Wars
76 years ago today allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy, sounding the death knell for Nazi evil. Thousands of miles from home, many would never return to their beloved. The world will never repay the debt owed those brave men.
2019 seemed a banner year for movies, at least those nominated for an Oscar. I’ve now seen four of the nine: the winner, Parasite; Once Upon a Time in Hollywood; Jojo Rabbit; and 1917, which I watched last night courtesy of Netflix. Of the remaining five, I’m interested only in Joker. 1917 is far different from what I’d expected — trench warfare carnage depicted graphically in the way of modern films such as Saving Private Ryan (1998) and Enemy at the Gates (2001). The story is simple and plays like an adventure, an odyssey. Two corporals are dispatched with a message that a battle must not be engaged, as it is a trap that will lead to the slaughter of the 1600 soldier assault group. Director Sam Mendes co-wrote the screenplay with Krysty Wilson-Cairns, inspired by fragments of stories from Mendes’ grandfather, who served as a runner — a messenger — for the British on the Western Front. I view it as a work of complete fiction — a darn good one, filled with suspense and excitement. The cinematography is spectacular. It earned Roger Deakins an Academy Award. Shot in southwestern England, the sets are phenomenal. Dean-Charles Chapman and George MacKay are endearing in the leads. Nominated for ten Oscars, it won three, for sound and visual effects as well as the aforementioned. Made on a budget on $95 million, it returned $368 million worldwide. 322,000+ users at IMDb have rated 1917, forging to a consensus of 8.3 on a scale of ten. It has far less violence than many flicks these days. Mendes has directed only ten films. He seems more interested in producing, where he has 16 credits. Of his previous efforts, I really enjoyed Skyfall (2012) and Road to Perdition (2002), which contains one of my all-time favorite lines, delivered by Paul Newman’s character, a Irish mobster: “This is the life we chose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven.” (Screenplay by David Self.) I did not like Mendes’ most celebrated work, American Beauty (1999), for which he won the Oscar for Best Director. Here are the leads of 1917 in character, MacKay left:
I’ve completed another pass through the novella I will soon self-publish. It’s grown to almost 24,000 words, still in the neighborhood of an hour’s read. I found a place in it for another of my fond memories. While the co-protagonist is losing consciousness, he recalls happy instances of his life. One day, I’d guess I was in my early teens, Lorraine Petrillo, who lived three doors down from me, shoved me into a muddy garden that had no fence. My right hand landed in a mound of dog doo softened by rain. Needless to say, I was pissed, ran after her, and smeared the shit on the back of her jacket as our friends laughed. I wonder what happened to her. I would love to learn about her life’s journey.
This woman, 62, is a physical fitness nut:
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