The Theory of Everything 1200 Miles Away
By Steve Herte
It’s
been six years since I lost my girlfriend, Helene, to cancer. We knew
each other intimately for almost 35 years. She was my dinner
companion, my fellow movie critic, my duet partner; in short, my
everything. We did everything but get married. She was married once
for a short time, and we knew that, although we were otherwise
compatible, that we weren’t compatible when it came to marriage.
She was an “Oscar” and I’m a “Felix,” if you know what I
mean, and those two types can never co-habituate for any lengthy
period of time. Still, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.
At
this week's karaoke night, I did my annual tribute to Helene, as
November 14th was the anniversary of her passing. I had with me a
list of songs she loved to sing. "We Built This City" by
Starship, "I Want a New Drug" by Huey Lewis and the News,
and "Sussudio" by Phil Collins were appropriate selections.
It was Helene who introduced me to karaoke a long time ago at a
restaurant called Casey's Café in Brooklyn (no longer in business).
I was nervous. It was the only place where the audience would "Boo"
if you were bad. But I was well-received and the rest is history.
Then one day we discovered, through a mutual friend, Muldoon's bar
and the karaoke host, David Swirsky. Dave so impressed us that we
followed him when he moved to Gabby O'Hara's, where I've sung ever
since.
As
to movies, we never missed a movie featuring Bill Murray, John
Goodman or Gene Hackman (her favorites), and she was tolerant of my
love of animation. If the movie involved water, such as Deep
Impact or The Perfect Storm, we were there (she
was a Pisces). She loved trying new foods and would have totally
enjoyed my Friday night this week. I hope you do too. Enjoy!
The
Theory of Everything
(Focus Features, 2014) –
Director: James Marsh. Writers: Anthony McCarten (s/p), Jane Hawking
(book). Cast: Eddie Redmayne, Felicity Jones, Tom Prior, Sophie
Perry, Charlie Cox, Finlay Wright-Stephens, Maxine Peake, Harry
Lloyd, Alice Orr-Ewing, David Thewlis, Thomas Morrison, Michael
Marcus, Gruffudd Glyn, Paul Longley, Emily Watson, Guy Oliver-Watts,
& Simon McBurney. Color, 123 minutes.
Now
the Academy Awards ceremony has a contest! If not for the fact that
after two weeks of playing in New York nearly every seat in the
theater I was in was occupied, but for the superb acting of the
entire cast. Mostly it is for the incredible performance of Redmayne
as Stephen Hawking. Not since Heath Ledger’s Joker have I been so
convinced and slack-jawed by a portrayal.
Based
on the book My Life with Stephen by Jane Hawking,
this film begins in 1963 at Cambridge University, just before she met
Stephen Hawking. Even though her girlfriends warn her about
“scientists” and how strange they are, when Stephen speaks to
Jane (Jones), she’s attracted to him from the first.
The
relationship grows despite the fact that he prefers not to dance at
the Spring Ball and triumphs in his achieving his doctorate in a
dissertation on black holes and singularities. Then the ALS that has
dogged his life makes its first effects known in a terrifying fall on
the pavement of the quad. Called “motor-neuron disease,” the
doctor gives Stephen two years to live, but Jane still wants to marry
him and fight it.
The
marriage is one of the happiest days in his life but the degenerative
disease progresses. Jane and he have a son and a daughter before the
nearly total paralysis takes over and he’s wheelchair-bound. An
electric wheelchair operated by a joystick helps give him more
mobility and takes some of the burden off Jane.
The
wear and tear of the job of caring for her husband as well as the two
children shows and her friend recommends Jane join the church choir,
where she meets Jonathan Hellyer Jones (Cox) who not only lifts her
spirits, but becomes a friend of the family and actually helps out at
home. It’s not until Jane and Stephen’s second son arrives that
the talk begins. “Is it Stephen’s or Jonathan’s?” And
Jonathan decides to step back.
Stephen
is invited to a concert in Bordeaux. He flies there by plane but Jane
(who hates flying), Jonathan and the two first children travel by
car. Stephen is hospitalized by a seizure at the concert and, when
Jane arrives she is told that only a tracheotomy will save him.
However, he will lose the capability of speech. Given all the
options, and being a fighter by nature, she chooses the tracheotomy.
Conversations
have now become extremely difficult, and Jane uses a color-coded
“letter board” to speak to Stephen. He, in response to the color,
raises his eyebrows to indicate which letter he wants. It’s a slow
and tedious method. They hire Elaine Mason (Peake), who, by virtue of
her enthusiasm (and good looks) connects with Stephen and succeeds in
communicating with him.
Soon
a new invention is added to Stephen’s wheelchair – a computer
with a monitor and a “clicking” device whereby Stephen is able to
construct entire sentences and speak them, albeit robotically. (“It’s
American! Don’t you have any other voices?” Jane asks.) But at
least Stephen now has a voice and a way to write his book. Originally
he entitles it “A History of Time,” but realizing how long it
takes to write it using the device, he inserts “Brief” before
“History” and it becomes a best seller.
Stephen
and Jane drift apart as Elaine becomes closer, and he invites Elaine
to fly with him throughout America for a lecture tour. (Actually,
more of a question and answer session.) In answer to one question
about the fame and fortune he responds, “I was recently asked if I
was the real Stephen Hawking and I told them no. The real Stephen
Hawking is much better looking.” But when asked about how he deals
with the concept of God, he hesitates for a long time before giving a
brilliant answer that neither accepts nor denies the existence of a
creator.
The
film starts and ends with a scrim-shot of the family reunited and
about to be presented to Queen Elizabeth II, and Stephen Hawkings’
receiving a knighthood. In the formal garden after the ceremony, Jane
thanks Stephen for including her in the presentation and tells him he
can always refuse the knighthood. Electronically, Stephen says, “Look
what we made,” as they watch their children, Robert (Prior), Lucy
(Perry) and Timothy (Wright-Stephens) play on the grounds.
Director
James Marsh is to be commended on a wonderfully constructed movie,
including his reversal of time through previous scenes at the end.
The cinematography was excellent and the soundtrack appropriate for
the emotional content of the scenes. In two hours and three minutes I
gained a new understanding and respect for Stephen Hawking from the
story. The movie is definitely for adults and children able to
understand what is happening. Young children will be bored with it.
But it will attract several award nominations and probably win a few.
Rating:
5 out of 5 Martini glasses.
1200
Miles
31
West 21st Street
(bet. 5th and
6th Aves.), New
York
I’m
glad I keep a database of all the restaurants where I’ve had the
pleasure (sometimes not) of having dined, because the feeling of déjà
vu crops up more and more. Thankfully, in this case it proved to be
false. 1200 Miles may look like other restaurants from the street –
large window on the street with the name in gold lettering and
white-washed nouveau classical masonry surrounding the entrance but
inside it’s a minimalist, sleek, almost antiseptically white
expanse with dark hardwood floors, splashes of color here and there,
and black pipe railings on the stairways. The unobtrusive lights
appear bright because of the reflection from the glazed white
brickwork on the north wall next to the bar.
The
young lady at the Captain’s Station led me to table near the back
with a comfortable banquette on one side and a chair on the other.
The lighting was almost ideal. I did need the votive candle on the
table to read certain things on the menu but it was not dark. She
left me the menu card with cocktails and beverages on the reverse
side and the wine book.
My
waiter, a genial young man, took my water preference and asked if I
wanted a cocktail. I had not even looked at either menu, so he left
to give me more time. When he returned I triumphantly announced that
I would like to try the “Smoking Pistoleros.” He grimaced
slightly and told me they ran out of the Mezcal ingredient. But I had
a backup. I ordered the drink called “A Pear Grows in Amsterdam”
– Bols Genever gin, Warwick Farms pear liqueur, St. Elizabeth
allspice dram, lemon, egg white, angostura. He brought me the drink
in a small tumbler. The egg white formed foam on top of the golden
potion and one taste proved it to be an excellent Holiday (especially
Autumnal) drink. Usually pear-flavored cocktails taste like medicine
but not this one. It was pleasant, sweet and slightly spicy in a
pumpkin pie sense.
My
waiter sang the praises of the duck entrée and the special appetizer
of the evening, and I had to agree they both sounded tempting. But I
was in the mood for something radically different. I explained that I
wanted to make it a three-course dinner, that I had the appetite to
do so and all the time in the world so that it would not be rushed.
He understood.
I
saw the wine first, a 2013 Chenin Blanc ‘Clarksburg’ The Terraces
by Quarry vineyards, Napa California. I’ve loved Chenin Blanc since
the sixties and it was a delightfully crisp, light wine to go with my
meal choices.
The
first course was listed simply as “Soup” – Vegetables (i.e.
green and wax beans, carrots, and others), chicken minestrone, small
elbow-shaped pasta, consommé, pesto –on the menu. “This is one
soup?” I asked. “You’re not the first one to ask that
question,” he said. “Yes, it is.” It was a tomato-y red and
the basil accentuated the combination of tender vegetables and pasta
to make a totally unique experience. It wasn’t just minestrone, or
consommé; it was all of the above.
If
you’ve been following my articles you know I love pasta and the
second course was exactly that. The Agnolotti of Butternut Squash –
on a Swiss Chard fonduta (a Fontina cheese), stem pickle, garnished
with Fiore sardo (grated Pecorino cheese) and candied orange zest –
proved to be three lovely al dente pockets filled
with sweet creamy squash on a beautiful green cheesy bed. It was so
good I forgot I had a delicious wine to go with it.
When
my waiter placed a steak knife on my table after removing the
previous dish I should have gotten a clue that something was amiss,
but I said nothing. Then, when another server brought the perfectly
prepared, mouth-wateringly arranged duck entrée, I knew. “This is
fish?” “No, it’s duck.” “But I ordered the Rockfish.” He
took the dish away.
After
multiple apologies from my waiter and an acknowledgment from myself
that maybe I should talk nasally and loud like Fran Drescher (most of
the patrons spoke that way – it was horrendously noisy in the
restaurant), we were at an understanding and he assured me my entrée
would not take long.
The
Grilled Rockfish – padron peppers, Romanesco broccoli, savory
tomato jam, and herbs – was worth the wait. The flaky, tender fish
had a delicate, buttery flavor by itself but mixed with the spicy
sauce it was heavenly. I contemplated a side dish when I saw the
beautiful French fries on the next table but was glad I didn’t. The
dish filled me nicely, but not enough to not have room for dessert.
The
Banana Brûlée – steamed banana-hazelnut cake, warm chocolate
ganache, hazelnut gelato - was not anything like a Crème Brûlée,
but was similarly prepared. The dish was made upside down, sliced
bananas on the bottom with a ring of cake containing the ganache
filling the middle, and the caramelized crust on top. It was served
inverted with the homemade gelato and nuts. Wonderful.
I
decided to have an after-dinner drink rather than coffee and the menu
provided the option called Chocolate & Spice – Michter’s rye,
Chopin chocolate liqueur, Ramazotti Amaro, green Chartreuse, velvet
falernum (a sweet Caribbean syrup – flavors of almond, ginger &
cloves), whole egg, cardamom bitters, and cinnamon. Holiday time
again! The drink brought warm thoughts of a fireplace at Christmas
time with snow-coated evergreens outside while sipping eggnog. I was
happy.
1200
Miles has been open for a little over a year and I learned that the
name is the distance from France to Algiers. I guess I’ll just have
to return to try that incredible duck dish. Maybe I’ll change my
speech pattern. When I spoke to the couple at the next table the
gentleman said that he thought I was from New Mexico. Hmmm.
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