love #5.

It's time for a new Love List. Let's take a look at what we are loving at TT&CF.

Love pho. There's a great article here on dineLA on where to find the good stuff--all but one are in the San Gabriel Valley. However, my friend Fran and I stumbled upon It's Pho! (love those crazy pho word plays) on Cahuenga in Hollywood, and it was very, very satisfying.

Photo by Clarissa Wei via dineLA

Love Viggo Mortensen and love Oscar Isaac. So, I'm LOSING MIND MY MIND that they are in a movie together--The Two Faces of January, based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith. You know it's going to be good.

I came across this article in the L.A. Times on literary film adaptions for 2014. In addition to January, I'm most looking forward to The November Man with Pierce Brosnan and John Le Carré's A Most Wanted Man with Philip Seymour Hoffman and Rachel Adams.

I love spy movies.

Viggo Mortensen, Oscar Isaac and Kirsten Dunst in Patricia Highsmith's 

"The Two Faces of January."

Love crazy neon signs. Check out this article on L.A. Curbed on this city's landmark signs. I was happy to see North Hollywood's scary booze clown made the cut.

Love, love, love the dresses of Plenty by Tracy Reese, found at ModCloth.

Love starting a new book--really excited about this one.

Love this photo of Neko Case looking baddass in what seems like skeleton leggings at Sasquatch! Festival 2014.

I'm still loving the haunting photography of Saul Leiter. Here is one more.

 
Love the Nashville home of Libby Callaway, featured on The Selby.


That's all for now, guys, but I'm coming back soon.

the master & the magician.

"The Master" is the new movie out this fall by Paul Thomas Anderson. I probably didn't have to tell you that. I was very excited to see it. Ever since "Boogie Nights" seared my soul, I always get excited to see a new PTA movie. And I'm always let down. "The Master" was no exception.

Don't get me wrong. There were some great elements to this film, but they just never came together as a fully realized and satisfying experience. It was too damn long, and every scene was overly drawn out with the the director's hyper-awareness of his film making technique, his artistry bloating the story rather than enhancing it.

The tale itself is only special in that it is (very) loosely based on the rise of L.Ron Hubbard, but this knowledge is more interesting than what actually plays out in the film. That, and the complex relationship between father/mentor and son/innocent that PTA is always exploring in his work. He's really got the dynamic down pat.

 
What I did appreciate about "The Master" were the performances. They were amazing. Joaquin Phoenix, who normally makes me so uncomfortable I can't even go into it, was riveting and captured the nature of the soldier adrift in society after World War II. And given the CoS influence, I couldn't help but draw some parallels to what we know about Tom Cruise and his beginnings with Scientology.

But the movie, of course, belongs to Philip Seymour Hoffman in the titular role. He has a blast with it, and if he didn't, I don't know if I could have sat through the whole film. You can tell Anderson gives Hoffman a lot of freedom with the part, and he runs with it, bringing just the right amount of scoundrel-ness (not a real word, I know) to the character. He's the opposite of Daniel Day-Lewis in "There Will Be Blood"--and every other film he takes himself so damn, damn, damn seriously in (I'm looking at you, "Lincoln" trailer).

I have a friend who played supporting roles in both "TWBB" and "The Master," and he reports that PTA is excellent with actors. I'm not trying to be all L.A. name-droppy and obnoxious. It's simply a fact. And it was one of the elements I appreciated about an otherwise forgettable film.



The other thing I thought was really cool was the final line uttered by Hoffman. SPOILER ALERT: "If you figure out a way to live without a master, any master, be sure to let the rest of us know, for you would be the first in the history of the world."

This, I have to admit, left me with chills. Because in one sentence, it sums up man's inherent search for God and how he attempts to fulfill it by worshiping other men (or ladies, if you will). At least, that's what it said to me.

Which leads me to...

The Magician by W. Somerset Maugham. I knew nothing of this book until I recently came across the title in something about Aleister Crowley. I was fascinated to learn that Maugham was inspired to write a novel after meeting (and detesting) the modern Prince of Darkness.

Again, The Magician isn't a terribly great work. The story is less than provocative, and the portrait Maugham paints of Crowley ("Oliver Haddo" in the book) is rather sophomoric. Haddo is grossly corpulent, foul and despicable--a caricature of evil. With his mysterious powers of "magick," he woos away the beautiful (bland) fiancée of a handsome young (blander) doctor to a gruesome (and absurd) end.

What is interesting about the novel is that even though Maugham attempts to dismiss Haddo as a grotesque freak, clearly he was affected enough by the figure of Crowley to not only write a novel about him, but grant the character the power to ruin the protagonists' lives (I'm not giving anything away).

It's well-documented that Maugham even plagiarized Crowley's writings in the book--which Aleister was all-too-delighted to point out in a newspaper editorial. The Magician didn't make me want to read more Crowley...but this did. And the fact that the Beatles put him on the cover of Sgt. Pepper's twice and that Jimmy Page bought his home and that Kenneth Anger was his disciple...and lots of other stuff make me want to read more Crowley. His books seem complex and arcane, and I think there's a lot more to his work than the stereotypical occult crap everyone attributes to him.

Even though I wasn't much a fan of this particular volume, I am looking forward to reading more of Maugham, crotchety old bastard that he was. I read Of Human Bondage in college, but it's definitely time to make another go-round of it. Also, Cakes and Ale. And for sure The Razor's Edge. And perhaps even The Painted Veil, as I adored the film version.

I was also intrigued to discover the Maugham wrote a handful of short stories about a spy named Ashenden. Have to check that out. I should be able to get around to all of this some time in the next 20 years.

But wait!



In the smattering of research I did for this blog entry, I was absolutely thrilled to learn there is a 1926 silent film version of The Magician. A must-see! For an overview, check out this article on one of my favorite blogs. There is also an interesting piece here.

Worshiping masters. Hypnotized by magicians. It all brings me back to my most favorite words:

"The passive master lent his hand to the vast soul that o'er him planned." --Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Problem.

spies.

So, it's awards season here in L.A. I guess the movies this year were ok--not great, not terrible. Here is my personal rundown of the Best Picture nominees: The Artist--very lovely. I think it will win, as it was both artistic and heart-warming.

The Descendants--good performances, but ultimately a well-done Lifetime for Women flick.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close--I absolutely refuse to see this, and cannot even talk about it.

The Help--I refuse to see this, too, but I do love both Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer and hope they win.

Midnight in Paris, Moneyball and Tree of Life--I have to get my hands on screeners of all of these. Hugo--meh. War Horse--no.

OK, moving along. What I really want to talk about and what made the 2011 awards movie season memorable for me was...spy flicks. I always used to find them tedious and dull, but no more. I'm all about the spy movie, and there are three reasons why: MI4, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and Haywire.

Like most of the 6 billion people on the planet, I was completely done with Tom Cruise and had ceased watching the MI franchise long ago. However, the rave reviews and the promise of Incredibles director Brad Bird intrigued me, and I went and saw it on Christmas Day.

I absolutely loved it! Loved the tongue-in-cheekiness of it, from the silly "madman with a nuclear weapon" MacGuffin of a plot to the opening scene where the team breaks into the Kremlin ("The Kremlin?") to all the classic MI gadgetry and inventions--a lot of which I found really brilliant.

After then entire Dubai sequence--which could have been a movie in itself--the sold-out crowd in the Cinerama Dome burst into applause. I don't think I've heard a live movie audience cheer an action scene.

Most of all, I loved seeing Tom back to his cool-as-a-cucumber, pre-couch jumping, pre-bat shit crazy self, when he was still repped by Pat Kingsley, and everyone could agree he was the most perfectly engineered movie star in history and possibly a machine created by special effects magicians somewhere deep in the wilds of Burbank.

I drink the Kool-Aid again.

The next spy flick I loved was Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I was also excited for this one when I heard it was helmed by Let the Right One In director, Tomas Alfredson. Plus, I had never seen the British miniseries. Actually, I might have, because it was the kind of thing my parents would have watched, and would have made my eyes glaze over with boredom, dying to change the channel to something like Josie and the Pussycats--but I don't have any memory of it.

This is one of those movies that is s......l......o......w. Wow. The first hour was almost inscrutable, and my friend even turned to me at one point and said, "Do you want to go?" But I knew I had to stick with it. If nothing else for the fact that I had paid $16 to see the damn thing, and it was the first movie I was seeing in the Cinerama Dome.

But I was glad I did. When I realized the filmmaker was in utter control of the pace and pieces of the puzzle slowly linking together, I was like, "Man, that is craftsmanship." But the great thing about TTSS was that it serves as a complete antidote to a spy film like MI4. Actually, it's the antidote to every silly spy film ever made. It really illustrates how grimy, depressing and empty the life of the spy is--especially in the Cold War Era in which it takes places. The older dudes who pull all the strings are totally devoid of any personality or morality--or any life, for that matter. And the young spies, while still full of fire, are just desperate to get out of the game alive.

I thought it was all an interesting comment, not only on the spy business, but the institution of the corporation.

And this just completely kicked ass. Pun intended.


So, being on this new spy kick, I'm very excited to read this book. As the 4 or 5 of you who read this blog know, I'm a complete sucker for hip jacket designs.

I also plan to check out some of the classic spy films: The Spy Who Came In from the Cold, The Ipcess File, The 39 Steps, The Tailor of Panama and maybe some of the older Bond films. Maybe. They should tide me over as I anxiously await the new Bourne Legacy in August!

If you have any other suggestions for reads/flicks, please let me know! xoL

book vs. film: the wings of the dove.

The Portrait of a Lady + 600,000 extra words = the novel The Wings of the Dove.


The novel The Wings of the Dove - 800,000 words + 100's of shimmering, velvety blue dresses + one intense performance by Helena Bonham Carter that elevates it above melodrama = the film The Wings of the Dove.

toledo.

I'm a little late with this (what else is new), but towards the end of 2010, Penguin released three more editions of classic novels with amazing covers by fashion illustrator, Ruben Toledo. The series is now called "Couture Classics." I love them--the books and the covers.


I just read Dorian Gray last year and watched the movie again. It's one of those movies that I always remember being on when I was a kid, and it was so spooky and disturbing. Watching it as an adult, it was actually a little cartoon-ish, but it does feature a very young and very ravishing Angela Lansbury. The story is pretty incredible, though. Why did I always think it was about a man who doesn't want to get older? Maybe that was just my impression as a kid. But it's completely a Jungian tale, about a man who's in total denial of his Shadow, and in the end it destroys his life. Which is much more interesting than reading about some eternal man-boy.


I also discover a new blog, Caustic Cover Critic, which is all about book design. Check it out, people.

dragon books.

Last week, I saw an ad on Flavorpill for a signing of a new book called John Belushi is Dead at a place called Dragon Books. I have to admit I was about 30% intrigued by the book and 70% by an LA book store I had never heard of, in a truly unexpected location--nestled in the Bel-Air Canyon, just off Beverly Glen Road.

I couldn't resist. I had to check it out. what I found was the most gorgeous book store that specializes in rare and first editions. A first edition of Moby Dick goes for a cool $39,000, and a first edition of Tender is the Night is a bargain at $35,000. But the walls were lined, top to bottom, with interesting used volumes in the price range of your average Jane (me).

Who knew there was a place like this buried deep in the wilderness of Los Angeles? Not me.

The book being celebrated did interest me, and I bought a copy and had it signed by its pretty, bubbly Australian author, Kathy Charles. I can't wait to start it--it seems like a kind of offbeat beach read. And I overheard Kathy telling another patron that she was rejected by 18 publishers before the book was finally sold (yikes!). Go on, girl.

And I snapped up this one, mostly because I really enjoyed the cover art. And because I've never read Mencken, and I thought this might be a good place to start.

tattoos.

The last time I was at Skylight Books, I saw these great book covers--no surprise they were by Penguin Books. They are a part of a special series celebrating the company's 75th anniversary and are designed by real tattoo artists across the country. Very Sailor Jerry in feel. The made me think of...

ruben toledo.

...the Penguin covers by artist Ruben Toledo did for the Penguin editions of Pride & Prejudice, Wuthering Heights and The Scarlet Letter. Which reminded me of...

book sculptures.

...the work of local artist Mike Stilkey, which I discovered on the Juxtapoz site. The Toledo covers and Stilkey's work have what I feel is a real Tim Burton-esque feel--elongated figures with spooky cartoon faces. But Stilkey's work is super amazing, because it's done on stacks of books. I found this unbelievably cool.

classics.

File under: web sites to get lost in all day long. New York Review Books publishes collections of lost and rediscovered books--all different kinds--classics, mysteries, children's books, non-fiction, new translations. Pretty much everything, some stuff you've heard of, but most of it you haven't. It's fascinating to go to the site and just browse the eclectic array of titles. The ones that really caught my eye were these lesser-known volumes by one of my favs, Henry James.

Now, you know how much a fan I am of musty old books that get all spiffied up with slick graphic design. But I think these are also really interesting examples of how powerful those designs can be.

Do these look like stories of goofy, naive Americans trying to get all chummy with a bunch of stuffy Brits? No 'effin way. These are tales of twisted passsions and Turn of the Screw-esque madness. Which is what James is all about to me. That's why I hate those dammed literary badasses who start their novels off with a heroin-snorting, prositute-screwing bang! I like to dig a little deeper for my darkness. It's much more interesting. I'll take James over this guy and Wharton over this guy any day of the week.

However.
I was also interested in this book, too, because God knows, I'm all about the noir. Going to see if it's at Borders right now, and if not, I'll just order from Amazon. Stay tuned for a future edition of "From Book to Film."

52 stories.

As I mentioned before, I recently popped in Skylight Books on Vermont, and was delighted to find these volumes of short stories by some of great masters with bangin' new covers. This always excites me, so I had to check out this site fiftytwostories.com. What I found was an "experiment in social engineering" by Harper Perennial that is now in its second year. The site features a short story by a modern author--usually it seems like one Harper is trying to promote--but they do encourage readers to send in their own stories, too. A collection of books featured not only the above titles, but volumes by new authors and even anthologies based on the works of two excellent bands, Noise: Fiction Inspired by Sonic Youth and Please: Fiction Inspired by The Smiths.


I browsed the site, and it left me with some mixed feelings. On the one hand, I'm fascinated by social marketing and how it will develop in the coming decade. I actually think it's rather great that companies are interested in establishing relationships and dialogues with their clientele. And while this doesn't get me excited about conversing with the peeps at J. Crew or Forever 21, I love the implications it has in music and literature.


And ok, I can dig a short story a week. I certainly do in the New Yorker. But those on the site left me a little cold. While I understand the importance of a powerful first sentence, the ones currently featured seem mostly intent on shocking the reader. And that always bugs me. This week's entry, Adults at Home by Marcy Dermansky, begins "The afternoon my little sister won her first U.S. Open, I was having strenuous sex with David Solemn, I man I met earlier that morning at Dunkin' Donuts." When the words "Dunkin' Donuts" don't encourage you to read on, something's wrong.

And as much as I love Sonic Youth, I really, really don't want to read stories inspired by their music. That's just silly. But I can still appreciate HP's take on promoting new authors. Each of the classic volumes feature a modern work at the end. Still, I think I prefer to read books by dead people. All dressed up in new covers with hot graphic design.

mystery.

You know what I love? A good mystery book store. You want to know why? I'll tell you.

Last year some time, I was getting a pedicure and leafing through People magazine, I came upon a review for a new mystery described as "Murder She Wrote set in Canada." Holy crap! I said. I have to remember this and buy it for my sister's birthday. My sister is a die-hard MSW aficionado, and even wrote a critical essay on it for her Master's in Non-Fiction Writing. It was both brilliant and hilarious.

Of course, by the end of the pedicure, I had forgotten about it, as I have the attention span of the average two-year-old, and the name of the author, the book and the edition of People were all lost forever.

One day while at Border's, although I knew it was a lost cause, I thought I would ask the salesgirl, "if I asked you to help me find a mystery and the only thing I know about it is that it's like Murder She Wrote set in Canada, would you have the the faintest clue (ha! pun) what I was talking about?"

Her look said it all. It said "no, you f***ing idiot, I wouldn't. How the hell I am supposed to help you with that?"

So, I shot her a look back, the "I said I didn't expect you to have the faintest clue as to what I was talking about. Don't look at me like that."

I gave up on what I thought would be such a sassy gift for my sis. Until the other day. I jetted over to Westwood for Jung's Red Book exhibit at the Hammer (more on that to come), and I happened upon The Mystery Book Store. I remembered my old dilemma, and thought I'd see if they could help me out.

And guess what? As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the kind people there just said, "oh yeah, that's Louise Penny," and instantly produced it on the spot. So I bought it (in hardback) and gave them a little write-up on my blog that maybe seven or eight people read.

That's why I love a good mystery book store.

Er...Maggie, I'll get you something else, too. Something that will actually be a surprise.

from book to film: shutter island.

I read Shutter Island a couple of years ago. As is the case with most mysteries, I really enjoyed it until the end. I think it was the same with both Mystic River (read before the movie) and Gone Baby Gone (read after the movie).

I like Lehane. He’s more than a capable mystery writer; he brings that certain rare literary quality to his brand of Boston noir, which I find gripping and authentic. His books suffer the same as many other mysteries—they tend to collapse at the end. But I forgive him this, and I think I‘ve talked about this with other authors. I have no issue with being along for the ride, even if the ultimate destination is disappointing.

But the ending of Shutter Island was—and I was to explain this briefly without any spoilers—so patently ludicrous, on top of which he piled on the most absurd moralizing and pontificating about a subject with which he clearly had no credibility, that I actually found it unforgivable. He ruined a wonderfully spooky, Gothic locked door mystery. As they say up in Beantown, it was “re-tahded.”

But, when I heard the movie version was going to be directed by Scorsese and starring Leo and Mark Ruffalo, I was in. You had me at “Ruffalo”. I was a little wary, because the reviews I read had either deemed it fantastic or awful. But I went with the A.V. Club’s A- rating and bought my $14.50 Arclight ticket.

And I liked it! I thought it was a pretty great film. And it perfectly illustrated my case, that the book is not always better than the movie. Sometimes the latter is far superior. I don’t know if there’s a genre called High Art Pulp, but there should be and Shutter Island, the movie, was a fine example of it.

Here’s what I dug: 1. It was almost like a horror movie, but had enough of a story to keep it from being gross. 2. The soundtrack compiled by Robbie Robertson featured 20th century composers like Penderecki and Morton Feldman, and yet you felt like the music was composed specifically for the film. 3. Mark Ruffalo is ridiculously hot and an interesting actor, and 4. Leo really blew me away. He’s really matured into a powerful screen presence.

So that’s it. I really enjoyed it. Shutter Island the book: eh. Shutter Island the film: nice.

p.s. I hated The Departed. I thought it totally blew.