Girls on Film

A good heroine can make a movie feel like a snapshot from a moment in your own life.  Think of the time when you almost got the guy, when you gave that rousing speech, or how you felt when you misspelled the word "exercise" at your local spelling bee during the final round of competition. (That was me, 3rd grade.) Movie heroines can inspire us, make us laugh, and help us recover from any number of wounds that life may dole out.  Here are a few of my favorites.

Photo Courtesy of http://cogerson.hubpages.com

Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor of Aquitaine "The Lion in Winter."
"It's 1183 and we're barbarians."
Oh, Kate. I could watch her for hours. Even when her voice started to shake and she was a caricature of herself, I loved her.  This movie, in my opinion, is her penultimate achievement; the only other movie close to surpassing it during her career was "The Philadelphia Story."  She delivers her famous monologue with a fervor and passion that makes me want to smack a table or something. Hard. As the estranged and imprisoned Queen, she shows us a dignified and conflicted figure that has been broken, rejected, yet still remains regal.  That's what we all want to be after a breakup, ladies.

                                       Photo Courtesy of http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/

Elizabeth Taylor as "Cleopatra"
This movie is ridiculous. From the hoards of warring Romans and the decadent excess and pageantry of ancient Egypt, this movie is a cinematic Titanic that almost sank 20th Century Fox. This is the most expensive movie ever made.  And then there is Liz. The chemistry between she and Richard Burton makes Brad and Angelina look like kindergarten sweethearts. The sight of her creamy skin, black hair, and flashing eyes as she lounges about in pure seduction-mode would bring the strongest man to his knees. Well...actually it did, if you check your history books,(as well as the tabloids, in Liz's case). Ladies, you are lying to yourselves if you don't want to be that for your man.  Remarkably accurate, this is one of the best, and longest, films I have ever seen.

                                                Photo courtesy of http://www.listal.com/


Thora Birch as Enid, "Ghost World."
"I just hate all these extroverted, obnoxious,  pseudo-bohemian losers."
In complete contrast to la Liz, we have fragile and socially awkward Enid. She can be thorny -  her attitude is her protection in a world where she feels like an outsider. This was me; so much so that when I first saw this movie, I wanted to do a little sprint through my living room and high-five myself.  Finally, someone got me, us; all of us sarcastic, creative, shy and quirky girls. From her love of vintage clothing (before it was cool), blues records, old movies, and self-deprecation, Enid is a jaded Gen-X girl to her core. Sensitively and ironically, she is allowed to develop and explore within her movie world.  I wanted to find Steve Buscemi a date and jump on a bus to anywhere, too.  If you were a homecoming queen, you'll probably think Enid's a raging bitch.

Anne Bancroft, Mrs. Robinson, "The Graduate."
"May I ask you a question? What do you think of me?" Ah, Mrs. Robinson: the original cougar. Anne Bancroft is luminous, as well as hilarious in this movie. Plus her hair, her clothes, her throaty laugh...perfection. She explores the dichotomy between confidence and the vulnerability of being an aging beauty. Oh, and  Dustin Hoffman is adorably awkward.  Every woman still wants to know they've got it; even if they have a lifetime membership to Betty Ford.

                                     Photo Courtesy of http://larkabout.wordpress.com/

Audrey Hepburn, Princess Ann, "Roman Holiday."
While most of her fans love "Breakfast at Tiffany's", this is my favorite Audrey film. It is the sterotypical girly movie, with sweet clothes, romantic strolls, and scooters. Scooters and Italy go hand in hand, no? I love the scene when she takes her shoes off during the ball.  Gregory Peck is a perfect gentleman in this movie, and sweeps Ann off her feet. This is an all-around feel good chick flick for those days when you're PMS-ing and want to be transported by chocolate, carbs,  and frothy cappuccinos.

                             Photo courtesy of  http://themoviemistress.blogspot.com

Cate Blanchett, Queen Elizabeth, "Elizabeth", and "Elizabeth:The Golden Age."
 Wow. These movies are epic. True, there are some liberties taken, but both movies are tastefully done, and I believe they honor the greatest Queen in world history. Elizabeth's story was always my favorite; the daughter of a misogynist King and his unfortunate paramour, she rose from a civil war, near-execution, and assassination attempts to become England's most respected ruler. This woman was feminism incarnate - way back in the 16th century, when most women couldn't even read. Ms. Blanchett is spectacular. The scene in the second movie where she rallies her troops in full armor is breathtaking.  You'll want a sword and a steed. This movie is a must-see for every woman, and as a redhead, Elizabeth is our unequivocal mascot.

A Place Called C-Street

It's 8:45 in the morning. Frank is sweeping again, whisking his corn-broom across the sidewalk in front of our business, removing the gingko leaves that have gathered there. With the smile never leaving his aged, creased face, he places them in the trash-bag looped at his side. Frank, to many people, looks homeless. He's not, actually. Sure, he may live at our area shelter, which houses mostly women and children, but he does so of his own free will. Frank has a calling. This street is his home, and he takes his job very seriously, even though it pays nothing, and most people don't even know his name or the fact that he got a fancy medal from the President of the United States. He's OK with that. He isn't looking for praise. He just does what he does.

That's something that we have in common here on C-street. There's just something about this place that has drawn all of us here. It's the smell of warm coffee wafting from Big Momma's, where Joe is waiting to greet you with a friendly smirk and a careless flop of graying hair. It's Christine, with her funky wardrobe, and her colorful sculpture garden.  It's Connie, walking her tiny poodle, Lily-Belle on a crisp morning, never too busy to give you a hug and a smile.  It's Stacey, with a gleam in her eye, and her raspy voice, spinning dough at Pizza House while she makes small-talk with her customers. Cash only, please.

It's Tom and Gary, purveyors of catfish and crystal, who may be known to dress as pharaohs on occasion, and who we lovingly call "The Boys." It's Anne tending bar at Ruthie's, slinging drinks and tucking her wheat-blonde hair behind her ear. She's also an artist.  It's Donnie, showing up every week for the merchant meeting, answering endless questions, and hardly ever getting the recognition he deserves. And we can't forget Dock and Eric, doing a perfect pour of Guinness at Lindberg's while a rockabilly band clamors on the stage behind them. This street is rough and ready,  yet elegant at the same time. It is an avenue of railroad barons, hopes, and dreams; some of them lofty, some of them no more ambitious than creating a perfect coiffure on an overworked mother, who FINALLY has a date night with her husband.  It's important work, all of it.

The buildings sing their songs of a golden age, before urban blight and a surly reputation started to plague them. Sure, we've had our rough days.  Days when you were afraid to say you lived on Commercial Street, and your parents gave you a certain look when you mentioned going there. Those days are gone, now. A generation of upstart entrepreneurs have decided to take matters into their own hands. On any given day, cranes lower their towering heads, depositing building materials on top of structures which at some point in history have been speakeasies, elegant department stores, and movie theaters. Now, they are becoming boutiques, restaurants, and art galleries. The facades spring to life with vibrant, historic colors. Some have glass tiles that Frank Lloyd Wright designed. There are layers of history within each wall.

Our dedicated police officer is our Andy Griffith - everyone knows him by name, and he's never too busy to answer an email or phone call. He knows that people sometimes see only the empty buildings (which are quickly becoming obsolete, and now full with tenants) and the rare drunk.  Never mind the fact that other parts of Springfield have many more problems - something he reiterates to anyone who will ask.  During the biggest street party of the year,  six officers were assigned to work the event. Five of them went to other areas of town within the first two hours. Why? There were no issues for them to correct.

There are the students and church groups who pick up trash, and the volunteers who run the C-Street Market. There is fresh produce and fresh music every Saturday in the spring and summer. For every negative perception, there are a thousand positive things happening at any given moment. Each day, we prove the naysayers wrong. Our business has done nothing but grow since we came here - the same can be said of many of the other establishments that line the street. 

It's so incredibly exciting to be a part of it all. Almost two years ago, when my  partner and I went into business, we looked at several locations. C-Street was the first. Like a bride choosing her wedding dress, we just "knew", but we kept looking anyway. All were below par compared to 320. It was us - the energy, the flaking plaster, the honeycomb tile. We set upon shopping for antiques and Victorian mish-mash to decorate our space. It was exhilarating. And we hadn't even met the community yet.

We were the new kids on the block. They were patient with us - listening to our ideas about ways to promote and get people excited about the district. We had no idea what we were getting into, not really. We made mistakes and we learned. We bit off more than we could chew at times, and they were there to help us muddle through. I have NEVER met a group of more supportive and kind people. When we were running dead sprints down C-Street during our first Mardi Gras, my mermaid costume in tatters, and my partner wobbling on top of a rickety scaffolding, throwing beads at the crowd, I realized something. This was it; this was what we had always needed. This was belonging and acceptance, and we were no longer just a pair of goofy hairstylists. We were part of an amazing collective of people who may not look alike on the outside, but inside we're pretty much the same.

Most of us have been underdogs. Most of us came from challenging backgrounds that we have overcome. Many of us are survivors of various things, and all of us have this sometimes irrational moxie that pushes us to keep going. We've faced media onslaughts and erroneous journalism. We've shown people that there is more than one "side" of Springfield. We've scraped, spackled, and painted over a thousand misconceptions - but we still have work to do.  We rally and we fight when we have to, but we're not so scary. We're friendly and we draw people to us,  if they'll just give us a chance. They seldom regret it.

Frank finishes sweeping, and taps the broom on the sidewalk with a satisfied look. The leaves are safely in their place, and he continues down the block, tidying up the place that he loves. He may be an arthritic steward, but he has majesty in his swinging gait. All of us are Franks, in our way. And when we are gone, others will take our place. C-Street will remain. It is as indomitable as the human spirit.

(All photos courtesy of www.itsalldowntown.com)

My Apocalyptic Playlist

You know how people always ask you what your favorite band is? That's a tough one for me; I have many. Music is extremely important to me. Sometimes, I catch myself driving down the road without the stereo on. I feel like I just got caught naked in a rainstorm when that happens, with nothing but ugly galoshes on. That's how much music is entwined with my being. I'm a musician...I come from a family of musicians.  Music is my church - it makes me feel things I don't feel otherwise.

So, here is my Apocalyptic Playlist. If the zombies are coming for me, these are the albums you'll find on my iPod when the end comes. It's diverse, kind of schizophrenic, and maybe surprising. This isn't an exhaustive list, but with my ADD, these are the ones that come to mind during this little paddle down my stream-of-consciousness.

1.  Johnny Cash - "The Essential Johnny Cash."
If you don't like Johnny Cash, you are probably not human, and you definitely don't have ears. Here is musical nirvana.  This simple Southern sharecropper paved the way for every punk band who walked through the doors of the CBGB, who created a musical alchemy so intrinsically American that even the most jaded rock star gives him homage. This is the sound of a train cutting across the prairie, of a gospel choir of women with skin the color of molasses breaking their backs in a cotton field. This is taking all of your hopes, your angst, your passions and sending them into the belly of a flat-top box called a Martin guitar.  There is only one Cash.

2. Coldplay - "A Rush of Blood to the Head."
I don't care what Pitchfork says. I don't care if the hipsters roll their eyes when I say I love Coldplay.
This music is epic, it is grandiose, and it is a complete architecture of sound.  "Politik" could have been written by Mozart, but I really think even he could not have done as good of a job as Chris Martin and crew. That bridge takes my breath away.  The counterpoint and structure is pristine, the range of emotion is complex and achingly human in this album. "The Scientist" is a requiem for lost love unlike any other I have heard.  If you don't agree, that's fine.

3. Jimi Hendrix - "Blues"
It's too bad that Jimi never lived to see this album released. This is roots music. This is the Delta; this is a sexy, hot mess on the banks of the Mississippi river.  Sometimes people forget that Jimi was intrinsically a blues man. He wanted to get back to that - it's what he loved. People made fun of that in the 60s sometimes. They wanted the blur, the distortion, the pedals. Jimi gave that to them, but in his free time, he stripped it down to the I, IV, V. That's where it started, you see. Rock and Roll began with little old men with names like Muddy Waters and Bo Diddley, with voices like dried out husks of corn, and no other beat than the stomp of their feet on a wide-planked porch.

4. J.S. Bach - "Complete Organ Works. Ton Koopman."
Here is majesty, here is fire, here is anger and fear. With mathematical precision, Bach composed the penultimate opus to the pipe organ. No one did high-church music like Bach did. As kapellmeister for the duke of Saxe-Weimar, Bach composed this soaring legacy during his 9 year residency. When I walked into Saint Patrick's Cathedral in New York, his fugue in D-minor blasted my sister and I as soon as we cleared the threshold. I felt it rumble through every bone and muscle in my body.  I almost hit my knees, and tears sprang to my eyes. That is power, folks.

5. Amy Winehouse - "Back to Black."
Too many of our great musical talents die young.  Miss Winehouse was one of those that I felt in my marrow - here was an old soul. Tortured? Naturally. Her music sounded as if Etta James and Rosemary Clooney had somehow simultaneously birthed a skinny, scrappy white girl with pipes the size of an ocean liner. The beehive and liner just added to her appeal. The title track...yeah, I've been there.  This is the gritty underpinnings of mad love, dangerous love, in a classy package that you can play for your friends over cocktails.

6. Frederic Chopin - "The Nocturnes(Claudio Arrau)"
As a pianist, Chopin is a watermark. The ability to play the Romantic composers well within the repertoire is considered the true test of technical AND interpretive ability. There is a trap in the Romantic era, you see. Composers played fast and loose with time signatures, dynamics, and molto, molto rubato. That's music geek-speak for play it with emotion and grand passion, take some liberties, but don't you dare forget your roots. There is a comfort in the structure of the Classical and Baroque - you know what to expect. Chopin's era was the period when pianists were true performers - working their audiences into a frenzy with show-stopping displays of prowess and drama. They played impromptu interludes and codas - some say it was the beginnings of jazz, way back in 1840. Chopin's nocturnes are fever-dreams; beautiful nightmares for a pianist. They look ever so simple on the page, but they are anything but. Arrau does them justice, as he does with Rachmaninoff and Liszt. He was my idol as a fledgling pianist - I could never dream of coming close.

7. The Rolling Stones:"Hot Rocks 1964-1971."
The Stones are my guilty pleasure. I love them. They are the perfect antidote to fluffy Beatles optimism (not that I don't like the Beatles, but they don't cut it when you're pissed,  such as when you're trying to survive an apocalypse). "Sympathy For the Devil" and "Paint it Black" are on my all-time favorites list for well, all-time.  I like to think that "Get Off of My Cloud" will be playing when I pick off zombies with my shotgun from my roof.  Fitting, no?

8. Flogging Molly: "Alive Behind the Green Door."
This is where it started for Davy King and crew - at Molly Malone's in LA, making little to nothing, playing for a crowd that included pierced punk kids and middle-class linemen. This is pub music, with a hefty dose of Johnny Cash, and a whole lot of spitfire, Irish moxie. You can hear the crowd roar when "Black Friday Rule" begins - a love song from an immigrant who came to the USA from a torn Ireland, to face earthquakes and skyscrapers, and build a new life. I have seen them live, and they are amazing. This is the music of my ancestors, with a shot of whiskey-soaked adrenaline.

I'm tired, otherwise, I'd make it to 10. I could go on for much, much longer. There's Mozart's "Die Zauberflote," Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Professor Longhair, and Beethoven. There's Cake, and Dolly, Led Zeppelin, Loretta Lynn and Jack White. There are too many to name. But if I had to narrow it down, these are the albums I want to hear before the Mayan calendar grinds to a halt.  Happy Apocalypse. May you have many of YOUR favorites on your final playlist. You have a few months left - get busy.