Last night I finally got around to watching The Artist (2011), courtesy of Netflix. I was wary, sensing that the making of a silent film these days was merely a gimmick, although it received ten Academy Award nominations and won five: Picture, Director, Actor, Score, Costume Design; and was on most top ten lists, frequently at number one. Well, I didn’t fall asleep, which I’ve done during just about every silent film I’ve ever attempted to watch, but I found it no more than nice. I love the sound and fury of life, even when it signifies nothing, to paraphrase Shakespeare. To remove that element seems a handicap. Why not use such a wonderful gift? The film is an homage to movies. The storyline is familiar, sharing elements with two classics: Singin’ in the Rain (1952) and A Star Is Born (1937, 1954, 1976). Although Jean Dujardin is excellent as the male lead, I found Berenice Bejo absolutely charming. To my eyes, she resembles the young Bianca Jagger, with tons more zest and personality. I was disappointed in not hearing her speak, which seems ironic in that her character becomes a sensation just as talkies are taking over the movie business. France contributed greatly to the film. In addition to the co-stars, the director was Michael Hazanavicius, his tenth stint at the helm. There are several familiar faces in the supporting cast: John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller and Ed Lauter, who I was surprised is still working. The perfect “average” man, he has amassed 199 credits, the first on TV series Mannix in 1971. The Artist is rated 8.1 out of ten at IMDb. I am not as enthusiastic. On a scale of five, three. Don’t hate me. I would be remiss in not mentioning that a cute dog logs considerable screen time. Ruff, ruff.
For the first time in months I set up shop at 24th Avenue and 86th Street. Several people browsed my wares but no one made a purchase. One young man seemed on the point of buying Killing, and backed off. Frustration elicited a four-letter word from me when he was out of earshot. It looked like a disappointing session until a woman I haven't seen in a couple of years happened by. I met her about ten years ago, when I first began selling Close to the Edge on the street, at the 18th Avenue Street Fair. While her husband, son and daughter explored the booths, she stood beside me lending moral support. I'm ashamed I've forgotten her name. I'd see her every now and then through the years. She asked what had happened to me, and I told her that the police no longer allow peddlers on certain parts of 86th Street or Kings Highway. She's been through a tough period, a bout with breast cancer and trouble with her daughter, who's now a senior in high school. The kid fell in love with a Russian boy, and when things fell apart she became the victim of such vicious bullying that she had to transfer in April. She has taken up writing and even won a poetry contest. She's writing a book about about the hell she went through. It seems like something publishers would love to have these days.
Vinnie's family has owned the huge property that spans the entire space between 24th Avenue and Bay 37th Street at 86th Street. It is currently occupied by a discount store, an Albanian restaurant, and Dolphin Gym, which my friend Andrew owns. In the late 50's and 60's, when the main section was a Rollerama, there would be wrestling cards there every now and then. I devoted a brief passage to it in a short story, Defining Moment, which is part of A Hitch in Twilight. Today I showed the paragraph to Vinnie, hoping he would recommend the book to his daughter, who has a Kindle. He did even better, purchasing it. Thank you, sir.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3
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