Dinner
and a Movie
An
Ageless Beautiful Dream
By Steve Herte
By Steve Herte
After
spending two weekends in my garden, I’ve discovered muscles that
never ached before, but the results are rewarding. Azaleas, irises
and lilies of the valley are all in bloom in the front garden and
tulips, iris, my white azalea and white lilac are all in bloom in
back. Thirty-seven dahlias are now planted out back and my three
Christmas cacti are in their perennial places until the fall. Next
comes the edible garden and choosing seeds.
Busy
at work, busy at home, vacation time planned. I was ready for a great
evening. I had hoped to see Little Boy but
availability and times were not on my side. This turned out to be
advantageous. The movie I chose exceeded my expectations. Enjoy!
The
Age of Adaline (Lionsgate,
2015) – Director: Lee Toland Krieger. Writers: J. Miles Goodloe and
Salvador Paskowitz (s/p and story). Stars: Blake Lively, Michiel
Huisman, Harrison Ford, Richard Harmon, Ellen Burstyn, Amanda
Crew, Kathy Baker, Anthony Ingruber, Cate Richardson, Izabel
Pearce, & Hugh Ross. Color, 112 minutes.
“A
cab crosses the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco’s Chinatown
to Marin County. This is the beginning and the end of the story of
Adaline Bowman.” Thus says the Narrator (Ross) and I cringe a
little. I generally do not like narrated movies unless they are
documentaries. But in this film, the narration was not overdone,
thanks goes to the brilliant direction of Lee Toland Krieger. As the
tale unfolded, I was completely drawn in, suspended my beliefs and
even shed a tear. (Bring a box of tissues.)
Adaline
Bowman (Lively) was born in 1908, met and married Tony (Harmon), gave
birth to a daughter and led a normal life until 1928, with the
exception of becoming a widow when her husband is killed in an
accident during the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Driving
to her parents’ house in 1928, a freak snowfall causes her to lose
control of the car. She plunges into the icy waters of San Francisco
Bay and dies. However, her car is struck by lightning and she is
revived after two minutes. This series of events has an effect on the
telomeres in her genes, keeping her at age 29 indefinitely.
Her
daughter, Flemming (played by Pearce at 5-years old, Richardson at
20, and Burstyn as a grown woman) is the only person who knows the
truth. This makes life considerably difficult for Adaline. Potential
loves are curtailed because she would outlive any man she marries.
She has to have several passports and ID cards made to keep from
being a potential laboratory experiment. When a policeman pulls her
over for speeding, one glance at her driver’s license and he’s
suspicious, and she has to move again. Eventually, she has to leave
her daughter to avoid the FBI.
Adaline
keeps in touch with her daughter and finally gets a job in the main
library of San Francisco. Her best friend is a blind piano player who
works a New Year’s Eve gig at a fancy hotel. It is there where she
meets Ellis Jones (Huisman) on the elevator as she’s leaving the
party. Though she tries to dissuade him, he’s obviously attracted
to her, even to finding out where she works. He shows up as a wealthy
donor of rare books to the library, and using this as leverage, he
manages to get a date with Adaline, and the relationship blossoms.
Flemming
is delighted that her mother finally has a man she loves and does
everything to encourage her to keep him. Against her better judgment,
Adaline agrees to meet Ellis’ parents. On the way there she
terrifies Ellis with her speedy driving and they pick up his sister
Kikki (Crew) on the way. As they enter the Jones’ house Kathy,
Ellis’s mother (Baker) greets everyone enthusiastically. William
Jones (Ford) is not so enthusiastic. This woman being introduced to
him as Jennifer is the perfect twin of the woman he fell in love with
in the 1960’s when he gave her car a start back in England. (The
young William is played convincingly by Ingruber.) Adaline stood him
up at a park bench where he was waiting to propose to her.
William
became a noted astronomer and discovered, and named, a comet, but
incorrectly predicted its arrival by 50 years. Adaline is disturbed
when she learns that he named it “Della,” after her. His new
family thinks he named it after the grandma in the family. But when
William sees the scar on Adaline’s hand that he stitched up back in
the 60s, her cover is blown. William begs her to stay – for Ellis –
but she instinctively runs.
Adaline’s
tears dim her vision as she’s driving and she pulls off the road.
Thinking of the advice from her daughter, she turns the car to go
back when a flatbed truck plows into her, inverting the car by the
roadside and – once again – killing her at age 107. (Most actors
would literally kill to get a death scene. Lively gets two in one
film.) But, thanks to modern technology, the paddles of a
defibrillator revive her – and correct her telomeres in the
process.
It’s
a beautiful movie, sensitively acted and remarkably directed. No
scene is too long, there is zero vulgarity, and the love scenes are
innocent. The camera angles taken from inside both cars during the
respective accidents are phenomenal as well as disturbing. The scene
where Adaline outlives Reese, her brown and white cocker spaniel, was
touching and added to the sentimentality of the film.
And…surprise!
The Narrator is actually necessary to explain things. “An asteroid
crashed into the moon in 1928, causing huge tides in Argentina and
weather fluctuation in western U.S., to cause the first snow to fall in
San Francisco in over 70 years,” hence the first accident and our
story.
If
all this were not enough to keep me interested, playing “Comin'
Back to Me” by Jefferson Airplane as Adaline tells the cab driver
to keep moving past the park bench where young William is waiting
with a ring was heart-wrenching. I told you, bring tissues. Another
great use of music was “Gimme Some Lovin’” by the Spencer Davis
Group, played as Adaline speeds across the Golden Gate Bridge to
Marin County.
The
Age of Adaline is an excellent
movie with believable science fiction overtones and a love story that
is endearing, not cloyingly sweet. I see many nominations in the
future.
Rating:
5 out of 5 Martini glasses.
Belle
Rêve
305
Church St. (corner of Walker St.), New York
In
Tennessee Williams’ play, A Streetcar Named Desire,
Blanche DuBois tells Stella of her lost ancestral home “Belle Rêve”
(French for “beautiful dream”), a beautiful Southern mansion that
actually exists in Mississippi. This is definitely not that place,
but rather a restaurant on the corner of Church and Walker in
downtown Manhattan that couldn’t be more Bohemian if it tried. For
instance, the exterior is an unprepossessing charcoal gray with the
name hand-lettered in white paint above the main door.
Once
inside, it’s a riot of American memorabilia covering the walls: a
representation of The Sacred Heart is juxtaposed with a “Miss
Subways” poster; a platinum record album with an old Atlantic label
competes for space with advertisements for Schlitz and Budweiser
beers and a life-saver touting Canada Dry. Stained glass artworks
hang in the front windows alongside live plants suspended by chains
made of cowry shells. The tables are the old red-topped, aluminum
framed ones one would find in an antique diner, and the matching
wooden chairs add to the “sports bar” atmosphere. The only thing
missing (thank goodness) is the “sports.” Instead of big-screen
TVs playing the latest game over the bar, there are guitar cases and
a snare drum on a shelf.
The
sidewalk café in front, though interesting, did not entice me and I
entered. Inside, it’s rather small: the Captain’s Station is an
iPad. The young man holding it greeted me, noted my reservation on
the little device, and sat me at a table by the window with full view
of the restaurant – perfect. Looking around, déjà vu snapped on
like a motion sensor. The circular booth in the back was completely
familiar. Just last July I dined in the same location, though at a
different table. Back then it was a Latino cuisine restaurant called
Los Americanos. I later learned that the same owner decided to swap
styles and reopened the place as American with a Cajun twist just two
months ago.
The
young man who seated me took my water preference and presented me
with the single card food menu and drink list on the reverse side. My
eyes went right to a quote written at the bottom:
“The
edge… the only ones who know where it is are the ones who have gone
over.”
Hunter S. Thompson.
Well,
that spoke volumes, so let’s see where “the edge” is here.
Maija, my server, soon appeared, a perky, grinning young lady wearing
a tee-shirt with the word “Materialism” in graffiti across her
chest and faux Louis Vuitton ear-rings. She asked if I wanted a
cocktail. The five creations on their list were intriguing, with
names like “The Grandpa,” “Disco Billy,” “J. Kosma,”
“Babo,” and “Do JaJa,” but I wasn’t feeling experimental.
Across the room I saw a bottle of Beefeaters gin and I ordered my
favorite martini.
The
simple menu made choosing equally simple, with no more than six
choices per category. There was: “Let’s Get Started”
(appetizers), Salads, Soup & Sandwich, Pasta, Meat + 2 Sides
(including a fish dish), Veg & Grain (12), and Dessert (3). By
the time Maija returned with my martini (served in a chilled,
thick-glass, old-fashioned tumbler) I had my decisions made.
For
starters, I ordered the Oysters Casino – with spinach and lardons
(And yes, you heard that right; not Clams Casino, but Oysters
Casino). They were a quartet of good-sized oysters on the half-shell
with respectably large bacon pieces and a buttery, spinach-flaked
sauce. I wished there were six of them when suddenly they were gone.
The slice of baguette helped get every drop of the sauce left on the
plate.
After
the appetizer, I thought it would be a good time to order wine. The
wine list was as simple as the food menu – four wines by the glass
and four by the bottle. Good thing I knew my reds from my whites. I
chose the Bordeaux. (Seriously, that’s how it was listed.) Maybe I
was in an experimental mood, after all. I was delighted to see what
Maija brought: a 2011 Chateau du Champ des Creilles “Grand Vin”
from Sainte-Foy vineyards, Bordeaux. The deep red, almost opaque
color and impressive nose was just the thing for my meal. The flavor
was full-bodied, almost heady, and had me wondering, “What’s a
great wine like you doing in a place like this?”
The
entries on the menu have imaginative titles, but the one that hooked
me for my next course was “Devil May Care Lasagna.” It was served
piping hot in its own ellipsoid iron skillet and was characterized by
the sliced red chili peppers strewn on top and the cilantro garnish.
You may have heard me quote the cartoon cat Garfield about “the
miracle that is lasagna…” well this dish exemplified that quote.
I took my time and luxuriated in every bite. The chili peppers added
an “Arabiatta” spicy note to a dish that was almost Cajun. The
wine held its own against it.
I
had found “the edge” and decided to go over it with the main
course. Even the title implied extreme dining. The “Big Bucks
Steak,” a grass-fed, dry-aged, bone-in NY Strip steak in
whiskey/peppercorn sauce, was served pre-sliced off the bone, but
accompanied by the bone and cooked to my temperature preference. It
was as tasty and tender as it was appetizing to look at. The sides I
chose were Baked Farro (a hearty wheat grain that was a mainstay in
Ancient Rome), topped with melted Parmesan and mixed with pesto, and
Jerk beets, topped with lime yogurt. Maija’s grin was even bigger
at my choices. Both sides were amazing. The farro tasted a lot better
than it looked (what’s green and globular and topped with cheese?)
and the beets were not as spicy as I expected a “Jerk” recipe to
be. They were wonderful.
I
was actually surprised that I finished all parts of my main course
with only minimal gnawing of the crispy flesh left on the bone. Even
more so, I was ready for dessert. The chocolate mousse was heavenly
under a mound of artistically extruded whipped cream and topped with
a fire engine red Maraschino cherry. When Maija announced that
dessert and coffee were on the house, it was my turn to grin.
If
Belle Rêve lasts for more than eight months (and I hope it does) I
have to return for some other inventive dishes. Maybe I’ll order
the “Clams, badly cut pasta, shaved fennel & parsley.” (Is
that a title or what?)
No comments:
Post a Comment