'In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day' ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
* Fourteen streams of light — one for each of the victims — illuminated the sky from Mount-Royal in remembrance of the women massacred December 6, 1989 @ École Polytechnique
* photo by Ryan Remiorz @ Canadian Press '2018
± Namaste ±
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
Friday, December 7, 2018
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Winter Solstice @ Fiorellino Observations
Ladies & Gentlemen,
'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.' ~ William Butler Yeats
It's been a while... The evolutionary cycle, always moving forward, has cast its replenishment. Life has a way of turning things around when we least expect it... and sometimes that's a good thing. Proof is the latest coming together of similar souls in pursuit of a moment among a cortege of moments. Everything about this latest soirée felt new ... location, food, the feel of the neighborhood. I have been doing this for a long time, and this evening brought a nuance of emboldened sensation. Once again, the evening was a fabulous chef-d'oeuvre.
Custom dictates that I welcome newcomers, so without further ado let us welcome 'The Weatherman', who immediately exuded a feeling of familiarity... like he'd been part of our shindigs for some time. It astounded me when he RSVPed in the affirmative. Let us hope he continues to make the trek and grace us with his presence... an added stimuli, cerebrally speaking.
Once I got familiar with my surroundings I came across Angelo Leone, one of the proprietors and an all-around bon vivant. Angelo and I go back to high school and beyond. Back in the 1980s' we were both players in the same game. Sometimes I won, and sometimes he'd come out on top. But the important thing was that we played like it was ‘1984. I want to take this moment to thank him, along with Massimo Lecas and Jonathan Richardson for a superb soirée.
Fiorellino is bright, cheery and rather removed from the action, located right behind St. Patrick's Basilica on de la Gauchetière St. By day, this strip of the Quartier International may be hopping, but at night, it's practically deserted — save for Fiorellino, which already, judging by the crowds, is raking 'em in.
When entering the first thing you notice is the café as well as a counter displaying Italian goodies ranging from biscotti to tiramisu. Following the beautiful blue-and-white tiled floor, you come to the hostess station and announce your arrival. Take a right past the high tables and you enter the main dining room, where there's a bar, a communal table facing a meat slicer, and a wall of imported groceries (pastas, oils etc.), all for sale. Venture a little farther and you're facing a Neapolitan pizza oven, and, just past that, the kitchen. The dining room, framed in white tiles, concrete walls and plywood paneling, counts about 80 seats, and on this night most every one was taken. We had a wall of banquette of tables for our dinner party.
Gorgeous setting aside, what counts most is the food, especially as the young-and-fun Italian genre is all the rage in our city. Five years ago, you could count the number of good pizza places in Montreal on one hand. Now, there are many, and you can add Fiorellino to that list. I read that the owners don't want the restaurant categorized as a pizza place, but when the pizza's this good, why not? But don't come here only for pizza, you’ll be missing out.
Our night began as always with the wine selections... The red was 'Nero D'Avola Baglio d'oro' (from their private collection) along with the white 'Ancilla' (also private from their private collection). As well as a sampling of pizza ... 'Margherita' – think pouffy, crisp, blistered and slightly charred crust, spread with a spunky tomato sauce and topped with the likes of soppressata, roasted red peppers, mushrooms and fior di latte, or goat's cheese. I inhaled my slices revelling in the superb mix of textures and flavours, then adding a few dribbles of spicy oil to give it that extra kick.
Then commencement of the plethora of culinary delights began to descend upon our table. 'Insalata di Funghi Crudi' morsels of shaved King Oyster mushrooms sprinkled with Parmigiano and Gremolata that was sinfully deliciousness condensed in a spoonful. 'Zucca Arrostita' roasted squashes a la Starciatella topped with Sunflower seeds, Hazelnuts and slices of Prosciutto. Decadent. 'Burrata' - Brussel sprouts with bread and Prosciutto crumble. Assorted charcuteries, including Focaccia, olives, Parmesan slices and Giardineira, that reminded me of Mama Borsellino.
Our second course was a Pasta dish - Aglio e Olio (oil&garlic) with Pork ragu. My grandmother would have been proud. The chef knows his pastas. And for the fnale ... Branzino fish served with market vegetables and a Beef Cheek accompanied by a creamy polenta. The whole table gasped!
I revelled in dining at Fiorellino immensely. There is so much deliciousness going on inside these walls. And even if the setting is quite casual, I can imagine this restaurant is as well suited to a family dinner as a date night destination. That's the beauty of the new casual restaurants: great food at reasonable prices and exceptional wines.
'Life's euphoria is made up of little moments; you steal away from the mundane.' ~ © Frank Borsellino™
This was such a moment in the evolution of life's journey.
© Your Cruise Director™
Food is my compass
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* Fiorellino Bar Ristorante
www.fiorellino.ca
* Observed November 9, 2018
'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.' ~ William Butler Yeats
It's been a while... The evolutionary cycle, always moving forward, has cast its replenishment. Life has a way of turning things around when we least expect it... and sometimes that's a good thing. Proof is the latest coming together of similar souls in pursuit of a moment among a cortege of moments. Everything about this latest soirée felt new ... location, food, the feel of the neighborhood. I have been doing this for a long time, and this evening brought a nuance of emboldened sensation. Once again, the evening was a fabulous chef-d'oeuvre.
Custom dictates that I welcome newcomers, so without further ado let us welcome 'The Weatherman', who immediately exuded a feeling of familiarity... like he'd been part of our shindigs for some time. It astounded me when he RSVPed in the affirmative. Let us hope he continues to make the trek and grace us with his presence... an added stimuli, cerebrally speaking.
Once I got familiar with my surroundings I came across Angelo Leone, one of the proprietors and an all-around bon vivant. Angelo and I go back to high school and beyond. Back in the 1980s' we were both players in the same game. Sometimes I won, and sometimes he'd come out on top. But the important thing was that we played like it was ‘1984. I want to take this moment to thank him, along with Massimo Lecas and Jonathan Richardson for a superb soirée.
Fiorellino is bright, cheery and rather removed from the action, located right behind St. Patrick's Basilica on de la Gauchetière St. By day, this strip of the Quartier International may be hopping, but at night, it's practically deserted — save for Fiorellino, which already, judging by the crowds, is raking 'em in.
When entering the first thing you notice is the café as well as a counter displaying Italian goodies ranging from biscotti to tiramisu. Following the beautiful blue-and-white tiled floor, you come to the hostess station and announce your arrival. Take a right past the high tables and you enter the main dining room, where there's a bar, a communal table facing a meat slicer, and a wall of imported groceries (pastas, oils etc.), all for sale. Venture a little farther and you're facing a Neapolitan pizza oven, and, just past that, the kitchen. The dining room, framed in white tiles, concrete walls and plywood paneling, counts about 80 seats, and on this night most every one was taken. We had a wall of banquette of tables for our dinner party.
Gorgeous setting aside, what counts most is the food, especially as the young-and-fun Italian genre is all the rage in our city. Five years ago, you could count the number of good pizza places in Montreal on one hand. Now, there are many, and you can add Fiorellino to that list. I read that the owners don't want the restaurant categorized as a pizza place, but when the pizza's this good, why not? But don't come here only for pizza, you’ll be missing out.
Our night began as always with the wine selections... The red was 'Nero D'Avola Baglio d'oro' (from their private collection) along with the white 'Ancilla' (also private from their private collection). As well as a sampling of pizza ... 'Margherita' – think pouffy, crisp, blistered and slightly charred crust, spread with a spunky tomato sauce and topped with the likes of soppressata, roasted red peppers, mushrooms and fior di latte, or goat's cheese. I inhaled my slices revelling in the superb mix of textures and flavours, then adding a few dribbles of spicy oil to give it that extra kick.
Then commencement of the plethora of culinary delights began to descend upon our table. 'Insalata di Funghi Crudi' morsels of shaved King Oyster mushrooms sprinkled with Parmigiano and Gremolata that was sinfully deliciousness condensed in a spoonful. 'Zucca Arrostita' roasted squashes a la Starciatella topped with Sunflower seeds, Hazelnuts and slices of Prosciutto. Decadent. 'Burrata' - Brussel sprouts with bread and Prosciutto crumble. Assorted charcuteries, including Focaccia, olives, Parmesan slices and Giardineira, that reminded me of Mama Borsellino.
Our second course was a Pasta dish - Aglio e Olio (oil&garlic) with Pork ragu. My grandmother would have been proud. The chef knows his pastas. And for the fnale ... Branzino fish served with market vegetables and a Beef Cheek accompanied by a creamy polenta. The whole table gasped!
I revelled in dining at Fiorellino immensely. There is so much deliciousness going on inside these walls. And even if the setting is quite casual, I can imagine this restaurant is as well suited to a family dinner as a date night destination. That's the beauty of the new casual restaurants: great food at reasonable prices and exceptional wines.
'Life's euphoria is made up of little moments; you steal away from the mundane.' ~ © Frank Borsellino™
This was such a moment in the evolution of life's journey.
© Your Cruise Director™
Food is my compass
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* Fiorellino Bar Ristorante
www.fiorellino.ca
* Observed November 9, 2018
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Burt Reynolds R.I.P.
'I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happens to them all.' ~ Ecclesiastes 9:11
Burt Reynolds, who famously turned down the roles of James Bond and Han Solo, regardless forged a film career that marked him out as a singular talent, passed away Thursday, September 6 at Jupiter Medical in Florida.
A Michigan native transplanted to Florida, he was an American football player in his youth, but switched to acting after a knee injury was aggravated by a car accident. Discouraged, Reynolds started part-time lessons at Palm Beach Junior College, where his acting talent was spotted by Watson B Duncan III, an English teacher who liked the way he read Shakespeare. Reynolds would later say that Duncan was the most important influence on his life. He soon found regular work on stage and in TV, but delayed heading to Hollywood, citing a lack of confidence after being turned down during his first audition for the '1957 war romance 'Sayonara' for looking too much like Marlon Brando. Brando got the role. Reynolds eventually made his debut in 'Angel Baby' (1961), a pulp thriller about religious zealotry in the American south.
His cachet and profile received a surge when he posed naked on a bear skin rug for 'Cosmopolitan Magazine' (1972), but his film breakthrough arose later that year with 'Deliverance' - another story of backwoods behaviour - in which Reynolds starred opposite Jon Voight. He played Lewis Medlock, an Atlanta businessman who, with three friends, is stalked and attacked by violent locals while on a river boating trip through rural Georgia. The film, famous for a scene in which one of the party is ordered to 'squeal like a pig' before being raped by their captors, made Reynolds a star, even if many of his later roles would gently mock Lewis Medlock's brimful machismo.
'The Longest Yard' (1974), Robert Altman's sports drama about prisoners who play American football against their guards, allowed Reynolds to combine hobbies. He played Paul 'Wrecking' Crewe, the charismatic team leader of inmate team the 'Mean Machine', who finds himself compromised after being threatened with more jail time if he doesn't throw the game.
Another enduring hit came in 1977 when Reynolds starred in 'Smokey and the Bandit', a madcap action comedy in which the actor played a rebellious trucker, Bo Darville (aka 'Bandit), hired to drive bootleg booze across state lines. Notable for its lengthy last act chase scene, the film was the second highest grossing of the year and spawned two, less than stellar, sequels. Another petrol headed hit came with 'The Cannonball Run' (1981), about a cross country car race.
Later the red leather jacket Reynolds wore in 'Smokey and the Bandit' was part of a collection of memorabilia sold off by the actor in 2014 to pay off mortgage debts of a rumoured $1.4 million. Also among the auctioned items was the best supporting actor Golden Globe award Reynolds won for his role in Paul Thomas Anderson's 'Boogie Nights' (1997). Set in the 1970s porn industry, Anderson's film rejuvenated Reynolds career by casting him as the pragmatic, occasionally ruthless adult film director Jack Horner. A critical hit, 'Boogie Nights' nevertheless did not sit well with its star, who had trouble with the subject matter and hated working with Anderson, who he thought cocky. He was currently working on Quentin Tarantino's 'Once Upon A Time in Hollywood'.
± Namaste ±
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* '100 Rifles' (1969) w/Raquel Welch & Jim Brown
Burt Reynolds, who famously turned down the roles of James Bond and Han Solo, regardless forged a film career that marked him out as a singular talent, passed away Thursday, September 6 at Jupiter Medical in Florida.
A Michigan native transplanted to Florida, he was an American football player in his youth, but switched to acting after a knee injury was aggravated by a car accident. Discouraged, Reynolds started part-time lessons at Palm Beach Junior College, where his acting talent was spotted by Watson B Duncan III, an English teacher who liked the way he read Shakespeare. Reynolds would later say that Duncan was the most important influence on his life. He soon found regular work on stage and in TV, but delayed heading to Hollywood, citing a lack of confidence after being turned down during his first audition for the '1957 war romance 'Sayonara' for looking too much like Marlon Brando. Brando got the role. Reynolds eventually made his debut in 'Angel Baby' (1961), a pulp thriller about religious zealotry in the American south.
His cachet and profile received a surge when he posed naked on a bear skin rug for 'Cosmopolitan Magazine' (1972), but his film breakthrough arose later that year with 'Deliverance' - another story of backwoods behaviour - in which Reynolds starred opposite Jon Voight. He played Lewis Medlock, an Atlanta businessman who, with three friends, is stalked and attacked by violent locals while on a river boating trip through rural Georgia. The film, famous for a scene in which one of the party is ordered to 'squeal like a pig' before being raped by their captors, made Reynolds a star, even if many of his later roles would gently mock Lewis Medlock's brimful machismo.
'The Longest Yard' (1974), Robert Altman's sports drama about prisoners who play American football against their guards, allowed Reynolds to combine hobbies. He played Paul 'Wrecking' Crewe, the charismatic team leader of inmate team the 'Mean Machine', who finds himself compromised after being threatened with more jail time if he doesn't throw the game.
Another enduring hit came in 1977 when Reynolds starred in 'Smokey and the Bandit', a madcap action comedy in which the actor played a rebellious trucker, Bo Darville (aka 'Bandit), hired to drive bootleg booze across state lines. Notable for its lengthy last act chase scene, the film was the second highest grossing of the year and spawned two, less than stellar, sequels. Another petrol headed hit came with 'The Cannonball Run' (1981), about a cross country car race.
Later the red leather jacket Reynolds wore in 'Smokey and the Bandit' was part of a collection of memorabilia sold off by the actor in 2014 to pay off mortgage debts of a rumoured $1.4 million. Also among the auctioned items was the best supporting actor Golden Globe award Reynolds won for his role in Paul Thomas Anderson's 'Boogie Nights' (1997). Set in the 1970s porn industry, Anderson's film rejuvenated Reynolds career by casting him as the pragmatic, occasionally ruthless adult film director Jack Horner. A critical hit, 'Boogie Nights' nevertheless did not sit well with its star, who had trouble with the subject matter and hated working with Anderson, who he thought cocky. He was currently working on Quentin Tarantino's 'Once Upon A Time in Hollywood'.
± Namaste ±
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* '100 Rifles' (1969) w/Raquel Welch & Jim Brown
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Fabian Perez Artist
'It's been thirty years that my wheels travelled on a sandy road. In my tracks, I've left things behind, and lost many others. As the wheels turn I can see a road ahead that will take me on many new experiences.' ~ Fabian Perez 'Reflections of a Dream'
* Fabian Perez was born November 2, 1967 in Buenos Aires, Argentina. As a teenager he was fascinated with martial arts and fine arts. Therefore, he dedicated himself to study both disciplines. Karate helped influence his character giving him great discipline as well as opening him up to other forms of art. Much of what he learned through his Eastern studies influenced his paintings. He left Argentina when he was 22 to live in Italy, where he resided for seven years. It is there that his career in painting and writing took an ascendant journey. It is also in Italy where he was inspired to write his book 'Reflections of a Dream', which was published later in the United States. He then went to Japan where he lived for one year. While there he painted 'The Japanese Flag' and 'A Meditating Man' which are on display in a government house. He left Japan to go to Los Angeles where he devotes his life to inspire others with his paintings and writings. His style is unique... he wishes not to be categorized... he feels this limits the artist as well as the work. The bold and symbolic imagery feels intensely passionate. Fabian paints with his emotions and each painting reflects his drive and energy.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* Fabian Perez Artist - self-portrait '1967
* Fabian Perez was born November 2, 1967 in Buenos Aires, Argentina. As a teenager he was fascinated with martial arts and fine arts. Therefore, he dedicated himself to study both disciplines. Karate helped influence his character giving him great discipline as well as opening him up to other forms of art. Much of what he learned through his Eastern studies influenced his paintings. He left Argentina when he was 22 to live in Italy, where he resided for seven years. It is there that his career in painting and writing took an ascendant journey. It is also in Italy where he was inspired to write his book 'Reflections of a Dream', which was published later in the United States. He then went to Japan where he lived for one year. While there he painted 'The Japanese Flag' and 'A Meditating Man' which are on display in a government house. He left Japan to go to Los Angeles where he devotes his life to inspire others with his paintings and writings. His style is unique... he wishes not to be categorized... he feels this limits the artist as well as the work. The bold and symbolic imagery feels intensely passionate. Fabian paints with his emotions and each painting reflects his drive and energy.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* Fabian Perez Artist - self-portrait '1967
'To Catch a Thief' (1955)
'I have a feeling that inside you somewhere, there's somebody nobody knows about.' ~ Alfred Hitchcock
In his fourth colour feature and his first widescreen 'To Catch a Thief' (1955) is rarely considered one of Hitchcock's top masterpieces. Yet, its picturesque locale, phenomenal star pairing of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly, as well as its exquisite production design, and glamourous costume design – the latter orchestrated to perfection by the legendary Edith Head – make 'To Catch a Thief' a rare delight. A feast for the eyes, without Hitchcock's patented perversion or twisted psychosexual leanings (although truly, that's why we love him, don't we?), 'To Catch a Thief' is a stylish mid-century romp through the bistros, beaches, and rooftops of the French Riviera. A rare murder-free thriller (which isn't to say there is not a dead body or two), it proves some of Hitchcock's strengths in comic timing, as well as the superior craftsmanship of his collaborators (Edith Head, cinematographer Robert Burks, and Art Directors J. McMillan Johnson and Hal Pereira). Nominated for Oscars in Best Cinematography, Best Production Design, and Best Costume Design (Edith Head would win for her costumes), it is one of Hitchcock's best-looking films.
Cary Grant plays John Robie – a supposedly reformed jewel thief known as 'The Cat'. Living in the French Riviera, Robie, who hasn't committed a crime in fifteen years, is questioned by police after a series of jewel heists – remarkably similar to The Cat's M.O. – are committed at a hotel. An insurance adjuster, worried at the vast payouts he'll have to dole out if the thief isn't caught, enlists Robie to help catch the copy-cat burglar. Clients of the adjuster are the heavily bejewelled mother/daughter duo, the Stevens, guests at an illustrious Cannes hotel. Smitten with Robie, the daughter Frances (Grace Kelly) aggressively pursues him, as does the teenage daughter of his former accomplice Danielle (Brigitte Auber), all the while the cat burglar sets Robie up for a fall.
At age fifty-one, Grant had been retired from acting for two years when Hitchcock persuaded the thespian to once again collaborate with him. He had previously starred in Hitchcock's 'Suspicion' (1941), playing a cad of a husband suspected of plotting his wife's death, and in 'Notorious' (1945), playing a cad of a lover who enables his paramour to be murdered by her husband (the 1940s were quite a time for marriages and affairs), and he would of course go on to star in Hitchcock's masterpiece 'North by Northwest' (1959) – apparently retirement didn't take. Tanned, as would be appropriate for a Riviera-dweller, fit, and still as handsome as the day he debuted in 'This is the Night' (1932) nearly twenty-five years prior, Grant was at the top of his game and one of the most recognized male stars Hollywood had ever known. No wonder Hitchcock wanted him for his roguish burglar. Pairing him with the director's most coveted starlet, Grace Kelly, the director created a dynamic on-screen pairing, even if the age difference between the 50+ Grant and twenty-four-year-old Kelly did raise some eyebrows. Kelly was Hitchcock's ultimate blonde, having only appeared in seven films at the time of production – two of which were Hitchcock predecessors 'Dial M for Murder' & 'Rear Window' both in 1954. Her true blueblood origins perfectly suited the character of a wealthy American heiress. Rounding out the cast was twenty-six-year-old French ingénue Brigitte Auber, who Hitchcock personally selected after seeing her in a number of French productions. Auber plays Robie's former accomplice's daughter – a rambunctious spitfire out to ensnare the cat in her romantic exploits, despite Frances' designs on him.
Filmed on location amidst the Côte d'Azur's Mediterranean beauty, 'To Catch a Thief' made great use of Paramount's newly-minted VistaVision process. A rival to CinemaScope and exclusive to Paramount, VistaVision oriented the 35mm film vertically, rather than horizontally, allowing for a higher resolution image, much like the recently resurrected 70mm process. And while Hitchcock was skeptical of widescreen's true value (assuming it a gimmick like the 3D he used in Dial M for Murder), he and cinematographer Robert Burks nonetheless made incredible use of it by filming elaborate car chase scenes along the cliffs and vineyards of the Riviera from a helicopter – something that in 1955 had rarely been attempted and required careful customization of the vehicle and camera to make possible.
'To Catch a Thief' also rendered colour in a remarkable way. A film concerned with fine jewels, it is bathed in emerald green lighting for the film's twilight sequences, including its rooftop climax of dueling cat burglars. It's an element of style that would be used three years later for 'Vertigo' and its encroaching green fog of jealousy and obsession. Throughout 'To Catch a Thief', jewel tones predominate, whether the green lighting, the sapphire blues of the sea, or Frances' gold lamé ball gown – worn for the film's final act. Like the Technicolor epics to soon follow, each hue was meticulously thought out and utilized to subtly to tell the story – nowhere is this truer than with the costumes designed by Head and worn exquisitely by Kelly.
'To Catch a Thief' was Head's third collaboration with Hitchcock – having previously designed costumes for Grant and Ingrid Bergman in 'Notorious' and for Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly in 'Rear Window'. They would collaborate on another eight films for a total of eleven. Head was, and still is, the most awarded costume designer in the history of film, with an astounding thirty-five Oscar nominations and eight wins, which also makes her the most anointed woman in Oscar history. In 1955, she would win for 'Sabrina' starring Audrey Hepburn and a year later, she achieved Oscar gold again, winning for 'To Catch a Thief'.
Edith Head always claimed, when asked in interviews (and she was invariably always asked), that Kelly was her favorite star to work with, and one can see why when you look at the dresses in 'To Catch a Thief'. From Frances' swimsuits (which Hitchcock insisted be one-pieces and not those cheap new-fangled bikinis sweeping the beaches of France), to her chiffon evening gowns, to her ostentatious, but oh-so-fun 18th-century inspired ball gown, Kelly and Head's collaboration was movie magic. Indeed, some of Head's most recognized pieces are in 'To Catch a Thief'. While glamour was key Head was keen, as was Hitchcock, to tell the story of the film through costumes, rather than thinking of the costumes as mere decoration to an elaborate, high budget production. Tracing the transition in colors of Frances' costumes, from the whites and ice blues she wears in her more shrewish phase, to the brilliant gold of her lamé gown in the film's climax, there is a transformation in her character illustrated via colour – from cool and calculating, to warm and in love. Head, like Hitchcock, was never one to miss a beat, rather within all that glamour is a calculated storytelling technique.
From its costumes, to its breathtaking cinematography, to the beauty of its environs, 'To Catch a Thief' is a jewel in Hitchcock's crown. And while it may not be revolutionary in its filmmaking – like 'Psycho' (1960) or 'Vertigo' (1958) – it is, nevertheless, an important entry in Hitchcock's much-studied and admired filmography. With its use of colour, widescreen, and design, it served as a testing ground to the epics he was about to embark on. The perfect rainy-day film, it shouldn't be thought of as Hitchcock-lite as many critics and historians have suggested, but rather, a nice, light appetizer (French-inspired) to a much heavier, calorie-rich main course soon to arrive on the table.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
July 31, 2018
* '1955 Sunbeam Alpine Series III Roadster
In his fourth colour feature and his first widescreen 'To Catch a Thief' (1955) is rarely considered one of Hitchcock's top masterpieces. Yet, its picturesque locale, phenomenal star pairing of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly, as well as its exquisite production design, and glamourous costume design – the latter orchestrated to perfection by the legendary Edith Head – make 'To Catch a Thief' a rare delight. A feast for the eyes, without Hitchcock's patented perversion or twisted psychosexual leanings (although truly, that's why we love him, don't we?), 'To Catch a Thief' is a stylish mid-century romp through the bistros, beaches, and rooftops of the French Riviera. A rare murder-free thriller (which isn't to say there is not a dead body or two), it proves some of Hitchcock's strengths in comic timing, as well as the superior craftsmanship of his collaborators (Edith Head, cinematographer Robert Burks, and Art Directors J. McMillan Johnson and Hal Pereira). Nominated for Oscars in Best Cinematography, Best Production Design, and Best Costume Design (Edith Head would win for her costumes), it is one of Hitchcock's best-looking films.
Cary Grant plays John Robie – a supposedly reformed jewel thief known as 'The Cat'. Living in the French Riviera, Robie, who hasn't committed a crime in fifteen years, is questioned by police after a series of jewel heists – remarkably similar to The Cat's M.O. – are committed at a hotel. An insurance adjuster, worried at the vast payouts he'll have to dole out if the thief isn't caught, enlists Robie to help catch the copy-cat burglar. Clients of the adjuster are the heavily bejewelled mother/daughter duo, the Stevens, guests at an illustrious Cannes hotel. Smitten with Robie, the daughter Frances (Grace Kelly) aggressively pursues him, as does the teenage daughter of his former accomplice Danielle (Brigitte Auber), all the while the cat burglar sets Robie up for a fall.
At age fifty-one, Grant had been retired from acting for two years when Hitchcock persuaded the thespian to once again collaborate with him. He had previously starred in Hitchcock's 'Suspicion' (1941), playing a cad of a husband suspected of plotting his wife's death, and in 'Notorious' (1945), playing a cad of a lover who enables his paramour to be murdered by her husband (the 1940s were quite a time for marriages and affairs), and he would of course go on to star in Hitchcock's masterpiece 'North by Northwest' (1959) – apparently retirement didn't take. Tanned, as would be appropriate for a Riviera-dweller, fit, and still as handsome as the day he debuted in 'This is the Night' (1932) nearly twenty-five years prior, Grant was at the top of his game and one of the most recognized male stars Hollywood had ever known. No wonder Hitchcock wanted him for his roguish burglar. Pairing him with the director's most coveted starlet, Grace Kelly, the director created a dynamic on-screen pairing, even if the age difference between the 50+ Grant and twenty-four-year-old Kelly did raise some eyebrows. Kelly was Hitchcock's ultimate blonde, having only appeared in seven films at the time of production – two of which were Hitchcock predecessors 'Dial M for Murder' & 'Rear Window' both in 1954. Her true blueblood origins perfectly suited the character of a wealthy American heiress. Rounding out the cast was twenty-six-year-old French ingénue Brigitte Auber, who Hitchcock personally selected after seeing her in a number of French productions. Auber plays Robie's former accomplice's daughter – a rambunctious spitfire out to ensnare the cat in her romantic exploits, despite Frances' designs on him.
Filmed on location amidst the Côte d'Azur's Mediterranean beauty, 'To Catch a Thief' made great use of Paramount's newly-minted VistaVision process. A rival to CinemaScope and exclusive to Paramount, VistaVision oriented the 35mm film vertically, rather than horizontally, allowing for a higher resolution image, much like the recently resurrected 70mm process. And while Hitchcock was skeptical of widescreen's true value (assuming it a gimmick like the 3D he used in Dial M for Murder), he and cinematographer Robert Burks nonetheless made incredible use of it by filming elaborate car chase scenes along the cliffs and vineyards of the Riviera from a helicopter – something that in 1955 had rarely been attempted and required careful customization of the vehicle and camera to make possible.
'To Catch a Thief' also rendered colour in a remarkable way. A film concerned with fine jewels, it is bathed in emerald green lighting for the film's twilight sequences, including its rooftop climax of dueling cat burglars. It's an element of style that would be used three years later for 'Vertigo' and its encroaching green fog of jealousy and obsession. Throughout 'To Catch a Thief', jewel tones predominate, whether the green lighting, the sapphire blues of the sea, or Frances' gold lamé ball gown – worn for the film's final act. Like the Technicolor epics to soon follow, each hue was meticulously thought out and utilized to subtly to tell the story – nowhere is this truer than with the costumes designed by Head and worn exquisitely by Kelly.
'To Catch a Thief' was Head's third collaboration with Hitchcock – having previously designed costumes for Grant and Ingrid Bergman in 'Notorious' and for Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly in 'Rear Window'. They would collaborate on another eight films for a total of eleven. Head was, and still is, the most awarded costume designer in the history of film, with an astounding thirty-five Oscar nominations and eight wins, which also makes her the most anointed woman in Oscar history. In 1955, she would win for 'Sabrina' starring Audrey Hepburn and a year later, she achieved Oscar gold again, winning for 'To Catch a Thief'.
Edith Head always claimed, when asked in interviews (and she was invariably always asked), that Kelly was her favorite star to work with, and one can see why when you look at the dresses in 'To Catch a Thief'. From Frances' swimsuits (which Hitchcock insisted be one-pieces and not those cheap new-fangled bikinis sweeping the beaches of France), to her chiffon evening gowns, to her ostentatious, but oh-so-fun 18th-century inspired ball gown, Kelly and Head's collaboration was movie magic. Indeed, some of Head's most recognized pieces are in 'To Catch a Thief'. While glamour was key Head was keen, as was Hitchcock, to tell the story of the film through costumes, rather than thinking of the costumes as mere decoration to an elaborate, high budget production. Tracing the transition in colors of Frances' costumes, from the whites and ice blues she wears in her more shrewish phase, to the brilliant gold of her lamé gown in the film's climax, there is a transformation in her character illustrated via colour – from cool and calculating, to warm and in love. Head, like Hitchcock, was never one to miss a beat, rather within all that glamour is a calculated storytelling technique.
From its costumes, to its breathtaking cinematography, to the beauty of its environs, 'To Catch a Thief' is a jewel in Hitchcock's crown. And while it may not be revolutionary in its filmmaking – like 'Psycho' (1960) or 'Vertigo' (1958) – it is, nevertheless, an important entry in Hitchcock's much-studied and admired filmography. With its use of colour, widescreen, and design, it served as a testing ground to the epics he was about to embark on. The perfect rainy-day film, it shouldn't be thought of as Hitchcock-lite as many critics and historians have suggested, but rather, a nice, light appetizer (French-inspired) to a much heavier, calorie-rich main course soon to arrive on the table.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
July 31, 2018
* '1955 Sunbeam Alpine Series III Roadster
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
'Cinema Paradiso' @ 30 Years
'I'm not young enough to know everything.' ~ J.M. Barrie
It is now 30 years since 'Cinema Paradiso', one of the most internationally acclaimed films in modern Italian cinema, was released.
Giuseppe Tornatore was just 32 when he made Cinema Paradiso, his second feature. The film flopped initially. But a new cut, released in 1990, propelled it to awards success in the shape of an Oscar for best foreign language film and a clutch of Baftas, cementing Tornatore's reputation as a director of note. For many, it remains his best picture, though personally I'd struggle to choose between 'Cinema Paradiso' and 'Malèna' (2000), his emotional film featuring Monica Bellucci as a vulnerable widow in wartime Sicily, whose descent into prostitution is observed by a group of adolescent boys.
It's no accident that Cinema Paradiso's nostalgic celebration of the power of great film-making, and of cinema as a communal experience, so captured audiences' imaginations. It came at a time when home video was leaving live cinema in the doldrums, with many film theatres falling derelict across Europe and North America: the present-day demolition of the Nuovo Cinema Paradiso to make way for a municipal car-park is one of the film's most powerful scenes.
The film's overall tone, too, is elegiac: it must have been easy, when 'Cinema Paradiso' first came out, to see it as a swansong for movie-going – to imagine that, in a few years' time, no local cinema would again have the same ability to bring together an isolated rural community, opening a window into other worlds.
Three decades later, we know that such worries were more or less unfounded: cinema-going is still alive and well, despite the triple-headed threat of DVD, Blu-ray and the internet, and many small independent cinemas are thriving. But for Cascio, and for the film's many fans, its message remains very relevant.
'Cinema Paradiso is about the power of dreams. In the film, we see the people go to the cinema to dream: by watching great movies, they forget all their problems. In becoming a great film director, Totò achieves his own personal dream, too. In today's world, with this crisis that we're all experiencing both in politics and in society, the film reminds us that we can, and must, keep on dreaming.' ~ Salvatore Cascio
© From Where I Sit™
www.fromwhereisit.co
writer/blogger/bon vivant
July 12, 2018
* Salvatore Cascio & Philippe Noiret - 'Cinema Paradiso' (1988)
It is now 30 years since 'Cinema Paradiso', one of the most internationally acclaimed films in modern Italian cinema, was released.
Giuseppe Tornatore was just 32 when he made Cinema Paradiso, his second feature. The film flopped initially. But a new cut, released in 1990, propelled it to awards success in the shape of an Oscar for best foreign language film and a clutch of Baftas, cementing Tornatore's reputation as a director of note. For many, it remains his best picture, though personally I'd struggle to choose between 'Cinema Paradiso' and 'Malèna' (2000), his emotional film featuring Monica Bellucci as a vulnerable widow in wartime Sicily, whose descent into prostitution is observed by a group of adolescent boys.
It's no accident that Cinema Paradiso's nostalgic celebration of the power of great film-making, and of cinema as a communal experience, so captured audiences' imaginations. It came at a time when home video was leaving live cinema in the doldrums, with many film theatres falling derelict across Europe and North America: the present-day demolition of the Nuovo Cinema Paradiso to make way for a municipal car-park is one of the film's most powerful scenes.
The film's overall tone, too, is elegiac: it must have been easy, when 'Cinema Paradiso' first came out, to see it as a swansong for movie-going – to imagine that, in a few years' time, no local cinema would again have the same ability to bring together an isolated rural community, opening a window into other worlds.
Three decades later, we know that such worries were more or less unfounded: cinema-going is still alive and well, despite the triple-headed threat of DVD, Blu-ray and the internet, and many small independent cinemas are thriving. But for Cascio, and for the film's many fans, its message remains very relevant.
'Cinema Paradiso is about the power of dreams. In the film, we see the people go to the cinema to dream: by watching great movies, they forget all their problems. In becoming a great film director, Totò achieves his own personal dream, too. In today's world, with this crisis that we're all experiencing both in politics and in society, the film reminds us that we can, and must, keep on dreaming.' ~ Salvatore Cascio
© From Where I Sit™
www.fromwhereisit.co
writer/blogger/bon vivant
July 12, 2018
* Salvatore Cascio & Philippe Noiret - 'Cinema Paradiso' (1988)
Sunday, July 8, 2018
Monte Carlo @ Le Bijoux
'During sex, people are often way too focused on giving or taking to actually just celebrate this moment, be themselves completely, and rejoice in their own realities.' ~ Roberto Hogue
'Monte Carlo', was a private club downstairs at 'Le Bijoux', which was in itself an a premier jazz bar/restaurant. Membership cards to 'Monte Carlo' were these heavy, rectangular, gold-plated plaques, the size of a lighter, another one of Liz Swann's clients. Liz was a Marketing Guru, and she was responsible for the launch of this new hotspot. Her duties included marketing, advertising, filling the place up with celebrities and captains of industries. Anything and everything that would put this place on the proverbial social map, of course, due to our recent rapprochement, I received such a membership. The criteria, was only for millionaire friends of the owner, who was a famous old-time impresario of the arts and the club scene, since way back in the sixties. He had the hippest, sharpest and coolest clubs and restaurants in Old Montreal. One of these was called 'Le Bijoux'. In the film 'Once Upon a Time in America' (1984), there is a scene inside the restaurant, and in the Bruce Willis movie 'The Whole Nine Yards' (2000), there are actually several scenes, filmed inside a jazz club, that's the one. Well, 'Monte Carlo' was downstairs.
I recall, the first time I went, it was a couple of days after the opening. I never go to
openings, too much fanfare and attention on who is coming and going, in my world, it wasn't germane. Anyway, when I was lead to the bar, in the back (if you pay attention, I always end-up in the back of bars, that's where the real VIPs were, with the ladies). To my right, I notice a very prominent politician and philanthropist, who happens to be an old family friend and some other gentlemen I don't know, seated with some beautiful nubiles who don't look like their wives. I turned the cheek and head to the bathroom, hoping he did not see me. It would be awkward for him and me.
On my way I see seated in this tiny phone booth, the club had set up in a sort of alcove,
adjacent to the ladies' room, Liz. As I crossed her path, she hung up the phone and dropped her long, slender, incredibly sculpted leg out and blocked my passage, it was a tiny and dark area. As I followed that long, luscious limb to see where the Yellow Brick Road stopped and Heaven started, I saw her gorgeous lips, cheekbones and inviting eyes. I gave her a beguiling smile and dropping my eyes back down to her slightly spread thighs, now further opened, I had to blink twice because it seemed as though her bloom was glistening bare for my eyes to see.
I discreetly looked again and though dark, my vision adjusted, her female alcove was now slightly gaping and clearly moistened with anticipation of my reaction. This is one of those moments where you determine your path... I had to make a quick decision. Her message was clear, I had longed dreamed of taking a woman so passionately and covertly in public view... in such a rapid motion that it would undermine her plans and bring out the animal passion that she had planned to give up on her terms. Certain, that her hungry eyes were inviting me, I grabbed her hips and hoisted her onto the back wall of the booth. In no time I had freed my throbbing member and rammed it as far as I could into her slickened, silk flower. It rode in faster than a Porsche on the Autobahn and we were off to the mesosphere. She cried out in such sheer, unbridled lust and ecstasy that I had to cover her mouth so that patrons would not be directing their stare towards us. Her beautiful eyes dilated and drugged with pleasure were locked onto mine, as I continued hard and methodically thrusting as I evoked deep throat cries of gratification from her slightly parted full lips.
I felt her melt into me, her slender body, tight against me while I am pinning her against the wall I could feel a heart beating hard and fast as her breath was gasping to keep up, her musky smell intoxicated me as did the taste of her mouth and skin, her body trembling uncontrollably, her long legs wrapping tighter around me, she returned it back at me in a rhythmic fashion, her hungry and aggressive flesh for my manhood, possibly the best sex I ever had. I knew she couldn't last much longer, nor could I. Her lips quivered as I kissed her hard, caressing and pinching her mammillas through her sheer lace bra. I easily unhooked it from the front and her perfectly formed breasts sprang free, my mouth watered with wanting to suck those swollen little Hershey's Kisses. Finally, as I am slamming her with my turgid member, we both enjoyed wave after wave of pure bliss. I couldn't believe she would put herself in this completely exposed position, if someone were to round the corner, they would see a palpably compelling man with a beauty unashamedly with skirt up above her hips, and pantieless. The musky smell of her desire, which was soaking my sex by now, and the vision of a woman on the verge of the most powerful orgasm she was to attain in her life, these thoughts helped me hold out for just the time I needed.
She was now hovering on the brink, amazingly she was trying to hold back from coming to prolong the pleasure but she was losing the battle rather quickly, her deep moans started to become louder and faster, her trembling dissolved into uncontrollable jerking as her pudenda grabbed and quivered around every inch of my shaft, I was hazy with pleasure I'd never known quite like this, presently and I felt it begin to grab my aching phallus with faster rhythm, suddenly her body stiffened, her rock hard teats thrust upon my chest as her back arched, her vagina grinding into my groin, my hands now balancing her shapely buttocks as she let out one final cry of surrender and came over and over until she went limp in my arms, it was then that I finally shot my load into her, long and hot juices commingled as I spent myself fully with deep satisfaction. I leaned into her as we were wrapped in the ecstasy and exhaustion of mindblowing sex.
The moment I came back to Earth, and my senses fully recovered, I thought fast, we had gotten away with much; I slid her skirt down and urged her into the ladies room. As I watched her well-toned derrière mounted on now trembling legs that barely got her through the door, a wet spot soaked her skirt, I sighed with relief, incredible, unbelievable, I too hastened to the men's room and emerged a few minutes later glowing, relaxed and returned to my table.
Though a good man never tells, one of my friends inquired,
"What held you up?"
Jokingly I answered, "A mad passionate woman was determined to have her way with me right then and there and I didn't want to be rude."
The table of friends roared with appreciation of a good comeback. Come back, yes, she would definitely have to come back, again and again. What had just transpired was only the beginning. I swilled my wine and privately toasted my good fortune.
* FINE *
* excerpt from 'Finnegan's Journey' by © Frank Borsellino™
'Monte Carlo', was a private club downstairs at 'Le Bijoux', which was in itself an a premier jazz bar/restaurant. Membership cards to 'Monte Carlo' were these heavy, rectangular, gold-plated plaques, the size of a lighter, another one of Liz Swann's clients. Liz was a Marketing Guru, and she was responsible for the launch of this new hotspot. Her duties included marketing, advertising, filling the place up with celebrities and captains of industries. Anything and everything that would put this place on the proverbial social map, of course, due to our recent rapprochement, I received such a membership. The criteria, was only for millionaire friends of the owner, who was a famous old-time impresario of the arts and the club scene, since way back in the sixties. He had the hippest, sharpest and coolest clubs and restaurants in Old Montreal. One of these was called 'Le Bijoux'. In the film 'Once Upon a Time in America' (1984), there is a scene inside the restaurant, and in the Bruce Willis movie 'The Whole Nine Yards' (2000), there are actually several scenes, filmed inside a jazz club, that's the one. Well, 'Monte Carlo' was downstairs.
I recall, the first time I went, it was a couple of days after the opening. I never go to
openings, too much fanfare and attention on who is coming and going, in my world, it wasn't germane. Anyway, when I was lead to the bar, in the back (if you pay attention, I always end-up in the back of bars, that's where the real VIPs were, with the ladies). To my right, I notice a very prominent politician and philanthropist, who happens to be an old family friend and some other gentlemen I don't know, seated with some beautiful nubiles who don't look like their wives. I turned the cheek and head to the bathroom, hoping he did not see me. It would be awkward for him and me.
On my way I see seated in this tiny phone booth, the club had set up in a sort of alcove,
adjacent to the ladies' room, Liz. As I crossed her path, she hung up the phone and dropped her long, slender, incredibly sculpted leg out and blocked my passage, it was a tiny and dark area. As I followed that long, luscious limb to see where the Yellow Brick Road stopped and Heaven started, I saw her gorgeous lips, cheekbones and inviting eyes. I gave her a beguiling smile and dropping my eyes back down to her slightly spread thighs, now further opened, I had to blink twice because it seemed as though her bloom was glistening bare for my eyes to see.
I discreetly looked again and though dark, my vision adjusted, her female alcove was now slightly gaping and clearly moistened with anticipation of my reaction. This is one of those moments where you determine your path... I had to make a quick decision. Her message was clear, I had longed dreamed of taking a woman so passionately and covertly in public view... in such a rapid motion that it would undermine her plans and bring out the animal passion that she had planned to give up on her terms. Certain, that her hungry eyes were inviting me, I grabbed her hips and hoisted her onto the back wall of the booth. In no time I had freed my throbbing member and rammed it as far as I could into her slickened, silk flower. It rode in faster than a Porsche on the Autobahn and we were off to the mesosphere. She cried out in such sheer, unbridled lust and ecstasy that I had to cover her mouth so that patrons would not be directing their stare towards us. Her beautiful eyes dilated and drugged with pleasure were locked onto mine, as I continued hard and methodically thrusting as I evoked deep throat cries of gratification from her slightly parted full lips.
I felt her melt into me, her slender body, tight against me while I am pinning her against the wall I could feel a heart beating hard and fast as her breath was gasping to keep up, her musky smell intoxicated me as did the taste of her mouth and skin, her body trembling uncontrollably, her long legs wrapping tighter around me, she returned it back at me in a rhythmic fashion, her hungry and aggressive flesh for my manhood, possibly the best sex I ever had. I knew she couldn't last much longer, nor could I. Her lips quivered as I kissed her hard, caressing and pinching her mammillas through her sheer lace bra. I easily unhooked it from the front and her perfectly formed breasts sprang free, my mouth watered with wanting to suck those swollen little Hershey's Kisses. Finally, as I am slamming her with my turgid member, we both enjoyed wave after wave of pure bliss. I couldn't believe she would put herself in this completely exposed position, if someone were to round the corner, they would see a palpably compelling man with a beauty unashamedly with skirt up above her hips, and pantieless. The musky smell of her desire, which was soaking my sex by now, and the vision of a woman on the verge of the most powerful orgasm she was to attain in her life, these thoughts helped me hold out for just the time I needed.
She was now hovering on the brink, amazingly she was trying to hold back from coming to prolong the pleasure but she was losing the battle rather quickly, her deep moans started to become louder and faster, her trembling dissolved into uncontrollable jerking as her pudenda grabbed and quivered around every inch of my shaft, I was hazy with pleasure I'd never known quite like this, presently and I felt it begin to grab my aching phallus with faster rhythm, suddenly her body stiffened, her rock hard teats thrust upon my chest as her back arched, her vagina grinding into my groin, my hands now balancing her shapely buttocks as she let out one final cry of surrender and came over and over until she went limp in my arms, it was then that I finally shot my load into her, long and hot juices commingled as I spent myself fully with deep satisfaction. I leaned into her as we were wrapped in the ecstasy and exhaustion of mindblowing sex.
The moment I came back to Earth, and my senses fully recovered, I thought fast, we had gotten away with much; I slid her skirt down and urged her into the ladies room. As I watched her well-toned derrière mounted on now trembling legs that barely got her through the door, a wet spot soaked her skirt, I sighed with relief, incredible, unbelievable, I too hastened to the men's room and emerged a few minutes later glowing, relaxed and returned to my table.
Though a good man never tells, one of my friends inquired,
"What held you up?"
Jokingly I answered, "A mad passionate woman was determined to have her way with me right then and there and I didn't want to be rude."
The table of friends roared with appreciation of a good comeback. Come back, yes, she would definitely have to come back, again and again. What had just transpired was only the beginning. I swilled my wine and privately toasted my good fortune.
* FINE *
* excerpt from 'Finnegan's Journey' by © Frank Borsellino™
Friday, June 8, 2018
Anthony Bourdain R.I.P.
'Maybe that's enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom...is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.' ~ Anthony Bourdain
Anthony Michael Bourdain was born June 25, 1956, the oldest son of Pierre Bourdain, who was an executive in the classical-music recording industry, and Gladys Bourdain, who was a long-time copy editor at The New York Times. He grew up outside New York City, in Leonia, N.J., and his parents exposed him to fine cuisine, taking him often to France, which is where he first became conscious of food. When he was in fourth grade, on a family vacation to France aboard the Queen Mary, he sat in the cabin-class dining room and ate a bowl of vichyssoise, a creamy mix of leek and potato. What surprised him was that the soup was cold.
'It was the first food I enjoyed and, more important, remembered enjoying,' he wrote in his memoir 'Kitchen Confidential'. He did not remember much else about the trip.'
Bourdain graduated from high school in 1973 and attended Vassar College, dropping out after two years, where he spent long nights drinking and smoking pot.
'I was — to be frank — a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructing and thoughtless young lout.'
At Vassar, he met Nancy Putkoski (his first wife) before he left school for a chance at a culinary career. He spent a summer in Provincetown on Cape Cod with some friends. There, he started working as a dishwasher at a seafood restaurant and closely watched the cooks, men who dressed like pirates, with gold earrings and turquoise chokers.
'In the kitchen, they were like gods. I saw how the cooks and chefs behaved. They had sort of a swagger, got all the girls and drank everything in sight.' ~ Anthony Bourdain
The experience solidified his determination to make cooking his life's work. He then enrolled at the Culinary Institute of America in 1975 and graduated in 1978, stepping away at times to work at restaurants in Greenwich Village in Manhattan. He started at the bottom in the kitchen hierarchy, with stops at the Rainbow Room, the W.P.A. restaurant on Spring Street and Gianni's at the South Street Seaport. In everything he did, Bourdain cultivated a renegade style and bad-boy persona. For decades, he worked 13-hour days as a line cook in restaurants in New York and the Northeast, until he reached the top in the 1990s, first becoming an executive chef at Sullivan's, the restaurant next to the Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway, and then followed by Brasserie Les Halles in 1998, serving steak frites and onion soup in Lower Manhattan.
He had been an executive chef for eight years when he sent an unsolicited article to The New Yorker about the underbelly of the restaurant world and its deceptions. To his surprise, the magazine accepted it and ran it — catching the attention of book editors. It resulted in 'Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly', a memoir that elevated Bourdain to a celebrity chef and a new career on TV. He became an instant hero to a certain breed of professional cooks and restaurant-goers when 'Kitchen Confidential' hit the best-seller lists in 2000. He is largely credited for defining an era of line cooks as warriors, exposing a kitchen culture in which drugs, drinking and long, brutal hours on the line in professional kitchens were both a badge of honor and a curse. Bourdain was open in his writing about his past addictions to heroin and cocaine.
Before he joined CNN in 2012, he spent eight seasons as the globe-trotting host of 'No Reservations' on the Travel Channel, highlighting obscure cuisine and unknown restaurants. 'No Reservations' largely focused on food and Bourdain himself. But on 'Parts Unknown', he turned the lens around, delving into different countries around the world and the people who lived in them. He explored politics and history with locals, often over plates of food and drinks. One of my favorite episodes, I have many, when he appeared with President Barack Obama on an episode of 'Parts Unknown' in Vietnam in 2016. Over cold beers, grilled pork and noodles at a restaurant in Hanoi, they discussed Vietnamese-American relations, The President's final months in office and fatherhood. Among the ones I enjoyed more, with a certain insider feel, were the many he did in Montreal, especially with my friends from Joe Beef, David McMillan and Frederick Morin.
Bourdain was found in his hotel room at Le Chambard, a luxury hotel in Kaysersberg, a village in the Alsace region of eastern France, by long time friend Eric Ripert, himself a celebrity chef and restaurateur who appeared with Bourdain on several of his shows. Bourdain had traveled to Strasbourg in France, near the country's border with Germany, with a television production crew to record an upcoming episode of 'Parts Unknown' on CNN.
'Anthony was a dear friend, and an exceptional human being, so inspiring and generous. One of the great storytellers of our time who connected with so many. I wish him peace. My love and prayers are with his family, friends and loved ones.' ~ Eric Ripert
'I could not think of a better way to say goodbye.' ~ © Frank Borsellino
© From Where I Sit™
www.fromwhereisit.co
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* photo by Alex Welsh @ The New York Times '2015 in New York City
* via The New York Times
Anthony Michael Bourdain was born June 25, 1956, the oldest son of Pierre Bourdain, who was an executive in the classical-music recording industry, and Gladys Bourdain, who was a long-time copy editor at The New York Times. He grew up outside New York City, in Leonia, N.J., and his parents exposed him to fine cuisine, taking him often to France, which is where he first became conscious of food. When he was in fourth grade, on a family vacation to France aboard the Queen Mary, he sat in the cabin-class dining room and ate a bowl of vichyssoise, a creamy mix of leek and potato. What surprised him was that the soup was cold.
'It was the first food I enjoyed and, more important, remembered enjoying,' he wrote in his memoir 'Kitchen Confidential'. He did not remember much else about the trip.'
Bourdain graduated from high school in 1973 and attended Vassar College, dropping out after two years, where he spent long nights drinking and smoking pot.
'I was — to be frank — a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructing and thoughtless young lout.'
At Vassar, he met Nancy Putkoski (his first wife) before he left school for a chance at a culinary career. He spent a summer in Provincetown on Cape Cod with some friends. There, he started working as a dishwasher at a seafood restaurant and closely watched the cooks, men who dressed like pirates, with gold earrings and turquoise chokers.
'In the kitchen, they were like gods. I saw how the cooks and chefs behaved. They had sort of a swagger, got all the girls and drank everything in sight.' ~ Anthony Bourdain
The experience solidified his determination to make cooking his life's work. He then enrolled at the Culinary Institute of America in 1975 and graduated in 1978, stepping away at times to work at restaurants in Greenwich Village in Manhattan. He started at the bottom in the kitchen hierarchy, with stops at the Rainbow Room, the W.P.A. restaurant on Spring Street and Gianni's at the South Street Seaport. In everything he did, Bourdain cultivated a renegade style and bad-boy persona. For decades, he worked 13-hour days as a line cook in restaurants in New York and the Northeast, until he reached the top in the 1990s, first becoming an executive chef at Sullivan's, the restaurant next to the Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway, and then followed by Brasserie Les Halles in 1998, serving steak frites and onion soup in Lower Manhattan.
He had been an executive chef for eight years when he sent an unsolicited article to The New Yorker about the underbelly of the restaurant world and its deceptions. To his surprise, the magazine accepted it and ran it — catching the attention of book editors. It resulted in 'Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly', a memoir that elevated Bourdain to a celebrity chef and a new career on TV. He became an instant hero to a certain breed of professional cooks and restaurant-goers when 'Kitchen Confidential' hit the best-seller lists in 2000. He is largely credited for defining an era of line cooks as warriors, exposing a kitchen culture in which drugs, drinking and long, brutal hours on the line in professional kitchens were both a badge of honor and a curse. Bourdain was open in his writing about his past addictions to heroin and cocaine.
Before he joined CNN in 2012, he spent eight seasons as the globe-trotting host of 'No Reservations' on the Travel Channel, highlighting obscure cuisine and unknown restaurants. 'No Reservations' largely focused on food and Bourdain himself. But on 'Parts Unknown', he turned the lens around, delving into different countries around the world and the people who lived in them. He explored politics and history with locals, often over plates of food and drinks. One of my favorite episodes, I have many, when he appeared with President Barack Obama on an episode of 'Parts Unknown' in Vietnam in 2016. Over cold beers, grilled pork and noodles at a restaurant in Hanoi, they discussed Vietnamese-American relations, The President's final months in office and fatherhood. Among the ones I enjoyed more, with a certain insider feel, were the many he did in Montreal, especially with my friends from Joe Beef, David McMillan and Frederick Morin.
Bourdain was found in his hotel room at Le Chambard, a luxury hotel in Kaysersberg, a village in the Alsace region of eastern France, by long time friend Eric Ripert, himself a celebrity chef and restaurateur who appeared with Bourdain on several of his shows. Bourdain had traveled to Strasbourg in France, near the country's border with Germany, with a television production crew to record an upcoming episode of 'Parts Unknown' on CNN.
'Anthony was a dear friend, and an exceptional human being, so inspiring and generous. One of the great storytellers of our time who connected with so many. I wish him peace. My love and prayers are with his family, friends and loved ones.' ~ Eric Ripert
'I could not think of a better way to say goodbye.' ~ © Frank Borsellino
© From Where I Sit™
www.fromwhereisit.co
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* photo by Alex Welsh @ The New York Times '2015 in New York City
* via The New York Times
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Courtyard in Cattolica
'Sitting under the candlenut tree in the courtyard is pleasant in the afternoon. Laced in shadows, frangipani & coral hibiscus ward away the memory of recent evil. The sisters go about their duties, Sister Martinique tends her vegetables, and the cats enact their feline comedies and tragedies.' ~ David Mitchell
* Cattolica Eraclea is a commune/municipality in the Province of Agrigento in the Italian region of Sicily, located about 80 kilometres (50 mi) south of Palermo and about 20 kilometres (12 mi) northwest of Agrigento... in close proximity to Platani river valley.
The town was founded in medieval times. It received the name 'Eraclea' in 1874, associating it to the ancient site of Heraclea Minoa nearby. The economy is based on agriculture, including production of vine, olives, fruit, almonds, cereals and wheat.
± Namaste ±
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
* Cattolica Eraclea is a commune/municipality in the Province of Agrigento in the Italian region of Sicily, located about 80 kilometres (50 mi) south of Palermo and about 20 kilometres (12 mi) northwest of Agrigento... in close proximity to Platani river valley.
The town was founded in medieval times. It received the name 'Eraclea' in 1874, associating it to the ancient site of Heraclea Minoa nearby. The economy is based on agriculture, including production of vine, olives, fruit, almonds, cereals and wheat.
± Namaste ±
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
Friday, May 25, 2018
'Hemingway & Gellhorn' (2012)
'The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.' ~ Ernest Hemingway
'Hemingway & Gellhorn' is a study in the art of machismo... just as much from a woman as from a man. This film dramatizes the volatile coming together and falling apart of the famous novelist and his third wife. Martha Gellhorn, a renowned war correspondent and the only one of his brides who was also a fiction writer. The film is a big-name affair, with Clive Owen and Nicole Kidman in the leads. Philip Kaufman ('Rising Sun' (1993), directing a screenplay by Barbara Turner ('Pollock' (2000), 'Georgia' (1995), and Jerry Stahl ('Bad Boys II' (2003), executive produced by James Gandolfini (The Sopranos), and based on Martha Gellhorn's memoirs. At the outset of this explosive new film an aged but still feisty Gellhorn recalls how she was more interested in chasing battle action around the world than in pleasing her man in the boudoir.
She adds, 'There are wars, and then there are wars!'
Especially when one is involved with the ever-mercurial Ernest Hemingway, as Gellhorn was to learn over her intense romance and subsequent four-year marriage to the man. Really hard to say what was more life-threatening for Gellhorn: the Spanish Civil War or grappling with the demons of Papa Hemingway.
To be sure, it's practically impossible to re-create with complete accuracy an actual person, and biopics are typically deformed by the need to cover a lot of ground in short order, as one crisis follows quickly upon another, characters can seem both abnormally intense and insufficiently motivated. Kidman benefits from Gellhorn's relative obscurity in creating her, of course; the original person matters less. And yet given the unknowability of even as public a figure as Hemingway, there are as many plausible ways to play him as to play Hamlet, but Clive Owen delivers a stellar performance... down to the extra pounds he packed on, apparent in all those sex scenes. One doesn't need to feel that, yes, it was really like this only that it might have been. From the moment the young writer Martha, 28, sidles up to the celebrated Ernest, a decade older and covered in marlin blood, at a Key West bar -- Sloppy Joe's.
'Friend or foe?' asks Hemingway. 'Or faux friend. You never know', answers Gellhorn.... you might recall Lauren Bacall teaching Humphrey Bogart to whistle in 'To Have and Have Not' (1944).
And they're off, from Florida to the Spanish Civil War to Cuba and China and D-day, as competitors and collaborators. They meet other famous faces (the starry supporting cast includes David Strathairn as a rather too pathetic John Dos Passos and Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, as documentary filmmaker Joris Ivens, Molly Parker as Hemingway's second bride, Pauline, Parker Posey as Hemingway's fourth wife, Mary, Joan Chen as Madame Chiang and Robert Duvall as an unhinged Soviet general); enact passages from future memoirs and biographies reconfigured for dramatic effect; dodge bullets and down cocktails.
'You're more of a man than most men I've met,' he says admiringly, as he fails to drink her under the table.
Kaufman, who also directed the erotic period pieces 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' (1988) and 'Henry & June' (1990), puts a lot of energy into sex scenes that make Gellhorn seem like a goddess of the literary world. In a particular scene, one of my favorites, they're going at it while bombs rain down on their Madrid hotel, covering their naked bodies in plaster dust.The other scene I truly appreciated was in Cuba at the Copacabana in the dressing room. They sauntered in while the ladies were dancing … he practically dragged her, while both very intoxicated, until they found a spot hidden behind costumes and other paraphernalia. He turned her around and raised her dress … just as she was swaying to his thrusts a group of Cancan girls stormed in to change. He placed his hand over her mouth and continued pressing on… and they pulsated together in a harmonious rhythm. Kidman had this look of utter ecstasy. Delicious!
Integrating the actors' 'Zelig' style into old newsreel footage, sliding from color into monochrome and back again. Sometimes, you don't notice the trick at all, but even when you do, it can be sort of charming: It gives the film a kind of picture-book quality not out of step with its self-dramatizing subjects.
Yet in spite of his wild chauvinistic ways, something about the freethinking and alluring Gellhorn charms him. Hemingway is smitten, for a spell, until Gellhorn proves to be a tad too independent and not so subservient. Then Papa gets angry, and you won't much like Papa when he's angry. He gets really blitzed... ornery and self-centred. Papa is no one's notion of politically correct. But it isn't just self-aggrandizing bravado when he declares himself to be the greatest wordsmith in America. It’s hard to take that away from him. The returns in their relationship eventually diminish: The student outlives her need for the teacher, who derides her as 'Little Miss Human Interest'. It turns out that he's the conventional one who needs a base and a gang; she's the footloose free spirit who wants to be where the action is.
Kidman's Gellhorn and Owen's Hemingway, as well as the others, are mostly on fire, and under fire. And when not dodging gunshots during the Spanish Civil War and the Japanese invasion of China,
Gellhorn and Hemingway are mostly engaged in personal combat – physically and mentally. But the two have something in common: a romanticized idealism. They are rebels with a cause, eager to quash fast-rising fascism, be it in Franco's Spain or Hitler's Germany. Hemingway prevails upon Gellhorn to chuck objectivity in her dispatches for Collier's Weekly.
They are also fearless, bordering on foolhardy. What else to make of their desire for some nookie while their hotel is being blitzkrieged by Franco's bombers... Or Hemingway's challenge to play Russian roulette with an equally unravelled and real Russian General (Robert Duvall). The two are also world-class tipplers. But even Gellhorn marvels how Hemingway could put away bottles of scotch, absinthe and wine at night and still take his post at the typewriter the following morning.
'Writing is like Mass. God gets mad when you miss it,' explains Hemingway, whose second bride convinced him to convert to Catholicism.
While the film focuses on the passion between Hemingway and Gellhorn, it also addresses prevailing patronizing attitudes toward women with ambition back in the late 1930s and early 1940s, which is when the film is set. Despite finding religion as well as adventure, causes, acclaim and women, Hemingway, a senior Gellhorn contends in retrospect, was rarely at peace with himself... 'He tortured no one so much as he is tortured himself.' Such was the price Papa Hemingway was willing to pay for his place in the writers' pantheon. As is abundantly made clear here.
The movie, which has concentrated more on her journey than his, gives her a kind of payback: It
jumps from their final breakup, in 1945, to a diminished Hemingway's suicide some 16 years later.
Gellhorn exits on two feet, as the older woman who has remembered this tale, grabbing her backpack
and heading out the door onto her next adventure.
© Frank Borsellino™
* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
May 25, 2018
* Nicole Kidman & Clive Owen - 'Hemingway & Gellhorn' (2012) @ Copacabana, Cuba
'Hemingway & Gellhorn' is a study in the art of machismo... just as much from a woman as from a man. This film dramatizes the volatile coming together and falling apart of the famous novelist and his third wife. Martha Gellhorn, a renowned war correspondent and the only one of his brides who was also a fiction writer. The film is a big-name affair, with Clive Owen and Nicole Kidman in the leads. Philip Kaufman ('Rising Sun' (1993), directing a screenplay by Barbara Turner ('Pollock' (2000), 'Georgia' (1995), and Jerry Stahl ('Bad Boys II' (2003), executive produced by James Gandolfini (The Sopranos), and based on Martha Gellhorn's memoirs. At the outset of this explosive new film an aged but still feisty Gellhorn recalls how she was more interested in chasing battle action around the world than in pleasing her man in the boudoir.
She adds, 'There are wars, and then there are wars!'
Especially when one is involved with the ever-mercurial Ernest Hemingway, as Gellhorn was to learn over her intense romance and subsequent four-year marriage to the man. Really hard to say what was more life-threatening for Gellhorn: the Spanish Civil War or grappling with the demons of Papa Hemingway.
To be sure, it's practically impossible to re-create with complete accuracy an actual person, and biopics are typically deformed by the need to cover a lot of ground in short order, as one crisis follows quickly upon another, characters can seem both abnormally intense and insufficiently motivated. Kidman benefits from Gellhorn's relative obscurity in creating her, of course; the original person matters less. And yet given the unknowability of even as public a figure as Hemingway, there are as many plausible ways to play him as to play Hamlet, but Clive Owen delivers a stellar performance... down to the extra pounds he packed on, apparent in all those sex scenes. One doesn't need to feel that, yes, it was really like this only that it might have been. From the moment the young writer Martha, 28, sidles up to the celebrated Ernest, a decade older and covered in marlin blood, at a Key West bar -- Sloppy Joe's.
'Friend or foe?' asks Hemingway. 'Or faux friend. You never know', answers Gellhorn.... you might recall Lauren Bacall teaching Humphrey Bogart to whistle in 'To Have and Have Not' (1944).
And they're off, from Florida to the Spanish Civil War to Cuba and China and D-day, as competitors and collaborators. They meet other famous faces (the starry supporting cast includes David Strathairn as a rather too pathetic John Dos Passos and Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, as documentary filmmaker Joris Ivens, Molly Parker as Hemingway's second bride, Pauline, Parker Posey as Hemingway's fourth wife, Mary, Joan Chen as Madame Chiang and Robert Duvall as an unhinged Soviet general); enact passages from future memoirs and biographies reconfigured for dramatic effect; dodge bullets and down cocktails.
'You're more of a man than most men I've met,' he says admiringly, as he fails to drink her under the table.
Kaufman, who also directed the erotic period pieces 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' (1988) and 'Henry & June' (1990), puts a lot of energy into sex scenes that make Gellhorn seem like a goddess of the literary world. In a particular scene, one of my favorites, they're going at it while bombs rain down on their Madrid hotel, covering their naked bodies in plaster dust.The other scene I truly appreciated was in Cuba at the Copacabana in the dressing room. They sauntered in while the ladies were dancing … he practically dragged her, while both very intoxicated, until they found a spot hidden behind costumes and other paraphernalia. He turned her around and raised her dress … just as she was swaying to his thrusts a group of Cancan girls stormed in to change. He placed his hand over her mouth and continued pressing on… and they pulsated together in a harmonious rhythm. Kidman had this look of utter ecstasy. Delicious!
Integrating the actors' 'Zelig' style into old newsreel footage, sliding from color into monochrome and back again. Sometimes, you don't notice the trick at all, but even when you do, it can be sort of charming: It gives the film a kind of picture-book quality not out of step with its self-dramatizing subjects.
Yet in spite of his wild chauvinistic ways, something about the freethinking and alluring Gellhorn charms him. Hemingway is smitten, for a spell, until Gellhorn proves to be a tad too independent and not so subservient. Then Papa gets angry, and you won't much like Papa when he's angry. He gets really blitzed... ornery and self-centred. Papa is no one's notion of politically correct. But it isn't just self-aggrandizing bravado when he declares himself to be the greatest wordsmith in America. It’s hard to take that away from him. The returns in their relationship eventually diminish: The student outlives her need for the teacher, who derides her as 'Little Miss Human Interest'. It turns out that he's the conventional one who needs a base and a gang; she's the footloose free spirit who wants to be where the action is.
Kidman's Gellhorn and Owen's Hemingway, as well as the others, are mostly on fire, and under fire. And when not dodging gunshots during the Spanish Civil War and the Japanese invasion of China,
Gellhorn and Hemingway are mostly engaged in personal combat – physically and mentally. But the two have something in common: a romanticized idealism. They are rebels with a cause, eager to quash fast-rising fascism, be it in Franco's Spain or Hitler's Germany. Hemingway prevails upon Gellhorn to chuck objectivity in her dispatches for Collier's Weekly.
They are also fearless, bordering on foolhardy. What else to make of their desire for some nookie while their hotel is being blitzkrieged by Franco's bombers... Or Hemingway's challenge to play Russian roulette with an equally unravelled and real Russian General (Robert Duvall). The two are also world-class tipplers. But even Gellhorn marvels how Hemingway could put away bottles of scotch, absinthe and wine at night and still take his post at the typewriter the following morning.
'Writing is like Mass. God gets mad when you miss it,' explains Hemingway, whose second bride convinced him to convert to Catholicism.
While the film focuses on the passion between Hemingway and Gellhorn, it also addresses prevailing patronizing attitudes toward women with ambition back in the late 1930s and early 1940s, which is when the film is set. Despite finding religion as well as adventure, causes, acclaim and women, Hemingway, a senior Gellhorn contends in retrospect, was rarely at peace with himself... 'He tortured no one so much as he is tortured himself.' Such was the price Papa Hemingway was willing to pay for his place in the writers' pantheon. As is abundantly made clear here.
The movie, which has concentrated more on her journey than his, gives her a kind of payback: It
jumps from their final breakup, in 1945, to a diminished Hemingway's suicide some 16 years later.
Gellhorn exits on two feet, as the older woman who has remembered this tale, grabbing her backpack
and heading out the door onto her next adventure.
© Frank Borsellino™
* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
May 25, 2018
* Nicole Kidman & Clive Owen - 'Hemingway & Gellhorn' (2012) @ Copacabana, Cuba
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Movie Review - 'Out of Sight' (1998)
'Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.' ~ André Malraux
Once again I revisited an old favorite, 'Out Of Sight' (1998), not least because it stands as the most definitive example of Elmore Leonard on-screen. It has a terrific script by 'Get Shorty' (1995) writer Scott Frank. It also has a cameo from Michael Keaton, as a special task force agent, searching for escapees. In a setting that encompasses both of Leonard's traditional stomping grounds - Florida and Detroit. There is a cast of unforgettable characters double-crossing each other in a cracking plot of sex, violence and whip-smart dialogue (all directed with a career-reviving zeal by Steven Soderbergh). A deceptively tricky timeline masterfully reassembled by veteran editor Anne V. Coates (she recently passed away), whose credits include 'Lawrence Of Arabia', (1962) 'Chaplin' (1992) and 'In the Line of Fire' (1993) lays it out; bank robber Jack Foley (George Clooney), in the part that set the stage for the decade and more of great work to come, as he bounced back from the disaster of 'Batman & Robin' (1997). He has busted out of jail, taking Federal Marshal Karen Sisco (Jennifer Lopez, in my opinion never again not even half as good as she is here) hostage in her trunk. The reason for his outbreak is he's got a final caper in mind; pinching diamonds from toupeed white-collar criminal Richard Ripley (Albert Brooks), but former prison mate Snoop (Don Cheadle) has designs on the same score as well.
With Sisco on his tail, can Jack keep his mind on the job? Or might he have found something more important? Frank and Soderbergh keep the narrative moving propulsively, but find plenty of time to stop and catch their breath with a cast of characters that might be Leonard's finest, including Dennis Farina, as Karen's dad, Steve Zahn's hapless Glenn Michaels, Ving Rhames' loyal Buddy Bragg, Catherine Keener's magician's assistant Adele, Luis Guzman's escaped con Chino, Isaiah Washington's sinister Kenneth, and even a one-scene wonder from Viola Davis. The director, relishing his second chance after having had a string of under-performing pictures, gives the film a New Wave pop, but there's a darkness and sadness here too that underlays the laugh-out-loud moments without undermining them. It's an incredible masterpiece, one of the best crime pictures of the last few decades, and to my mind, the finest Elmore Leonard adaptation I have seen, at par or maybe better than 'Get Shorty'.
Finally a film adaptation of an Elmore Leonard novel that really captures the author's seedy South Floridian love of small-time hoods and big-time losers. Granted, 'Jackie Brown' (1997) mined similar territory some months back, but Soderbergh pares Leonard down to his essentials, playing around with the timeline à la Leonard, and just generally having a lighter, wackier time of it. It's gritty enough to stay true to the source material's comedy-of-despair ethos, yet solid enough to pack a punch, and in doing so it makes for one of the better heist movies in some time. Clooney, looking and acting way above par here, plays career thief Jack Foley, who in a lovingly realized opening scene finds himself in the Glades Correctional Institution after botching an endearingly simplistic bank robbery. Dismayed by the fact that he's not scheduled to see parole for three decades, he breaks out of prison and more trouble in the form of Deputy Federal Marshall Karen Sisco (Lopez), who just happened to be in the proverbial wrong place at the wrong time. With the help of partner Buddy Bragg (Rhames), Foley ditches Karen (but not before some serious brake-light rapport is established between the pair) and moves forward with his big plan to rob another ex-con -- insider trader Richard Ripley (Brooks) -- of a reported $5 million in uncut diamonds. When stoner car thief Glenn Michaels (Zahn, doing his best Jim Breuer impression brings him the inside scoop. Plans go awry (don't they always?) when hair-trigger Maurice ‘Snoopy’ Miller (Don Cheadle) cuts himself in on the action.
A host of terrific bit players round out Soderbergh's film: Catherine Keener turns up as Foley's ex-squeeze Adele, Isaiah Washington appears as Snoopy's psychotic brother Kenneth, an uncredited Michael Keaton reprises his ‘Jackie Brown’ role as FBI agent Ray Nicolette, another and also uncredited Samuel L. Jackson plays a fellow con in the film's closing scene. Although 'Out of Sight's whipsawing storyline feels off-putting at first, as the flashbacks-within-flashbacks begin drawing to a head, Soderbergh's obvious glee at playing with linear conventions shines through. It's also readily apparent that the actors are enjoying themselves immensely; more than anything else, 'Out of Sight' captures Leonard's sense of the indefatigable appeal of the downtrodden grifter. Clooney, with his cockeyed half-grin, sparks some real chemistry alongside the tempestuous Lopez, and Albert Brooks -- with his flagrantly shoddy hairpiece and all – is a sublime hoot. Soderbergh's film has a Sixties pop art feel to it, from the European-styled one-sheet poster on down to his frequent use of freeze-frames and snazzy edits. Hardly a serious caper film, 'Out of Sight' instead takes a lighter approach, effortlessly offering up as many unexpected chuckles as it does bullets.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
May 10, 2018
* George Clooney - 'Out of Sight' (1998)
Once again I revisited an old favorite, 'Out Of Sight' (1998), not least because it stands as the most definitive example of Elmore Leonard on-screen. It has a terrific script by 'Get Shorty' (1995) writer Scott Frank. It also has a cameo from Michael Keaton, as a special task force agent, searching for escapees. In a setting that encompasses both of Leonard's traditional stomping grounds - Florida and Detroit. There is a cast of unforgettable characters double-crossing each other in a cracking plot of sex, violence and whip-smart dialogue (all directed with a career-reviving zeal by Steven Soderbergh). A deceptively tricky timeline masterfully reassembled by veteran editor Anne V. Coates (she recently passed away), whose credits include 'Lawrence Of Arabia', (1962) 'Chaplin' (1992) and 'In the Line of Fire' (1993) lays it out; bank robber Jack Foley (George Clooney), in the part that set the stage for the decade and more of great work to come, as he bounced back from the disaster of 'Batman & Robin' (1997). He has busted out of jail, taking Federal Marshal Karen Sisco (Jennifer Lopez, in my opinion never again not even half as good as she is here) hostage in her trunk. The reason for his outbreak is he's got a final caper in mind; pinching diamonds from toupeed white-collar criminal Richard Ripley (Albert Brooks), but former prison mate Snoop (Don Cheadle) has designs on the same score as well.
With Sisco on his tail, can Jack keep his mind on the job? Or might he have found something more important? Frank and Soderbergh keep the narrative moving propulsively, but find plenty of time to stop and catch their breath with a cast of characters that might be Leonard's finest, including Dennis Farina, as Karen's dad, Steve Zahn's hapless Glenn Michaels, Ving Rhames' loyal Buddy Bragg, Catherine Keener's magician's assistant Adele, Luis Guzman's escaped con Chino, Isaiah Washington's sinister Kenneth, and even a one-scene wonder from Viola Davis. The director, relishing his second chance after having had a string of under-performing pictures, gives the film a New Wave pop, but there's a darkness and sadness here too that underlays the laugh-out-loud moments without undermining them. It's an incredible masterpiece, one of the best crime pictures of the last few decades, and to my mind, the finest Elmore Leonard adaptation I have seen, at par or maybe better than 'Get Shorty'.
Finally a film adaptation of an Elmore Leonard novel that really captures the author's seedy South Floridian love of small-time hoods and big-time losers. Granted, 'Jackie Brown' (1997) mined similar territory some months back, but Soderbergh pares Leonard down to his essentials, playing around with the timeline à la Leonard, and just generally having a lighter, wackier time of it. It's gritty enough to stay true to the source material's comedy-of-despair ethos, yet solid enough to pack a punch, and in doing so it makes for one of the better heist movies in some time. Clooney, looking and acting way above par here, plays career thief Jack Foley, who in a lovingly realized opening scene finds himself in the Glades Correctional Institution after botching an endearingly simplistic bank robbery. Dismayed by the fact that he's not scheduled to see parole for three decades, he breaks out of prison and more trouble in the form of Deputy Federal Marshall Karen Sisco (Lopez), who just happened to be in the proverbial wrong place at the wrong time. With the help of partner Buddy Bragg (Rhames), Foley ditches Karen (but not before some serious brake-light rapport is established between the pair) and moves forward with his big plan to rob another ex-con -- insider trader Richard Ripley (Brooks) -- of a reported $5 million in uncut diamonds. When stoner car thief Glenn Michaels (Zahn, doing his best Jim Breuer impression brings him the inside scoop. Plans go awry (don't they always?) when hair-trigger Maurice ‘Snoopy’ Miller (Don Cheadle) cuts himself in on the action.
A host of terrific bit players round out Soderbergh's film: Catherine Keener turns up as Foley's ex-squeeze Adele, Isaiah Washington appears as Snoopy's psychotic brother Kenneth, an uncredited Michael Keaton reprises his ‘Jackie Brown’ role as FBI agent Ray Nicolette, another and also uncredited Samuel L. Jackson plays a fellow con in the film's closing scene. Although 'Out of Sight's whipsawing storyline feels off-putting at first, as the flashbacks-within-flashbacks begin drawing to a head, Soderbergh's obvious glee at playing with linear conventions shines through. It's also readily apparent that the actors are enjoying themselves immensely; more than anything else, 'Out of Sight' captures Leonard's sense of the indefatigable appeal of the downtrodden grifter. Clooney, with his cockeyed half-grin, sparks some real chemistry alongside the tempestuous Lopez, and Albert Brooks -- with his flagrantly shoddy hairpiece and all – is a sublime hoot. Soderbergh's film has a Sixties pop art feel to it, from the European-styled one-sheet poster on down to his frequent use of freeze-frames and snazzy edits. Hardly a serious caper film, 'Out of Sight' instead takes a lighter approach, effortlessly offering up as many unexpected chuckles as it does bullets.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
May 10, 2018
* George Clooney - 'Out of Sight' (1998)
Monday, April 30, 2018
Games
Run
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Belonging
Friday, April 20, 2018
Sailing the World
To Be Special
The Battle
Friday, April 6, 2018
Hope must never be lost ...
Monday, April 2, 2018
Movie Review - 'Begin Again' (2013)
'Headed to the top. The only question as I meet you on my way is if you're coming with me or not.' ~ Iveta Cherneva
A chance encounter between a disgraced music-business executive and a young singer-songwriter, new to Manhattan, turns into a promising collaboration between the two talents. John Carney's low budget romance musical 'Once' (2007) was a breakout hit that foregrounded the emotional complexities of its central lovers with delicate tunes. By contrast, 'Begin Again' (2013) — which originally featured the more revealing title 'Can a Song Save Your Life?' revolves around the exploitation of that very same feeling. The story centers on forlorn aspiring British songwriter Gretta (Keira Knightley 'Colette' (2018)), who's adrift in Manhattan after getting dumped by her philandering rock star boyfriend Dave (Adam Levine - Maroon 5), and being discovered by struggling music producer Dan (Mark Ruffalo 'Thor: Ragnarok' (2017). Eager for fresh talent, Dan pushes Gretta to sign with him and record an ambitious outdoors album across the city. She's initially reticent; songwriting is just something that she does. The film explores this tension with a blithe attitude that foregrounds several enjoyable melodies performed throughout the movie, but it also feels every bit as commercial as the world in its crosshairs.
Executive produced by Judd Apatow, Carney's movie revolves around a familiar set of character types that wouldn't seem out of place in a studio comedy like the ones associated with the Apatow brand. Yet it works significantly better than more mainstream productions thanks to the legitimacy its actors bring to the project. Knightley's sorrowful state plays nicely off Ruffalo's sputtering enthusiasm for show business. His character's own background would strain from contrived ingredients if it weren't endowed with the credibility he brings to it: The actor's relationship with his wife (Catherine Keener 'November Criminals' (2017) is on the rocks following an earlier affair, while his angst-riddled daughter (Hailee Steinfeld 'Pitch Perfect 3' (2017)) copes with her burgeoning womanhood under her parents' close watch. Meanwhile, Dan's longtime producing partner Saul (Yasiin Bey aka Mos Def) wants to kick him out of the venture since he's unwilling to embrace mainstream trends in the industry. The movie's title doesn't lie: Gretta's talent has the potential to give Dan's career meaning again — just as it can rescue her from her sorrows.
'Begin Again' explores this scenario with a light, inoffensive touch. The stakes are nicely established with Knightley's performance of a solemn tune about loneliness during an acoustic set forced on her by friend Steve (James Corden 'The Late Late Show'). Hesitant to share her work with the world, she has zero stage presence. But minutes later we witness the entire scene a second time around from Ruffalo's perspective: Drunk and frustrated with his flagging career, the character perks up when he hears the music and gazes at the performer with a giddy smile. Behind Knightley, the other instruments suddenly come to life on their own, as Dan imagines the potential for Gretta's music in the hands of a good producer and backup musicians. It's the only moment of genuine magical realism that endows the movie's musicality with an innovative edge. Dan's drive to sign Gretta based on this experience gives the premise a fairy tale quality that makes it easy to invest in his mission, since we're experiencing his client's potential along with him.
Following a cheeky cameo by CeeLo Green as the posh musician willing to finance Gretta's album, there's no doubt whether Dan can find the resources he needs to get back on track. After a while, the real star of 'Begin Again' is its original compositions. Performing on rooftops and alleyways while Dan happily watches from the sidelines — and at one point joins in. Gretta delivers a series of tracks with a genial presence that makes the case for her star potential. By foregounding the two main characters' investment in the scenario, Carney makes it relatable. When the story veers into whimsical territory — as when Gretta records a song on her ex-boyfriend's voicemail to announce her frustrations with him, or when she traipses around the city with Dan listening to jazz on his headphones — Carney shares a charming sense for music's cathartic power. A feeling I have experienced many times over. 'We need vision, not gimmicks', Dan professes to his business partner. 'Begin Again' struggles to confront that advice, but finds it on enough occasions to demonstrate its accuracy.
© Frank Borsellino™
* From Where I Sit!
March 30, 2018
* Mark Ruffalo & Keira Knightley
A chance encounter between a disgraced music-business executive and a young singer-songwriter, new to Manhattan, turns into a promising collaboration between the two talents. John Carney's low budget romance musical 'Once' (2007) was a breakout hit that foregrounded the emotional complexities of its central lovers with delicate tunes. By contrast, 'Begin Again' (2013) — which originally featured the more revealing title 'Can a Song Save Your Life?' revolves around the exploitation of that very same feeling. The story centers on forlorn aspiring British songwriter Gretta (Keira Knightley 'Colette' (2018)), who's adrift in Manhattan after getting dumped by her philandering rock star boyfriend Dave (Adam Levine - Maroon 5), and being discovered by struggling music producer Dan (Mark Ruffalo 'Thor: Ragnarok' (2017). Eager for fresh talent, Dan pushes Gretta to sign with him and record an ambitious outdoors album across the city. She's initially reticent; songwriting is just something that she does. The film explores this tension with a blithe attitude that foregrounds several enjoyable melodies performed throughout the movie, but it also feels every bit as commercial as the world in its crosshairs.
Executive produced by Judd Apatow, Carney's movie revolves around a familiar set of character types that wouldn't seem out of place in a studio comedy like the ones associated with the Apatow brand. Yet it works significantly better than more mainstream productions thanks to the legitimacy its actors bring to the project. Knightley's sorrowful state plays nicely off Ruffalo's sputtering enthusiasm for show business. His character's own background would strain from contrived ingredients if it weren't endowed with the credibility he brings to it: The actor's relationship with his wife (Catherine Keener 'November Criminals' (2017) is on the rocks following an earlier affair, while his angst-riddled daughter (Hailee Steinfeld 'Pitch Perfect 3' (2017)) copes with her burgeoning womanhood under her parents' close watch. Meanwhile, Dan's longtime producing partner Saul (Yasiin Bey aka Mos Def) wants to kick him out of the venture since he's unwilling to embrace mainstream trends in the industry. The movie's title doesn't lie: Gretta's talent has the potential to give Dan's career meaning again — just as it can rescue her from her sorrows.
'Begin Again' explores this scenario with a light, inoffensive touch. The stakes are nicely established with Knightley's performance of a solemn tune about loneliness during an acoustic set forced on her by friend Steve (James Corden 'The Late Late Show'). Hesitant to share her work with the world, she has zero stage presence. But minutes later we witness the entire scene a second time around from Ruffalo's perspective: Drunk and frustrated with his flagging career, the character perks up when he hears the music and gazes at the performer with a giddy smile. Behind Knightley, the other instruments suddenly come to life on their own, as Dan imagines the potential for Gretta's music in the hands of a good producer and backup musicians. It's the only moment of genuine magical realism that endows the movie's musicality with an innovative edge. Dan's drive to sign Gretta based on this experience gives the premise a fairy tale quality that makes it easy to invest in his mission, since we're experiencing his client's potential along with him.
Following a cheeky cameo by CeeLo Green as the posh musician willing to finance Gretta's album, there's no doubt whether Dan can find the resources he needs to get back on track. After a while, the real star of 'Begin Again' is its original compositions. Performing on rooftops and alleyways while Dan happily watches from the sidelines — and at one point joins in. Gretta delivers a series of tracks with a genial presence that makes the case for her star potential. By foregounding the two main characters' investment in the scenario, Carney makes it relatable. When the story veers into whimsical territory — as when Gretta records a song on her ex-boyfriend's voicemail to announce her frustrations with him, or when she traipses around the city with Dan listening to jazz on his headphones — Carney shares a charming sense for music's cathartic power. A feeling I have experienced many times over. 'We need vision, not gimmicks', Dan professes to his business partner. 'Begin Again' struggles to confront that advice, but finds it on enough occasions to demonstrate its accuracy.
© Frank Borsellino™
* From Where I Sit!
March 30, 2018
* Mark Ruffalo & Keira Knightley
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Movie Review - 'Limitless' (2011)
'Your only limitations are those you set upon yourself. Believe in your abilities and
your infinite potential. Never let self-doubt hold you captive. You are worthy of all
that you dream of and hope for.' ~ Roy T. Bennett
'Limitless' is a clever, stylish little exercise in drug-fueled paranoia. This film
raises the question, 'If the apple from the tree of knowledge fell right into your lap,
would you take a bite? And then what would you do?' The apple in this case is an illicit
designer drug 'NZT'. Now, it isn't just another quick high, but instead, it makes a lie
of the old saying that we only use 20 percent of our brains and cranks that percentage
up to 100. Can you fathom that! The possibilities are endless in theory and also for
the purpose of this story.
A thirty-something writer Eddie Mora (Bradley Cooper 'Burnt' (2015), is divorced with
a terminal case of writer's block. Here is a guy who was just dumped by his most recent
girlfriend Lindy (Abbie Cornish 'Perfect' (2018), because he's going nowhere at the speed
of light. By circumstance, our slacker finds himself in possession of a stash of the
wonder pill. Suddenly, Eddie -- seducing the worlds of writing, women and Wall Street --
has got massive amounts of game and brains, attracting the attention of both barons of
the boardroom like Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro 'The Wizard of Lies' (2017), bullies on
the street like Russian mobster Gennady (Andrew Howard 'The Brave' (2017), and some
mysterious third guy who keeps giving him the side-eye and chasing him around Manhattan.
And did someone mention side effects? Baby, this apple bites back. This is where Eddie
might be starting to realize that getting really smart really quickly may have been
a dumb thing after all?
Bradley Cooper is great and really plays up both sides of that coin, the intellect and
when the drug wears out, the pauper. I have been a big fan of his since the series 'Alias'
(2001-2006). I always enjoyed him because he stretches and doesn't just skate on his looks.
He tries to be diverse in his choice of roles such as 'Joy' and 'Burnt' (2015), 'American
Sniper' and 'Serena' (2014). In raunchy fare like 'The Hangover' (2009) and plodding rom-coms
('Wedding Crashers' (2005) – didn't you hate him? 'He's Just Not That Into You' (2009) –
again the cad and everyone loved him in 'Valentine's Day' (2010).
'Limitless' is based on the novel 'The Dark Fields' by Alan Glynn and is directed with
a nimble efficiency and sense of visual humor by Neil Burger ('Divergent' (2014). It is
at times reminiscent of the work of Danny Boyle ('T2 Trainspotting' (2017), it never takes
itself too seriously but still manages to be suspenseful and clever. Burger, Cooper and De
Niro opened up what was a much cluttered book and injected it with a jolt of cinematic
electricity. Smart move - smart movie.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
March 27, 2018
your infinite potential. Never let self-doubt hold you captive. You are worthy of all
that you dream of and hope for.' ~ Roy T. Bennett
'Limitless' is a clever, stylish little exercise in drug-fueled paranoia. This film
raises the question, 'If the apple from the tree of knowledge fell right into your lap,
would you take a bite? And then what would you do?' The apple in this case is an illicit
designer drug 'NZT'. Now, it isn't just another quick high, but instead, it makes a lie
of the old saying that we only use 20 percent of our brains and cranks that percentage
up to 100. Can you fathom that! The possibilities are endless in theory and also for
the purpose of this story.
A thirty-something writer Eddie Mora (Bradley Cooper 'Burnt' (2015), is divorced with
a terminal case of writer's block. Here is a guy who was just dumped by his most recent
girlfriend Lindy (Abbie Cornish 'Perfect' (2018), because he's going nowhere at the speed
of light. By circumstance, our slacker finds himself in possession of a stash of the
wonder pill. Suddenly, Eddie -- seducing the worlds of writing, women and Wall Street --
has got massive amounts of game and brains, attracting the attention of both barons of
the boardroom like Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro 'The Wizard of Lies' (2017), bullies on
the street like Russian mobster Gennady (Andrew Howard 'The Brave' (2017), and some
mysterious third guy who keeps giving him the side-eye and chasing him around Manhattan.
And did someone mention side effects? Baby, this apple bites back. This is where Eddie
might be starting to realize that getting really smart really quickly may have been
a dumb thing after all?
Bradley Cooper is great and really plays up both sides of that coin, the intellect and
when the drug wears out, the pauper. I have been a big fan of his since the series 'Alias'
(2001-2006). I always enjoyed him because he stretches and doesn't just skate on his looks.
He tries to be diverse in his choice of roles such as 'Joy' and 'Burnt' (2015), 'American
Sniper' and 'Serena' (2014). In raunchy fare like 'The Hangover' (2009) and plodding rom-coms
('Wedding Crashers' (2005) – didn't you hate him? 'He's Just Not That Into You' (2009) –
again the cad and everyone loved him in 'Valentine's Day' (2010).
'Limitless' is based on the novel 'The Dark Fields' by Alan Glynn and is directed with
a nimble efficiency and sense of visual humor by Neil Burger ('Divergent' (2014). It is
at times reminiscent of the work of Danny Boyle ('T2 Trainspotting' (2017), it never takes
itself too seriously but still manages to be suspenseful and clever. Burger, Cooper and De
Niro opened up what was a much cluttered book and injected it with a jolt of cinematic
electricity. Smart move - smart movie.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
March 27, 2018
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Movie Review - 'In Search of Fellini' (2017)
'You have to live spherically - in many directions. Never lose your childish enthusiasm - and things will come your way.' ~ Federico Fellini
In the movie, Nancy Cartwright, the voice of Bart Simpson on the long-running animated television series, has made her first movie as a screenwriter and producer. 'In Search of Fellini' (2017) reimagines a whirlwind adventure Ms. Cartwright once had to try to meet Federico Fellini… and so with the help of her longtime collaborator and co-writer, Peter Kjenaas, and first-time director Taron Lexton, she creates a Felliniesque fantasy of her own.
In this coming-of-age adventure, Lucy (Ksenia Solo), is a sheltered, small-town girl from Ohio, who discovers the delightfully bizarre films of the legendary Italian filmmaker and sets off on a journey across Italy to find him, a charming drama about the love of movies and youthful passion, which she inherited from her mother (Maria Bello)'s idealistic view of romance and appreciation of feel-good movies. After her mother falls ill, Lucy finds solace at a festival of Fellini films and discovers movies with dark endings and sexual scenes that she had never seen before. She resolves to find the man of her cinematic dreams in Italy.
Lucy, whose wide-eyed naïveté is modeled after Giulietta Masina's character in 'La Strada' (1954), isn't the only reference to Fellini's movies. 'In Search of Fellini' is overflowing with characters, locations and visual cues to the director's classics, like 'Nights of Cabiria' (1957), 'La Dolce Vita' (1960) and '8 ½' (1963). Fans that refer to Fellini as Il Maestro may delight in these references, but several cues and cameos are followed by a scene or poster of the cited movie, so as not to exclude the rest of the audience.
Fellini used nostalgia to point out something about ourselves; Mr. Lexton uses it to remind us of Fellini's films. The movie can shift from effusive love letter to travel lust to sentimental moment, but it doesn't break the fantasy.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
March 25, 2018
* Paolo Bernardini & Ksenia Solo - 'In Search of Fellini' (2017)
In the movie, Nancy Cartwright, the voice of Bart Simpson on the long-running animated television series, has made her first movie as a screenwriter and producer. 'In Search of Fellini' (2017) reimagines a whirlwind adventure Ms. Cartwright once had to try to meet Federico Fellini… and so with the help of her longtime collaborator and co-writer, Peter Kjenaas, and first-time director Taron Lexton, she creates a Felliniesque fantasy of her own.
In this coming-of-age adventure, Lucy (Ksenia Solo), is a sheltered, small-town girl from Ohio, who discovers the delightfully bizarre films of the legendary Italian filmmaker and sets off on a journey across Italy to find him, a charming drama about the love of movies and youthful passion, which she inherited from her mother (Maria Bello)'s idealistic view of romance and appreciation of feel-good movies. After her mother falls ill, Lucy finds solace at a festival of Fellini films and discovers movies with dark endings and sexual scenes that she had never seen before. She resolves to find the man of her cinematic dreams in Italy.
Lucy, whose wide-eyed naïveté is modeled after Giulietta Masina's character in 'La Strada' (1954), isn't the only reference to Fellini's movies. 'In Search of Fellini' is overflowing with characters, locations and visual cues to the director's classics, like 'Nights of Cabiria' (1957), 'La Dolce Vita' (1960) and '8 ½' (1963). Fans that refer to Fellini as Il Maestro may delight in these references, but several cues and cameos are followed by a scene or poster of the cited movie, so as not to exclude the rest of the audience.
Fellini used nostalgia to point out something about ourselves; Mr. Lexton uses it to remind us of Fellini's films. The movie can shift from effusive love letter to travel lust to sentimental moment, but it doesn't break the fantasy.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
March 25, 2018
* Paolo Bernardini & Ksenia Solo - 'In Search of Fellini' (2017)
Friday, March 2, 2018
The Underdog
'I have always sided with the underdog... the vanguard in search of a vision…his vision... his passion. The moment you realize that you can have everything you want in life. However, it takes timing, the right heart, the right actions, the right passion and a willingness to risk it all. If it is not yours it is because you really didn't want it.' ~ © Frank Borsellino™
* Nathan Filion & Morena Baccarin - 'Firefly' (2002-2003)
* Nathan Filion & Morena Baccarin - 'Firefly' (2002-2003)
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
'Genevieve' by Pininfarina
'This is your world, shape it or someone else will.' ~ Gary Lew
My first passion was driving... I could not wait to have my own car, not any car
but rather a vehicle that defined me. I believed that an automobile was an extension
of oneself, the key to being free, to exploring and discovering. The beginning of
any adventure was the moment you got behind the wheel and turned the key in the
ignition... and the machine came to life. As a preteen nothing compared to that
sensation.
As was customary, within my circle of peers, at eighteen, a boy is driven to
a business associate of the father, who owns an automobile dealership and is
allowed to choose his first car. Being that we just stepped-off of the seventies,
muscle cars were still in vogue, most notably Pontiacs and Camaros, more specifically
Trans-Ams and Z/28s. Having just seen the movie 'American Gigolo' (1980), I wanted
a European ragtop, not some hunk of steel, so diametric to my dad's wishes; I put
the word out among auto enthusiasts.
Late one summer evening I receive a call from one such enthusiast, who had a
connection with the sole, at that time, auto dealer in Montreal who dealt in Italian
automobiles 'Luciani Motors'. That same night, after-hours, like some cloak and
dagger mission, we arrive at the showroom. Following introductions we are lead to
an underground storage facility. As I adjusted my focus, in the back of this large
backdrop of concrete and steel, I see the most beautiful, exotic jewel, a black
Fiat Spider with a tan interior and ragtop. The same color as Julian in 'American
Gigolo'.
FIAT (Fabbrica Italiana Automobili di Torino) was founded in Turin, Northern
Italy, in the year 1899, at the dawn of the Italian industrialization. Now the
FIAT group is a financial and industrial conglomerate that initially manufactured
aircrafts.
In the year 1979, the FIAT 124 Spider came to be known as the Spyder 2000. The
1980 Spyder 2000 came equipped with a bigger and more powerful engine that provided
good acceleration. It had a wide rectangular mesh grille and a badge on the bonnet.
It was a classic, in the sense of Austin Healeys, TRs' and MGB Roadsters from
British Leyland of the late sixties. It had these incredible power bulges over
each wheel rim. The aerodynamic body of the vehicle was designed to minimize drag.
I was in Heaven, an instant bond between man and machine. I turned to Mr. Luciani
and said, "That's the one!"
My father was not a happy man and so he let it be known that it was my responsibility
financially, of course, I had to come up with the funds, but I didn't care, she was
worth it.
"I like you Frank so I'll arrange for the car loan to be approved. Just don't let
me down, young man," said Mr. Luciani once he heard our exchange.
Imagine what that felt like to an eighteen year old? Like, in 1492 when Christopher
Columbus first saw land in the horizon. Two days go by and I get a call from Mr.
Luciani's secretary,
"Mr.Borsellino, Mr. Luciani wanted to let you know your car is ready."
I must have jumped 3 feet in the air, all the while trying to maintain civil dialogue
with the lady on the other end.
"Come in to sign some papers and you can drive her home," she concluded.
Suffice to say... that night I got no sleep and the following day at work I was useless.
Right from work, without even showering, got a ride to the dealer and skipped up those
stairs to the office, signed some documents and got my first set of keys.
To paraphrase Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., "Freedom at last! Freedom at last! Thank God
Almighty, Freedom at last!"
You were now allowed to go anywhere, anytime and with anyone, day or night, regardless.
I don't think I had ever or since felt such an invigorating sensation down to the depths
of my being. 'The world was my oyster'.
I crossed the lot and I saw her, she had been washed and was a shiny black beacon amidst
a sea of colour. Luciani had many cars in that lot but only my little diamond shone as
black as Egypt's night. The smile on my face was so pronounced it was going to slice my
cheek - through and through. I stopped to take a breath and allow the moment to encapsulate
me fully. This kind of excitement may be only a handful of momentous life-altering milestones
in the life of any young man or woman... your first car. I couldn't believe this was my car.
Mr. Luciani says to me, "Adesso ragazzo, fai attenzione. Unlike a hardtop... if you rollover
in a convertible you can be crushed."
As he began to show me the temperature cage, the lever that opens the bonnet, the hidden
key slot for the trunk, etc. I interrupt him and say, "I don't care; I'll eventually read
the manual and figure those things out."
"I understand, son."
"All I want to know is how to put down the top?"
He went through the motions pointing to the lever to unhook the ragtop, while I'm settling
in comfortably. I turn the key ... and Freedom roared! The engine came to life and it was
like music to my ears. The purring sound of that little Italian 'macchina' was what the
hymning from Angels must sound like.
The first stop was one my oldest friends who lived across the river. Crossing that bridge,
with the wind in my hair, was intoxicating. Being on an open road was a profound freeing of
the spirit. Her dad is an avid car collector, mostly antiques though, but one look at that
little gem and he loved me for the following 25 years. Every time I went to pick her up,
he'd take it for a spin with his wife, like they were reliving their teenage years... while
my friend and I sat around the house waiting. Marie had the soul of an Italian, but was part
French-Canadian and so christened her 'Genevieve' and the name stuck for the next several years.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
February 5, 2017
* '1980 Fiat 124 Sport Spider by Pininfarina
My first passion was driving... I could not wait to have my own car, not any car
but rather a vehicle that defined me. I believed that an automobile was an extension
of oneself, the key to being free, to exploring and discovering. The beginning of
any adventure was the moment you got behind the wheel and turned the key in the
ignition... and the machine came to life. As a preteen nothing compared to that
sensation.
As was customary, within my circle of peers, at eighteen, a boy is driven to
a business associate of the father, who owns an automobile dealership and is
allowed to choose his first car. Being that we just stepped-off of the seventies,
muscle cars were still in vogue, most notably Pontiacs and Camaros, more specifically
Trans-Ams and Z/28s. Having just seen the movie 'American Gigolo' (1980), I wanted
a European ragtop, not some hunk of steel, so diametric to my dad's wishes; I put
the word out among auto enthusiasts.
Late one summer evening I receive a call from one such enthusiast, who had a
connection with the sole, at that time, auto dealer in Montreal who dealt in Italian
automobiles 'Luciani Motors'. That same night, after-hours, like some cloak and
dagger mission, we arrive at the showroom. Following introductions we are lead to
an underground storage facility. As I adjusted my focus, in the back of this large
backdrop of concrete and steel, I see the most beautiful, exotic jewel, a black
Fiat Spider with a tan interior and ragtop. The same color as Julian in 'American
Gigolo'.
FIAT (Fabbrica Italiana Automobili di Torino) was founded in Turin, Northern
Italy, in the year 1899, at the dawn of the Italian industrialization. Now the
FIAT group is a financial and industrial conglomerate that initially manufactured
aircrafts.
In the year 1979, the FIAT 124 Spider came to be known as the Spyder 2000. The
1980 Spyder 2000 came equipped with a bigger and more powerful engine that provided
good acceleration. It had a wide rectangular mesh grille and a badge on the bonnet.
It was a classic, in the sense of Austin Healeys, TRs' and MGB Roadsters from
British Leyland of the late sixties. It had these incredible power bulges over
each wheel rim. The aerodynamic body of the vehicle was designed to minimize drag.
I was in Heaven, an instant bond between man and machine. I turned to Mr. Luciani
and said, "That's the one!"
My father was not a happy man and so he let it be known that it was my responsibility
financially, of course, I had to come up with the funds, but I didn't care, she was
worth it.
"I like you Frank so I'll arrange for the car loan to be approved. Just don't let
me down, young man," said Mr. Luciani once he heard our exchange.
Imagine what that felt like to an eighteen year old? Like, in 1492 when Christopher
Columbus first saw land in the horizon. Two days go by and I get a call from Mr.
Luciani's secretary,
"Mr.Borsellino, Mr. Luciani wanted to let you know your car is ready."
I must have jumped 3 feet in the air, all the while trying to maintain civil dialogue
with the lady on the other end.
"Come in to sign some papers and you can drive her home," she concluded.
Suffice to say... that night I got no sleep and the following day at work I was useless.
Right from work, without even showering, got a ride to the dealer and skipped up those
stairs to the office, signed some documents and got my first set of keys.
To paraphrase Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., "Freedom at last! Freedom at last! Thank God
Almighty, Freedom at last!"
You were now allowed to go anywhere, anytime and with anyone, day or night, regardless.
I don't think I had ever or since felt such an invigorating sensation down to the depths
of my being. 'The world was my oyster'.
I crossed the lot and I saw her, she had been washed and was a shiny black beacon amidst
a sea of colour. Luciani had many cars in that lot but only my little diamond shone as
black as Egypt's night. The smile on my face was so pronounced it was going to slice my
cheek - through and through. I stopped to take a breath and allow the moment to encapsulate
me fully. This kind of excitement may be only a handful of momentous life-altering milestones
in the life of any young man or woman... your first car. I couldn't believe this was my car.
Mr. Luciani says to me, "Adesso ragazzo, fai attenzione. Unlike a hardtop... if you rollover
in a convertible you can be crushed."
As he began to show me the temperature cage, the lever that opens the bonnet, the hidden
key slot for the trunk, etc. I interrupt him and say, "I don't care; I'll eventually read
the manual and figure those things out."
"I understand, son."
"All I want to know is how to put down the top?"
He went through the motions pointing to the lever to unhook the ragtop, while I'm settling
in comfortably. I turn the key ... and Freedom roared! The engine came to life and it was
like music to my ears. The purring sound of that little Italian 'macchina' was what the
hymning from Angels must sound like.
The first stop was one my oldest friends who lived across the river. Crossing that bridge,
with the wind in my hair, was intoxicating. Being on an open road was a profound freeing of
the spirit. Her dad is an avid car collector, mostly antiques though, but one look at that
little gem and he loved me for the following 25 years. Every time I went to pick her up,
he'd take it for a spin with his wife, like they were reliving their teenage years... while
my friend and I sat around the house waiting. Marie had the soul of an Italian, but was part
French-Canadian and so christened her 'Genevieve' and the name stuck for the next several years.
© Frank Borsellino™
© From Where I Sit™
writer/blogger/bon vivant
February 5, 2017
* '1980 Fiat 124 Sport Spider by Pininfarina
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
'Stranger in Heels' by © Frank Borsellino™
As I perused the bar I saw her sitting at an alcove, slightly above the fray. It was at my eye level, legs and heels. She was enveloped in a lovely Pashmina of such a beautifully, vibrant shade of pink, Picasso would have been envious. Just as I gazed upon those spectacular limbs, like some burlesque show, she stood up. Let me give you a visual, shoulder length dirty blonde hair in quasi-curls, the soft skin glowing from exuberance, and especially the long, soft limbs that went to Heaven and back.
The legs ended at a little black Versace cocktail dress with a ruffled, feathered crown right above the knees. The arch from her buttocks flowed, seamlessly, to her muscular calves, to the curvature of her limbs and finished at her sexy black pumps. Auguste Rodin would have loved to mould that into eternity.
Throughout the evening she kept twisting and turning. She had attitude, was a little aggressive, a little flirty and hopped like a bunny. Then a funny thing happened on my way to the men's room, I saw her on the cusp of the ladies' room. She looked like she had stepped off a fashion shoot and you could smell her fragrance from a distance, and it was exquisite. She was sobbing, very faintly, of which there is no sadder sight than a beautiful woman in tears.
Earlier that day, she had been to Holt Renfrew to pick up that beautiful dress she had on lay-away, for the better part of the summer. The store had it so long they were knocking off 10% just for tenacity. On this day she was feeling beautiful again, like she use to before her life started spiralling out of control.
She originally hailed from Belgium, by way of Paris, which guaranteed a free spirit, and had an enchanting accent, a little sprinkle, nothing heavy, which made all those bookers giddy. She had been discovered at a high school fashion show, and catapulted to fashion houses all over Paris. Because of her youth, a chaperon was required, and of course her mother jumped on that train. The mother relished the chance to hob-knob with the rich and famous.
The glitterati of the fashion world were a strong aphrodisiac for grounded individuals, but for her mother, it was destructive. Through the years the tumultuous relationship, to say the least, of the Mother-Daughter team had turned into something of a joke within the industry. In fact, it had become too hard for her agent to book any more runway shows or photo shoots. So… when she turned 25 and because she was an ingénue anymore had become something of a pariah.
That night, after her mother saw the beautiful new dress, demanded money, and when none was forthcoming, an exchange of malicious words ensued. She stormed out of that little five-story walk-up on Cathcart St., and regretted that fateful day, when asked by her agent / manager to choose between her mother and her career.
The legs ended at a little black Versace cocktail dress with a ruffled, feathered crown right above the knees. The arch from her buttocks flowed, seamlessly, to her muscular calves, to the curvature of her limbs and finished at her sexy black pumps. Auguste Rodin would have loved to mould that into eternity.
Throughout the evening she kept twisting and turning. She had attitude, was a little aggressive, a little flirty and hopped like a bunny. Then a funny thing happened on my way to the men's room, I saw her on the cusp of the ladies' room. She looked like she had stepped off a fashion shoot and you could smell her fragrance from a distance, and it was exquisite. She was sobbing, very faintly, of which there is no sadder sight than a beautiful woman in tears.
Earlier that day, she had been to Holt Renfrew to pick up that beautiful dress she had on lay-away, for the better part of the summer. The store had it so long they were knocking off 10% just for tenacity. On this day she was feeling beautiful again, like she use to before her life started spiralling out of control.
She originally hailed from Belgium, by way of Paris, which guaranteed a free spirit, and had an enchanting accent, a little sprinkle, nothing heavy, which made all those bookers giddy. She had been discovered at a high school fashion show, and catapulted to fashion houses all over Paris. Because of her youth, a chaperon was required, and of course her mother jumped on that train. The mother relished the chance to hob-knob with the rich and famous.
The glitterati of the fashion world were a strong aphrodisiac for grounded individuals, but for her mother, it was destructive. Through the years the tumultuous relationship, to say the least, of the Mother-Daughter team had turned into something of a joke within the industry. In fact, it had become too hard for her agent to book any more runway shows or photo shoots. So… when she turned 25 and because she was an ingénue anymore had become something of a pariah.
That night, after her mother saw the beautiful new dress, demanded money, and when none was forthcoming, an exchange of malicious words ensued. She stormed out of that little five-story walk-up on Cathcart St., and regretted that fateful day, when asked by her agent / manager to choose between her mother and her career.
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