Dinner and a Movie
Mortdecai Has His Head in Da Claudio
Mortdecai Has His Head in Da Claudio
By Steve Herte
Tax
season, being the “busy time” in my life, is perpetually an
ongoing affair. How busy was I? Well, I wanted to get a ranking of my
top 10 movies of 2014 in before the Oscars (as if my choices matter)
and I had to write it on the back of one of my movie ticket
print-outs while riding the subway to work. At home, my usual chores
were enhanced by my obsession to get rid of “stuff” and,
after a couple of hours of that, not only do I find things I forgot I
had, but I’m too brain-dead to write. And then I had the added
chore of shoveling snow for the first time this year. Do you wonder
why I treasure my Friday evening adventures? They’re the only time
I have completely to myself. What about karaoke night, you say?
Almost, but not quite – I’m entertaining other people rather than
just satisfying myself. I’m on-stage so to say. I love it, but not
as much as Friday. And this past Friday was a landmark restaurant and
an entertaining (admittedly silly) movie. Enjoy.
Mortdecai (Lionsgate,
20515) – Director: David Koepp. Writers: Eric Aronson (s/p), Kyril
Bonfiiglioli (novel). Cast: Johnny Depp, Gwyneth Paltrow, Ewan
Mcgregor, Paul Bettany, Olivia Munn, Jonny Pasvolsky, Michael Culkin,
Ulrich Thomsen, Alec Utgoff, Rob de Groot, Guy Burnet, Jeff Goldblum,
Antti Hakala, Paul Whitehouse, & Norma Atallah. Color, 106
minutes.
“You
may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile. And you may
find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. And you
may ask yourself, ‘How did I get here?’”
– "Once
in a Lifetime," The Talking Heads
How
indeed, especially when you’re flat broke and owe eight million
pounds in back taxes to the Queen of England? This is the situation
that Charles Mortdecai (Depp) finds himself in as he and his wife
Johanna (Paltrow) sell off pieces of art in their estate
just to get by. A possible way out of debt arises when he learns from
Inspector Martland (McGregor) that a rare lost painting by Goya has
been stolen and he would be well paid to get it back. But being a
dealer in fine art, Charles also knows that this particular painting
has the secret bank account number of famous Nazi leader Goering
inscribed on the back. But so do ruthless dealers from China and
Russia.
Charles
is not the James Bond type. He’s haughty as a David Niven with the
over-the-top accent of Terry-Thomas, the outrageous flamboyancy of
Austin Powers (without the Mojo), and the drunken, effeminate
mannerisms of Captain Jack Sparrow. If it weren’t for the fierce
loyalty of his manservant Jock Strapp (Bettany), it’s doubtful I
would have made it to the end of the movie. Jock is a one-man army
and he stays with Charles, tolerating his inane questions even after
being accidentally shot by him several times.
Johanna
adores her husband but wishes he would shave off the ridiculous
little handlebar moustache he’s currently sporting and obsessively
grooming (much like Hercule Poirot). It makes her gag whenever they
kiss, which makes Charles gag sympathetically. This is literally a
running “gag” throughout the film.
After
many chases here and there, Charles is forced to sell his Rolls Royce
to major art competitor Krampf (Goldblum), and deliver it personally
to his mansion in Los Angeles. Unknown to him, the painting has been
stowed in the headliner of the Rolls. Krampf throws a gala party for
the unveiling. When Charles and Jock decide to steal it, the problem
of disposing of it has to be solved. An elaborate (and impossibly
complex) plan is hatched involving hiding it behind a hunting scene
in Charles’ mansion, selling it at auction for a ridiculous price,
and recovering the Mortdecai family status at the same time as paying
off the back taxes.
Mortdecai is
a silly, funny romp that provides the perfect backdrop for Depp’s
maniac acting talent. For once, I could understand most of his
dialogue (only occasionally mumbled) and was able to get the tacky
sexual innuendoes throughout. The violence is minimal and Jock is the
usual brunt of it. It’s interesting to see Paltrow in a comedy and
she carries it off with aplomb. McGregor plays the “other man” in
Johanna’s life smoothly, and right under the nose of an astonished
Charles. Parents, make sure your child is able to handle the sexual
side of this movie before taking them to it. I for one enjoyed it
once I dismissed my scientific side. It’s a totally fictional tale
featuring a totally outrageous character.
Rating:
3½ out of 5 Martini glasses.
Da
Claudio
21
Ann Street (one block from Park Row), New York
Back
in 1973 when I began my work career, I found a Chinese take-out place
on Ann Street where they made the greatest Pork Lo Mein and Curry
Chicken and I would get my lunches there. Shortly after, I noticed I
was rapidly getting fatter (yes, you can get fat on Chinese food). I
stopped visiting them and changed to a lower calorie lunch. Soon, the
restaurant went out of business and the building it was in was torn
down. The space remained empty for years. As Ann Street only exists
for two blocks in downtown Manhattan, I wondered about the location
of my 2,650th restaurant.
Not
even on the same block. This two-month-old Salumeria (Italian cold
cuts store)/Ristorante has been shining a bright light on Ann Street
where darkness existed before. The windows are lined with white
incandescent bulbs and the name is decaled on the windows in gold
lettering. If that weren’t enough, there’s a pinkish orange-lit
sign with “Da Claudio” hovering above the center window. Inside,
all is white (including the massive counter where the cheeses and
various meats were kept cool) with copper ball-shaped swags, polished
bare-wood tables and gold banquettes.
A collage of Tarzan comic book
stills dominates one wall (in Italian, of course), and this is where
the young lady at the Captain’s Station sat me. At the next table
were three college professors enjoying a lively conversation.
After
a courteous amount of time to get settled in, my server, Izabella,
took my water preference and presented me with the specials list and
the menu – a single card with the wine and drinks list on the
reverse. When she returned I asked her if they had Beefeaters gin
because none of the cocktails (with the exception of something called
a “Fumatto”) were enticing. She produced a list and I ordered my
usual martini made with Tanqueray Ten. The bartender must have been
impressed because he delivered it personally stating that it was
“perfect” (which it was in a surprising and tasty way, and I told
him so).
Izabella
was wonderful in planning my three-course meal. Prior to her
assistance, I was torn between three appetizers, two pastas and two
main courses. Even though I’ve had it many times before in other
Italian restaurants I chose the Carpaccio di Bresaola – thinly
sliced filet mignon with shaved Romano cheese and capers drizzled
with olive oil. The presentation of this dish was very impressive.
The platter nearly was as wide as my table. It looked like too much,
but when I tasted it, the subtle mix of flavors made it disappear
slice by delicate slice.
The
first martini was so good I decided on a second to go with the next
course. On Izabella’s recommendation I chose the risotto with
sausage and wild mushrooms. This time the bowl made the good-sized
portion look small in comparison. The delicate pale browns of the
mushrooms and sausage were attractive in the shiny, almost glutenous
(but sensual), arborio rice. Then, when it was covered with a
blizzard of grated parmesan cheese, it was ready to be adored. It was
hot and sweet, cheesy and earthy and I enjoyed every bite. Another
server had brought the most wonderful olive bread (no doubt
home-made) and included a wooden spoon on which was a dollop of olive
spread. Delicioso! No one can gild the lily like the Italians.
My
main course was Stinco di Maile, or pork shank served with crisp
apple slices. I toyed with the idea of adding escarole as a side dish
but upon seeing the portion size I was happy I didn’t. I paced
myself with the tender meat and juicy apples, saving the roasted
onions for last. I cleaned the plate as well as I could with another
serving of olive bread. A busboy commented cleverly that, from the
empty plate, I must not have liked the dish at all. With this dish it
was time for a wine and of the two hearty reds I chose the
Montepulciano. Excellent!
I
told Izabella that I like to choose my dessert over a glass of wine
and for that job I chose the other red, a Pinot Nero. It was just as
wonderful as the previous wine, but lighter and more of a
decision-making wine. My dessert was the Frutti di
Bosco (fruits of the forest) and my hopes for this dish were
correct. The plump raspberries and strawberries were nestled in the
lightest, sweetest Zabaglione I’ve had in a long time. And, there
was a wedge of chocolate brittle as a garnish! No complaints here.
Then, a double espresso and a glass Nonino Amaro Quintessentia, and
my Italian feast was complete. I even spoke with the trio of
professors because one of them, the woman, looked familiar. I asked
her if she attended the performance of Iolanthe at Pace University.
She said no, she doesn’t work there, one of the other two does, but
she loves Gilbert and Sullivan, and enjoyed watching me effuse over
my dinner.
Da
Claudio is a gem on Ann Street, and improves the location immensely.
I must return to try the other dishes that tempted me.
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