Movie Review: Ricki and the Flash

It probably has been out for ages in The States and GB, but we of The Wetlands 

have been graced with the latest Meryl Streep film only recently, and I have been

 one of the first people to see it in my area, along with a cinema full of women of 

a certain (my!!!) age.

(Funny, that).

Meryl Streep is in a league of her own. I have been following her career since it started, 

and have admired her as long. Some other actor (in Modern Family, sorry, his name has 

vanished from my mind - another thing with women of a certain age...) would have said 

that no, it wasn't weird that she portraid an aging rock-star, as she would be able to play 

Batman convincingly.

Did she convince me? Yes, she did. (Not everyone else in the film did, but more about that 

later)
Wrinkles and all, rats-nest hair, eyes made up so heavily that they almost disappeared, 

covered in chains, she was an aging rock chick down to her high-heeled booties.

Ever since Postcards from the Edge and Mamma Mia we've known that she can sing, and 

she sang with easy confidence as Ricki and handled that guitar well enough.

Her daughter Mamie Gummer, who plays her daughter (and who has inherited 

her intensity) was just as convincing in her agony for being left by her husband for a 

greener fresher pair of legs. Her face was haunting, raw, perfectly casted. 

One of the best scenes is the one where Ricki/Linda and her ex-husband Pete confront 

this errant husband and new lover in a restaurant. 

Here Diablo Cody's lines really have that humorous bite which she is famous for. 

Gummer watches through the window and her expression is pure pain.

Pete, being portrayed by Kevin Kline, is where I was a tad disappointed.
If you remember, Kline and Streep managed to keep millions on the edge of their seats 

in Sophie's Choice with their tragic love story. The chemistry there made my heart beat

 in time with theirs.

In Ricki and the Flash, that chemistry was...non-existant. Kline as Pete was a colorless, 

stiff man, even when stoned. I could for the life of me not imagine them ever having been 

married, let alone that they had the sex to make three kids.

Now Rick Springfield, on the other hand, who plays Greg, Ricki's lead guitarist-cum-love-

interest, managed to get his love for Ricki across with a few simple smoldering looks. 

One of my favorite scenes, only a couple of seconds long, is when Ricki and Greg are in bed

 together with his guitar.

Did Jonathan Demme do a good job?
Hmmmm, yes, on the whole he did. The wedding ending the story is (to Wetlander eyes) 

ridiculously over-directed, but that has more to do with our Wetlander eyes than with 

Mr Demme. (To us Dutchies the entire 'dance with the best men/maids of honor' is so 

contrived. But never mind that. I respect that your weddings are more of a production 

than ours)

Did Diablo Cody? Yes, on the whole she did.
Should you see this movie? Absolutely. You should always grasp the chance to see Streep 

at work with both hands. 

And now there's a talented daughter to boot.

Music Makes My World Go Round (so here's a song of mine)

My life being in upheaval and turmoil at the moment, has made me turn to the two constants in my existence: writing (right?) and music (right!).

I don't know about you, but I can map my past 57 years exactly by listing music I listened to at the time. Certain songs bring back detailed memories of certain moments, often complete with smells.

Example? My first three years were dominated by Edith Piaf and Ella Fitzgerald. I sang "Non, je ne regrette rien" as easily as the Dutch equivalent of twinkle twinkle little star.
Another example? My pre-teens were dominated by The Beatles. First by the simple "She loves you - yeah yeah yeah" songs, and when I got a little older than 10 by the "She's so heavy" kind. That was before my massive crush on David Bowie, which lasted until my first major break up, which was accompanied by U2. The recuperation was helped by Kate Bush, Stevie Nicks and Melissa Etheridge, and so it goes on and on and on.

In the thralls of my latest break up, I have turned not only to existing music (Kate Bush is still helping out, but also Jodymoon, Selah Sue, Elbow, Jake Bugg and Muse lend a hand), but to writing and singing my own.
This is an exciting but daunting task. Is it good enough to subject other people to it? Now, there's a question for you...
One simply does not know, does one?
Only one thing for it: take the plunge.

So, it is with not a little trepidation that I'll present you with the gift of a link: Not Mine

Viggo's Blog - How To Build A Design Shelter.

Hi fans, Viggo here.
Today I will instruct you how to build a multi-purpose design shelter. So especially those of you needing a change of scenery and/or environment, pay attention! 
It could also be sent on to the High Commission for Refugees I suppose. My woman tells me I should not be disrespectful, but I am quite serious. Perhaps they should all be given a huge cardboard box.

First, you make certain you have a suitable carton box. It should be sturdy, but pliable. And (!!!) you should be able to rip it with your teeth without them breaking off.

Second, it makes a difference if it has that distinct fishy carton glue smell. I love that, makes it so much more enjoyable.

Third, try to rip it into 1 inch pieces. They should all be cut to the same size. Different sizes look sloppy. We do not want sloppy!

Fourth, scatter the pieces decoratively along the table and floor. Do not cut corners, this should be taken seriously.

Fifth, try it on for size. You should be able to sit, but also squat in it comfortably.

Sixth, adjust when necessary.

Seventh, try it on again. Well. How does it feel? Do you feel good? Are you in the zone? Could you stay there for at least an hour or so? If the answer is yes - great. If the answer is no, you will have to do better!

Next time I will teach you how to bury your pooh in the garden, shall I? Or would you prefer to know about how to wake up your woman/man effectively at 5 am? Do tell me.

Until next time, purrs, Viggo.

Viggo's Blog - Same Old Same Old

Hi fans, Viggo here.
It's been a while, mostly because nothing happened which was worth commenting on.
Sometimes I wish I could simply go walkabout.
I mean, my old dog Gina is on painkillers now, bloody expensive they are, and now she has stopped moaning but has started farting a lot. I don't know what is worse.

My woman tells me I should not be so harsh, as Gina suffers from arthritis, but frankly my own problems are so much more important.

That Maine Coon jumped me again last night, and I swear he has gained weight!

It took all my effort to shake him off, and my woman got upset with me because I shouted some choice swear words after him. She says I shouldn't do that in the middle of the night, as it sets off Gina's barking and upsets the neighbours.

As if I care about those neighbours.

They kept the entire neighbourhood awake again last night with their partying. The thing that annoys me most is their predictability. They start off with salsa (that's bearable, us cats like salsa as it reminds us of bumble bees in the garden), progress to disco and end up with shout-alongs of football songs and the Dutch André Hazes classic Bloed, Zweet en Tranen (blood, sweat and tears) which indeed brings tears to my eyes because they sing abominably and abysmally badly. 

My woman has spent the evening in the kitchen (the only place where it was bearable) with her GarageBand, and I must say she is singing much better. I sat on the counter with her and gave tips. Although she got pissed off when I tried to take over the recording button. She tends to have a short fuse these days.

Anyway. There's some new stuff coming up on her YouTube channel soon, mixed by me, but for now I'll leave you with an oldie by her. HeyHeyRenée

My Pond Fish Have Started A Fish-Protest-Group.

Oh dear, all of a sudden my gorgeous pond has turned into a mini Everglades with hardly any water visible...
I swear my goldfish have started their own pressure group: FISH FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM.
And when I was trying to restore some order (and find the water), I expected an alligator to stalk me.

If you look closely you can see the fish swimming around in the foreground,waving their placards.

So I fiddled around a bit with one of those professional looking, but oh-so-akward-to-use, pond appliances which consists of a long pole, a wire, a handle and a cutting knife. Within 3 minutes my back was aching and my fish had fled to the other side of the pond. Perhaps our riot police should start waving those cutters about instead of pelting protesters with tear gas.

Still, I managed to clear a bit of water. 

Ah....look....happy fishies.

Autumn really has arrived in The Wetlands now. It smells of apples, leaves turning and wet earth in my garden. Before long the fish will have plenty of clear water again, when all that greenery will die down.
But until then I will enjoy the pond jungle.

Note to Self: try to find a house with a pond.

Buying A House Is Hard Work!

Good evening to you, where-ever you are.
For your sake, I hope you are sitting cosily in your own home, surrounded by your loved ones.
Told you (or perhaps not in so many words, but the readers-between-the-lines knew) that I am searching for a new home for my two YA kids and myself, didn't I? And for my macho cat Viggo, of course!

Let me tell you, this is bloody hard work!

Now, I am on a tight budget (say...as tight as the seal on a new bottle of Glenfiddich, which - by the way - I will not be able to afford in the coming 30 years), so 90% of all 3 bedroom houses on the market around my hometown are simply way too expensive for me.

That 10% that is left I peruse on the Internet. Housebrokers thoughtfully provide descriptions and (!!!) photos. Oh...those photos. They show sunny spacious rooms with pristine paintwork, which (when you view them in real life) turn out to be poky smelly ones with watermarks in the corners. How do they do this? Photoshop?

But I'm wising up fast. Do benefit from my newly found wisdom:

#1 

When the description says there are 3 bedrooms, but the photos show only 1, this means that the other two are not large enough to swing a cat in (so sorry, Viggo), can barely hold a single bed in other words, let alone a desk and/or chest of drawers.

#2

When the description says that the house needs a little work, this means that the walls need plastering, the gutters have grass and trees growing in them, the bathroom is mouldy, the outside paint is non-existant, the woodwork is rotten in places and the kitchen cabinets are sagging. (Oh, do see #3 by all means)

#3

When the description says the property has a basic kitchen, this means that the cabinets are sagging and the appliances ("kitchen appliances included!" - oh, goody) are at least 10 years old and yellowing. Or with wires hanging out and essential bits missing (saw this one today).

#4

When the descriptions says the garden needs a little tlc, this means there are Triffid-like weeds trying to take over the street, or (saw this one today - ) the neighbouring garden is used as the local garbage dump, or there is crazy paving everywhere with a suspicion of buried corpses underneath.

#5

When the description says there is room for home improvement - run a mile. Unless you are a masochist OR you have an unscratchable itch to live in a tip for months on end.

Ah, I can hear you say "Oh...come on...is it really that bad?". Yes, it is. Right now I doubt I will ever find a reasonably priced, reasonably maintained property.

But I could be wrong.

So I will call it a day for today, but tomorrow I will visit all those house-agent's websites again.

Are You A Beach Person?

Good morning to you!
Circumstances beyond my control (I was asked out to lunch) brought me to one of our local beaches yesterday. And even though it was your normal, typical September Wetlands beach weather (cold, damp, windy, cloudy, 14 degrees but the wind-chill factor making it feel like 12 degrees) I found myself asking myself why I don't visit the beach more often.

And no, this is NOT our beach...
This is our beach:

©Wibe Koopman Photography

Still. There were quite a lot of people kitesurfing, which I admire enormously. 

Imagine: you drive yourself to this beach (often from Germany), you gear up in a sticky sandy wetsuit, you drag this humungous kite towards the water (just take a look at that distance, won't you?), you get all those lines untangled, then the wind blows them all into a ball again and you start over, then you walk that kite into the water, you forget your board so you have to do it all again, you stand there buffeted by the waves...And when you know your stuff you're away.

As I said: I admire those people.

The ones with the kite dragging a kart - hm, not so much somehow. First, they don't get wet. Second, it's more the gear than the skill, to my un-knowing eyes. Sorry if I've offended anyone now. Not my intention, simply my opinion.

But then again, that 3rd photo is to show you the nature of our Wetlands beaches. Vast, vast, vast stretches of sand. Our tides rush in covering kilometers, no joke. Our waters are grey most of the time, sometimes a kind of blue if we get lucky. And they are always chilly to cold to downright freezing. And they are treacherous, with an undertow causing deaths every summer.

Still. They do have a certain charm.

The wildlife is wonderful. We have lots of seabirds, seals, dolphins (the smaller kind called bruinvissen), sharks (very small ones - and we play this down or otherwise all those German tourists will stay away), and a nasty little fish called a Pieterman, which has a poisoned stickle and buries itself in the sand with just the stickle sticking out (saying we play this one down is an understatement - we do not mention the Pieterman at all!) causing you agony for days. Local lore has taught me that the only relief is to pee over your foot. Quite a feat when you are hopping on one foot howling your head off. The best thing to do is to ask someone else to pee over your poor foot.

One of the good things about our local beaches is the beach restaurants. They have evolved from simple wooden shacks where you could get a bottled beer, a terrible coffee and a plate of fries (sixties/seventies) to proper (but still wooden - this is a rule) restaurants with all the mod cons and great food. Large open fires to warm yourself by (necessary in our climate), a huge range of beers to choose from, good to great food, nice ambience, often live music at the weekends, a laid-back atmosphere.

So, all in all, I told myself I really should go to the beach more often. I live on an island, surrounded by islands, for Frith's sake!

Location, location, location: 1e and/or 2e Slag, Rockanje, on the island of Voorne.
All photos (except #1 and #2) by Renée Grashoff.