Summer Potpourri

Barbenheimer, Maine Sailing, Crabs With My Brother

Barbenheimer

Embroiled in a nasty writer/actor strike, Hollywood made a move of its own recently in releasing two summer blockbusters, “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer”. As they were released on the same day, it became somewhat of a “thing” for the cool kids to see both on the same day, hence the term “Barbenheimer”. As I am neither cool, nor a kid, I watched each last week on successive nights (Thursday and Friday) and as a service to my beloved readers, I will discuss each in turn.

Before I go any further, I want to get a bias out of the way. I am not a big fan of the “film as art” approach. I sorta like to go to the movies to be entertained. I’m funny like that. This doesn’t mean that I do not also wish to be challenged, informed, scared, or excited by movies, I just don’t get into the whole slavish adoration of directors and actors. Both of these movies have celebrated directors at the helm, but Oppenheimer’s Christopher Nolan seems to get more drool from critics and actors than any other director these days, and it is hard to consume pop culture media these days without seeing some clip of one to three of the big name actors from this movie faithfully blathering on about the great auteur. The problem with all this is that it really, really raises expectations.

I chose to see “Oppenheimer” first. I read (and loved) the book upon which it was based, and as a dude of a certain age engaged in a certain line of work, I have a sense that I was in the center of mass of the demographic sought out here. And pretty predictably, I thought this was a good-to-very-good movie. There are some EXTRAORDINARY

Partial cast list from Oppenheimer (there is another row and a half)

acting jobs in this movie. Robert Downey Jr. is phenomenal as Oppenheimer’s main antagonist. Emily Blunt is marvelous as Oppenheimer’s wife. Cillian Murphy (in the lead role) is the subject of hosanas throughout the media for his performance, and I thought he was very good, but not in the same league as the other two just mentioned. The movie is essentially three plus hours of people talking with each other and at each other, but it moves along at a pretty fair clip. Like other Nolan movies, it jumps around chronologically, but not in a confusing manner. There is a really good story here, well-told. The building of The Bomb was a magnificent work of human achievement, and the use of the bomb was a perhaps the most important human decision ever made. The movie does a good job of covering both of these angles.

I am glad I saw it. I enjoyed it. I would recommend it to most of the people in my social and professional circles. That said, it really isn’t much of a general audience movie. It can drag. Some of the trippy effects are a little over the top. Part of the reason I enjoyed it is because I came to the movie with a relatively high level of knowledge of both the project and the (pardon the pun) fallout. I find myself wondering whether someone coming to it with average, product of the US education system knowledge of things, would be really confused, and maybe a little bored. I give this movie a solid B+.

I saw “Barbie” on Friday night with my older daughter (24). We made an evening of it, with a little Italian food to start things off. She’s heading off the grad school on the West Coast in two weeks, so this evening was a little special to me. I’m gonna come right out and say it. I loved the movie.

First of all, the premise was wonderful, creating an alternative universe (Barbieland) where girl-power rules, and the “real” world, portrayed with a bit of thumb on the scale as a patriarchy run wild. A portal opens between the two and both Barbie and Ken find their way into the real world. Barbie is CRUSHED by the knowledge that little of the “you can do anything” spirit of Barbieland has made it into the real world, while Ken is utterly transfixed by the glories of the patriarchy in the real world, so much so that he returns to Barbieland imbued with his new understanding, and rallies the heretofore drone-like Kens to create a new Ken-Run “Kendom” to displace the You-Go-Girl Matriarchy of Barbieland.

Not that plot is all that important to this movie. It helps that there is a wafer-thin story—but what really makes it snap are the actors. Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling are great in this movie, but especially Gosling. His cluelessness is hilarious. I laughed more in this trip to the movies—out loud—than I have in any movie I can remember. There is among the pop-culture-infused world of modern political commentary a good bit of back-and-forthing about whether the movie is “woke”, etc., but I think if you’re sitting there watching it through that lens, you’re missing the point. The point is fun; visually pleasing fun. I was thoroughly entertained, which is again—why I go to the movies. Solid A for this movie.

One final thing, because I am a participant in the pop-culture-infused world of modern political commentary. If you’re looking for a movie that backs up a traditional, conservative understanding of sex and gender, well, this it. We don’t have gratuitous shots of little gender-fluid boys playing with Barbies. And while the Barbies of Barbieland are strong, accomplished doll-women, there are no ambiguously sexed Barbies with plaid shirts, bull-ring nose jewelry, and purple, close-shaven hair. There is a “weird” Barbie (played wonderfully by Kate McKinnon), but her condition as “weird” was not the result of gender fluidity or choices, but overplay by an aggressive young girl. Putting the cherry on top of this delightful reinforcement of traditional views of sex and gender, when (SPOILER ALERT) Barbie makes her fateful decision at the end of the movie to cast her lot in the “Real World”, the FIRST place she goes to visit—is the gynecologist.

Maine Sailing

I lucked into a great life, having been introduced to the Kitten some sixteen years go through mutual friends. She brought into the relationship a loving soul, a beautiful house, two wonderful kids, and a friend group that should be in the friend group hall of fame. I brought…well, admittedly not much.

This friend group was built around a common summer job thirty-some-odd years ago, teaching sailing in the Caribbean to teens (the program exists to this day, and my younger Kitten was an instructor there for two summers). Catherine (the Kitten) met Chris there and eventually married him (Chris died on 9/11). They got to know about ten other people (that I’ve since met) through their employment, and those people are now my friends too. All of them are very good sailors, and sailing remains an important source of valence among them. It is an embarrassment to The Kitten and a source of great fun for the friend group that I know little to nothing about sailing. I do know how to do dishes and cook, so these skills are leveraged for the group’s benefit.

Chris (a different one) and Carey are two of these friends, and when Chris retired two years ago, they bought a beautiful sailboat that they named after their daughter (“Grace”). It spent its first fall and winter near us here on the Eastern Shore getting some TLC at a local boatyard, before heading up the coast to Maine in the spring and summer of 2022. Catherine crewed a bit of that journey while I held down the fort here. Chris had a bunk at our place and a spot at our dinner table while his boat was being readied, and we were thoroughly invested (emotionally, that is) in his project. We plotted a time when Catherine and I could join him and Carey last summer, and we pulled it off. I had no idea then what to expect, but I was blown away by the experience. Gorgeous scenery, cozy little towns, great weather, good eating, great friends, and skilled and generous hosts.

We immediately began plotting last summer for this summer’s opportunity, and that’s where I was from the 19th to the 25th (and why there was no Conservative Wahoo last week). We were joined by Kristine and Greg for a bit of it, and the six of us had a great time. Last year we plied the waters around Mt. Desert Island, and this year we explored around Penobscot Bay. These trips are creating a bit of a beast in me, as I grow more convinced that not only should I retire sooner rather than later, but that we should get a boat (power, trawler, thank you) and get ourselves a bit of this life. Here are a few shots from last week.

Crabs with Patrick

In the summer of 2018, brother Pat and I were having some crabs here on the Eastern Shore when he casually mentioned his 50th Birthday. I was horrified. It had happened six months or so earlier, and I had completely forgotten it. Nothing. Not a card, a call, a Happy Birthday. This after me having three years before pretty much closed down the world for an epic bash celebrating my own 50th, which he duly attended (along with 130 others, including some of you wonderful readers).

On the spot I apologized, and sought absolution for my sin by stating that I would treat him to a crab feast every summer for the rest of our lives. We have both held up our ends of that bargain.

Last night (Saturday) was this year’s edition, and I am pleased to say we ate like we each had two stomachs.

Of note, our views on Oppenheimer were closely aligned. Good, maybe great. He wants to see it again to make that determination, I don’t feel like I need to. We both agreed that whatever it was, the movie was interesting.

Doing the work