Went out to Vancouver Island recently. Saw many Great Blue Herons, birds that are not rare but still not as abundant in my neck of the woods. The herons are common sights along the West Coast.
This is what I found when I saw them––there was always some human presence nearby. I know it’s humans that are impinging on their habitat, but still love to see the picture of coexistence, how they still thrive living side-by-side people, unlike what I’m used to at the Pond in my neck of the woods, where they are usually far away, solitary, and would fly away instantly when humans come near.
A heron silhouetted with the sailboats:
I like this sight too… a shared seashore:
I spent almost an hour with this bird at the beach that late morning. Took many photos of it, walking close to it to take some of these shots, and watched it pick out its brunch:
You can see the small fish in its beak.
__________
As a postscript, here are some birds I saw visiting the Butterfly Gardens in Victoria, B.C. While I saw some birds I hadn’t seen before, like the Flamingo, or the Macaws or Parakeets not as house pets, I found them ‘too easy’ to capture in photos. The place was very interesting to visit, no doubt, with butterflies flying freely everywhere and very informative and educational displays, yet, I felt like an imposter bird photographer.
Something like taking pictures of animals in a zoo as opposed to photography on a Safari. Surely, lacking the opportunity of the latter, I suppose seeing them in a confined environment is a second best way to meet them? A contentious issue.
For Paris in July this year, I want to read an actual Parisian author writing Parisian stories. I did some digging and found Antoine Laurain. I’m late to the party, for Laurain has written more than a dozen books, which have been translated into twenty languages, an award-winning novelist whose talents are multi-faceted: author, journalist, screenwriter, film director, antique collector and dealer.
I’ve read or listened to four of Laurain’s novels in the past weeks: The Red Notebook(2014), The President’s Hat (2012), The Readers’ Room (2020), and The French Windows (2024). I still have many more to savour. These ones I’ve read are all like novellas, less than 200 pages, each unique in its storyline, very entertaining, easily accessible but not shallow. Laurain’s writing is a fusion of the literary and the popular, weaving suspense and romance, or adding a dash of magical realism as in The President’s Hat. Among these four, The Red Notebook is my favourite.
The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain, Gallic Books (English edition), 2015, 159 pages.
Ahh… The contentment of being sought and found… and to be known.
Laurent, a bookstore owner, finds a woman’s leather handbag in good condition on top of a garbage bin on the street one morning, obviously stolen and discarded there. He takes it to the police station, but is told to wait. Doesn’t have time to spare, Laurent decides to leave it till the next day to hand it in. The mauve handbag is just too much of a lure for Laurent to keep his curiosity in check. That night at home, he opens it gingerly and explores the personal effects inside, hoping to find a name and address so he can return it to its owner.
Among the perfume, hair clip, keys, and numerous other items, there’s a red Moleskin notebook. Just too tempting, how can he not open it? The elegant and fluid handwriting records the owner’s self-reflections, her likes, her fears, her dream.
He had opened a door into the soul of the woman with the mauve bag and even though he felt what he was doing was inappropriate, he couldn’t stop himself from reading on.
It could sound creepy, but Laurain lets his readers empathize with this curious middle-age bookseller, for he is now a detective of the soul. And Laurain knows how to tell his story with humour. As he searches the bag, his girlfriend shows up, complicating matters. Later, adding zest to his quest, his daughter joins in his detective work readily and offers invaluable assistance.
Augmenting Laurent’s eagerness to find the owner of the bag himself instead of letting it go to the police is another object in the handbag, the book Accident Nocturne signed and with a line of dedication handwritten by the French author and Nobel laureate Patrick Modiano. The bookseller is overcome by a surge of passion, for Modiano is his favourite writer. Herein lies the clue to someone who shares the same mind as his. From the line of inscription, Laurent knows the first name of the owner of the bag, Laure.
While ordinary love stories might focus on a person looking for the right one to love, here in The Red Notebook, it describes the complementary side of the search as well, by revealing the one aspect which might be the most gratifying of true love: being sought and found… and to be known.
I like the idea of a man going to so much trouble to find me (no one has ever gone to so much trouble for me before)
While Laure has had men in her life before, but there has never been one who had really stepped inside her mind. Yet here is one stranger who has known and admired her inner being, and is passionate enough to go the distance to find her, and yet…
The ‘and yet…’ is purposely unwritten as I don’t want to give any spoilers. I highly recommend The Red Notebook as a light and entertaining read, one that touches that soft spot of the human heart, to be sought and found… and deeply known.
I await a filmmaker to take this up, write an English screen adaptation and set in New York City, find a perfect cast, and I’m sure it will make one marvellous rom com, or a little more serious but equally heartwarming rom dramedy.
Marketed as a romantic comedy, Materialists, Celine Song’s (Past Lives, 2023) second film defies categorization. Released by A24 just in time to greet summer viewers, the film isn’t quite like your traditional rom-coms. There are no LOL moments, but there’s humour throughout that elicits knowing chuckles. No slapstick acts, but movement made by the actors are often subtle but notable.
The opening scene is a fitting prelude. A caveman courting his sweetheart, slipping onto her finger a ring made from the delicate stem of a tiny flower. Right after that, a stark change of scenery with a busy New York streetscape accompanied by the beat of Cat Power’s ‘Manhattan’, and the title credits begin to flash on screen. Tale as old as time… from prehistoric to modern day.
We see Lucy (Dakota Johnson) walk on in New York City with perky confidence, a successful matchmaker who has seen nine pairs of her clients tie the knot, so far. Lucy exudes such upbeat positivity that she can stop a man on the street and ask outright if he’s single, then hands him her business card. She possesses ‘an eagle eye for chemistry’, an expert in linking her clients by checking all the boxes for the right match: looks, age, height, weight, family background, education, income. Like transactions in the financial market, in Lucy’s business, people are the commodity, numbers on a spreadsheet. Materialistic measures reign supreme in a dating service.
The satirical vibe is obvious. Isn’t that a modern-day parallel of Jane Austen’s time, where successful matrimony is dependent on financial compatibility. Pride and Prejudice (1813) is a prime example. Such is the view held by Mr. Darcy at first, and the reason why Lady Catherine de Bourgh is so furious when she sees an inferior nobody dares to compete with her own daughter. As for Mrs. Bennet, marrying up for money is what she dreams of for her five daughters. Only the heroic Elizabeth Bennet is brave enough to challenge the social norm and insists on her own criterion for marriage: love.
Soon after the opening of Materialists, we come to the inciting incident. In her client’s wedding banquet Lucy meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), the brother of the groom. He checks every box: handsome, dripping rich, living in a $12 million Manhattan suite, 6 ft. tall, working in a family-owned private equity firm (is it still considered ‘work’?) a perfect 10 as a potential client. But Harry is not interested in Lucy as a matchmaker, but a date.
As fate has it, in that same event, Lucy’s ex, John (Chris Evans), reappears in her life as a catering waiter. John is a struggling actor, trying to make ends meet, still sharing an apartment with roommates. Past memories flood back to them. Here we see a relational triangle similar to Song’s debut work, Past Lives. Thus kicks off the storyline, who does Lucy choose? A question as old as time. And for Lucy, the modern-day career woman who handles transactions that deal with external measures only, does love have a place?
Song writes about what she knows, as Past Lives is autobiographical, Materialists is, interestingly, based on her stint as a matchmaker in NYC some years ago. As a director whose debut film was nominated for two Oscars, Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay, Song has proven herself to be a versatile filmmaker who can break out of the indie mode into the limelight of popular features.
The camera is a definite asset. Cinematographer Shabier Kirchner used 35mm film to shoot, bringing out cinematic aesthetics of old. Most notable is his camera work, many shots letting a still camera capture the nuances of two characters facing each other talking, maintaining a slower pace to allow the characters, and the viewers, to soak up the atmosphere and the deeper meaning of the conversations, an obvious digression from the breezy, traditional rom-coms.
When viewers drop their own preconception of the actors’ previous roles, Evans as Captain America, Johnson her Fifty Shades sequences, and Pascal the apocalyptic survivor, the trio works well each in their own way. But the one that deserves mention is the supporting actress Zoe Winters who plays Sophie. The twists and turns of the storyline switch the second half of the movie to a different drive, one that feels like a suspense drama, and Winters delivers with heart-stirring effects.
My main issue with the movie, however, is probably related to Song being such a brilliant wordsmith in creating dialogues. In writing and especially now in a visual medium, the ‘show not tell’ axiom is all the more crucial. This is even more true when the subject matter is love. Other than hearing the word uttered, the film isn’t convincing enough to show the presence of that affective bond of passion which is so crucial in the ultimate outcome. ‘Love is a mystery,’ Song has said in her interviews. Such a mystery through the ages needs to be represented on screen by actions instead of just being mouthed in words.
Nevertheless, overall, Song needs to be congratulated on transitioning from the indie to the mainstream arena with popular stars, and helming a production with her own style of cinematic artistry.
So what if Materialists doesn’t fit the mold of a rom-com? Why need to box it into a genre? As the opening credits state, and it’s a good description: ‘A Celine Song Film’. Let it be its own genre, the writer-director is in a class of her own. A very pleasant movie not just for the summer season, and one I’m sure Jane Austen herself would like to watch.
I’m watching closely the Cannes Film Festival taking place right now. While my tour is virtual and imaginary, I look forward to TIFF in September when I go to Toronto, as some of these Cannes selections might reprise there.
So, if I were in Cannes now, this would be my list of films to watch (links for related films in the list below are to my Ripple reviews):
TÔI YAMANAMINO HIKARI (A PALE VIEW OF HILLS) directed by Ishikawa Kei
The English translation quickly draws me in: A PALE VIEW OF HILLS is the first novel (1982) by Nobel Laureate Kazuo Ishiguro. An introspection of a Japanese woman living alone in England, spanning decades of life from post-WWII Japan to her resettling in a foreign country. Past memories intermingle with present day reality. Ishiguro is adroit in psychological narratives. I’m curious to see if the film lives up to his credit. Time to reread.
ELEANOR THE GREAT directed by Scarlett Johansson
Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut. Eleanor moves to New York City at age 90 for a fresh start and befriends a 19-year-old student. What an idea: A fresh start at 90. Even more amazing in real life, for 95 year-old June Squibb could well be the oldest actor still working, and just recently acclaimed for her performance in Thelma (2025). For those with a longer memory, Squibb was an Oscar nominee for best supporting actress playing Kate Grant in Alexander Payne’s Nebraska (2013).
THE MASTERMIND directed by Kelly Reichardt
Kelly Reichardt is one of my all-time favourite directors. A look back at her works Wendy and Lucy (2008), Certain Women (2016), First Cow (2019), has piqued my curiosity in how she’d handle this art heist movie, Reichardt’s sensitive rendering of a more popular themed, mainstream subject. And the cast here is a huge attraction: Gaby Hoffman (Field of Dreams, 1989), Josh O’Connor (The Crown, 2020; Emma, 2020), and John Magaro (First Cow, 2019; Past Lives, 2023).
Nouvelle Vague (NEW WAVE) directed by Richard Linklater
I was captivated by Linklater’s Before trilogy back in the days… Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), and Before Midnight (2013). But he’d shown his versatility by other more subsequent titles such as Boyhood (2014), and Hit Man (2023). Now in 2025, he dives into the French New Waves, his first French language film, creating a making-of feature in black and white to chronicle the shooting of Jean-Luc Godard’s classic Breathless (À Bout De Souffle), which premiered at Cannes in 1960. I anticipate an articulate and adroit handling of this homage to the French cinematic legacy.
VIE PRIVEE (A PRIVATE LIFE) directed by Rebecca Zlotowski
We know Jodie Foster can speak French, but can she master the language in a full feature film showcased in Cannes, France. I sure hope so because the audience there can be very direct and umm… expressive in showing their love or disapproval. Foster plays a renowned psychiatrist investigating the death of one of her patients. The French cast includes Mathieu Amalric (The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, 2007; The Grand Budapest Hotel, 2014) and Virginie Efira (2023 César Awards Best Actress winner for Revoir Paris)
Sentimental Value directed by Joachim Trier
Four years after The Worst Person in the World with which his star Renate Reinsve won Best Actress at Cannes and Trier went on to be nominated at the Oscars for his screenplay and his film representing Norway for Best International Feature Film, now director and star reunite to bring us a story exploring family, memories, and the power of art. Cast includes Stellan Skarsgard and Elle Fanning.
Left-Handed Girl directed by Shi-Ching Tsou
What attracts me to this film, first is the title, then is the face of the little girl. What’s more intriguing is that Tsou’s directorial debut is produced, edited and co-written by Sean Baker, the US director who won the Palme d’Or last year with Anora, a feature that later went on to win five Oscars. The Left-handed Girl follows a single mother and her two daughters striving to adapt to a new environment in bustling Taipei as they open a stall at a night market.
Renoir directed by Chie Hayakawa
Hayakawa’s first feature film Plan 75 (2022) premiered at Cannes and won the Golden Camera award. It was Japan’s official entry to the Best International Feature Film at the Oscars in 2023. Renoir is Hayakawa’s second film, a coming-of-age story of a sensitive eleven year-old girl growing up in 1980’s Tokyo, living with a stressed-out mother and a terminally ill father. Cast includes Hirokazu Koreeda’s favourite actor Lily Franky (2018 Palme d’Or winner Shoplifters,Like Father, Like Son, 2013)
This 34 minute documentary short is a tribute to Orin O’Brien, the first female musician hired full time by the New York Philharmonic in 1966 under the directorship of Leonard Bernstein. The trailblazing, unsung hero is spotlighted, albeit reluctantly, by her niece, filmmaker Molly O’Brien, who had looked up to her aunt as someone to emulate ever since she was a child. The 34 minute screen time, however, reveals a humble character who refuses to be called ‘an artist’, and looks at her achievements as ‘accidental,’ rather, seeing her life as one who has simply enjoyed the experience of playing her beloved double bass and making music together with other musicians.
I find what’s inspiring throughout the documentary is Orin’s humility. She could have boasted about many things, including her parental heritage of early Hollywood, the old-time movie stars George O’Brien (the classic Sunrise, 1927) and Marguerite Churchill, or her own self-propelled motivation to reach her musical goal. It was her deep desire to play in an orchestra that led her to learn the double bass in high school, read all she could get her hands on about the subject, later entering Juilliard and becoming not just a female trailblazer in a male dominated arena but further expanding her influence as an acclaimed teacher mentoring numerous young musicians. Yet she offers these words that impress me the most:
This is my theory of how to enjoy your life incredibly. You don’t mind playing second fiddle… I think it’s better to love something so much you do it for its own sake and also for the wonderful people that you’re playing with. You’re creating something together, which is better than something alone.
After 55 years in the New York Philharmonic, Orin retired at age 86 in 2021. She keeps on going with her passion in teaching and mentoring. The documentary follows her as she turns a new page in her life. Retirement doesn’t mean ending a musical career.
The other prominent character in this short feature is Orin’s instrument, the double base. Positioned at the back of the orchestra, often unnoticed, the double base plays a supporting role in the background, nonetheless is essential for producing the foundational rhythm and creating the deepest resonance in a piece of music. The score throughout the film is a case in point. Orin’s double basses are like pets to her. The ‘Orin’s Duke’ is a double bass made in the 1750’s, with a history of playing for George III.
A trailblazer that deserves more than 34 minutes of tribute to her life and career, this gem of a documentary could well reflect what Orin stands for, a pure joy, passionate in its production, unassuming but inspiring in essence.
The 95th Academy Awards nominations were announced a few days ago. The Only Girl in the Orchestra is given the nod deservedly as a nominee in the Best Documentary Short Film category. Before the March 2 awards show, don’t miss Orin’s documentary now streaming on Netflix.
Here’s an interesting fact. Claire Keegan’s books Foster (2010) and Small Things Like These (2020), both have 128 pages. While short as a standalone book, both novellas exemplify Keegan’s style of writing: sparse descriptions that carry powerful punches. I’m glad to note that their film adaptations are worthy productions akin to her style, quiet, nuanced, and poignant. Foster is made into the film The Quiet Girl in 2022. (My review here) Small Things Like These is newly released, directed by Tim Mielants and starring Cillian Murphy, following his Oscar role as Oppenheimer.
Bill Furlong (Cillian Murphy, Oppenheimer) is a coal merchant in an Irish town. It’s Christmas time, cold and snowy, after the dirty lifting of heavy bags of coal, the devoted husband and father comes back to a warm household, wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh) has supper ready and his five girls make up the chirpy harmony of home. The uneventful routine is disrupted one day when Bill makes his delivery to the local convent, witnessing a rough handling of a teenage girl being shoved into the entrance of the Catholic institution. Another time, when he stepped into the building to deliver his invoice, a girl scrubbing the floor comes up to him begging him to take her away. The next time he makes his delivery, he finds the girl locked inside the coal storage, dirty and shivering in cold.
The Magdalene Laundries are institutions operated by the Roman Catholic orders to house ‘fallen women’, asylums notorious for their abuse of the young women there, unpaid workhouses doing laundries for profit, unwed mothers having their babies forcibly taken away to be adopted. There have been features and TV series on this subject but the most exposure for viewers outside the UK is probably the movie Philomena (2013) starring Judi Dench and Steve Coogan. The note at the end of SmallThings Like These explains the historic context, dedicating it to the more than 56,000 young women who were sent to the institutions between 1922 and 1998 for purpose of “penance and rehabilitation.”
Following his Best Actor Oscar win as physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer whose work, albeit not fully within his control, had affected the result of World War II, here in Small Things, Murphy is equally effective in his portrayal of a coal deliverer, fighting an internal war of conflict, a moral dilemma, to act upon his conscience thereby counteracting an institution that is all powerful in his town, or just to keep silent and do nothing to safeguard the wellbeing of his family. His wife says to him clearly like a warning, considering his soft heart: “If you want to get on in life, there are things you have to ignore.”
Bill’s past is interposed with his present throughout the film, for he was orphaned as a child but was raised by a loving woman. The compassionate upbringing he received could well had formed his sensitivity towards others’ suffering. Murphy’s performance of a troubling soul is heart wrenching, nuances captured aptly by closeups. Another frequent closeup shot is his handwashing after coming home from work, cleaning with soap and brushing out the black coal soots in his hands almost obsessively, a visual telling of his reluctance to join in the darkness of the world.
It’s small things like these, courageous acts by a common man despite social pressures and the negative consequences for his own family that make Bill a heroic figure. All five of his daughters need to get a good education in the Catholic-run system in town. To be at odds with Sister Mary (Emily Watson) is to have the door shut on his girls in terms of education and a good future. All these details are readily available as one reads Keegan’s book, but for those who have no contextual background before watching the film, such consequences of Bill’s moral dilemma may not be so easily grasped by the viewer. The film does drop hints in a few dialogues and subtly in certain scenes. For a 98-minute feature, more elaboration to denote these issues could be helpful in terms of the congruence of the storytelling and especially in magnifying the price Bill has to pay for his courageous act of compassion.
Overall, a worthy adaptation of Keegan’s novella. Come awards time later this year, I hope to see Murphy being acknowledged for his performance here. It’s small films like this that make cinema arts gratifying aesthetically and meaningful socially in our world that needs constant critique and reflection.
In the midst of spectacles and action thrillers coming out nowadays, it’s refreshing to see a quiet gem has arrived on Netflix. His Three Daughters focuses on a topic common in real life and in movies, siblings coming back to their ailing parents’ home to prepare for their final parting. Maybe to offset such a heavy subject matter some of these movies are handled in a comedic or even farcical way, This is Where I Leave You (2014) and August: Osage County (2013) come to mind. In contrast, writer director Azazel Jacobs in His Three Daughters (2023) confronts the subject in a realistic and mindful way, eliciting from his three main actors honest and powerful performance. Jacobs is apt too in infusing witty dialogues and subtle humour. What a gratifying turn from his previous film French Exit (2020).
Under one roof in their father’s NYC apartment, three estranged sisters learn to live with each other once again. Carrie Coon (The Gilded Age) is the eldest daughter Katie, the take-charge type, from cooking, dealing with palliative nurses, getting a DNR (do-not-resuscitate) form signed by the father before he slips away, to writing his obituary while micro managing her teenage daughter at home in Brooklyn. Her intolerance of her stepsister Rachel (Natasha Lyonne, Orange is the New Black) who smokes weed and bets on sport games constitutes the main conflict in the sibling relationships. Trying to mediate between the two is Christina (Elizabeth Olsen, Sorry for your Loss) who is always reconciliatory. She’s preoccupied with her young daughter and husband at home far away across the country.
As for the father, he remains unseen behind closed or slightly opened door in his bedroom, his presence only denoted by the rhythmic beeping of the monitor to which he’s hooked up. Such concealing allows the viewers to focus on the trio, for what’s equally pressing is the rebuilding of sisterhood and the way to move forward after their father is gone. Dying relationships among the living are crying out to be heard and reconciled.
Rachel has been living in the apartment with their father all along, while the other two sisters just recently arrive to take care of things at this final stage of their father’s life. New house rules are set up. A pivotal scene comes when Rachel’s friend Benjy (Jovan Adepo) confronts the other two sisters as he points out the reality of their family dynamics. A new perspective begins to sink in as they come to realize their own shortfalls, a reality check that doesn’t go down easy for anyone.
In this chamber piece rich in dialogues, Coon, Lyonne, and Olsen are impeccable in displaying the raw and honest emotions of sibling love, hate, overt and hidden sentiments they hold against each other. But the overall mood is not all serious and somber. There’s underlying humour throughout, especially the opening scene, which reminds me of early Woody Allen works. Music is minimal to amplify the conversations, silence to enhance tension and ambivalence. Despite being shot inside an apartment with minimal exterior scenes, the camera is effective in conveying suspense, loss, and love.
As for the twist towards the end, it’s open to interpretations; however, it does seem incongruent with the earlier part. To avoid spoilers, I won’t be discussing it here. No matter, it’s the process reaching to the end that’s what the film so powerfully depicts. I hope to see more of this kind of cinematic gems to appear in theatres and on streaming platforms.
Last post I listed some adaptations from books to the big and small screens coming out this fall in the festival circuit or via streaming platforms. Here are more titles currently in development or in production.
James (2024) by Percival Everett
Stephen Spielberg executive producer, in pre-production, to be directed by Taika Waititi (Jojo Rabbit, 2019) James is Percival Everett’s re-imagination of The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn from the perspective of escaped slave Jim. Currently, the highly acclaimed novel is long-listed for this year’s Booker Prize. Short list will come out Sept. 16 and James is expected to be on there. This is the second movie adaptation of Everett’s novels. After the success last year of his Erasure being turned into the Oscar winning American Fiction–for Best Adapted Screenplay–James is a highly anticipated encore.
Hamnet (2020) by Maggie O’Farrell
Another one on Stephen Spielberg’s list as producer, now in production. The adaptation of O’Farrell’s novel is directed by Nomadland’s Oscar winning Chloé Zhao, with a talented British cast: Jessie Buckley, Emily Watson, Paul Mescal, and Joe Alwyn. The book is a fictional account of Shakespeare and his wife’s loving relationship with their son Hamnet and their coping with his tragic death at the age of eleven. Zhao’s previous films (before Marvel’s The Eternals) are nuanced and soulful cinematic works. I look forward to her helming this adaptation about love and grief.
Knife: Meditations after an Attempted Murder (2024) by Salman Rushdie
Rushdie’s personal account of the traumatic, life altering event of being stabbed multiple times while on stage in upstate New York, August 2022, and his slow and painful recuperation. Ironically, he was speaking on the topic of keeping writers safe. His memoir will be adapted to the screen by the Oscar winning documentarian Alex Gibney. I’ve given this book 4 stars on Goodreads, was totally riveted by Rushdie’s writing. Hope Gibney’s is an effective documentation and a cautionary testimonial to safeguard artists from harm.
The Chronicles of Narnia (1950’s) by C. S. Lewis
After crashing the glass ceiling, catapulting Barbie to a record $1.4 billion box office sale by a sole woman director, Greta Gerwig is tasked to write and helm at least two of C. S. Lewis’s beloved children series as Netflix films. In a BBC interview, Gerwig said: “I’m slightly in the place of terror because I really do have such reverence for Narnia… I’m intimidated by doing this. It’s something that feels like a worthy thing to be intimidated by.” Let’s hope her fear is a driving force to push her towards excellence in adapting this meaningful book series.
Crying in H Mart (2021) by Michelle Zauner
Poignant memoir of Zauner’s, singer songwriter of the band Japanese Breakfast, about her rediscovery of her Korean heritage and reestablishing a deeper mother-daughter relationship through food and cooking… alas, after her mother’s terminal cancer diagnosis. As an Asian American, her father is Caucasian of Jewish heritage, Zauner’s book is a new and significant voice. She is writing the script herself, Will Sharpe (The White Lotus) directing. Zauner will create the soundtrack with her group Japanese Breakfast. The memoir is an American Book Award winner (2022) and the 2021 Goodreads Choice Award for Memoir & Autobiography, 55 weeks in the NYT Bestseller list.
Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow (2022) by Gabrielle Zevin
Here’s another contemporary, literary voice from a biracial American writer. Like H Mart author Zauner, Zevin’s father is of Jewish and mother Korean heritage. Its title alluding to Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow is a unique and original story about self, love, and video games. Goodreads Choice Awards in Fiction (2022) and top book of the year on numerous lists, and one of my best reads last year. Excited to find out that Paramount Pictures had acquired the film rights even before the book was published, and recently learned that Siân Heder, the Oscar winning director of CODA (2021), has signed on to direct.
The Woman in Cabin 10 (2016) by Ruth Ware
Ruth Ware’s popular suspense thriller takes place on a cruise ship, with British star Keira Knightley on board as a journalist who is the only eyewitness to a murder. The Netflix movie will be directed by Simon Stone (The Dig, 2021). Other Ruth Ware books on the drawing board for adaptation are The Turn of the Key and The It Girl. No further info on these.
Run Rose Run (2022)by Dolly Parton and James Patterson
Dolly Parton and country music fans take note, the legendary singer’s dip into the literary ink pot with her first fiction, a thriller she co-wrote with James Patterson, is to be adapted onto screen. The NYT bestseller about a young singer songwriter on the rise and on the run will be produced by Reese Witherspoon.
***
Do you have any books you’d like to see adapted to a movie or TV series?
Late August kicks off the annual film festival season, and come September, arrays of new offerings on streaming platforms. I haven’t done actual research, but just a feeling that nowadays, more and more movies are adapted from printed sources. The following is a list of upcoming books adapted to full features in theatres, or TV movies and series for streaming:
Conclave by Robert Harris (2016)
International Premiere at TIFF in September, in theatres November. Directed by Edward Berger (2023 Oscar winner All Quiet on the Western Front) with a stellar cast led by Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, and John Lithgow. Peter Straughan (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, 2011) adapts from Harris’s novel revealing the dark secrets and intrigues in the intense proceedings in electing a new Pope.
The Critic or Curtain Call (2015) by Anthony Quinn
Had its world premiere at TIFF last year and slowly trickling to theatres this September. Directed by Anand Tucker (Girl with a Pearl Earring, 2003) with an exciting British cast with Ian McKellen as the eponymous, acerbic critic, his power and influence affecting many. Co-stars include Lesley Manville, Gemma Arterton, Mark Strong, Romola Gerai, Ben Barnes.
The Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth (1971)
10 episodes on Peacock, remake of the iconic 70’s movie. Political thriller recounting the plot to assassinate French President Charles de Gaulle after he signed the treaty leading to Algeria’s independence. In this new version, Eddie Redmayne is the assassin Jackal.
Disclaimer by Renée Knight (2015)
Oscar winning director Alfonso Cuarón (Roma, 2018) helms a stellar cast including Cate Blanchett, Lesley Manville, Kevin Kline, Sacha Baron Cohen, Kodi Smit-McPhee. A mini-series where Blanchett plays a TV documentary journalist who exposes dark secrets of others is threatened with the revealing of her own past. Canadian premiere at TIFF in September, mini series on Apple TV+
McGuire’s works are multi-faceted and highly acclaimed, as permanent collections at MoMA, The Morgan Library and others, print form in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Le Monde… Can a movie version do justice to this multi-talented artist? The team that made the eras-spanning Forrest Gump (1994), director Robert Zemeckis, screenwriter Eric Roth, star Tom Hanks and Robin Wright re-unite to bring us Here. Interesting addition to the cast that I look forward to is Michelle Dockery. In theatre come November.
Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu
The National Book Award winning novel of 2022, a genre defying writing that fuses a novel and a screenplay. The story of a young Chinese American actor struggling to escape stereotypical roles in Hollywood. Stand-up comedian and actor Jimmy O. Yang (Crazy Rich Asians, 2018) stars. 10 episodes on Hulu.
The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead (2019)
New York Film Festival’s (Sept. 27 – Oct. 14) opening film. The winner of the 2020 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction is adapted into film with the title slightly changed to Nickel Boys. Friendship between two Black teenagers in the notorious reform institution, the Dozier School for Boys in Jim Crow-era Florida sustains the two of them during their harrowing residency.
The Outrun by Amy Liptrot (2016)
Liptrot’s award winning memoir of her troubled past is adapted to the screen and directed by Nora Fingscheidt (The Unforgivable, 2021) starring Saoirse Ronan. From wild living and alcoholic ruin in London, Liptrot rehabilitates herself as she seeks the sanctuary of nature and her childhood home in Orkney off the northeastern coast of Scotland.
The Perfect Couple by Elin Hilderbrand (2018)
A Nantucket-set wedding disrupted by a murder which makes everyone a suspect. Goodreads declares Hilderbrand “the queen of the summer beach read.” Nicole Kidman, Live Schreiber, Dakota Fanning anchor the Netflix mini-series coming out in September.
The Return based on The Odyssey by Homer (ca. 8th – 7th C. BC)
World premiere at TIFF, in theatres December. Ralph Fiennes as Odysseus, returning home to Ithaca after the Trojan War and misadventures twenty years later to find his kingdom changed. Juliette Binoche is the patient wife Penelope, trying to buy time to wait for his return and at the same time warding off unruly suitors. Son Telemachus (Charlie Plummer) not so patient.
Wicked by Gregory Maguire (1995)
Based on the musical, which in turn adapted from the book by L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900), this new rendition as a movie is directed by Jon M. Chu (In the Heights, 2021; Crazy Rich Asians, 2018) Cynthia Erivo (Harriet, 2019) and Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton, 2020-2024) star.
Another year of not heading to TIFF (Sept. 5 – 15), but I still like to browse online their lineups and imagine myself being there. Fond memories gush out… immersing in the festivities in the pedestrian only King Street, traffic blocked off for the occasion; watching films at TIFF Lightbox and browsing the gift shop there; serendipitous sightings of admirable characters such as top critic Justin Chang; lining up to get Roger Ebert to sign a copy of his book Life Itself, and catching a glimpse of Jessica Chastain at the historic Elgin Theatre. I won’t forget the adrenalin-kicking rush back to the press room blocks away after watching a film to write down my impression before darting out for another screening.
For 2024, here’s my watch list if I were there. The title is linked to TIFF’s webpage on the film:
Daniela Forever World Premiere. A Spain and Belgium co-production directed by Nacho Vigalondo starring Henry Golding. Since his breakout role as Nick Young in Crazy Rich Asians (2018), Malaysian born Golding had shown his versatility in starkly different genres, from crime action comedy The Gentlemen (2019) to Jane Austen’s Persuasion (2022). The synopsis of Daniela Forever makes me think of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), where science and love intersect.
Oh Canada North American Premiere, starring Richard Gere re-teaming with his American Gigolo (1980) director Paul Schrader after 44 years. Schrader’s most well known work probably is his screenplay for Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, but his Transcendental Style in Film is one of the books I found most helpful for me in appreciating film art. Here Gere plays a Vietnam War draft dodger recounting his life decades later.
The Friend International Premiere, directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel (What Maisie Knew, 2012) dramedy for dog lovers, starring Bill Murray and Naomi Watts. Adaptation of the 2018 National Book Award winning novel by Sigrid Nunez.
The Room Next DoorNorth American Premiere directed by acclaimed Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar, his first English-language feature with Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton.
We Live in TimeWorld Premiere directed by John Crowley (Brooklyn, 2015) with Oscar nominees Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield in a romantic drama.
By the StreamNorth American Premiere, prolific South Korean director Hong Sangsoo’s newest with his muse Kim Minhee.
Measures for a FuneralWorld Premiere, Canadian director Sofia Bohdanowicz tells the story of a young academic researching the early 20th-century Canadian violinist Kathleen Parlow while escaping the grasp of a domineering musician mother. Reading the synopsis makes me think of Ingmar Bergman’s Autumn Sonata.
Daughter’s Daughter World Premiere, executive produced by international film legend Sylvia Chang and Taiwanese New Wave auteur Hou Hsiao-hsien. Chang stars in this moral tale with a very original story idea about a mother having had to make decision regarding her deceased daughter’s legacy.
In Conversation With… Cate Blanchett Special talks in these events take the star from their pedestal to a down-to-earth level, often letting them present themselves as artists and very human. In the past, I’d attended “In Conversation With Juliette Binoche,” still remembers how casually she dressed and personal she was.
___________
Prime Timewhere new TV series are introduced. Prominent film directors and actors have flocked to the small screens in recent years, levelling the playing field for film and TV, blurring the lines between the big screen and home entertainment. Here are some upcoming series for streaming. I’ll be interested to watch these:
Alfonso Cuarón’s Disclaimer –– Oscar winning director Cuarón (Roma, 2019) is producer with a cast including Cate Blanchett, Lesley Manville, Kevin Kline, Sacha Baron Cohen, Kodi Smit-McPhee. A mini-series where Blanchett plays a TV documentary journalist revealing the dark side of major institutions.
Others series include Thomas Alfredson’s (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, 2011) Faithless, Thomas Vinterberg’s (Oscar nominee for Another Round, 2021) Families Like Ours, and Joe Wright’s (Darkest Hour, 2018; Atonement, 2008) M. Son of the Century.
At last year’s Oscar time, I was a little surprised that the buzzy Anatomy of a Fall wasn’t selected as the official entry by France to enter the race for Best International Feature Film. Instead, it was The Taste of Things. Now that I have the chance to watch it, I can understand why it was the choice and I totally agree with it. That it did not win seems immaterial, for its aesthetic value and the honour of being chosen to represent France make it a worthy accolade.
The Taste of Things is a delectable feature, a celebration of French gastronomy and its historic, culinary traditions, an exquisite and aesthetically riveting period film set in a country house. Vol-au-vent, pot-au-feu, roast rack of veal with braised vegetables… To say it’s a delicious food movie is just lowering the level of enjoyment, like eating an ice cream cone compared to being served baked alaska prepared by a gourmet. The film is not just about the taste of food, but of love, beauty, sensuality, and human connection, offering a deeply gratifying viewing experience.
Directed by the Vietnamese-French filmmaker Anh Hung Tran––whose first film The Scent of Papaya won a César Award in 1994 as well as accolades at Cannes––The Taste of Things sent Tran to Cannes again in 2023 and this time a Palme d’Or nominee and winning Best Director.
Tran reunited Juliette Binoche with her ex Benoît Magimel for the film. The two were divorced twenty years ago. Maybe a past relationship had some bearings on stirring up fond memories, for the pair exudes admirable chemistry on screen. Magimel plays the fictional gourmet Dodin Bouffant, nickname ‘Napoleon of gastronomy’, who resides in a country house during the late 19th century. His cook for twenty years has been Eugénie, superbly portrayed by Binoche, ethereal even in a rustic kitchen.
While Babette’s Feast (1988 Oscar’s Best Foreign Language Film) comes to mind readily, it’s the visual memory of Girl with a Pearl Earring (2004) that enhances my appreciation of The Taste of Things. Indeed, Dodin’s kitchen is like Vermeer’s studio, large window allowing natural light to pour in, the colour scheme of period costume and set design (Tran’s wife Nu Yên-Khê Tran), the naturalistic capturing of characters and their movement make it an exquisite, artistic production.
Inspired by Marcel Rouff’s novel La vie et la passion de Dodin-Bouffant, Gourmet (The Life and Passion of Dodin-Bouffant, Gourmet), writer director Tran wrote the screenplay of The Taste of Things as a prequel to Rouff’s novel, imagining the bond of love between Dodin and his longtime cook Eugénie. Dodin has proposed marriage to Eugénie time and again but is turned down every time. The twist comes when Eugénie falls ill and the reversal of roles emerges. Dodin begins to cook for her––love expressed through the ingenuity of new dishes meticulously prepared and the enjoyment of watching her savour his handiwork.
It’s interesting to note that there’s no music in the whole film. Massenet’s Méditation in piano version comes on only when the end credits roll. With no soundtrack, the essence is in the ambient sounds of nature, bird songs outside the country kitchen, and inside, the sounds of cooking, the crackling of the fire, and the gentle conversations among the characters as they prepare meals. In an interview, Tran mentions that: “The sound is the flavour of the picture. The picture has the beauty; the flavour of it comes from the sound.”
Another crucial ingredient is the camerawork. Cinematography (Jonathan Ricquebourg) is the key in capturing the overall aesthetics and mood of the film. The camera is like a quiet observer, moving gently, often in long takes, following the characters in the kitchen, their movement like a choreographed sequence, smooth, seamless, serene and subtle. While the food preparation may seem complicated and time-pressed, the overall mood in the kitchen is always harmonious. The would-be apprentice, fourteen-year-old Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire) is particularly impressive. A tidbit: The French chef Pierre Gagnaire, owner and head chef of his eponymous restaurant, is the consultant for the movie. He himself has a role in there as well.
Overall, an artistic achievement to savour. Vermeer’s kitchen or Dodin’s studio? A fitting fusion of imaginary connections.
“She wanted to see the owl before it got too dark. She was becoming more and more interested in birds. It was a sign of old age, she supposed.” –––– Virginia Woolf, The Years* (186)
Finally, I finish my other 1937 Club read hosted by Kaggsy and Simon that took place in April, two months late, and that’s Virginia Woolf’s The Years, published in 1937. It sure feels like years for me to finish this book. Better late than never, for I have full intention to see what Woolf had to say in her last novel published during her lifetime (Between the Acts was published shortly after her death in 1941), specifically, what was in her mind just a few years before she took her own life.
The book follows the children of Colonel Abel Pargiter’s family as they go through the years crossing the 19th century into the 20th. It’s a family saga through chapters titled for a specific year, beginning with 1880, 1891, then into the new century 1907, 1908 and to the First World War, and finally the “Present Day” which is the 1930’s. Within each chapter the narratives are episodic, characters appear without introductions; readers would have to piece together who’s who and how they relate to each other.
A few unexpected mental associations came to me during my reading. The quote above at the beginning of this post is one of those surprises. A loud Whoa! when I read it: Interest in birds as a sign of ageing. It’s a thought in the mind of Eleanor, the eldest of the Partiger children, when she is fifty-five. She goes on to live past seventy when the book ends, and I’m sure has seen many more owls.
Another surprise for me in my reading experience of The Years is how it’s like watching an arthouse film, or any good movie for that matter. My first impression of that beginning chapter 1880 is that it reads like a script where the expressions and actions of the characters are highly nuanced and the subtext in their conversations speak volumes. Nothing much is happening but the seemingly uneventful narrative carries unsettling undercurrents.
Here’s an example. The Colonel, with his wife Rose on her death bed, is a troubled and temperamental man whom his seven children fear more than respect or love. He comes back home unexpectedly during supper time in the opening chapter and the way he drinks his tea while trying to strike up conversations in a surly manner with his children reflects his changing mood. A ready movie scene here. I’ve taken out the dialogues, but just the description of his tea-drinking actions reveal a lot about his character:
He stirred his sugar round and round in the cup as if to demolish it… ground the grains of sugar against the walls of his cup. [After some tense conversations with his children] Then he seemed to repent of his gruffness… He drank up his tea. Some drops fell on his little pointed beard. He took out his large silk handkerchief and wipe it impatiently… [Later] the Colonel took up his cup, saw there was nothing in it, and put it down firmly with a little chink. The ceremony of tea-drinking was over. (13-14)
Another surprise is that reading The Years makes me think of Downton Abbey, how a family goes through changes both in the larger socio milieu and in their personal lives through the years. The time-lapse is about the same as the six seasons of Downton, from horses to cars, from candles to electric lights, WWI and the changes it brings. The following line in Woolf’s novel makes me think of the Dowager Violet Crawley:
Then he looked at a car. It was odd how soon one got used to cars without horses, he thought. They used to look ridiculous. (215)
BTW, Edith Crawley, who breaks the mould and ventures out to live in London on her own and heads up a magazine she inherits from Michael Gregson and a London flat, has mentioned that she had met Virginia Woolf there, one of Michael’s Bloomsbury acquaintances. One can imagine the author just might have certain influence on her.
The Years is about lives lived, actions or non-actions, the regrets and the resignation of what had happened, the unchangeability of the past. Check out these lines, the introspection of Eleanor’s, just reminds me of Mary Crawley, who had uttered similar words thinking of her own past errors in judgment:
But once it’s done, there it is… How irrecoverable things are, she thought. We make our experiments, then they make theirs. (185)
Above all else, The Years is about the past and memories, and the meaning of it all. Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past comes to mind, no surprise. Both authors value the writing down of lives lived. But Woolf goes into a more depressed mode of seeing even the futility of it. As the chapters, ie, the years, move on, Woolf is more explicit about her view on life––I suppose that’s her perspective––through Eleanor’s point-of-view. Considering Woolf taking her own life just four years after this book was published, I paid attention to the reflections and internal search for existential meaning, or the failing of which, and find these passages particularly poignant. Short sentences like this: “Scenes passed over scenes; one obliterated another,” to reflection like the following, again, quite a cinematic moment:
Things can’t go on for ever, she thought. Things pass, things change, she thought, looking up at the ceiling. And where are we going? Where? Where?… The moths were dashing round the ceiling; the book slipped on to the floor. .. made an effort; turned round, and blew out the candle. Darkness reigned. (195)
to what seems like ultimate despair, take note that Woolf wrote this in the 1930’s:
But how can one be ‘happy’? she asked herself, in a world bursting with misery. On every placard at every street corner was Death; or worse––tyranny; brutality; torture; the fall of civilization; the end of freedom. (358)
I gave the book 3.5 out of 5 stars in my Goodreads review, an evaluation that’s based on my first reading, having had to figure out who’s who –– considering the Pargiters have seven children and some of them have their own children. And then there are extended family members, cousin, niece and nephew, and servants. I’m sure upon second reading, I’d be able to get a clearer picture of all the characters and would enjoy it more, for it really deserves more than one reading.
__________
* The edition that I used (photo above) is Vintage Classics, Penguin Random House UK, London. 401 pages. Introduction by Susan Hill. With this inscription before the Introduction: “The text of this edition of The Years is based on that of the original Hogarth Press Edition, published by Leonard and Virginia Woolf on 15th March 1937.”
Ripple Effects 