The Honky Tonk

(part duex)

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                                    Alexis and the Art of Starting

Disclaimer: This piece reads like a self-help post. Do not be fooled. I am not qualified to tell anyone how to live their lives. I’m not even sure I’m qualified to tell myself how to do that. I just want you to walk with me as I untangle a thought. So, put on an insanely expensive sweater and take a walk through Schitt’s Creek with me.

 I’ve started to write this blog piece, every week for the last 2 months. I’d catch myself writing introduction after introduction in my head. Some great…some terrible. All those words wasted because I’m 32 years old, and I have no idea how to start…anything. It’s true. I start my morning with a sigh, instead of a smile. I sit up with a groan. Before I can fully form a thought, my brain auto corrects. It’s simple. I can’t start to save my life.

 And then i ran into Alexis Rose. Much has been written about her growth on the show, into a kind, smart and captivating person. When Alexis was on screen, I had eyes for no one else (except that little button Patrick). I followed her story with interest. On the face of it, Alexis and I have little in common. I have not, dated a Sultan’s nephew (yet). My first kiss was not Jared Leto. But Alexis, like most of us, had the rug yanked out from under her feet. She went from a world, which she navigated with ease:

 “Um, I’m sorry, were you picked up by the South Korean police on New Year’s? I had to sweet talk the consulate’s lawyer to get me a passport by midnight”

To a brand new life in a tiny, eccentric town called Schitt’s Creek.

I loved Alexis for her kindness, her adventures, her theme song for her reality show (linked below), and of course “ew, David”. But what always fascinated me about Alexis’ journey, was her willingness to try. An unshakeable confidence that she could work things out, even when she had no idea or experience to back that up. From high school, to college, to being a secretary at Ted’s veterinary clinic to handling PR for her mother, Alexis clicked, swayed and swished through them all.

And that got me thinking about how I handle things. How I need the fear of god put into me before I do anything. Got a deadline looming? Start typing. Got a bladder ready to burst? Start running (and unbuttoning). I don’t enjoy the beginning of anything. It’s hard to remember when I started something with enthusiasm.

To be fair, 2021 (and its terrible sibling, 2020) don’t really inspire energy or enthusiasm. In a year that essentially jammed a giant full stop in many of our lives (lost jobs, death of loved ones, quarantine) “starting right” seemed to be the least of our problems. Most days were considered a victory when I managed to make it to bed with my teeth brushed and my brain tired. I have stayed in that mode for 12 months now. What’s the point? Why try? Nothing good can come out of it.

 A few weeks back, I had another setback (a missed job opportunity). I immediately began to sink into a soup of self-pity. What was I going to do? Nothing ever works out for me. Fuck COVID-19 (no, but seriously, FUCK COVID-19). Eventually, I started to choke on the sheer bitterness of my thoughts. 

 Now, I’m not advocating for positivity and sunshine all the time. But a little bit of hope, a little bit of excitement, a little bit Alexis just feels better. I don’t think I’ll win the Pulitzer, or brush my hair every day…but it does make life a little more tolerable. I may have lost a job opportunity I really liked, but there is still a chance I’ll find something better… isn’t that exciting, too? Just the possibility of that thought, made my head spin. It felt like something new.

 Ultimately, Alexis too, doesn’t accomplish anything yet… it’s all waiting for her. Her new story starts at the end of the show. New York, a new apartment, a new job and visits from Twyla await her. Who knows what she’ll make of it? But she’s excited to try.

I, too, have no idea what I’ll accomplish with this little bubble of hope in my brain. All I know, is that for once I didn’t listen to the voice shrieking in my head saying “none of this makes sense”. All I felt was the beat of the keys as my hands moved, the thoughts streaming from my mind down to my fingertips and Alexis tapping my nose, with a little “boop”.

 A Little Bit Alexis (Click)

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                                          Armie and the Art

In 2010, I barely registered Armie Hammer when I watched The Social Network. Although he played 2 characters, he registered about half an impression. Tall, blonde, buff…douchey. And then in 2017, I stumbled across the trailer for Call Me by Your Name on social media. I was hooked – the music, the Italian countryside, Timothee Chalamet’s elfin beauty. Yep…all that from a trailer. When the movie came out in Canada, my sister found a way to send me a copy. I downloaded the movie in the morning and then headed to work. The whole day, I fidgeted and squirmed, hoping that my below-average internet speeds wouldn’t let me down. For once, it didn’t. I came back, bathed (in a rush), ordered dinner and sat down to DEVOUR the movie.

 To say I loved the movie is an understatement. It was at a point where I was examining my own personal relationship to the concept of love. I won’t go into what I loved about it, because I believe it’s a movie that evokes a personal response in everyone who watches it (a response that I don’t want to share).

 Needless to say, it became a Sunday ritual. I would make my favourite stir-fry, cuddle into bed and watch it on weekends when I had nothing to do, nowhere to be and no one to love. Sufjan’s voice would croon to me about the Mystery of Love as I headed to work on muggy Mumbai mornings. I would roam the remote villages in Italy during breaks. I grew to love both Armie Hammer and Timothee Chalamet (as much as one can love celebrities, we know nothing about).

 And we did know nothing.

 In the last few weeks, I’m sure you’ve seen stories about Armie Hammer. It started out as bizarre and then gradually transformed into traumatic. As is the story with many celebrities and the work they create, I found myself in the unpleasant and uncomfortable situation of wondering whether I could separate Armie and his art.

 It’s happened before, hasn’t it? A celebrity has been exposed, investigated and cancelled. This is followed swiftly by an investigation, reckoning and maybe a cancellation of their art. 2 years ago, I stopped listening to Michael Jackson’s music after a documentary about his child abuse was released. I sometimes feel a guilty urge to listen to Billy Jean, which I squash ruthlessly. Any participation or enjoyment of these works feel like endorsing the crime. Enabling the guilty. Helping them profit, despite their actions. In essence, you feel complicit. A little dirty.

 At first, the allegations against Armie Hammer seemed almost unreal. I say almost, because I never stick with my first impressions (the first tweet, article, think piece). I kept reading, and it just kept getting worse. And at the back of my mind, I started to wonder, what is this going to do to my Sunday rituals? How is this going to change my relationship with one of the best love stories I’ve watched?

 I’ve had these discussions with countless friends and family members. Can you separate the art from the artists? Up until this point, I would have said no. But given how special this movie was to me, I had to relook at my decision and the answer is… I still don’t know.

 So, instead of looking at Armie’s relationship to the movie, I wondered about my relationship to the art itself. Everyone has a different reaction to a piece of work. I’ve read and heard of people who were completely indifferent to it, those who were angry about two straight actors being a part of a queer love story. Some people I know, had never heard of it. Some people like me, have formed very strong memories around it. It then comes down to us, to decide… can we look past Armie and simply see Oliver?

 Can we think of the movie as not just his work, but the work of an entire cast and crew? Can we think back to the book it was based on? Can we draw a thin but firm line between a character in a movie and the character of an (alleged) privileged, abusive actor?

 Or, will we see Armie in every frame? When he lifts Elio’s foot to place a soft kiss on his ankle, will our skin crawl? As an artist, Armie would have brought something of himself to this role. Just like I have brought my own confusion into this piece.

 I haven’t had the courage to pick up the remote and examine my new relationship with the movie. Part of me, doesn’t want to know. And that is my choice right now. I am choosing to keep the memory of the movie alive in my head, instead of tarnishing it with what I know.

 And what I know is this… Armie Hammer is tainted in my mind forever – no matter where this story goes. But the roads of Crema, the hallways of the house, the crackling fire in front of Elio continues to burn bright in my mind.

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Bookworms and Butterflies

Have you ever gone through life with a shield? Of course, you have. We all do. My preferred shield is a book. No matter where I go, I always have a book in my bag. From behind it, I can look out at the entire world. I listen to little dramas, watch people, and think little clever thoughts (in a non-serial killer way, mind you). Based on that assumption and 20 years of experience, I’d neatly folded myself into the category of a wallflower. You know? A quiet introverted character prefers to live in the margins of the story, with great thoughts, witty comebacks to contribute and a signature glasses and worn-out t-shirt look that I built to perfection.

 And then I grew up. Discovered makeup, made close friends and realised that things aren’t that simple. As quiet as I could be, I also had a great group of friends and a deep sense of fun. Occasionally, I would be the life of the party and sometimes I’d find myself near the food and booze, snacking alone.

 I see those contradictions in Stevie Budd – owner of the Rosebud Motel in Schitt’s Creek.

 We usually see Stevie behind the motel desk, reading a book, a wry comment or observation on the tip of her tongue. Dressed in flannel and loose jeans, with her dark hair un-styled, Stevie seems to stand apart from the flamboyant Roses. The beauty of her character though, is that though she stands apart (and in the first season aloof) from everyone, Stevie is never in the margins of the story. She’s right where she needs to be.

 As Moira Rose tells her, in the fifth season finale:

 I share Moira’s admiration.

  Now, I’ve seen many a character in the same shape as Stevie – a wise cracker, the sarcastic best friend, the slightly stiff socially awkward character who breaks out of her shell and finds friends/ family/ love/ professional success, or discovers there’s more to life that simply watching it. One must engage, experience and emerge a butterfly from the cocoon.

  Stevie is different. She does step out from behind the desk – literally and metaphorically. She grows into a successful businesswoman, she forges close and long-lasting friendships with David, Patrick and Alexis. She plays the titular role in the town’s production of Cabaret (more on that later). She creates a paternal-mentor bond with Johnny Rose. Stevie changes. Or, more accurately, she grows.

  All of the things I mentioned above are true. What’s different about Stevie is that she does return to the desk from time to time. She comes back.

  Bookworms may grow into butterflies (this is not in any way biologically true), but they still need their cocoons.

 Movies and art can be so binary sometimes in terms of character growth. A shy, introverted girl must shed the glasses, comb her hair and rise to claim everything that is hers. I too (as a bespectacled, introverted bookworm) believed that my moment would come. And it did, I enjoyed working, travelling, drinking (yeah, this is pre-pandemic, okay?) and followed up my reckless twenties with a great first year of my thirties. But I never forgot to carry my book. After a great night out, I’d always need 2-3 days to spend alone in my room. I did nothing significant in that time but fundamentally that need for distance and a safe space didn’t die when I grew up and became more social and active.

  I see this in Stevie. Her arc ends on that very contradictory nature. She stays behind in Schitt’s Creek to manage the motel, but will also travel across the country to set up new branches of the Rosebud Motel. She says it herself, at the end of the series (while sitting behind her desk. Yes symbolism!)

  “I’m not moving to New York, David. We decided that Roland and I would stay here. And I’m gonna travel around and set up all the new motels. I mean, I realised I didn’t need to live in a big city. I guess I just needed to know that I could”.

  Stevie knows she can step out and achieve all the things she wants to. She also knows she has her space to return to. Watching her was a relief for a person like me, who always believed I had two trajectories – choose the path of total socialisation (aka, GO OUT AND MAKE TONS OF FRIENDS AND HAVE GREAT EXPERIENCES) or stand alone and be your “authentic self” (don’t join the crowd, stand apart and be proud of who you are).

 Why choose? I have already proven to myself I can be both. Watching Stevie do it, was just the icing on the cake.

  So, in conclusion (because I have run out of profound things to say) I’ll leave you with Stevie’s performance of Maybe This Time. I watched her burst, bloom and then shyly retreat with my hands over my mouth and my heart bursting with pride. You go Stevie! 

Maybe this Time

(Linked because i love you)

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In March 2020, the world changed. 9 months ago, on April 28th, my world changed when my father died. In the span of three hours, I lost someone I had loved all my life. We walked into the hospital as three (my sister on the phone). We went home as two, dazed and unprepared for a house that was changed permanently. And nothing was different. The food was still sitting on the table, like we’d left it. The remote was still where my dad left it on the table. The bed still had creases on it, where he was tossing and turning unable to rest as his heart gave way. And none of it felt familiar.

 It has taken us 9 months to get to know this house again. 9 months for my mother, my sister and I to adjust to this new life without my dad. 9 months to accept that when I turn around and ask about a random African dictator, or a Beatles song, or a comment about tennis there’s no answer.

 And I still don’t understand it.

 But George – in this scene – makes sense to me. His bewilderment, his frozen face, the complete breakdown of his world – that makes sense to me. That’s why this scene lingers in my mind. That’s why when I’m doing my yoga, or sitting at my desk, or scrolling through twitter, I remember that my dad isn’t here anymore and I don’t understand it. And I never will. It’s that unending sense of grief, that tells me again and again how much my father meant to me. It’s not just that the world has changed, my home, and my world will never be the same again. 

 I’m really sorry I had to join the club.

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There are some songs you need to say goodbye to.

It happened about 4 nights back. I was listening to music late at night, and this song popped into my head. So, of course I look it up on YouTube and before you know it I’m sobbing into a pillow and I’ve slid into a depressed funk that I am only starting to emerge from today.

Some songs just trigger me. This is one of them.

This is a song, that potentially made me realise that I may need help - professional help. 

I’d stand near the doors of the local train, look out at a city that I both loved and hated, and struggled with holding back tears about a life i both loved, hated and was indifferent to.

I’m on the path to recovery, but i stumble so often. 4 nights ago, i tripped over this song and cracked my recovery open until it bled. 

So, with fondness I bid this song goodbye. I put it on a mental ship and let it sail away. And maybe one day it will return home to me. 

You can listen to it here.

Lyrics:

It's so cold in this country Every road home is long He had a map that he bought For the price of his soul He had a reason to go there And a warm place to stay And when it came time to leave It was never the right day Good luck, bad luck survivor Sleep is my friend and my rival Good luck, bad luck survivor There was a girl who he married And he left her behind He couldn't picture her face now It was like he was blind Up at five in the morning Every breath was a stone (storm?) It's so cold in this country You can never get warm Good luck, bad luck survivor Sleep is my friend and my rival Good luck, bad luck survivor Good luck, bad luck survivor Sleep is my friend and my rival Good luck, bad luck survivor It's a strange disappearance It's a real mystery, is he asleep in the snow? Does he feel free? There's a person he once was in a place far away It's so cold in this country October to May Good luck, bad luck survivor Sleep is my friend and my rival Good luck, bad luck survivor Good luck, bad luck survivor Sleep is my friend and my rival Good luck, bad luck survivor, survivor Good luck, bad luck survivor Good luck, bad luck survivor Good luck, bad luck survivor

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Nataly Dawn - Careless Whisper | Watchmen OST

Music from Watchmen (2019) distributed by HBO. Watchmen (Soundtrack) by Various Artists. Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDisKgcnAC4TCgc37lM...

It’s been a disappointing 19 days of 2020. Filled with bad news and a world - both internal and external - that seems bent on twisting and tearing itself. I need to retreat sometimes, and i find that music is one of my retreats. Where i can put in my headphones and bury myself in the song. This is where I’ve been hiding for the last 2 days. 

Recommended by a very good friend, with a great ear for music. 

Also, confession time...the original song used to be on my “i won’t admit i like these songs, but please don’t check my YouTube history”. 

Lyrics

I feel so unsure As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor As the music dies, something in your eyes Calls to mind the silver screen And all its sad good-byes

I'm never gonna dance again Guilty feet have got no rhythm Though it's easy to pretend I know your not a fool

Should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

Time can never mend The careless whispers of a good friend To the heart and mind Ignorance is kind There's no comfort in the truth Pain is all you'll find

I'm never gonna dance again Guilty feet have got no rhythm Though it's easy to pretend I know your not a fool

I should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

I'm never gonna dance again Guilty feet have got no rhythm Though it's easy to pretend I know your not a fool

I should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

No I'm never gonna dance again The way i danced with you

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                          The Stranger Beside Me - Anne Rule 

My hands are shaking.

It’s 10:30 at night, I have a book in front of me and I am alone at home. It’s half read, but I think I’m done. Actually, who am I kidding? I will finish this book. It speaks of things that every woman has feared and hoped to avoid. It’s the bogeyman young girls were raised to fear. Except, this bogeyman was real, and he had a name: Ted Bundy.

The book I’m referring to is The Stranger Beside Me – an autobiographical true crime book by Ann Rule. What makes it so different? Well, Ann Rule knew Ted Bundy. They were friends and colleagues who worked side by side at Suicide crisis centre, often handling calls together. Rule was witness to Ted Bundy’s charm, insecurities, drive and empathy. Could this man have really killed and raped more than 30 women (the number could be closer to 100)? It’s the kind of insight that true crime writers would kill for (ugh, obvious pun problem) and one that essentially tore Ann Rule apart.

This conflict is central to the book and makes for an interesting read. As a reader today, we know Ted Bundy did terrible things. The brutal nature of the murders, the sheer audacity of them had me shaken. And yet, Rule is so persuasive in her belief of his goodness (despite growing doubts) that she (and by extension Bundy) almost convince you to hope that it isn’t him. That a smart, handsome and ambitious man, with his eye on a legal / political career, who charmed numerous women wouldn’t be capable of what he was accused of. And yet, it is a startling realisation that the man next to her was more stranger, than friend.

(A few of Ted Bundy’s victims)

The book is a train wreck – bloody and brutal and you can’t look away. Ann chronicles the day each girl was murdered - who they were, what they looked like (Bundy had a very specific type) and what her mental or emotional state was. These small stories add up in your mind, painting a picture of a very specific type of woman that Bundy was raping and killing again and again and again. It also gives insight into a killer who preyed on the kindness of women and exploited his famously good-looking face. Bundy would often be seen on campus or at a park, bronzed and attractive, either wearing a crutch or with a cast on his foot. He would approach his victims, armed with a charming smile and a request – could they help him carry his briefcase? Would they help by stowing away a sailboat? Each time the woman complied she was never to be seen again.

His attacks varied from the carefully thought out like Donna Manson, Susan Rancourt or Roberta Kathleen Parks to the impulsive, like Carol DaRonch (who escaped by jumping out of his car). He posed as a police officer, wore a fake moustache and had an odd chameleon-like quality which helped him elude capture for many years.

Each murder was sickening and terrifying to read. As Bundy delivered his blows with an iron crowbar, broke into homes to abduct and rape women and lured them away from crowded parks where families were sunning, he stole any sort of reassurance from my mind. There are no safe spaces. A locked door, a busy street, a crowded hotel – none of them foiled him. As the manhunt for him grew larger and more intense, his crimes became even more brazen.

Take for instance, the murder of Georgeann Hawkins, a UW student who vanished while walking down an alley. It was a walk of a few minutes – between her boyfriend’s fraternity house and hers. So close together, you’d never imagine that you’d be in danger for those few minutes. Where was Ted? In a dark shadow in the alley? Hiding in the bushes? In a matter of seconds, Georgeann Hawkins went missing and was never seen again.

What about the first murders mentioned in the books? Where young women were killed or seriously injured and raped in their basement rooms. Ted Bundy took away so many spaces that we consider ours - even our cosiest, smallest sanctuaries. I left the light on in my room, blinking myself awake every few hours to see if anyone was there.

I’m only halfway through the book - it’s 1975, and Bundy is in prison. Rationally, he’s locked behind bars (and he was later executed in 1989) and yet I am still scared. Because Ted Bundy is just one of many. He existed before he was born, and he continues to live on after he died. He is bigger than his legend and far more common than people assume. And that scares me no end. I still have about 200 pages to read, but the Stranger Beside Me has shattered any fragile sense of safety I had as a woman living alone in a city. Like I said, I am scared and the lights in my room will stay on for a while.

[littleshrimpcat]

Kacey Musgraves - Wonder Woman (Audio)

Listen to the new Kacey Musgraves album, Golden Hour, here: http://strm.to/GoldenHourYD Sign up to the Kacey Musgraves email list here: http://www.kaceymusgr...

I’ve had a really bad week so far. So full of things to do and places to be, people to meet and things to write that i just wanted to escape. Pack Kaveri up in a backpack and just run away from it all. And then, as i was sitting sleepily at my desk, blinking at the screen, this played and Kaveri came back to me. 

Also, if you’re looking for some sassy Kacey Musgraves, check out High Horse (linked for you.. whoever you are).

Wonder Woman

I like where this is going, you like it, too We rarely never ever don't see eye to eye We're going toI can show you strong, I can fight for you I can try to move mountains if you want me toBut, baby, I ain't Wonder Woman I don't know how to lasso the love out of you Don't you know I'm only human? And if I let you down, I don't mean to All I need's a place to land I don't need a Superman to win my lovin' 'Cause, baby, I ain't Wonder WomanBet all that gold gets heavy weighin' on her I wonder if it's scary, always tryin' not to get hurtI know how it feels, it ain't easy There's a reason why you only see it in the movies'Cause, baby, I ain't Wonder Woman I don't know how to lasso the truth out of you Don't you know I'm only human? And if I let you down, I don't mean to All I need's a place to land I don't need a Superman to win my lovin'You don't know how to fly, no mmh That's okay, neither do II know I ain't Wonder Woman I don't know how to lasso the love out of you Don't you know I'm only human? And if I let you down, I don't mean to All I need's a place to land I don't need a Superman to win my lovin' 'Cause, baby, I ain't Wonder Woman Yeah I know I ain't Wonder Woman

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                                   “Oh Stree, Raksha Karna”

Let’s just get this out of the way (also because I’ll be using this line later in the review. Shameless, I know) – Stree is a hilarious movie.

It’s sharply written, packed with wonderful performances and beautifully shot.

I also got scared (but please don’t go by my level… I see a cockroach, and well, the rest is too embarrassing to share…)

But Stree made its biggest impact in the last shot. And it left me feeling a little sad.

Heh?

Every review is telling you that is this is a hilarious film, with a subtle, yet, distinct feminist undertone. And they’re not wrong.

But pay attention to the last moment - before the fade to black. The last moment was possibly the most evocative statement of how complex and difficult it is to be a woman. And it does it without any words. Blink and you’ll miss it.

Without spoiling anything, I can share that one of the main characters is on screen, her back towards the camera, her shoulders in a slump. An image that just raised a lump the size of a golf ball in my throat.

It’s difficult being a woman in this country. *sighs*

Anyway, onwards!

The plot of the movie is based, as the filmmakers claim, on “ridiculously true phenomena”. A statement that echoes the state of women today and our fascination with the urban legend of the ghost woman who lures men away. 

AAHH I got sidetracked again with subtext of this film.

Fine, let’s do this one more time.

Stree tells the story of a 4-day festival in Chanderi – a small town in Madhya Pradesh. During this festival, a female ghost stalks the twisted, misty streets of the town and lures unsuspecting men away. Lock your doors, bolt your windows men. Stree is alive and kicking (sorry couldn’t resist) in these four days and none of you stand a chance.

It’s kind of thrilling to watch men feel scared once in a while.

At the heart of this story is Vicky (affectionately referred to as “bicky”), played by Rajkumar Rao. He’s a wizard of tailor, a small-town Manish Malhotra and a bit of an idiot. He meets and falls in love with Shraddha Kapoor (unnamed in the film). We’ll just refer to her as Daal (as my sister not-so-affectionately calls her.)

Daal wants Bicky to make her a lehenga before the end of the festival. She’s mysterious and creepy and stoic. Bicky’s friends are convinced that she is the real Stree. A fact that is solidified by her mysterious statements, her favourite place being the dark and misty woods and the fact that she remains unnamed.

Of course, Bicky can’t see through the thick blanket of love and so he accompanies her to the woods, alone. It is only after his friend is abducted that he starts to wonder about our woman of mystery.

Yes Bicky, you finally got there. We were all waiting for you.

I won’t say more than that. Horror and comedy are both genres to be experienced through fresh (or yellow, slightly decaying, dead) eyes.

And experience it you must. Because long after the jump scares fade, the characters, the lines and the little moments in the film stay with you.

Consider for a moment, a man earnestly begging his wife to come home early because he’s scared. I laughed so hard I had tears rolling down my cheeks.

The performances across the board are spectacular. Rajkumar Rao is that A-grade performer who consistently nails every scene he’s in. Bicky is slightly selfish, a bit pathetic and naive. But you never stop enjoying him.

Aparshakti Khurrana and Abhishek Bannerjee as his best friends are hilarious, and Pankaj Tripathi is stupendous. Atul Srivastava as Bicky’s father adds to the laughs with an awkward and well-intentioned talk about sex.

The dialogue, direction and camerawork are flawless. There’s a small Aadhar burn slipped into a conversation and that never gets old. 

And the subtext. Oh the feminist subtext.

(Wait, have I mentioned the subtext?)

Stree, the ghost, is an intelligent, scary and complex woman who just wants to be respected and is heavy on consent (she always waits for a man to turn around and meet her eyes before she abducts them). 

Even as a dead and decaying ghost, women are so much more evolved. (DO YOU SEE THE MULTIPLE LAYERS OF IRONY IN THAT SENTENCE??)

And yet for all its plus points, Stree has its flaws. Shraddha Kapoor plays mysterious well enough, but when she’s pushed to do more, her performance stays the same, and all that mystery flattens out into the consistency of plain, unseasoned Daal *winks*.

The character of Stree is given a backstory (of sorts) and complex reasons for her existence, and yet her appearance is disappointing and not so scary upfront.

There is also a blazingly inappropriate item number in the first half of the film. I have nothing more to add. Grit your teeth, wait for it to end and then PUT.IT. BEHIND.YOU.

Anyway, I’d rate Stree as a must-watch. I laughed, I jumped, I nearly crushed my friend’s arm in fear (sorry you!) and I left the theater alternating between laughing and thoughtful silence.

So, go, watch it and then maybe leave the lights on tonight when you sleep, like this reviewer plans to do.

[littleshrimpcat]

                      Columbus, Conversations and Caring

             “You grow up around something, and it feels like nothing”

This year has been a strange one for me. Questions that I’ve avoided for so long are coming back to demand the answers. It’s like I couldn’t shut them up anymore. And nothing profound happened. Unlike my dreams where I save people in the floods or rescue otters, this year has been incredibly still. The shapes and faces around me have remained the same and yet it’s impossible to describe the massive shifts that have happened inside me. Nothing has changed and yet so much has.

Maybe that’s why Columbus is still with me. After the last shot, through the softly tuned credits and even when I just stood in my kitchen wiping the sink clean.

The first time I saw glimpses of Columbus, I filed it away under my “I want to watch this but never will” movie list (come on, we all have those.) Two people talking about architecture in a sleepy town in America? I didn’t dismiss it, but yeah, I definitely thought this is going to be one of those profound coming of age movies. One with a lot of talking, where characters realise deep truths about themselves. And in one sense I was right, and also so, so wrong.

Here’s the plot – A famous architect collapses in the town of Columbus. His son Jin (John Cho) flies down from Korea to be with his father. There he meets Casey (Haley Lu Richardson), a young “architect nerd”. They meet, they talk and life moves with them. Casey shows him her favourite buildings in Columbus (a sort of mecca for modernist architecture) as they talk about their lives, their parents – all framed by the gorgeous buildings, rain and the lush trees of Columbus.

It’s hard to describe this movie without sounding typical.  And yet nothing about it is. Columbus moves gently. Friendships and truths don’t flood out. There is a lot left to the audience to infer. Yes, Jin and Casey challenge each other. But they also tentatively build a connection with each other, while managing the others around them. They don’t rely on each other to wrench out each other’s emotions. It is a relationship based on intellect and kindness and understanding each other. They snipe, they smirk, they get bored, they are exhausted and they speak just like us. There was a moment in the movie, where Casey is making an important decision. When she voices her hesitation about taking the decision and how it’s going to end badly, Jin simply replies “yeah, maybe”. I waited for him to say something deep, and he didn’t. It was simple and wonderful and acknowledged Casey’s fears. Words are sparse, simple and for a lack of a better word – real. We’ve all talked like Casey and Jin.  

The pacing of the movie is slow. Director Kogonada gives us generous shots of pure silence – Casey making tea in the kitchen, Jin standing and looking at a lush field. This is not a film that coaxes you to move with its pace. Rather, it invites you to settle in. It is a beautifully represented canvas, and underneath that quiet landscape, in the view of these gorgeous buildings, changes are quietly taking place - life altering ones.

I was and am still moved by Columbus. By the stunning cinematography of Elisha Christian, Kogonada’s masterful and generous direction, the beauty of the architecture and the exceptional work done by the cast – including Parker Posey, Rory Culkin and Michelle Forbes.

Haley Lu Richardson is outstanding. Casey is bright and scared and vulnerable. She’s at once terrifyingly responsible and also childlike in her eagerness to show Jin around. I want to see her in more movies.

I don’t really want to give too much away about the plot of this movie but I will say this - Columbus takes the small moments in our lives and builds them into something absolutely beautiful and wonderfully deep. I was isolated, I was sad and I still can’t get rid of the aching lump in my throat.

Check out the trailer here.

You can watch Kogonada’s lovely video essays here - particularly the influence of directors like Linklater and Japanese filmmaker Koreeda . 

[littleshrimpcat]

            Reality Bites      

   “I was really going to be something by the age of 23”

I started the day with a conversation about how millennials are misperceived. We’re an entire generation that is blanketed with words like “lazy” and “entitled”. Words that sting, that make us want to shy away from belonging to this generation.

Reality Bites is a movie that reflects the worst traits of millennials, but is packaged in beautiful people and idealistic quotations that meant something to me when I was 18. Now they make me cringe.

Let’s start with the plot of the movie. Lelaina Pierce (Winona Ryder) is class valedictorian and an amateur filmmaker. The movie revolves around her journey as she makes a documentary where kids of this generation are trying to find their own identity without having any role models. She bases the documentary on her friends – Troy (the cynical poet), Vickie (the free-spirited hippie) and Sammy (who is gay). As they struggle with jobs and life after college, Lelaina films them – getting high, discussing their own views on life, their problems and their movement towards growing into fully realised adults.

This all sounds great on paper. In fact, when Lelaina describes her documentary, you’re immediately drawn in. But what appealed to me at 18, doesn’t appeal to me at 28. When you watch the movie 10 years later, you realise that you used to parrot a lot of the things these characters said. There’s the rally against corporates, the search to find the perfect job, long rambling quotes about pain and the belief that the world does in fact owe you something.

The biggest problems in the movie are the leads. Lelaina and her best friend Troy (Ethan Hawke) share a simmering chemistry that doesn’t really acknowledge how emotionally abusive Troy is. While Lelaina comes off as entitled, lazy and a little opinionated (I mean weren’t we all?), Troy is the equivalent of all the stupid, tortured boys you fell in love with. The broken boys that you want to fix. The man child who refuses to be responsible OR vulnerable. The boy who refuses to take responsibility for his own life, which is seen as an act of sexy rebellion. He’s the philosopher, the poet, the musician (not that I have anything against any of that). We all know them, we all fall a little (or a lot) in love with them, until we wake up and realise that snarky conversations over cigarettes and the rare moments of vulnerability aren’t enough to compensate for truly healthy relationships.

On the other hand, while you can excuse a lot of what Lelaina sprouts during the movie as a symptom of being 20 and a little stupid, you can’t understand her entitlement. Her camera work is shaky for a documentarian. She won’t demean herself to work at the Gap where Vickie works. And ultimately, she falls for Troy’s wounded routine.

The movie really works for me when Vickie is present. Out of all the characters, Vickie shows growth. She gets promoted to the manager of the Gap, she starts paying her bills and she has the no nonsense attitude that doesn’t simply put up with Troy and Lelaina. She has a full and active sex life, but is worried about testing positive for HIV. I liked Vickie so much, this time around when I watched the movie.

Ultimately, Reality Bites plays out a bit like a fantasy. Growing up, you want to be a pretty waif like Lelaina. She’s smart, gorgeous in an effortless way, can chain smoke without looking like she fell off a chimney stack, she’s desired by two very different men – the list can go on. It’s only when you grow up a little you realise that the construct of Lelaina is a fantasy. And you can’t help but be a little disappointed when she chooses Troy. That she only chooses him. The movie wants us to see it as romantic. These two people with incredible chemistry and intelligence, after denying their feelings for so long, fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Me? I hope Lelaina woke up a year later, dumped Troy’s flannel clad butt and really finds herself as a filmmaker.

What carries the movie through is an excellent soundtrack and committed performances. What carried me through the movie was a bittersweet sense of nostalgia for a movie I had watched and enjoyed and not really questioned.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the reality that I cannot watch this movie with the same unmitigated pleasure does bite.

[littleshrimpcat]

                          The Big Sick

“Terry: Let me give you some advice, Kumail. Love isn’t easy. That’s why they call it love. Kumail: I don’t really get that. Terry: I know. I thought I could just start saying something and something smart would come out.”

My intention on Wednesday was to finally watch Wonder Woman – a film I’d heard so much about. When I couldn’t get a ticket because of conflicting show times, I settled for the Big Sick. Or at least I thought I was.

For years now, Hollywood has been struggling to churn out a decent romantic comedy. There are the staples of the genre but mostly I’ve been enjoying movies and shows that pull apart this genre, revealing how flawed and misogynistic they can actually be.  It’s quite a relief to know that you DON’T need to sprint to the airport after a dramatic fight to choke out a perfectly worded, romantic speech (without even sweating like a pig). So I wasn’t THAT enthusiastic about the Big Sick.

But there are some rare instances where I love being proved wrong, and a good movie is one of those exceptions. Without a doubt, the Big Sick is a good movie.

The plot, based on the true story of Kumail Nanjiani and his wife Emily V. Gordon, is sad, funny, sweet, romantic, difficult and maybe a tad bit too long. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Big Sick details the romance of Kumail (Kumail Nanjiani) and Emily (Zoe Kazan). Kumail and his family moved to America from Pakistan. Kumail is navigating two completely different worlds – one as a stand-up comedian in America and the other as a good Pakistani son. He meets Emily at one of his gigs and before you know it, they’re going on a first date.

You could pack plenty of clichés here – Emily and Kumail don’t want to “date”, they’re both far too busy. There’s the time honoured montage (a small one) of their relationship blooming. But the Big Sick navigates those clichés very gently and very sweetly and finds moments of genuine bonding and the giddy feeling of falling in love. There’s an extremely funny, yet completely relatable scene where Emily needs to take a dump but refuses to do so because there’s no air freshener in the bathroom! (I firmly believe that poop politics in a new relationship is an unexplored rite of passage.) The relationship falls apart when Emily finds out that because of Kumail’s family (who want him to marry a Pakistani girl) a future is impossible. Kumail, who has been enduring visits from various Pakistani girls brought home by his mother, has neglected to tell her about this. Hurt and infuriated, Emily breaks off the relationship and leaves.

And then the inevitable happens – Emily falls sick. It starts off as the flu and progresses to a full blown infection. Kumail who comes to the hospital barely exchanges words with her before she starts to decline drastically and needs to be put in a medically induced coma.

Uh oh.

I felt my stomach sinking. Was I now going to be treated to long hospital scenes that would leave me sobbing? (I sob at the drop of a hat). And that’s where the Big Sick has some of its best scenes. Holly Hunter and Ray Romano arrive at the hospital as Emily’s parents. Holly is sharp, fierce and protectively funny, Ray is funny, self-deprecating and vaguely embarrassed. As Kumail gets to know her parents, the scenes alternate between touching, funny and observant. These are real, warm and messy people dealing with an unbelievably scary situation. It’s impossible not to love them a little bit.

I won’t describe the rest of the plot. Good as it is, the Big Sick lost me a little bit after the hospital. Perhaps because it was too long, perhaps because it wanted to provide resolutions for the stories, which the hospital scenes consciously avoided.

There are flaws – Kumail’s family is not written with the same generosity as Emily’s parents. At the beginning of the movie they’re almost drawn as caricatures. Capable of providing laughs but nothing more. Also the length of the movie (as mentioned previously) does test your patience just a little bit.

But if I were to pick a winner in the goodie bag that is the Big Sick, it is the writing. This movie could have slipped into sentimentality (given its subject) but refuses to do so. It touches you and you’re not sure if you’re sad or charmed or really laughing (i actually laughed out loud when Terry starts talking about love - the quote above). The performances are a close second. Both Kazan and Hunter make a lasting impression. I think having a woman writer makes all the difference as they create realistic characters that light up the screen in the few scenes they are given. I’ve never seen Hunter or Kazan before but they were sparkling. I can think of no other word. Ray Romano and Kumail Nanjiani are both sweet, charming and flawed. Add to that, the film deals with nationality, racism, culture clashes, family and love without missing a beat.

Ultimately, I think on the whole the Big Sick is a great way to spend an afternoon by yourself. I laughed, I smiled and even teared up a little bit. Not so bad for a regular Wednesday eh?

[littleshrimpcat]

                                  “We all go a little mad sometimes.”

                                Psycho

My first impulse after watching a movie is to immediately record my response to it. What did it evoke in me? How am I feeling? Well, my nerves are still humming from Psycho.

I started the movie as a dispassionate viewer. After all, who does not know the story of Norman Bates? At most, when we think of Psycho, we imagine that slasher scene in the shower. (I have a tendency to both overrate and underrate the classics.) Yet Psycho is more, so much more. It is a movie that stretches your nerves to the breaking point.

You know the story. A young woman named Marion stops at a motel, where she meets the infamous Norman Bates. She is fleeing from her job, having stolen 40,000 dollars to start a new life with her divorced boyfriend. On a rainy night, she stops at an abandoned motel off the highway. Norman Bates, played to sheer perfection by Anthony Perkins, welcomes her with a nervous twitchy charm. When she goes to take shower at night, she is stabbed repeatedly by the terrifying Mrs. Bates – Norman’s elderly, invalid and mentally deranged mother. This triggers a series of events, which lead to her boyfriend, sister and a private investigator showing up to find out what happened to her.

It is interesting watching Psycho as a modern day viewer. You know what’s coming – there is no Mrs. Bates. It is Norman dressed as his mother, living as his mother, killing as his mother. I encountered no great surprises in the movie, except for the slightly less publiscised murder of the private detective Arbogast, which was terrifying.

But isn’t the hallmark of a great horror film, is its ability to surprise, to shock? So what can Psycho offer that can truly catch us off guard? Not just the incredible performances or the murder scene in the shower which comes off as rather corny and melodramatic. In this day and age, we have seen more violence and gore. Murders are broadcast live, we have seen mutilated and torn bodies. It is not shock value, as it was when it was first released.

I believe the greatness of Psycho lies in the almost primal emotions it evokes in us. First, we are taut with nerves as we watch Marion flee from her job with the stolen money, we are charmed by the apologetic and cheerful charm of Norman Bates, wanting to mother him as much as Marion does. We are alarmed for Norman when he slips and reveals details that the private detective catches on to. And finally, the relentless frenzy of those raw violins scrapes against our nerves. Throughout the movie, I found myself experiencing a range of emotions that I had no way of controlling. I was sympathetic, frustrated, terrified and protective.

I wanted Marion to survive and yet Norman awoke a protective instinct which in hindsight seems utterly ridiculous.  I wanted to hide like Norman. I felt an instinct, to protect and survive, just like mothers do.  And that’s what makes Psycho the great movie that it is today.

I left with a distressing thought: Maybe Norman Bates is Mother, but then so are we.

[littleshrimpcat]

                   Jackie

“I believe that the characters we read about on the page end up being more real than the men who stand beside us.”

Perhaps I am not the perfect demographic to watch Jackie. I do not know the political context, nor do I know very much about the woman Jaqueline Kennedy – the woman in the pink bloodstained suit, the first lady, the widow. This movie, attempts to invite me into a small slice of her life. Perhaps the most traumatic slice.

John F Kennedy was and continues to be an iconic collection of quotes (”ask not what your country can do for you…”) and murky tabloid scandals (Marilyn Monroe) in my eyes. He is mostly sidelined in this movie – presented through the eyes of his shell-shocked widow. Seen through the eyes of his wife. We are not treated to a stream of reverence. Instead, we watch and feel from the eyes of a claustrophobic, strained and grieving Jackie.

The movie is set in the aftermath of Kennedy’s assassination – from the moment he was murdered to his funeral. It portrays the grief, the confusion, the tears, the vacancy of Jackie Kennedy - a woman forced to mourn in public. A woman who will not be sidelined, who refuses to be relegated into the background, as she struggles to come to terms with her new reality.

The movie asks a lot of questions - What is Jackie Kennedy going through? What does she feel about her husband’s assassination? What does she feel about her husband? And we are given no answers. Just like Jackie Kennedy, the movie leaves us floundering about her husband - was he a good president as he was portrayed? Was he a martyr? Was he a deeply flawed man? And how do you reconcile those polarizing views in the aftermath of a brutal and public death?

And that is one of the strengths of the movie – it does not skew either way. Nor should it. It is a period of deep sadness. A week after his death, what answers could Jackie Kennedy get? Just a jumble of memories, juxtaposed with quiet moments where she processes her grief, her pride, her bitterness, her anger.

Set around the framework of an interview, the movie takes us back into that confused and grief stricken period. A slightly disheveled Billy Crudup is interviewing Jackie Kennedy. As the conversation between interviewer and interviewee builds, we are taken back in the form of flashbacks – some as quiet as Natalie Portman bathing the blood and brains from her hair and some as dramatic as the actually assassination, which was pictured in vivid and disturbing detail.

On paper it sounds great. In reality it makes for a forced situation. Billy Crudup as the reporter seemed to be more of a plot device, than a character – pushing Jackie Kennedy to answer for the relevancy of her husband. He seems to exist to question and probe Jackie on the nature of her husband and his presidency. Is he a PR machine, helping her create her husband’s legacy (Camelot!) or is he there to push Jackie to face certain truths of her situation? It didn’t work for me. When this movie sets out to talk about the systems and the political implications of a president’s death, it lost me. When it stayed with Jackie, it drew me back in.

It’s incredibly hard to replicate those moments after death. Even as well publicized a death as this one. Natalia Portman is simply incredible. The raw sobs spilling out of her throat when she wipes her husband’s blood of her face had my eyes stinging. She goes from awkward in front of the camera to self-assured in a private interview. She is part public, part private. She remembers her husband and is determined to protect his legacy, and at the same time struggles with a man who kept so many secrets, who described her work as “vanity”, who cheated. What is real and what is fake?    

Combining a sense of artificiality and awkwardness with a woman burning with anger underneath it, is possibly a feat that other actresses might find difficult to do. Natalie Portman pulls it off.  It is sad that the movie struggles to rise above the same dilemma. There is a sense of the unreal, something stilted in the rest of the movie that doesn’t manage to tap into the raw emotions of the moment.

One of the biggest problems I had was with the soundtrack. Composed by Mica Levi, the music distracts from those powerful quiet moments that Portman was creating, which was incredibly frustrating. There were many moments that could have done without a sad instrumental backing. When you have an actress portraying so much with just her eyes, it felt like director Pablo Larrain was forcing the feeling into our chests - THIS IS A SAD MOMENT FOR JACKIE. Yes, we know. Don’t force it.

And that’s this movie’s problem. It creates a multitude of well shot, well-acted scenes, combined them with real footage of the funeral, a pathos filled soundtrack and then tried to stitch them together into a unified piece. It doesn’t work. It feels like a collective of expertly crafted scenes that was pushed together into a loose mass of a movie (I counted three scenes where the movie could have happily ended).

So for me, the test of a good movie, or more accurately a good biopic is how interested it makes me in the main character. Do I want to know more about Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis? Because of Natalie Portman’s standout performance I’d say yes.

[littleshrimpcat]

“I stay home each night ,when you say you'll phone, you don't and I'm left alone, singing the blues and sighin'.”

Have you ever combined a modern love story about long distance relationships, Sita from the Ramayan, jazz tunes from Anette Hanshaw and various types of animation into a film?

If yes, then you live in the crazy, unique and amazing mind of Nina Paley,  director of Sita Sings the Blues (click on the title to watch the movie). A modern (and animated) take on Sita and how those traditional romances still echo in relationships today. It’s hard to review, but then again, it’s also hard to criticise a move when you are absolutely swept away by its inventiveness and sheer charm. So i’ll leave you with one of the songs from the movie.

To provide some context, Sita has just been rescued from Lanka by Ram. However, he rejects her because she has lived at Ravana’s palace (victim shaming at its finest) and demands that she prove her purity. The film takes a heartbreaking moment from the classic and adds a dash of jazz, charm and animated monkeys. This one is for the heartbroken, the jazz lovers, the lovestruck. So sing the blues with Sita. (Lyrics provided below).

Mean to me - Anette Hanshaw

You're mean to me Why must you be mean to me Gee, honey, it seems to me You love to see me cryin' I don't know why I stay home each night When you say you'll phone You don't and I'm left alone. Singing the blues and sighin'. You treat me coldly Each day in the year You always scold me Whenever somebody is near, dear It must be great fun to be mean to me You shouldn't, for can't you see What you mean to me Sweetheart I love you Think the world of you But I'm afraid you don't care for me You never show it Don't let me know it Everyone says I'm a fool to be Pining the whole day through Why do you act like you do? You're mean to me Why must you be mean to me? Gee, honey, it seems to me You love to see me cryin' I don't know why I stay home each night When you say you'll phone You don't and I'm left alone. Singing the blues and sighin'.

[littleshrimpcat]

The Disney Trap

“it’s scary the way no one stay together anymore”

I’m here to report something very important - today, I lost my childhood. It’s gone. Vanished into thin air and I’ll never be the same.

My story begins at 8:00 AM today when I woke up to the monthly Red Sea. Considering the circumstances, I thought it best to stay at home, skip my morning workout and eat greasy Chinese in bed (#lifegoals amirite?). After hours of catching up on some sleep I decided to watch an old favourite – Parent Trap. The Lindsay Lohan one (remember how adorable she was? *sighs*).

It’s a great movie right? You’ve got these two pretty twins – one’s a tomboy, the other a proper English girl. The handsome dad and the beautiful mother. The spunky… housekeeper(?)/ helper Chessy (I thought it was Jessie for the longest time.) and the butler Martin. The money, the camp, the vineyard, the yachts. It’s all very beautiful, it’s all so comforting.

And it’s wrong. So wrong.

If you’re watching this in 2017, you’ve got be asking the same question that I did today.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH THESE PARENTS?

If you don’t know the story, here’s a quick recap: Hallie and Annie (both played by Lindsay Lohan) arrive at a summer camp and discover they have the same face… err I mean that they’re twins and that their mother and father have split them up since they were babies. They decide to switch places with each other to meet their (missing/ neglectful/ awful) other parent. The real Annie goes to Napa to meet her father and the real Hallie goes to London to meet her mother, pretending to be each other. At Napa, the dad, Nick Parker is getting married to the worst (according to Disney) person ever – the soon to be *shudders* stepmother. She’s blonde and wears tiny outfits and is already planning to ship the kid off the boarding school after the wedding (breaking stereotypes everyday Disney). Hallie brings the mother, Liz James, to America. There’s a lot of mix-ups at the hotel where they all meet. Some revelations. A camping trip, where the stepmother story is kicked out of the plot… I mean over. Mom and Dad fall in love and everybody is happy. And if you wait for the credits you get to see more happiness as they get married… again.

And I used to eat it up. Until I started asking questions like – what kind of awful parents separate their kids because they don’t want to see each other ever again? Also, why would they make their other child (the one that doesn’t live with them) feel so abandoned? (send a birthday card, or cake or maybe show up for the little tyke that YOU created.) Why would the twins forgive their rotten parents who lied to them, denied them a chance to meet the other side of their family and would have CONTINUED to lie to them if they hadn’t met by chance? I mean I throw a tantrum when my mom makes beetroot sabzi for lunch, but its Disney right? Everyone’s gotta have a happy ending.

Great, so the parents got married. Everyone’s happy and living together. Exxxcccept for loose ends. The parents live and work in different continents, so where would they stay? Also, Nick and Liz never really address the BIG FIGHT that caused them to split up. Suppose one day Nick burns the toast for the 200th time and that’s it - every repressed issue comes out of the box. Suppose the twins have supreme anxiety and abandonment issues because they realise that their crappy parents cared more about themselves, than they did about them?

Don’t’ worry, they’ll probably reboot the story in 2018 with complex characters, back story and shades of grey. Everyone’s darker these days (I’m looking at you Batman, James Bond and Riverdale).

The only thing that stops you from screaming, ARE YOU KIDDING ME at your laptop screen (while stuffing down chicken wontons) is the charming cast. Natasha Richardson (rest in peace) is just so lovely, while Dennis Quaid plays the chilled out father with so much ease. Lindsay Lohan is twice as adorable and the butler and the (um… shit… forget it) Chessy who skip all the drama and fall in love and go off on many two day picnics together (that’s our happy ending!)

Ultimately though, I think the twins did the right thing bringing their parents together – only people are narcissistic and self-absorbed and Liz and Nick can truly get each other. As for the rest of the family and all of us who love the movie, it’s time to get out of the trap armed with nothing more than Oreos and Peanut Butter.

(You have to watch the movie to get that last reference. Also, I’m really sorry for ruining your childhood too.)

[littleshrimpcat]

It’s strange. I don’t know much about Solange Knowles (aside from the obvious - the famous sister and the infamous elevator fight). But what i DO know is the kind of pain that shoots through all the books, cat videos, work and food that you enjoy.

Borrowing from Pitchfork because they have better words:

“Cranes in the Sky” is a wondrously wrought song about emotional precarity and recovery. If the body and mind are some personal city unto itself, for Solange, the cranes looming above are powerful symbols of how omnipresent and ugly the work of self-care can be. With the help of Raphael Saadiq’s magnificently spacious production, she weaves together a series of defeats and diversions into some landscape of possible healing. It’s a small epic about coming to grips with yourself, framed as a deep, warm, musical embrace.”

Cranes in the Sky

I tried to drink it away I tried to put one in the air I tried to dance it away I tried to change it with my hair I ran my credit card bill up Thought a new dress would make it better I tried to work it away But that just made me even sadder I tried to keep myself busy I ran around in circles Think I made myself dizzy I slept it away, I sexed it away I read it away Away, away, away, away, away, away Away, away, away, away, away Well it's like cranes in the sky Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds Yeah it's like cranes in the sky Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds I tried to run it away Thought then my head be feeling clearer I traveled 70 states Thought moving around make me feel better I tried to let go my lover Thought if I was alone then maybe I could recover To write it away or cry it away (don't you cry it baby) Away, away, away, away, away, away Away, away, away, away, away But it's like cranes in the sky Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds Yeah it's like cranes in the sky Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds Away, away, away, away, away, away Away, away, away, away, away