happy holidays.

OK, one more post before 2014!

The last month of 2013 has been a whirlwind, hectic and hellish, as I'm sure it's been for many of you. The highlights--poking through mountains of work, holiday shopping and tending to certain health issues--have been my holiday card "photo shoot," and screenings of Oscar contenders at theaters all over Hollywood--the Director's Guild, the Paramount and Fox lots, etc. So much fun!

And I think it's a pretty good year for film. No 2007, mind you, but still some interesting choices. Let's take a look.

All beach photos by Gerald Olson. Except this one by me.

We had a fab time with the dogs on our Christmas photo shoot. We drove up to my "private beach," a Coastal Access just south of Point Mugu. The weather was gorgeous, the sky majestic, the day magical.

The infamous dinner scene begins.

Screening season kicked off with August: Osage County. I was very excited to see it after reading this review.

Mother Of God. This movie should have been called Two Divas Battling it Out for Another Oscar Without a Director in Sight. Give it five years, and August will joy the Gay Camp Pantheon, taking its place alongside Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and Mommie Dearest. I did enjoy how Julianne Nicholson quietly stole every scene from her co-stars and Juliette Lewis's light, humorous touch.

Is there a more beautiful sight?

Next up was Fruitvale Station, which actually came out over the summer. Dying to see this one, too.

I heart Michael B. Jordan. In pretty much anything.

Unfortunately, we were disappointed. Fruitvale Station is the kind of movie that has you sobbing at the end--mostly because you know it's based on a true story. Then you wake up in the morning and say "Wait just a minute," when you realize the entire film was a set-up designed to make you bawl your eyes out. I did love the Oakland setting, and Michael B. Jordan will always live in my heart as Wallace from The Wire--but not so much in this Wire wanna-be.

Merry Christmas from Malibu.

After a grueling beach photo shoot, it was time for lunch, so we decided to check out the new Malibu Farms, which opened a couple of months ago at the end of the Malibu pier.

So delicious! Local, farm fresh food with an ocean view--this is living, my friends. Next up at the movies? Inside Llewyn Davis. 

Now THIS was a film. Oh, Lord. The kind of experience that's just the opposite of Fruitvale Station. At the end, you're like "Well, that was nice...no No Country for Old Men...but nice." Initially I chalked it up to being one of Coen Brothers quieter, slighter films.

Oscar Isaac, I would follow you anywhere. Including to Chicago in a sub-zero winter.

And then I couldn't get the damn movie out of my head. The gorgeous cinematography, the period New York City details, the humor and the music, the stunning beauty of Oscar Isaac, the somewhat inscrutable John Goodman set piece. I’ll never forget this film. As if the Coen Brothers are lauded enough, this is my favorite of the season. So far.

While seeing Inside Llewyn Davis, Gerry and I thought it would be OK to bring Isabel over to play with Gerry's pups, Mason, Curious and Mio. However, while we were gone, Isabel somehow managed to escape the apartment--and make it all the way across congested Third Street to Beverly and La Jolla. A fun few hours that was. A kindly gardener found her hiding under some bushes, tied a big rope around her and called me, so it was all OK in the end.

But it was ironic, because a plotline in the movie included –SPOILERS AHEAD—the titular character losing a cat in Greenwich Village and it finding its way home on the Upper West Side.

“Oh, that only happens in the movies,” I said to Gerry. He replied, “Oh no, that can happen.” Gerry’s faith really got me through the harrowing experience that day. Within five minutes of realizing Isabel was gone, he had whipped up a flyer and posted a Lost Dog notice on Craigslist. And when I went out trolling the neighborhood looking for her, he had said a little prayer to find her. I went to sleep that night with my dog back in my arms, grateful to have a friend who had hope for me when I had none. 

I took a little break from the movies to actually attend real-live theater with my friend Vivian. We were excited to attend the opening season of the new Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts in Beverly Hills. Man, it was swank. The theater and the production were both gorgeous, while the play, while a bit slight, was charming.

Photo via latimes.com

Parfumerie is a lesser-known work by Hungarian playwright, Miklos Lazlos, that inspired the classic films The Shop Around the Corner and You’ve Got Mail (ugh—I just referred to that grammatical abomination as a classic film—shoot me). The sets were over the top, the lush period costumes matched them in color, the actors (Richard Schiff, Ayre Gross, Deborah Ann Woll) were A-list, and it was Christmas themed! Fun times. I can’t wait to go back in February for Noel Coward’s Brief Encounter.

Solomon Northrup plays a mean fiddle.

Moving on with movies. Last Saturday, Gerry and I attended 12 Years a Slave, which we were—understandably—hesitant to see. It was a difficult yet moving experience. The exquisite acting and filmmaking helped to (somewhat) alleviate the unrelenting brutality of the action. And though it seemed not so much about one man’s journey as about packing every horror of slavery into two hours, which had a desensitizing effect by the horrific climax, the performances of Chiwetel Ojiofor and Lupita Nyong'o kept the film grounded in humanity.

On the Fox lot.

While I’m not sure that 12 Years a Slave would get my vote for Best Picture this year, it definitely gets it for Best Actor And Best Supporting Actress. Academy? Pay attention here.

The other thing that happened on Saturday is that my grandma died, at 2:59 a.m., in her sleep, just a few blocks away from her home in Minneapolis. The breast cancer that had gone into remission had returned and metastasized throughout her body. The tumors in her lungs and brain finally sent her to sleep forever. 

 

On the one hand, I was somewhat relieved. She was 90 and who wants to live past then? Life becomes just someone chewing your food for you and changing your diaper.

But she wasn’t just my grandma. She was my soul sister, and I loved her dearly ever since I can remember her.

She was the true matriarch of the family, six feet tall and astoundingly beautiful, even in her golden years. She could be the life of the party, and she could be terrifying. For better or worse, she was a force of nature. She bore nine children, the last two twins (when she was my age—43 years old), one who was severely affected by Prater Willi Syndrome, 17 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

 

That’s all I really want to say here about a woman who really was like a walking Russian novel. There’s so much more to the story, but this is a blog for God’s sake. I write this all now on Christmas Day as I fly home for her funeral.

So, it's the first time I'm back home for Christmas in a long, long time. I'm looking forward to sharing lots of memories and little drama with my family--and maybe even seeing a few more movies.

That's all for now. I hope you have a fab holiday, and I'll see you in 2014!

weekend.

Hello, hello. It was a great weekend--even though it was so damn hot. And although it's a bit of a trek, I made it my mission to get to the beach.

On the way, I stopped for water, fruit and poop bags. Was excited to see all of this on display.

Boo! Kidding. Just saying "hey."

Up past Malibu to Point Mugu. Since it was already crowded by 11, we went a little farther north, and came upon this little cove.



We played in the water for a bit, and then drove back south, where we found another of the "Coastal Access" signs that dot the PCH, and another cove. A few other people seemed to have the same idea, but mostly we had the beach to ourselves. So, I let Isabel off the leash, and she went completely bananas.

A private beach--such luxury!

Here she comes!

There she goes!

She always comes back.

Also, this past week, I was reading about a so-called "hidden beach" in Malibu called Lechuza Beach. I had to find it. I did.

Unbelievable. So beautiful and perfect, a public beach off a private road surrounded by chic Malibu beach houses and barely anyone on it, while just a few hundreds yards to the south, Zuma was swarming.

SPOILER ALERT: Here's a little-known fact--and a very useful one if you're ever in Malibu: there are no private beaches in California. They are all public property. The residents of Malibu will go to great length to make you believe otherwise (and I actually like them for this), but if you see a PRIVATE sign on a beach, just stomp right past it. The world is your oyster.

Shhhhhh.

 The only bummer about Lechuza Beach? No dogs allowed. Boo.

We drove back home to the sizzling Valley through Topanga Canyon--always an interesting place, a kind of hippie holdover nestled in the hills. There was this guy selling hot sauce out of the back of his truck by the side of the road. He had set up all kinds of signs leading up to it, which made me laugh. It's all very Topanga. Also--I really like hot sauce, so I stopped and bought some.

Habaneros, ghost peppers, jalapenos AND serranos. No joke.

I go to the Farmer's Market every Sunday. But this was the first time I shopped at Sur La Table and Marcel Marceau. I discovered that I like fancy food and cooking stores.

Shopping. Like a boss. A foodie-type boss.

Lately, I've really been into making homemade soda, and I needed some serious supplies.

Grapefruit Rosemary and Watermelon Ginger sodas. 

My other obsession this summer? Actually every summer--gazpacho. I can't get enough of it. I've tried it with watermelon, radishes and in the version you see below--pineapple.

Pineapple gazpacho at Sage Vegan Bistro.

My current version is my favorite. My secret weapons? Tomatillos and serrano chiles.

Both Saturday and Sunday ended with beautiful sunsets in the Hollywood Hills.

Sigh. It was a good weekend. See you soon!

love summer.

In this edition of "love," we talk the joys of summer, many of which I experienced while my dad was in town this past weekend.

1. Love trying new vegan food. Sage--you always come out on top.

The perogies at Sage. God help me, they are delicious.

We also tried a new place in Highland Park--Cinnamon--although it's been around for awhile. Cinnamon is more of the old-school variety of veggie/vegan restaurants. My vegan posole came with a big heap of soy meat, which I don't care for. But the salads, the tostadas and the tamales were pretty good. Cinnamon will do in a pinch.

2. Love tomatoes.

A big pile o' heirloom tomatoes.

3. Love andirondack chairs. Check out these creations made of skateboards at the (new?) Caffe Vitta in Silverlake. Speaking of which, when did Uncle Jer's close? I always liked that place.

4. Love hikes in the Hollywood Hills. We referred to Charles Fleming's The Secret Stairs of Los Angeles, and explored a trail through Bronson Canyon.

Where do they lead?

Bougainvillea in orange and white tipped with pink. 

Spider web gates and heads perched on walls.

5. Love flowers, flowers everywhere.

A wall o' jasmine taller than me. Like living inside a scented candle.

6. Love taking Friday off and going to a museum.

So, I finally made it to the Kubrick exhibit at LACMA. I'm embarrassed it's take this long. The exhibit was inspiring--and overwhelming. A full history of his filmography, it was a tribute to Kubrick's obsessive research and attention to every detail of his film.

So many mementos and artifacts--where to even begin? I think my favorites were Saul Bass's poster designs for The Shining with Kubrick's comments on them and the correspondences between Stanley and Nabokov.

What was flabbergasting was that the most research Kubrick did was for a film about Napoleon that never made it to the screen.

Needless to say, it's time to catch up on the films I have yet to see: Barry Lyndon, Full Metal Jacket and yes, A Clockwork Orange. The last two always scared the bejeezus out of me. I really want to watch Eyes Wide Shut again. And check out the documentary, Room 237.

7. Love tacos.

Stopped by the new Guisados in Echo Park. So good. Arguably the best tacos in the city, but that's not saying anything new. No chips and salsa, because this is the real deal. But you don't really need them, because the tacos are made with thick masa shells.

8. Love sci-fi movies.

One word: Cumberbatch.

Saw Star Trek: Into Darkness. Sigh. Where do I start with this? J.J. Abrams is the master of the cinematic adrenaline rush, but Lord, I wish he would learn what a story is--and then read a couple. And experiment with some character development. That would be nice.

The heir apparent to Spielberg he is not, despite his desperate plea. But what's fascinating to me is that today's generation of filmmakers (and tomorrow's) have a life experience that has solely been formed by movies and television. Take a filmmaker like Tarantino, who has the self-awareness to understand this and infuse his art with it, along with healthy doses of creativity, imagination and individuality. Abrams demonstrates none of this in his work. Plus, there isn't a shred of the intellect or emotional resonance of the TV series. He makes a nod to it in the very beginning--and then seems to dispense it--with a smirk.

He's a star. And don't you forget it.

But Into Darkness is all about Cumberbatch, who is mesmerizing, despite being given so little to work with. Yes, he looks like an otter--or more accurately--an eel in a wig. And there was a comment strain on Gawker where it was posed he is "human cilantro"--either you want Cumberbatch in every movie ever made, or you cannot fathom why he is allowed on screen. There is no in-between.

I am all for the Cumberbatch, in case you haven't noticed. And I love cilantro, too.

9. Love pizza.

Pre-Star Trek, I was excited to try the new Stella Barra next door to the Arclight. It is excellent! I'm a bit loathe to include any write-up of a chain restaurant on the blog, but I have to admit, the Lettuce Entertain You places do a pretty good job, and they seem to allow some individuality between their different spots. I had to try it, because I've heard so much about Stella Rossa in Santa Monica. But driving to Santa Monica is like driving to Vegas.

We had the vegan Pizza Rossa, which was wonderful. However, a gluten-free option would be cool.

The extra-thin Pizza Rossa.

10. Love the ocean.

I've never been a big beach person, but I would like to change that this year. I think I may have mentioned that in my last post, but it's worth repeating. We headed up to Point Mugu at the Ventura County line, which is a bit of a long (but incredibly beautiful) trek. First we stopped for lunch at Neptune's Net.

This is a "I Can't Believe I've Never Been to..." place. It's delightfully tacky and crowded with leathery-skinned, tattoo-ed, dirty-ponytailed bikers and surfers. The reasons I am not a beach person. Snobby, but deal with it.

The food is ok.

Overrated. I would opt for this place instead.

Sycamore Cove at Point Mugu State Park was awesome. We went on a Monday, so there were only a few people (and dogs) there. Peaceful. My own dog has never seen the ocean, so it was an exciting rite of passage. The waves freaked her out, and she kept running away. I kept pulling her back towards them, and we both got soaking wet. Then she rolled around in the sand. Rinse, repeat--until she got the hang of it.

Aside from the distance, I could see myself becoming a regular here.

Not a bad way to spend a Monday.

As always, thank you for reading! I'll be back with more this week. xoL