Metaphysical Furniture

This is the second in a series of recollections of the year 1985, when I transitioned from high school to college. Photo from the Mattel website I have a confession to make. Prom didn't excite me in high school. Oh, it was a fun night for the most part. I went four straight years (three in high school, once as a college freshman). All four dates were friends. No romantic entanglements. Dressing up was fun. My sophomore year I wore a top hat, which I kept until I graduated. I used to wear it and do impersonations of Dudley Moore from the movie Arthur .  My senior prom was a lovely affair. I went with a girl whose boyfriend was serving in the military and couldn't attend. We joined two other couples at dinner. Then came pictures at her house. Then pictures at my house. There was a third house of pictures, too. By this point, I was starting to feel overwhelmed. Were we ever going to get to the dance? Prom always felt like one of those things where everything around the event took ...

Few movies have stayed with me the way Ryan Coogler's Sinners has. Its power, beauty, and message have all lingered in my mind since seeing it over two weeks ago.  Sinners is a genre-defying blend of supernatural horror, historical drama, and cultural commentary, set against the backdrop of 1930s Mississippi.  It explores  themes of racial oppression, cultural resilience, and the redemptive power of music. The story follows twin brothers, Smoke and Stack (both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan in a marvelous performance), who return to their hometown to open a juke joint, only to confront a vampiric evil that threatens their community. Now, this sounds like the setup for a really fun vampire flick and Coogler delivers a bloody, violent final showdown that all vamp pictures need. What we get, though, is so much more than that. One sequence stands out. Smoke and Stack have opened the juke joint, a crowd of black people has arrived to dance to live blues. Coogler uses this mo...

  NOTE: I'd like to start a recurring series of posts about certain television episodes. The best, the most memorable, those that have stayed with me over the years. Since this is the first post in this series, it seems appropriate to start with a pilot episode. Chico and the Man has the distinction of being the first American television series set exclusively in a Mexican-American neighborhood. Ed Brown is the curmudgeonly owner of a run-down garage in the East L.A. neighborhood in which he has lived his entire life. He doesn't like the changes taking place. Particularly bothersome to Ed is the evolving culture surrounding him. His neighbors are no longer only white like him. East L.A. is now predominantly Mexican-American. He hates it. He fears it. This is a quality Ed shares with the iconic character of Archie Bunker, another white male who lets his fear and bigotry overrun him. Yet, somehow, we sense the sadness underneath and, perhaps even a softness. Enter Chico Rodriguez...