Showing posts with label john updike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john updike. Show all posts

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Steer clear of New England: The Witches of Eastwick and The Mist

The Witches of Eastwick, the novel, bears very little similarity to the film of the same name, just some FYI. It was written by the brilliant and wordy John Updike, and like most everything else he's written, deals with divorces, trysts, and Rabbit Mothers. I had a hard time with that for most of the book, thinking over and over, for Christ's sake, go home and tend to your children!

But clever, oh was it clever! To be clever and cut with words like Updike! ("her eyes had become piggy, with a vengeful, piggy glitter"). PIGGY EYES! And honestly, the book jacket really hyped up the sex a little too much, there really wasn't that much to speak of. Although the implications of sex and the way he was both subtle and blunt together in describing it was kind of cool:

"Other men, Sukie felt, minded when her thoughts and tongue gravitated to the coven and its coziness and mischief, but not Van Horne; it was his meat somehow, he was like a woman in his steady kindness, though of course terribly masculine in form: when he fucked you it hurt." or some bit about aching "at both ends of her perineum," I've not ever quite heard it phrased thusly, but you know, fine.

I know I should have felt some sort of bond with the witches, womankind, strength in their power, or at least some amount of intrigue, but really I couldn't stand any of them, they seemed mean and vapid at once, with no real reason for beef about anything. Read this book for the writing, it's the only nice thing about it.

"The witches are gone, vanished; we were just an interval in their lives, and they in ours. But as Sukie's blue-green ghost continues to haunt the sunstruck pavement, and Jane's black shape to flit past the moon, so the rumors of the days when they were solid among us, gorgeous and doing evil, have flavored the name of the town in the mouths of others, and for those of us who live here have left something oblong and invisible and exciting we do not understand. We meet it turning the corner where Hemlock meets Oak; it is there when we walk the beach in offseason and the Atlantic in its blackness mirrors the dense packed gray of the clouds: a scandal, life like smoke rising twisted into legend."



The Mist, 2007. Directed by Frank Darabont. Based on the short story by Stephen King. IMDB's synopsis: A freak storm unleashes a species of blood-thirsty creatures on a small town, where a small band of citizens hole-up in a supermarket and fight for their lives.


What I liked best about this film was how amazingly it matched the vision I had in my head of King's story. Everything looked exactly how I thought it would look. The actors were perfect, just as I had envisioned them to look and act, same with the monsters (although I do believe Ms. Amanda Dumfries was supposed to be wearing a cranberry-colored sweatsuit. And didn't she and David get it on in one of the store rooms?) The film itself was very beautiful-looking, Frank Darabont I think sees things very cinematically. The only criticisms I have are (again) the score toward the conclusion, a little too Eyes Wide Shut/chanty for me, and the redundancy of David Drayton screaming "They're dead, and for what?" We get that, it's obvious, you don't have to speak it aloud.


That said, I thought the film was scary. The creatures, the situation, the scape-goating, all of it. I didn't just get uncomfortable because it was a story of a father having to make difficult decisions in order to protect his son, but because this sort of danger is completely unknown and can't be reasoned with. There were no absolutes with what they were faced with, other than kill or be killed, it was pure frenzy! That unnerves me a little. With The Ring, you make the tape, with The Exorcist, you dial up Father Merrin. This? Run away and hope they don't get you. That's scary.

In classifying King stories made into films, I've come up with three categories:
1. Do not bother: (Thinner, Hearts in Atlantis)
2. Bother, but keep your sense of humor: (many titles fall into this one-- Pet Semetary, Children of the Corn, Cat's Eye, Creepshow, etc.)
and 3. Booyah!: The Shining, Christine, Misery, The Shawshank Redemption.

I wouldn't say this film was a bulls eye or a Booyah, but I think it's worth seeing, especially if you enjoyed the story.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Sex, nakedness, divorce (and vampires).

FIRST OFF: Is anyone else watching True Blood, and is the sex not completely out of control? I don't mean to say it's a bad thing (see photo, hello?) but Daaaaaaaammmmmnn! HOT!

The first episode kind of bugged me because the sex was so obviously a gimmick and actually interrupted the flow of the narrative with how random it was. . . but the last two were much more on, in the run of things, if you ask me. I won't spoil anything in case people haven't seen it yet, but last night? Wowza.

Anyway, speaking of gimmicks. This isn't really a post about sex or vampires, it's about SHORT STORIES! I know, how exciting! But I really couldn't hold back anymore about True Blood. (team eric and how-the-crap-did-you-not-invite-him-immediately-into-your-house-after-he-said-that-bit-about-crazy-sex, SOOKIE?) p.s. The King of Mississippi's accent is the best one I've heard thus far. About time.

From the Heath arsenal: "White Dump" by Alice Munro.
also by Alice Munro: Love of a Good Woman.

This is a tale of three women, three different generations, and their struggles with doomed relationships. One a daughter, one the mother of the daughter, and one the mother-in-law of the mother of the daughter. It was wonderfully descriptive, smart, and interesting, and in a small way it succeeded in igniting my long since expired feminist rages. YOUR JOB IS TO BE A TROPHY WIFE, LOOK HOT, FLIRT WITH GUYS, SPREAD IT WHEN I DEMAND, and if you don't I'll take it out on the kids. Then you read about the mother-in-law's issues (therein lies the nakedness addressed by my title; some punks steal her robe and then she just strolls around naked in front of her adult son and grandchildren, not the worst thing ever, but you know, a little narcissistic and odd) and you pretty much have to blame her for turning out such a douche-bag of a son. Yuck. But an important yuck, I guess, as these issues are realistic.

"Separating" by John Updike.
also by John Updike: Rabbit Run, Couples, Rabbit is Rich, and Rabbit at Rest.

I read Couples, years ago, and thought it was fine. I was very young and dumb at the time though, so it's unlikely that I got much from it. This story, like everything else in the Heath anthology is very good, very intelligent, and very well done, but my thing with much of what I read is having issues with unlikable characters and not the actual mechanics of the story or storytelling. Like, do I or do I not want to read a story about an asshole (even if it's well written)? This is a story about an asshole. Maybe reading Munro just before put me a little on the defensive, but oh, you're leaving your wife and hoping to marry some other chick across town and your wife is making you tell your four children, one at a time before you can leave, and it's a little hard on you? Causing you some anxiety? PLEASE. I had not one drop of sympathy for this dude, although the way the story was written and described with a lot of metaphor and personification was beautiful. (an asshole's beautiful account of what it was like to tell his children he's leaving).

Yuck again. But, hey. Life is full of yucks.
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