagement photo from last Summer. Our wedding photographer took it. T. has much nicer glasses now. I never did like these. My hair looks amazing in this photo since I had just had the world's best hairstylist do it. Why does this amazing goddess of hair have to live in Montana? Why not here?