Bless your heart, Ron Livingston. You just may be the most persistent man in television. It seems you keep showing up in new series each year or so, only to have that series go down in the proverbial flames right before our eyes. And yet, you continue to try again. You find another interesting project to which you can lend your talent, and you bring the very most of whatever the character requires. You never seem to phone it in. You always seem to be giving each new role your absolute best, and each new character seems to have even more depth than your last. This can’t be all good writing — for in truth, some of the writing hasn’t been good at all on one or two of your series. I feel certain the depth comes from you. And that is what keeps me returning to each and every new series in which you star.
 
But Ron… it’s getting a bit ridiculous now. And I’m not sure my heart can continue to withstand the pain of investing fully in one of your new shows only to have it pulled away from me — from us! — yet again. I’m almost to the point of not wanting to watch at all for fear that I may lose you once again to the black hole of defunct series. But I can’t not watch! You have brought to me some of the best characters in all of television (and movies, too!), and I just feel I owe it to you to follow wherever you lead. How empty my life would have been without your Capt. Nixon in Band of Brothers or your portrayal of every office drone’s hero in Office Space. My television landscape would never have been the same without Standoff, and I wouldn’t have cared one bit for Sex and the City except that your Jack Berger was so ridiculously frustrating to watch. And now you’ve brought to me Defying Gravity, a series I honestly didn’t think would interest me at first but which quickly crawled beneath my skin solely because of your baseball-loving Maddux Donner. For a series that didn’t quite have a good grasp on what it was trying to become — for, really, there was no need for that supernatural/alien contrivance known as Beta; it could have been so fantastic all on its own simply by focusing on the human relationships of a crew out on a six-year space mission — your presence held the entire ensemble together and gave the series weight. I fear I may lose it, as well, just when I had become fully engaged. And honestly, I can’t take much more of this.
 
I’m thankful, Ron Livingston, that you continue to pursue film roles, as well, so that I’m not forced to wait two or three seasons at a time to find you appearing in another 8-13 episode mid-season replacement series. I love seeing you pop up where I least expect you, as in this summer’s The Time Traveler’s Wife. But I do hope that your day will finally come when the right TV series presents itself and you have a chance to play out a character to its fullest. That time seems to have arrived for your buddy (and one of my favorites) Michael Cudlitz in Southland, and I do hope it arrives for you very soon, as well. For I truly enjoy you when you’re around. And I honestly can’t take much more of these series cancellations. Here’s hoping Defying Gravity gets another chance. And if not that, then something even better for you, Mr. Livingston. You’ve earned it!

I recently had an epiphany that seems to be changing my life… or rather, changing my pop culture landscape. I was sitting in the cinema waiting for the start of Julie & Julia and watching the trailer for The Time Traveler’s Wife when it hit me: both were books I always intended to read but never did, yet now I had the film versions at my disposal and probably would never go back to read the actual source material. Once upon a time this thought would have unnerved me. I would have protested greatly at the idea of choosing a movie version in lieu of the book itself. A true and dedicated reader, as I always was in my youth, would never dream of substituting one medium for the other but would, instead, make time for both and do a comparative study. Yet here I was, more than willing to take books off of my “To Be Read” list in favor of sitting for two hours and watching someone’s very subjective take on the stories. What had become of the girl I’ve always been? Leaving the movieplex I mentioned this realization to my parents, and my mother’s response was quick and on point, as usual. “I think a lot of your stress comes from trying to find time for all of your interests. If you did choose one over the others, you’d probably feel less stress.” Hmmm…
 
The fact that such a dilemma only belongs to a person of leisure is not lost on me. What a blessing to have so much time that my greatest stress comes from which entertainments to choose! And yet, even with so few responsibilities in my life, I don’t seem to find enough time to accomplish all that I wish. I’m either exhausted from the one thing that is taking over the most time — which is presently my job, ironically — and therefore, do not have the energy to even choose one passion over another. Or I’m so fully engaged in one leisure activity that my list of other plans keeps growing and growing without my ever deciding to be realistic with what I’ll actually accomplish. My heart has trouble letting go of things that once brought me much joy, even though I do not choose those joys on a regular basis any longer. For the past year I’ve spent more hours online in one activity or another than any other task in my downtime. I’ve logged plenty of blog posts and random status updates via Facebook and Twitter, and I’ve amassed a great list of blogs that I like to read for inspiration and general amusement. In the past few months I’ve even found the online activities to outweigh television watching, which had always been my biggest time-consumer. Both activities bring me great joy and provide much conversation in other areas of my life, yet both take time away from other so-called passions. I used to be an avid reader, but in all of 2008 I completed only six books! This year I have begun no less than five books since January but have completed none of them. And yes, this does bring me stress! I feel as if I should be ticking off titles on a list of some kind. I feel less than intellectual because I’m not reading anymore. And I’m not willing to say the words, “I’m not really a reader anymore.” It feels like a failure to my psyche and my soul. At the same time, I know that something must give for me to find peace with all I try to do in these leisure hours.
 
Perhaps there is solace in this: what I love at this moment in my life is sure to change at some point in the future. With new technology, there is so much more on which to place our focus. Though I love to watch television and make time for many, many hours each week, there just may come a day when nothing interesting remains on TV. And the people who write the blogs that I love may also find themselves in similar time dilemmas and could stop writing altogether. Where will it leave me when there is no longer interesting film or television or internet distractions? Well… there will be books! And once again, I will become an avid reader. I can accept this current shift in my heart, in my pop culture passions, because I know that I am extremely fickle and do not obsess over the same things forever. What I love today, whose films I’m following this summer, will be completely different next season and next year. So for now, I’m choosing which passions bring me the most joy at this moment in time. Television, movies, the world wide web. The only question that remains is… what in the world will I do with all these unread books?
 

DVD viewing
 

 
When you see as many high-octane, under-developed films as I do, it’s easy to be surprised when a truly great story comes your way. In fact, I am often overwhelmed at the artistry of a well-told film, almost shocked by the fullness of plot and character. The fact that so many of these wonderful films fall under the category “independent” is a sad testament to the state of Hollywood today. If a rich story cannot find backing from the major players in the industry, I fear for the future of cinema even more now than ever before. Thankfully, there are still producers within the film industry who are willing to bet their money that an audience does exist for good storytelling and honest performances without the need for gloss or a big bang. Sunshine Cleaning was a bet worth taking.
 
The premise of Sunshine Cleaning does nothing more than provide the setting for a deeper story of family and grief. Two sisters, played by the divine and inimitable Amy Adams and Emily Blunt, venture into the business of crime scene clean-up for the simple purpose of earning higher pay that will enable Adams’s single mom to send her son to a better and more suitable school. The scenes at their various work sites are simply props around which to address the relationship between the two sisters and to direct us into their mournful past. As a result of finding themselves in such gruesome settings, the women are able to address key elements in their lives that have been holding them back and keeping them down. In the process of cleaning up the aftermath of death, the sisters are able to find deeper meaning in life.
 
Adams and Blunt are two of our finest young actresses, and together they are extraordinary. The entire film rests on the two of them, and each brings a very specific tone to the film. Sunshine Cleaning is profound and it is sublime. There is depth in the film’s easy pace that never seems present in movies that make noise. For this reason alone, it is superior to any other story I’ve seen this year. There is truth and there is grace in every scene. And I had almost forgotten how that looked.
 

Most of my favorite films remain so because I am emotionally attached to them. This is the key reason I collect movies, knowing that I will want to revisit them again and again throughout my life in hopes of recapturing the feelings I had on first viewing. I may not watch a film for five years or more, but at some point I’ll think of something in that movie or get in a mood to watch a marathon of a specific actor’s work, and that will often lead me back to old favorites. This month I’ve been revisiting the films of Samantha Mathis, an actor who appeared in many films that I once enjoyed but who I wouldn’t call a “favorite” actor. What does distinguish her to me is the starring turn she had in one of my most cherished films from the 90s, The Thing Called Love. Perhaps it’s my country music phase that prompted it, but I’ve been anxious to rewatch the film recently, interested to know if it still feels as cherished to me as always before. Tonight, I finally found the perfect opportunity.

The Thing Called Love has the unfortunate distinction of being the last film made by River Phoenix prior to his death, but when I watch the movie no sadness enters my heart. In other films by River, I do feel some twinges of sadness at the premature loss of such talent, but not with The Thing Called Love. Instead, I am always completely caught up in the joy of seeing so many actors at early points in their careers. And I am charmed by the quiet little story of country musicians seeking their big breaks in Nashville by auditioning weekly at The Bluebird Cafe. The story is simple and the characters memorable, and there are catchy tunes to propel the film forward. Though it is by no means a masterpiece, it is charming and makes me happy each and every time I see it. Besides River and Mathis, the cast also includes Dermot Mulroney and Sandra Bullock before she was quote Sandra Bullock unquote. There are also numerous appearances by legendary country artists who were huge names at the time — K.T. Oslin plays a lead role as the manager of the Bluebird, and Trisha Yearwood appears as herself in one scene. The Thing Called Love, like so many older films, is a blast from the past of country music, but it’s also a timeless story. And I never tire of reliving that story and walking the journey with the lead characters.
 

 
Each time I revisit this film, I find something different that catches my attention and steals my focus. Most of the previous years’ viewing have kept me riveted to the love story between the characters played by River and Mathis, but even upon its release in 1993, I was always charmed by Dermot Mulroney’s lovestruck songwriter. I was familiar with Mulroney by that time, having first “discovered” him as Dirty Steve in Young Guns, and I had followed his career from time to time during the years since. Now that sixteen years have passed since The Thing Called Love, I have come to truly adore Mulroney. And in tonight’s viewing of the film, I found my focus entirely upon his character. Where he once added interest to the central story of Mathis’s character, he now becomes a primary reason to return to the film sooner rather than later. Simply put, he is adorable and deserving of more screen time than he received.
 
Such newfound interests have always been my reasoning for not just watching a film one time. If I am impressed on the first viewing, I will surely be impressed even more the second time. If a film is endearing once, it will become even moreso when viewing multiple times over the next few years. Such films never grow old, and even when the scenery and clothing is dated and even humorous, the story itself just intensifies and becomes beloved over time. The Thing Called Love is beloved to me. And revisiting it is always time well-spent.
 

August 18, 2009 at Movies 10 in Plano, Texas
 

 
I am a die-hard fan of Night at the Museum, so the decision to take another crazy ride with those living exhibits was the simplest movie decision ever. The fact that I visited Washington, D.C., once upon a time only served to make the film all the more treasured in my mind. I always enjoy settings that I’ve seen up close. Battle of the Smithsonian was meant to be pure, uninhibited fun, and I believe it fully succeeded in that endeavor. The true test of a film like this is whether I can enjoy it with my teenage nephew — who is more like me than any of the other kids in our family — so when we both found ourselves laughing more and more loudly as the film progressed, I knew Smithsonian had won our hearts. We enjoyed it even more than the first of the series, and that was quite unexpected since we were completely surprised by the first one and genuinely came to love it by the closing credits. But this second film was, by far, our favorite of the two. It was kooky, goofy, silly fun with characters we already loved and new ones who charmed us and made us laugh with gusto. We learned new facts about historical figures that led us to great conversation after the movie, and we were able to share yet another evening of mutual joy. There are very few films in theaters today that can provide the same amount of joy to a 14-year-old boy as to a 40-year-old woman without offending either one. But Battle of the Smithsonian did just that. It is pure and honest family fun, and we have no regrets.
 
Above all else in the film I was charmed by two specific moments: Amy Adams portraying Amelia Earhardt, and stunning visual imagery of paintings coming to life as if on a television screen while hanging in the Washington Art Museum. The paintings were all familiar works by the greatest artists of all time, and watching them come to life was a breathtaking moment for me. This is what I often see in my mind’s eye when touring art museums, but never before have I witnessed an actual representation of my thoughts as shown in this film. I must admit to a longing for such a feat to be possible, for art to come alive before my eyes. It was an extraordinary moment of film, to say the least. And Adams’s Earhardt spoke the greatest truth about it: “How can you pass up a dance with one of Degas’s girls?” Indeed! Watching Adams as the legendary aviator was equally extraordinary. She stole every moment of every scene, and she looked amazing while doing it. Adams’s portrayal was reminiscent of Katharine Hepburn at her best, and her Amelia was filled with joie de vivre that lit the screen. I know little of the real Earhardt’s personality, but I was completely enchanted by Adams’s rendition. The film could have followed only her character, and it would have been glorious.
 
What makes the Museum films so special and fun for my family are the characters themselves. Owen Wilson as cowboy Jedediah continues to bring the biggest smiles to me, and Hank Azaria was at his ridiculous best as an Egyptian king attempting to revive long-dead power. All of the supporting “exhibits” continue to make me laugh, and I appreciated the extra touch by the writers to take the bumbling idiocy of General Custer and redeem him by the end of the film. It was unnecessary, but it provided such a beautiful lesson for children to know that everyone has value, whether obvious to us or not. It is this kind of care that elevates these Museum films above many other “family” films. I am never offended, and I am always entertained. How I wish there were more films like this each year.
 

August 8, 2009 at Movies 14, McKinney, Texas
 

 
The more I view the work of Meryl Streep, the more I am convinced that she is our greatest living actress. Her talents are undeniable, but in recent years, as she enjoys an unexpected phase of her career, she has become larger than life. She portrays characters with abandon, utterly fearless in her performances and fiercely determined to remove all aspects of herself so that the viewers see only the characters of the stories and nothing of the actor playing them. Streep is brilliant in practically everything she does, and she seems to be having more fun now than ever before. This was never more evident to me than watching her embody the legendary Julia Child in Julie & Julia. She is a marvel. Having watched Julia Child on television in her later years, I had some expectations of what I wanted to see from Streep, but I never dreamed to fall in love with a woman who before had simply been an icon to the culinary world. Streep has transformed my opinions of Julia Child. She has done the very thing every actor should strive toward when portraying a real-life persona: she made me want to know more about Child and her life before the public met her.
 
The story of Julie & Julia is just as it alludes — the true stories of the two women. Julie Powell is a young woman struggling with her life’s purpose in 2002, and she becomes inspired by Julia Child to the point of creating each of the 524 recipes of Child’s book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and committing to complete such a feat in only one year’s time. As we follow Julie through this adventure, we are taken back to the early 1950s to walk with Julia Child as she sets out to discover her own life’s calling as a French chef. The movie is best when walking with Julia. Streep’s portrayal brings to life a woman who was incredibly joyful, mischievous, determined and overflowing with a love of life. As we witness the birth of the legend, we also are privy to a grand love story between Julia and her husband, Paul. Their romance softens every scene and gives the setting of mid-century Paris an even greater glow than just the vivid landscape can bring. It is through Paul’s eyes that we come to see the beauty of Julia. And in this film, played by Streep, Julia is a beautiful and remarkable woman.
 
I can’t imagine that many who see this film would not be inspired by it. I am the last person to ever find joy in cooking, and even I was completely galvanized. I wanted to run home and make Julia’s famous bœuf bourguignon! The film is nothing short of a foodie’s heaven. And it is also a testament to not giving up your dreams. Child was near 40 years old when she first attended Le Cordon Bleu school in France and began to truly understand the nature and pleasure of food. The remainder of her life was devoted to this one passion, and she, along with her husband, created a legacy that continues to inspire people half a century later. Julie & Julia is that rare kind of film that envelops you and challenges you and invites you to laugh without inhibition. I cannot remember the last time I found a film so completely joyous from beginning to end, nor can I recall feeling such warmth toward a “character” as I did toward Julia Child. Julie & Julia inspires nothing short of happiness in a way that movies haven’t been able to do in many, many years.
 
images via Rotten Tomatoes

It should come as no surprise that director/writer/producer John Hughes is hugely responsible for my being a pop culture junkie. His biggest films were staples of my teen years, the first movies I saw that seemed to speak to and about my generation. And Hughes introduced me to actors who have remained favorites throughout my life. These actors, in fact, were some of my first celebrity interests, and since the ’80s were also a time of teen gossip magazines, I had plenty of opportunities to follow their lives, as it were. Though I loved movies long before John Hughes, it was his work that changed the way I saw them. I’d even go so far as to say that Hughes films took my great love of movies and catapulted it into an obsession. I’ve never been the same since.
 
It all began, of course, with Sixteen Candles, in which I first met ’80s teen queen Molly Ringwald, the incredibly awesome and geeky Anthony Michael Hall, and one-off crush Michael Schoeffling. I saw the film again and again and again, and like most others my age, could quote most of the great moments verbatim. Though I didn’t remember him until a few years later, Sixteen Candles also introduced me to John Cusack. I’ll always be indebted to Hughes for this above all else.

 
 
Despite the greatness of Sixteen Candles, it was certainly The Breakfast Club that spoke to me the most. Never before had I seen a film that told the truth about school cliques, about the deeply felt angst of a teenager, and about how much easier it is to make a judgment about someone instead of discovering who that person really is below the surface. And The Breakfast Club was honest about the fact that even when we realize our prejudice and wish things were different, it still doesn’t change the way we act on a daily basis. We would certainly hope to become different people, but the realities of high school dictate that we probably follow our crowd even when we don’t agree with them. It’s a harsh truth — harsher still for those of us standing on the fringes — but it’s reality, and John Hughes didn’t sugar-coat it. I’ve never realized just how important that was to my 16-year-old psyche until now. Hughes’s movies helped me understand that I wasn’t the only one who felt so alone. And that was a saving grace at the time.

 
 
But above all others, for me, is Some Kind of Wonderful. To this day, in all of the films and tv series I’ve watched in my lifetime, there is no one cooler than Eric Stoltz and Mary Stuart Masterson in Wonderful. The film, the story, the characters never get tired. It all continues to resonate — with me and with generations of kids who follow. In every sense of the word, it’s a classic. But it’s not the plot that make it so special. It’s the heart of the film, the depth of the friendship between the two main characters played by Stoltz and Masterson. Their subtle performances interject layers that can’t be written into any script, and there has never been another film that captivated me in quite the same way. Some Kind of Wonderful reminded me that sometimes my dreams have been staring me in the face the whole time, if only I’d look a little closer to home.
 
 
The list of Hughes classics goes on and on: from the legendary characters in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to the perfect soundtrack (and wardrobe!) of Pretty in Pink, from the brilliance of the Vacation and Home Alone series to the unexpected depth of Dutch. My lifelong entertainment interests were almost single-handedly shaped by John Hughes. My love of actors is a direct result of loving the people he cast in his films. Maybe I would have discovered some of them on my own eventually, but what would life be like without Jon Cryer’s Duckie, or the Breakfast Club gang of Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald, Ally Sheedy, Emilio Estevez and the inimitable Anthony Michael Hall? I owe John Hughes for introducing me to the incredible Elias Koteas in Some Kind of Wonderful. And we all owe the man for the creation of Uncle Buck. Hughes is truly an icon to those of us who grew up in neon-colored t-shirts and leg warmers worn over our jeans. He told the rest of the world what life was like for teenagers at that time, and I believe his message is still relevant today.
 
A sad farewell to a visionary. Here’s hoping someone can follow in his footsteps for future generations.

 
images via Internet Movie Database and River Blue
 

July 26 – August 1, 2009

	Spending a day at the art museum. I never tire of walking around museums and seeing masterful works created hundreds (and thousands) of years ago, and to have the opportunity to examine favorite pieces up close after years of reading about them in books is one of the greatest privileges on earth. I spent the day in a state of awe.
	This little comic strip. Don’t miss the dog on the last panel.
	This little video about being a woman. My favorite line is the very last one. Listen for it!.
	Days With My Father by Phillip Toledano. This week began with Parents’ Day, and Toledano’s story is a great reminder to cherish all the moments we have together. (Note: On the website, place your cursor over the body of the page and use the scroll button on your mouse to advance the frames.)
	Celebrating the life of my one and only niece. As a child she called herself Kiwi Chelle, and though she is turning 15 next week I still think of her as that beautiful little girl with the great big smile. I love you, Kiwi, and love the relationship that we are developing throughout our lives. Happy birthday!

The concept is simple: Click shuffle on your iTunes music library and in the order each track comes up, answer the following questions with the song titles. It’s like a Facebook version of Mad Libs! Let’s see how it “shuffles” down today.

July 19-25, 2009

	Online tutorials. I’ve learned more this week about basic Photoshop tasks than I ever did on my own. And having videos at my fingertips to show me step-by-step processes is invaluable. Yay for technology!
	This little green avatar that gets randomly assigned on Typepad blogs and the fact that I seem to always get assigned this very one. It’s obviously my favorite, what with the color and the little daisy design, but how cool is it to always get the same one!
	Abandoned places of New York City. Using his own photographs, artist Nathan Kensinger is telling the stories of once-glorious buildings and locations of NYC. It’s, at once, sad and moving. These are truly visions of days long gone.
	How mulling things over for a few days can sometimes bring epiphany. When I watched the movie Hide earlier this week, I was struck by the realization that I couldn’t actually write a blog post immediately after viewing. The ending confused me so much that I honestly didn’t know where to begin, and though I enjoyed the movie, I couldn’t quite form coherent thoughts on what I’d seen. Waiting a couple of days brought new insight into the reasons I love films that feature prominent violence and unstable characters, and much of what I realized had not been written out or even considered before. I love the fact that I continue to learn new things about myself, that I continue to see new levels of my own psyche and can even surprise myself when attempting to put my thoughts into words. That happened with my blog post on Hide and it was supremely satisfying to me.
	Finding favorite celebrities on Twitter. Three of the stars from Leverage are now tweeting — Beth Riesgraf, Aldis Hodge, and Christian Kane (the last two only because Beth Riesgraf pestered them about it… ha!). Love this kind of insight into how the actors go through their days. And Kane’s profile picture is simply awesome!
	Clayne Crawford. I’ve recently become extremely enamored with this little-known actor and have begun working my way through his filmography as best I can. What I quickly discovered is that I’ve been watching Clayne Crawford, enjoying Clayne Crawford, for years now in various one-off episodes of many favorite tv series. He’s been on a handful of CSI’s, Cold Case, and most recently on Life as the memorably named Eval. He popped up earlier this year in a single fight scene on Leverage (thanks to his real-life best pal Christian Kane), and I even watched him on Roswell back in its day, though I can’t recall a thing about it. He’s appeared in small roles in films like The Great Raid, A Love Song for Bobby Long, Swimfan and even A Walk to Remember. I’ve seen him again and again and again, made note of how enjoyable he was at the time, and then promptly forgot to look into his career. But that’s all changed now. Now I’m pursuing it. Now I’m watching every moment I can find to get to know this actor better. I had the great treat this week of seeing his 4-episode stint on Jericho — which left me wishing I had watched the entire series, it was so good — and I have found a handful of film titles to add to the queue. I can look forward to his work as a feature player in the upcoming movie The Forlorn, again with Christian Kane, about the journey taken by the Donner Party. And he has also just been cast in the next season of 24, and that just makes me kinda giddy. I hope this all means that Clayne Crawford’s star is finally rising and that I’ll have more opportunities to see him develop his talents. The more I see, the more I love this charming Southern boy with the lazy Alabama drawl. And those who know me will tell you: that’s the most surprising thing of all.
Christian Kane photo via Christian Kane’s Twitter page. Clayne Crawford photo via CinemaRx.