Book of Love: a recap

WARNING: I know nothing about writing movie reviews. This post contains all sorts of spoilers so should you still decide to read then on your own head be it.
NOTE: I initially meant for this to be a review. then one of my multitude (read 2) of readers  pointed out that i had given away almost all of the movie so i changed the title to 'recap'. 

David (a beard sporting Simon Baker) is a teacher; he teaches history (focusing rather heavily on Cambodia) at a girl’s school. He is of the cute professor variety and passionate about his teaching material (read Cambodia).

You can talk Cambodia at me any time 

 There is the obligatory crush-interest established early on with one of the girls in his class. (Note: this plot element really doesn’t go anywhere.)  He’s married to Elaine (Frances O'Connor), she’s pretty, petite and an event planner. The movie doesn’t really show her at work though so we will just have to take the movie’s word for it that she plans events for a living.

this was a nice smooshy scene. 

I really like how we were shown the relationship between the couple, and their own personal characteristics with subtle peeks at them just, well, being. There was no exposition; really there was a noticeable lack of conversation into the first quarter of the movie, which was nice. In one of the earlier scenes, Elaine is making ice tea. It looks like it’s a hot day, she’s sucking on an ice cube and then she spits it back into the jug of ice tea. And in that simple gesture we feel that these people have been married for a while, they’re comfortable with each other, and perhaps it’s a bit boring as well. He checks himself in the bathroom and sucks in his gut; she’s shown at her yoga classes doing advanced moves so we know that she’s probably more into fitness than he is. We figure that he was probably quite hunky back when they first met but he’s kinda slipped a little now. I love that about this movie, I love how it allows us to interpret a lot of things  - and it’s not so subtle that you only realize these things after it’s all over, but it’s not in your face enough to be jarring and annoying.  We see them making love, and we also see that she’s the one who usually initiates it. We sense that certain little changes in him may be an unspoken irritant for Elaine.

On the same hot day they go for an ice cream and their server is 15 year old Chet (Gregory Smith). (Earlier on in the movie we are shown that Chet’s a swimmer and that he also gets bullied a bit. Again, these plot threads are not perused.) It’s hot and the air-conditioner in the shop is busted but the kid is still in a sweatshirt so David suggests he take it off and as he laughingly does we glimpse his abs and we notice that Elaine notices too. Oddly, the couple takes him under their wing and he of course being in lust with Elaine from the get go is quick to agree. David is just befriending him – the kids has no family to speak of and no friends either it seems - though I expect Elaine has more than a friendly interest in him. Why anyone would think it’s a good idea for a young couple to hang out with a 15 year old is beyond me. Then one night David sleeps through his wife cheating on him – or rather she would have if it hadn’t started raining – thus waking him up from the hammock where he was sleeping. Then the next morning while he’s waxing lyrical on  oh, say, Cambodia, at school, Chet comes a calling on Elaine and steamy adulterous statutory-rapy sex ensues.

That evening she tells David and he is devastated. The scenes showing David being devastated are handled rather nicely. There’s a scene of him breaking down in school the following day that is just heartbreaking but then, THEN the movie decides, enough of this touchy feely crap, let’s spaz out! And it all goes rapidly downhill from there. David bizarrely decides to keep an earlier promise to Chet for all three of them to go to Disneyland. Why the other two don’t point out that this is sheer madness after everyone’s pretty much had sex with each other is not specified. The movie just decides to show them all looking uncomfortable and Elaine's initial apologetic and shamefaced demeanor slowly turning into disgust at David. Because c’mon, he’s supposed to get upset, get mad, be withdrawn, shout, rant, beat up the kid - any of those reactions - but taking him  to Disneyland wasn't probably what Elaine expected. You don't just say "you fucked my wife" to someone and then in the next breath offer to take them to Disneyland. Anyway, inevitably a fight breaks out, more weirdness ensues, David gets stabbed in the leg and they all go home.

don't. ask. just. don't. 

In the end I think everyone goes their separate ways. There’s a subplot involving a lesbian couple who are close friends with David and Elaine and who want David to be the sperm donor for their baby. This plot thread brings some sort of closure to David and I guess the movie wants the other two to be happy as well so they are shown to be if not happy, at least content, each in their own space.  

This was a Sundance movie, so I did expect it to be quirky. But surely you can make a quirky movie without it descending into the ridiculous and allow the characters to retain at least some of their dignity. There were several really nice moments in the movie; the scene between David and Elaine on the steps, when she sings Book of Love to him, and the whole ‘revealing things instead of talking about it’ element I wrote of before. But in the end, all I took away from the movie was (a) the conviction that Simon Baker should never ever wear any other form of undies besides boxers and (b) people who make indie movies need to realize that weird and unnatural does not equal “woah, neato situation man!”.

Book of WOAH!

Watched Book of Love. Got an eyeful of Simon Baker's nethers. I shall be incoherent for the rest of the week.

kthxbye 

Fantasy That

Up till the time I got married, I had been a serial reader. I chain-read, sometime two or three books concurrently, and couldn't even begin to imagine quitting, or even pausing for that matter. The only time I had actually been forced to stop was when I was cramming for my O/levels - see my mum was convinced I was going to flunk and she proclaimed a no-books-till-exam-week-is-over decree. THEN to add insult to injury she told me that Vijitha Yapa was having a book sale, that she was going to let me go with my father and buy whatever I wanted BUT on the condition that I promised I wouldn't read them till after the exam. now picture this - not only couldn't I read, but she had actually bought me three new books, ones I hadn't read before, and then told me I couldn't read them. So I cheated. I didn't read them, I HAD promised after all, but I read and re-read the blurb on the back of the books till I pretty much had them committed to memory.

Anyway, where was I? Right, the marriage thing and the no reading after that thing. Yup, so I get married and now suddenly there's this man in my bed (well technically his bed since I had moved in with him) and there was no me space in which to lounge around and read all day. And there were things to do! Meals to cook, clothes to wash, sex to have and by the time I crept back to my side of the bed (yes, I had to have a side now) there was no time to read. After a while of course the chores eased up (there was less sex) so I got some reading time in. But that lull in reading I think scarred me for life.
To get to the point of this post - there is a point, I just took the scenic route - when it comes to what I like to read, I think my favourite genre is fantasy. Now for me, the love of magic, and all things fantastic started with Enid Blyton - what could be more fantastic than the Magic Faraway Tree and the wishing chair? 

I have no idea who that upside down policeman is

Then later, I discovered Lewis Carrol and understood whimsy even before I could spell whimsy. And I still maintain that the best fantasy is the stuff targeted at kids. Case in point - I like David Gemmel but I wouldn't read his books over and over again. Well, okay, I would but maybe 3 times over at the most. On the other hand, I have read the Narnia books at least 7-8 times over and I'm sure I'll read them some more before i get senile. A lot of it has to do with the fact that kids' books are an easy read. You don't have to wade through paragraphs of descriptive text to get to the dialogue, everyone's name is more or less pronounceable, and the book can be easily finished in a day. I love children's books. My absolute favourite fantasy series? Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain.

Alas, no picture of Hen Wen

 It has stellar characters, it's dark - sometimes frighteningly so (the cauldron-born scared me shitless), it's funny and it has an oracular pig. (I rest my case. You can't argue away an oracular pig, it's not possible.)
“But what about Terry Pratchett?” You ask me, aghast at my slip. I was focusing more on what i read in my formative year - I was introduced to Terry Pratchett a bit later in life. That a whole other post. I think what i love most about the Discworld books is that they look like they were writtenm for kids, but really aren't yet sound like they were when you read it.  “What? That doesn’t make any sense” you say. “Does too” I respond. “How?” says you. “Just” says I, succinctly proving my point. 

And that's it. (Yes, really, that's it. I can't think of anything more to say and i don't have anything witty to end it with. Look, don't scroll down, there's nothing there.) 

Rhymes with Baby-Maker

Look at the smile. Just look at it.

Those who know me and love me despite it are aware that as of late I am completely and utterly blotto about Simon Baker. I have already warned them that an intervention may be needed and I’m quite sure that should it come to that they would not skimp on the home-made banners.  

Anyway, what I really wanted to write about was this insane blog  I stumbled upon written by a lady with exemplary taste. She had (wait a moment while I writhe in jealousy)...(okay, done) actually MET HIM, shaken his hand, tugged at those glorious blonde locks and quite possibly drooled on his jacket. Now I had been going through a bad phase of insomnia, had slept a total of 6.5 hours in 3 days, and my thinking was a little bendy. So I thought it would be a brilliant idea to write to her. A fellow Simonite after all (note: Simonite rhymes with Vegemite  - maybe notify Nicole and Keith for future reference) so what could go wrong, right? Well  I went ahead and did it before I lost my nerve. I quite honestly thought that that would be the end of it. But when I got home and checked my mail, she had replied! And it wasn’t a cease and desist letter – it was an awesomely complementary email. And here’s the best thing sports fans; she, a PUBLISHED AUTHOR, thought I was funny. Now tell me I’m funny and you’ll have me flat on my back in 2 seconds. So you can imagine how chuffed I was, am and will be for the foreseeable future.

p.s. how does one writhe anyway? I always imagined a snake like movement where you stick your neck out and and sort of squirm. 

p.p.s.I don’t know whether I’m allowed to post her email to me here, but here’s what I wrote to her, in all its Simon-worshipping glory: 

Hi Kerri,

I have never in my life emailed a stranger. Yet I’m doing so now. This may be partially due to the fact that I’m extremely sleep deprived but mostly because I googled "Simon Baker is awesome" and it directed me to your blog. Why exactly did I google "Simon Baker is awesome" you ask? Well, (a) because he is and (b) because my best friend is sick of hearing me say it so I thought google would be more sympathetic.

I am ashamed to say that I didn't know of Simon Baker's existence till three weeks ago. A friend had given me Season 1 of The Mentalist but since I had a huge collection of movies accumulated in the "to watch" folder on my laptop  I had never got around to checking it out. Then three weeks ago I was laid low with a nasty flu and I needed a distraction but didn't have the stamina to keep watching for the length of a movie and I decided to give this Mentalist thing a go. The rest, as they say, is dust bunnies in Simon Bakers Hoover because from that point on I was hooked, I was smitten, I was overcome to the point of madness (the flu might have contributed) and once I had shaken off the illness I set out on a mission to watch every single thing Simon Baker had ever starred in. 

Needless to say I finishes all four seasons of The Mentalist in record time. I'm currently halfway through the last season of The Guardian. I re-watched The Devil wears Prada and asked myself how on earth I had not latched on to him when I first watched it all those years ago. I remember rooting for Adrian's character way back then. What kind of mentally challenged creature had I been in my not so distant (not so much) youth? Anyway, now I know better. 

I got such a kick out of reading about your meeting him on set. After reading your blog I have firmly told my best friend that I am NOT mental and that it's a perfectly natural phenomenon to be completely besotted by Simon Baker. 

In closing I would like to assure you that the church of Simontology has a new member. 

On a less facetious note:

I love your blog. I wish I could write like you but I can't so I've resigned myself to reading awesome writers instead of aspiring to be one. 

Madhuka

p.s. I didn't know how to end this - "regards" would be too formal "love" would be insane and "cheers" would be pretentious since I'm not British so as you may have observed I have chickened out and just written my name.