Waiting for Sweetpea

Part 1 -- Annunciation

In spring 2018, our daughter, Julia, and Matt, her husband of 18 months, conducted an ambush on my wife and me.

Julia and Matt drove up from Arlington, Virginia, to help Marie and me declutter our suburban home. We had sold the house a month before to fulfill a longtime dream of moving into the big city of Philadelphia. We were empty-nesters, having married off our two kids in a 10-week sweep in 2016. Now we were selling off or donating loads of goods, as we were bound not to have enough room in our (not-yet-found) new home to accommodate it. Marie had already retired, and I was hatching a plot to escape my employment in mid-June. What was the point of retirement if we were bound by the same old possessions?

So Julia and Matt rented a truck to pick up our castoff furniture, garden tools and other goods for their home in Virginia. It was a busy day. Matt did a lot of heavy lifting. Julia rummaged through the memories that Marie had dutifully saved for her throughout her life. they included cards that accompanied baby gifts when she arrived in the world. Papers from her elementary and middle school days that foreshadow her career as a writer. Books, lots of them, more than I could imagine reading in a lifetime, but Julia made short work of them. Again, that foreshadowing thing.

Reading the cards and other congratulatory notes from her many years of youthful accomplished, Julia observed that she received a lot of love over the years. Indeed she 
had. Even as a little girl, Julia was loved for her loving nature and admired for her intellect and drive.

She winnowed those items by about 80 percent.

We finally sat down to eat, all four of us tuckered out from the day’s work. Marie prepared a favorite Italian American meal of pasta, meatballs and sausage, and a green salad. I presume there was wine.

Julia decided to take advantage of the fact that we were together to make an announcement. While she had us together, she wanted to tell us her plans for my wife’s annual Christmas Eve feast of seven fishes (also known by its Italian nomenclature, “La Vigilia”). The event is well attended and much anticipated. A seat at the table is a hot item, so Julia surprised us with this request.

“I want to bring a guest to La Vigilia this year,” she announced.

I was surprised, even somewhat annoyed, and protective of Marie, since the seating around the table is tight. I was a bit miffed that she would impose on her mother that way, even months in advance.

“Who is it,” I asked. “Somebody we know?”

“Well, you don’t know the person yet, but I can guarantee you it will be small and not eat very much fish.”

I got it right away. I jumped up, put one hand out to Matt who was close to me, and I put my arm around him. “Congratulations, Matt, I said. In a burst of male empathy, I added, “Good job.”

It took a few moments longer for Marie to grasp that Julia was announcing her pregnancy. (It’s not usually like that. I’m traditionally the denser of the two of us.) Still, she stood up and asked plaintively “Are you telling me what I think you are?” 

Their eyes welled up (business as usual for these two). They hugged. This announcement was a moment that we were not entirely sure would come, especially this soon into Matt and Julia’s marriage. Julia did not know just how easily she would get pregnant in her mid-30s. Not that she had any reason to worry, but she was also not taking it for granted. That was why she decided to tell us so early, just four weeks into the 40 necessary to bring this child to full viability. 

“I wanted you to know now,” she said, “because I didn’t want the first news from me to be that I had a miscarriage.”

I asked one of the essential questions. "How big is the baby so far?"

Julia laughed. “It’s only about the size of a lentil.”

She was right. The baby had a long way to go before being able to eat fish on Christmas Eve.

We laughed our way through the remainder of dinner. Uncertainty be damned; this was a happy occasion, goddammit. Wine flowed for Matt, Marie and me, though not for the mother-to-be. Beside laughing, there wasn’t much else to say. This was a baby in theory only. There was a long stretch of road ahead.

Marie and I walked Julia and Matt to the door, hugged them over and over again and told them how happy we were. We watched them get into the car, and then we waved as they pulled away to return home.

When they were out of sight, I closed the door and set the latch. I turned and looked at Marie. Then I jumped up and down and stomped my feet on the foyer floor, pumped my hands in a celebratory motion.

“Yea!” That’s all I needed to say to Marie.

Sold our house after a week on the market. Retirement for Marie. A planned retirement for me. A new home at some point. Now to be first-time grandparents.

Yes, 2018 was going to be a big year.

The Winners Behind the Scenes

The film editors of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall, were so shocked when they were named as this year's Academy Award winners that they had no speeches prepared. That may have been because they are among those people in the world who are accustomed to being overlooked. 
Think about what they did: They took miles of film that director David Fincher shot among a variety of locations, set ups and even different countries. Then ,they gave it form and continuity, and they made a complicated story understandable. This film went on to make hundreds of millions of dollars around the world. Yet few people would know the names of these men, nor do they know the names of others who make similar contributions.
Who are the people in your orbit who do so much yet receive such little recognition? It may be administrative assistant who sets up the lunch that you so generously offer to another. The receptionist who greets every visitor with a smile and a kind word so that you can be praised for how friendly your company is. Or, closer to home, the life partner who cleans the house, cooks the meals and pays the bills to leave you free to follow your dream.
It is nice at times to read the acknowledgements at the beginning of the book. You'll probably never meet the people named, but it is humbling to see all the people behind a successful person who do not know the warmth of a spotlight.
Polls and surveys show that more people leave a job for the recognition than for money. There is a lesson in that when we have finished a project or reached a similar milestone. We do not climb these mountains alone.

Ranking the Oscar Nominees

This year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences nominated nine films as their best of the year. We’ll learn the winners soon, when they are announced on Sunday, February 26. But this year, my enthusiasm is a bit dampened. Of the nominees, I am enthused by four at the most, and I really love only my top two. And the public apparently agrees, given the downturn in the 2011 box office receipts.

Furthermore, many better films were overlooked by the Academy. Where is 50/50, an emotional, nuanced and finely acted film about dealing with cancer? Beginners told a unique story about the grief and freedom that can spring from the death of a loved one. And the Academy could have done worse than nominate Bridesmaids as best film; in fact, they did do worse by honoring several mawkish films rather than recognizing well-earned laughs. (At least Bridesmaids got a screenplay nomination, though this looks like a consolation prize when you consider the seeming inevitability of Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.)

Here is my take on the nine nominated films, ranking them in ascending order. While I loved my top two, I hope Oscar does a tad better next year. First, let’s look at the first three films that make up the bottom third of the list.

9. War Horse — Early in this tearjerker about a lovable horse sent into battle, there is a scene filmed with much drama, vivid camera angles and triumphant John Williams music. What has the protagonist done? Why, he plowed a field! Such is the overwrought emotion contained in this film by Steven Spielberg. (Really, would this film have been nominated if it were attached to a different director?) Yes, I got teary at the end, but I felt I had been emotionally bludgeoned in the process.  Someone told me that she believed Spielberg didn’t trust his audience, so he had overplayed his hand. Point taken.


8. The Tree of Life — “You either love this film or hate it,” a respected friend and fellow cineaste told me. Well, count me among the haters. Yes, the elusive and reclusive Terrence Malick’s film has beautiful sweeping images set to music, but so does a screen saver. And both of these lack an element crucial to good filmmaking: a narrative. Why was Sean Penn, apparently a son of the abusive Brad Pitt character, moping around the film? Why did Jessica Chastain’s character of the mother appear not so much as a person but as some idealized vision of maternity? I give Malick some props for at least trying to tell his tale in a unique cinematic voice, but in the end neither I nor the audience with whom I saw it understood him.


7. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close — This film completes our trifecta of works that seem to seem to shout, “This is an emotional film! Pay attention to the cues I’m giving you!” Lead character Oskar Schell has suffered an unimaginable tragedy, losing his father, played by Tom Hanks in flashback, in the 9/11 attack. But instead of heartbreak, we get little Oskar traveling at breakneck pace from one New York City locale to another, trying to decipher a posthumous message from his father. He encounters characters that are unlikely (read: unbelievable and illogical), such as the mute known only as The Renter, and an estranged couple, played with more conviction by Jeffrey Wright and Viola Davis than this film deserved. The fatal flaw here is the unrelenting quirkiness, which distracted me from the message. I found this movie extremely idiosyncratic & incredibly pretentious.


6. The Help —The Help centers on a group of African American women in the mid-20th century South who took one of the few jobs accessible to them — that of domestic help — and fulfilled it with conviction. One day, their lives, and those of their employers, are turned over and around by a book that uncovers their hidden feelings. Of all the vivid characters, perhaps the two who best anchor the film are the mischievous but strong Minny (Octavia Spencer) and Aibileen (Viola Davis), who is more reserved, but wears her pride, dignity and fatigue visibly on her passive face. Though The Help doesn’t break any cinematic ground, it is the most superbly acted film of the season.


5. The Descendants — As he did in 2004 with Sideways, Alexander Payne strikes gold once again with this offbeat movie that offers well-defined characters in an unusual setting (Hawaii? Really?). Two years ago, I called George Clooney “this generation’s answer to Cary Grant” after his performance in Up in the Air, and damn if the guy just doesn’t keep delivering. He is ably assisted by a wonderful supporting cast (Beau Bridges, Judy Greer, Matthew Lillard and Robert Forster), most notably Shailene Woodley, who plays Clooney’s deceptively wise young daughter who alerts her father to her mother’s betrayal of him, while she lies in a coma. While The Descendants doesn’t give us any cinematic fireworks, I expect its perceptive and witty script to pick up Best Adapted Screenplay.


4. Midnight in Paris —Woody Allen has his best box office in 45 years, and I suggest that he did so partly by borrowing from Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar. Midnight in Paris is about Gil, a struggling writer (played by Owen Wilson as an Allen stand-in), who discovers that when the clock strikes 12 on a Parisian side street, he is whisked back to the 1920s, the so-called “Jazz Age.” Not only does he escape his shrewish fiancé and her overbearing parents, he finds inspiration in the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Picasso and others.  Like Almodóvar, Allen incorporates magic realism to achieve this bit of cinematic sleight-of-hand. Allen the director works thriftily, bringing the movie in at a tidy 90 minutes. Midnight in Paris shows that the Woodman still has a good film in him and he should receive a Best Original Screenplay Oscar for it.


3. Moneyball — Boy, did I not expect to like this movie. It seemed destined to be talky, describing the arcane mathematical principles that manager Billy Beane used to build a winning baseball team in Oakland, California. But Oscar winners Aaron Sorkin and Steve Zaillian whittled the source material (a book by Michael Lewis) down to its essential elements. Then director Bennett Miller added much needed of economy, moving the film along at an entertaining pace, which made even a mundane winning streak exciting to watch. In the end, Moneyball is anchored by an intelligent and deceptively easy-going performance by Brad Pitt as Beane. By giving us less, we got more, especially compared to the bloat that is evident in the films that rank at the bottom of this list of nominees.

It was tough to pick my favorite film from these last two. As it turned out, it came down to movies that appeal to my love for movies themselves. But here goes…

2. The Artist — This movie begins with us as part of a theater audience. The films in The Artist appeal to our wonder by stripping away basic technical developments—color, visual effects and sound.  Director and writer Michel Hazanavicius helps us remember how, in a dark room and using persistence of vision, we get magic. Hazanavicius’s work, I truly believe that the film ultimately succeeds atop the broad, athletic shoulders of Jean Dujardin. He portrays the mature titular star, George Valentin, with a smile and a charm that belies his age. (Valentine resembles the crusty Warner Baxter of 42nd Street, but out of character, actor Dujardin is much younger.) It appears that the film and the director will walk away winners, but if there is any justice, Dujardin will also be crowned Best Actor.


1. Hugo — The Artist stripped movies down to their original silence, and that single conceit helped make it an excellent and memorable film.  But in the end, Hugo works better for me because master Martin Scorsese used so many more elements into it. First, the director used 3-D for the first time, and it was a storytelling tool for him, not just a cheesy gimmick. He also incorporated superior production design and animatronics. Second, Hugo is Scorsese’s first film for children, and who would have guessed that after Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and other such violent works. Finally, look at the message of this film: Scorsese states forcefully that films are magical, very largely because of the work of pioneers like Georges Méliès, who saw the possibilities in this novelty item. He also makes his case for film preservation, warning us in an entertaining way that this vanishing legacy needs to be preserved. For this expression of a personal vision by a master craftsman who is still at the top of his game after many years, I found Hugo to be the best of this year’s Oscar nominees.

I welcome your comments. In the meantime, this is our annual reminder to enjoy the movies, which remains one of our most accessible art forms. Enjoy the ceremony on Sunday night.

On Creating Our Legacies

Watching "Sunday Morning" on CBS this morning was a haunting experience, as two stories unintentionally, coincidentally and accidentally juxtaposed  to make me think about our mortality and our legacies. 

The first piece was predictable. Today we mourn the death of Whitney Houston and ponder her life, both over its entirety and in the most recent years. I made sure to catch the show early. I guessed from the news the night before that the show would be devoting time to her, and there it all was: The MTV-era clips that would conveniently serve to chronicle her rapid rise in the 1980s. The snippets of her soaring vocals that seem extra-human at times. (My God, could a person really sing that beautifully AND so powerfully?) The accounts of her troubled times, including her marriage to the sure-to-be-vilified Bobby Brown, and her descent into drugs and alcohol. The diminishing of her prodigious talents, marked most recently by her inability to scale the record charts again and a humiliating concert in which she could not remember her lyrics or hit the notes that were once so effortless. It was all there, all so sad.
But the second segment threw me for a loop because, rather than a tragic and definite end, it was a hardship in progress that we will be able to witness sadly. The popular country-pop singer Glen Campbell is on his last tour. These are not his final performances because he is retiring willingly, but because he is receding from the world around him. At age 75, Mr. Campbell has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. While Mr. Campbell, like Ms. Houston, also lived a wild and woolly and sometimes reckless life, it is this wretched disease that is bringing him down.
Fortunately, as the segment showed, Mr. Campbell is not on the last legs of his journey alone. Several of his children are there, performing with him, gently guiding him to the stage, but most importantly, helping the man maintain his dignity in front of the audiences that have come to say goodbye. The results are mixed. He launches into his familiar and highly expert guitar riffs, as though his fingers are acting independently of his psyche. Teleprompters help him remember his once-familiar lyrics. But then he will launch enthusiastically into a song that he has just finished, and he stands revealed, solitary in his own perceptions and ultimately depending on the kindness of friends, fans and family to exit the embarrassment gracefully. 
Ms. Houston's fate seemed predetermined by a life on overdrive. Even her singing was white hot, seldom nuanced. Deep down, you could somehow sense that it would be impossible to maintain both the intensity of her performances and, later, of her life choices. On "Sunday Morning," commentator and music critic Bill Flanagan asked compassionately that "Whitney Houston be allowed to rest in peace." As an admirer, he is naturally afraid of the onslaught of salacious news that is sure to arise from a variety of sources, such as her autopsy, eyewitness reports of her increasingly erratic behavior, and more. Of course, Ms. Houston's reputation will not be spared, and given our 'breaking news" culture and social media overload, it is naive to think otherwise.
Still, as I look at Glen Campbell in his final days, I am reminded that we can have much more control over our legacies than we often allow. It is wise to remember that every act, every word uttered, every kindness offered all stand as testimonies to who we are. Tweets, Facebook posts and, yes, even blogs like this one are ephemeral. Resumes may be impressive, but they are only paper; people are much more likely to remember us for things that are more substantive, whether it is as monumental as a building or a bridge, or as accessible as a pathway or a garden. We have opportunities to change the lives around us and leave people with a material contribution, a piece of advice and maybe even a song. 
David Bowie once pointed out that he was lucky to have been afforded so many years in his career to make an impact, while the great blues artist Robert Johnson lived only to age 27, his reputation resting largely on one recording. I think that is great advice, which resonates so much more clearly to me as I get older: We get only so much time and only so many opportunities, so let's choose our actions wisely.

Note: I am indeed a big admirer of Whitney Houston, so I would like to direct you to this tribute to her that has already popped up on YouTube. God bless her.

It is Mid-Year; Do You Know Where Your Goals Are?

The year is now half over. It is a good time for us to review our goals and objectives for the year and mark our progress.
What, you don't have goals and objectives for the year? If not, how will you know if you have advanced in 2011 and made personal progress? I keep two "To Do" lists posted: one for every day, and one for the year. My daily "TO DO" list is an ongoing challenge, but as I step back, I'm doing well for the whole year. I have already read as many books as I planned, I created a new keynote address for my repertoire, my retirement plan is finally on track, and I have reviewed the Italian language for an upcoming trip. (Forgive me if I don't share the other items on my list. I take the advice of self-help guru Derek Sivers that you should not share your goals with others, because that automatically decreases the chances that you will achieve them.)
Over the years, my annual list of goals have enabled me to accomplish a number of interesting things, such as hitting certain income goals, learning a new language, paying off my mortgage and publishing my first book.
If you haven't yet put together your own list, don't fret. Better to finish the year with a smaller list than one at all. The more important thing to remember is to work at actually reaching your goals by prioritizing them, putting them on schedule, focusing on them and eliminating the time wasters that get in your way. One could find no better role model than a mother on public assistance who became one of the richest women in the U.K. J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, told the Harvard graduating class that "achievable goals are the first step to self improvement."

Please enjoy this interview with broadcaster Burke Allen on my book, The Six P's of Change."

35 (no make that 36) Years of "Nashville"

As a self-styled film historian and film buff, I tend to know many trivial facts about films, so imagine my surprise and embarrassment when I completed writing this piece and discovered that the premise was all wrong. Let me first explain the raison d'etre of my post.

People often ask me my opinions on the best films ever. I cite many of the usual suspects, such as Citizen Kane (top of the list), It's a Wonderful Life, Chaplin's Modern Times and The Gold Rush, and not too many other surprises. However, when I was asked to name my Top Five, I raised many eyebrows when I included Robert Altman's Nashville.
Yes, that's right, Nashville! Want to make something of it? I think this is a groundbreaking film whose influences have spread far and wide, yet few people acknowledge them. Or, more significant, are not aware of them.
I wrote this thinking that I was honoring the 35th anniversary of the premiere of the film. However, I discovered that it opened on June 11, 1975. So I'm a year late. Still, I'd like to explain why I love this film so much and still consider it one of the best ever.
Let's begin with the setting. Altman was way ahead of the curve in picking the country music capital as the focal point of his film. You would be hard pressed to think of any significant films that were similarly centered. We see people in the recording studios, in clubs, at outdoor performances. It was as though he was clairvoyant in seeing what a cultural force country music would become, and he took us right to its epicenter.
This was no whitewash. An older woman I knew bristled at the portrayal, complaining "That's not what country music is about." Sorry, Ma'am, but these characters are Americans, capable of being as venal, petty, shallow and competitive as the rest of us. If the New York theater could have the vipers of All About Eve and early television could portray the Andy Griffith's ascendant evil in A Face in the Crowd, then country music was entitled to its Nashville.
Altman was also a master at pulling great performances out of a. huge casts and, b. previously unheralded actors. Look at the people in this film! Keith Carradine, Geraldine Chaplin, Barbara Harris, Ned Beatty, Scott Glenn, Jeff Goldblum, Keenan Wynn... I could go on. Altman took a popular TV-sketch comedienne named Lily Tomlin (heard of her?) and guided her to an Oscar nomination. Same for Ronee Blakely, who came out of nowhere to channel Loretta Lynn in her fictional character, Barbara Jean. Comic Henry Gibson was known mostly as a member of the cast of Laugh-In, the seminal NBC variety show, but he was brilliant as the duplicitous Haven Hamilton under Altman's direction. A native of Philadelphia, of all places, Gibson was entirely believable as the corn-pone crank and hypocrite. (Altman, et al, even knew to take a little-known bit that Gibson had performed years earlier on The Dick Van Dyke Show and turn it into Hamilton's so-called "signature" song, "Keep A-Goin'.")
Do you like parallel plots, kept straight by canny editing and the power of narrative? Altman pioneered this style in Nashville, and the technique was used brilliantly in much '80s television, notably Hill Street Blues and St. Elsewhere. It is amazing how these nearly 30 characters wander the landscape of this movies, seemingly disconnected in a head-scratching way, and yet they come together in the climactic scene set at Nashville's Parthenon. All the characters fulfill their destinies in this one dramatic moment, whether it was Barbara Jean's tragic end, Haven Hamilton's unmasking of sorts (best use of a toupee ever), but best exemplified by Barbara Harris seizing the occasion to make her long-awaited start turn.
I saw Bridesmaids recently (very funny, entertaining movie, by the way), and I howled at the use of overlapping dialogue in scenes, such as when Kristen Wiig's character stumbles through the plane under the influence of a sedative. But I also remembered that Altman pioneered the use of such speechifying with his multi-track sound on Nashville and his subsequent films.
It is bewildering to me that the film is so widely forgotten today, as it generated much discussion, disdain and appreciation in its day. It was nominated for five Oscars (picture, director, Tomlin and Blakely for supporting actress) but took home just one for Keith Caradine's song, "I'm Easy." It was the New Film Critics' Best Film of the year, as well as winning best director, and the National Board of Review and the National Society of Film Critics also honored it as the best. Yet I hear very few people mention Nashville today, and when I mention it as one of my all-time favorites, the usual responses range from mild surprise to recriminations from someone who tells me that their audience booed the film
If you get a chance, I suggest you revisit this gem. Tell me what you think, even if you don't like it. I won't agree with you, but that's okay; it don't worry me. :-)

PS. For a fine retrospective of this film, I refer you to a piece by Ray Sawhill of Salon.com, titled A Movie Called Nashville.

Getting the Holidays Right

Francis and Julia Rocchi, Christmas, c. 1989

My wife, Marie, and I always tried to de-emphasize the gift-giving aspects of Christmas in favor of the spiritual side and the importance of family. One year, my daughter innocently and inadvertently taught me that we were heading in the right direction.
We lived in upstate New York at the time. A few short days before Christmas, I had to make a run to the mall to pick up some last-minute gifts. There was much to do. We had pageants, Mass and other activities at our church, school and community. We would spend Christmas Day together, just the four of us. Then we would hit the road to be with our families back in Philadelphia. I had very little time that day, but I was able to spare a hour or two to get some final items. I grabbed my daughter Julia, about 7, and we were off.
The mall was amazingly quiet given that it was just before Christmas. Luckily, that allowed me to get what I needed. Julia asked if she could see Santa Claus. Since we had time to spare, it was no problem.
I let her go, and she had Santa all to herself. I observed from a distance, and I could see that she was quite animated, really chatting up the old man, so I could only imagine what kind of booty she wanted for Christmas.
When I went to retrieve her, she went off to see some decorations. I asked Santa privately, out of her earshot, what she asked him for.
"Oh, she didn't ask for anything," he said.
I was taken aback. "She sat with you a long time. What was she talking about?"
"She was telling me all about how you were going to church tonight, how you were going to be together for Christmas and then travel to be with family. Most kids spend their times telling me about what they want. But she was totally focused on family."
Hm. I guess Marie and I got it right that year.
I have been reminded of that story every Christmas since because, I'm sorry to say, our view of the holiday is looking more and more unusual. To say it is about gifts is a cliche. To say that we don't keep Christ in Christmas is even more obvious. But in the end, I don't know if any of us know what this holiday means any more. Perhaps it has come to mean nothing.
When I turn on the television, I see so many images that are unrelated and even random. There are saccharine movies on Showtime or The Hallmark Channel. Cartoon specials about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman and The Polar Express. They all add up to...

Nothing in particular. In the end, they do not comprise a unifying image of Christmas. The radio is just as bad, with songs about lists of things that kids want, grown-up lists of things we want, a seductress that wants cash from Kris Kringle, and people being blue because someone they love is not with them for the holiday (Merry Christmas Darling, All I Want for Christmas is You, Blue Christmas, etc.). But why do these people want someone with them at this time of year? Either they don't need to say it out loud because we know intuitively, or they don't say it because they don't know themselves. Karen Carpenter sang that logs on the fire filled her with desire. But desire for what? Why bother?

However, during that one Christmas, our daughter (and later our son, Francis) showed us that we were able to cut through the Yuletide clutter. By taking them to church, singing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus, hearing religious music more than the secular, and showing them many more Nativity scenes than pictures of Santa, we have had a modicum of success in fighting a distinctly myopic view of the holiday. I only hope that we can do the same with other holidays. I like to remember that the Fourth of July and Memorial Day are not just long weekends, but were actually created to honor heroes. But I guess I'll take one battle at a time.

The end-of-year holidays can be significant to all of us, as most of us can find their roots in our individual cultures. I hope you find your own special meaning in these days, and I wish you all health and happiness in the new year.

We Need Leslie Nielsen, a Hero for These Challenging Times

Okay, so I was in an airport in Boston maybe 30 years ago, waiting for my plane. I had gone for a job interview, and when it was over, I called my wife, Marie, and told her how it went.

When I got off the phone, I was wandering the concourse when I looked over and saw a crowd of people staring at a man who was sitting alone. He was tall, grey-haired and pretty handsome. It was Leslie Nielsen, star of the movie Airplane! and the TV show Police Squad.

People were just looking at him, poking each other and not doing anything in particular. But no one was talking to him. I thought What the Hell, and I walked up to him and stuck out my hand.

"Mr. Nielsen, I know you have no idea who I am, but my name is Pat Rocchi, and I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy your movies and how much pleasure you have brought into my life."

He was taken aback at this. I don't know if it was the audacity I had to just walk up to him and tell him how much I liked him or if it was the frank admiration of his work. He gathered himself for a moment before he rose and said, "Well, thank you; thank you very much.'
He paused for a moment and, groping for something to say, he told me, "You know we have a new Police Squad movie coming out." He was referring to his then-upcoming film, The Naked Gun.

Being a movie buff and a fan of the TV show, I was aware that it had been in production. "Yes, I was aware that you were working on it. How is it?" (Such a small-talk thing to say, as though he would respond with, "It sucks. Don't go see it.")

His eyes lit up. "It's very funny, very funny. I think you'll enjoy it." In fact, I did. It is still none of my favorite comic movies of all time, just for the sheer silliness of it.

I had to ask him about his foray into comedy at a later part in his career. "Mr. Nielsen, I remember you as the Swamp Fox (an old Disney show about the American rebel, Francis Marion), and you were always so upright and serious. How do you like this new role in comedy?"

With that, he broke into a big, broad, absolutely sincere smile. "I love it," he said, quickly adding with a sly wink, "I like being dumb and stupid for people!"

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and, not wishing to overstay my welcome, I shook his hand and thanked him for his time. But one thing disappointed me. "You know, I just got off the phone with my wife, and she is also a big fan. She will never believe I met you."

He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, let's see if we can convince her." With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. I was thinking, "Will he give me a quarter, and I must tell Marie that it came from Leslie Nielsen?" But he poked around the objects from his pocket, and pulled out a lapel pin that was a replica of the badge he wore in his TV show, Police Squad. He handed it to me and said, "Here. Give that to your wife, and she will know that you met me."

I was incredulous, gratified and delighted, all at once. I shook his hand again, laughing, and said, "Well thank you very much, Mr. Nielsen. I will always treasure it."

And I have. Never more than I do today. I wear it occasionally to an event just as a conversation starter, and the story never fails to get a laugh, as well as some appreciation for Mr. Nielsen's graciousness that day. He really has given me a lot of enjoyment over the years through his work, but that little encounter with me, an average fan of no particular import, makes me remember him very specially. I'm glad we had him, and I will miss him. Thank goodness for the permanence of film and video.

By the way, if you can, I suggest you search for the six-episode series of Police Squad on video, either streaming or by purchasing the DVDs. As my personal friend Leslie Neilsen told me, "It's very funny, very funny."

Leslie Nielsen died on Sunday, November 29, 2010, in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., of complications from pneumonia. He was 84 years old.

Where Have I Been?

Wow! It's nearly two months since my last blog post. I have been beset mostly by overwork since then, and it raises a reverse important philosophical question: If a Blogger doesn't make a sound, is it because s/he got lost in the forest?

Seriously, I have been much more productive in my work in 2010, having help guide a health care organization through its messaging, contributed to a hospital system's accreditation application, served as COO of my acappella singing group, and in the course of all this, I produced ONE QUARTER of the posts that I did in the previous year. Does this mean I have less to say, and therefore less to contribute?

I have to admit that the answer is yes. Put simply, I am not thinking as much as I had. I have reflected less on all the issues that surround all of us. Oh, some things bubbled to the surface. I was absolutely outraged by the way Andrew Breitbart ambushed Shirley Sherrod. The mid-term elections were shameful in their cacophony, and the bullying of gays and others upset me very much, as it reminded us of how defenseless we all may be. But mostly, I was too preoccupied to feel that I had much to contribute.

I also forgot the mantra for all writers: ALWAYS BE WRITING! I had lost my discipline (or my energy?) to put something, ANYthing down on paper or the ether just to stay in the practice of writing. Sure, I was doing that for my clients, but not for you, dear friends, and I missed it. (I HOPE you also missed me.)

I promise that 2011 will be different. I have a few things on my docket that will give me the opportunity to stay in touch. For example, I hope to finish my second book in the new year, and that will be on organizational communication. Second, 2011 is the centenary of Marshall MacLuhan, probably the greatest communication philosopher of all time. I intend to honor him throughout the year.

Finally, I plan to return to Italy to visit my family. That means brushing up on my Italian, which I learned only a few years ago (and even then, I was speaking on an elementary level). That should contain more than enough fodder on communication.

In retrospect, I am happier that I didn't just babble on these last few months just for the sake of writing. I believe that I will have much more to say that is worthwhile.

Just promise you'll let me know if I'm incorrect. ;-)

Which is Best of the Oscar-nominated Films?

It’s all because of “The Dark Knight.”

Last year, the TV ratings for the Oscars were in the toilet again. After all, the Batman flick ruled the box office but gathered few nominations, so viewers were not engaged in the competition. Similarly, the highest previous ratings for Oscar telecasts were in those years when two box office champs prevailed: Titanic and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.

To fix this problem, the Academy doubled the nominations for “Best Picture” to ten this year. So how did it all end up? Well, we got the five we would have had anyway, plus five more of varying quality or popularity. In other words, it was a wash.

I believe this was a pretty good year for the movies, as we got a nice variety of entertainment, uplifting messages, and advancement of the cinematic arts. If there was a year to increase the number of Oscar-nominated films, the films of 2009 were a worthy place to start. Here are my thoughts on the best of the nominated films, in ascending order. I am not predicting the winner; I am naming only my preferences. Also, in evaluating films, I take a page from critic Roger Ebert, who names his best film of the year according to a single criterion: Did it make him look at film differently?
Here is how I see the ten nominated films in terms of quality and innovation.

10. THE BLIND SIDE -- As Richard Corliss wrote in Time, “For evidence of Sandra Bullock's front-runner status in the Best Actress race, look at how she pulled her movie, indistinguishable from a dozen other sports inspirationals, into the Best Picture race.” How true. There is nothing cinematically exceptional, innovating, interesting or even particularly skillful about this movie. In fact, even its veracity is in doubt. It subject, football star Michael Oher, does not promote the film, softly citing its inaccuracies. Several people I know raved about the film. When I saw it, I thought it was made in the 1970s, hardly the standard for a “best film award.” The Blind Side stole a nomination from other worthier films (e.g. Bright Star, The Young Victoria).

9. A SERIOUS MAN -- You could have titled this “Jewish-American Beauty,” as it contains many of the minimalist plotlines and cinematic tics of that earlier film. A Serious Man, written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, centers around Professor Larry Gopnik, who is suffering all forms of tsuris. His wife, leaving him for a neighbor, asks Larry to move out to the local motel. Gopnik’s tenure is threatened by a student trying to bribe him AND blackmail him at the same time. His son and daughter are stealing his money. And this laugh fest is populated by some of the most offensive Jewish stereotypes I have ever seen. I guess the Academy believes that the Coens’ previous successes warrant an automatic nomination. They should think again.

8. AN EDUCATION -- Refer back to Sandra Bullock, as this film’s success rests on the charming performance of its star, Carey Mulligan. Based on a true story, Jenny, a 17-year-old schoolgirl who is bright beyond her years, is taken in by a older gentleman (Peter Sarsgaard), who seems to charm all around him. Soon the two are off to Paris and other adventures before Jenny receives some harsh life lessons. Mulligan is wonderfully believable, a star in the making who is sometimes reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. But a Best Picture contender? Not much there to support that.

7. UP -- Ah, now we begin to see the real cinematic achievers among the nominees. Pixar does it again, perhaps better than ever. Widower Carl Fredricksen sees his life withering away after he loses Ellie, his wife and the sparkplug of his life. In order to gain some control again, Carl decides to go on the adventure that he and Ellie never could. In the process, Carl learns what it is like to really live — a lesson that Ellie tried to teach him in their time together. If you think that animation is for children, experience the wordless, heartbreaking synopsis of Carl and Ellie’s life at the beginning of the film. And I haven’t seen a balloon look so thrilling since David Niven and Cantinflas traveled Around the World in Eighty Days.

6. PRECIOUS -- I got so lost in this for a while that I has to remind myself, “Wait, this isn’t a documentary.” Such is the skill of Lee Daniel’s direction that he makes this world of poverty so real. I stayed away from Precious for a while, worried that it was too depressing. Don’t make the same mistake. Unspeakably cruel at times, it shines a light on many inconvenient truths about our society. While filled with good performances, Mo’Nique shines as the mother who brutalizes her daughter in a wide variety of ways. Her final scene, staring into the camera and expressing all her guilt, fears, regrets and rationalizations is an acting lesson all by itself.

5. UP IN THE AIR -- A comedy that actually has cinematic value! Who’d have thought? Jason Reitman has created a small gem that may well turn out to be a classic among this crop of nominees. This film has it all: a witty screenplay, whipsmart performances, and movement. Yes, rather than merely talking us to death with its witty dialogue, Up in the Air actually moves us across the country , taking us into the zeitgeist of corporate downsizing. And George Clooney probably has proven, once and for all, that he is indeed this generation’s answer to Cary Grant. This may be the best, most modern film comedy that I have seen since Tootsie.

4. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS -- I haven’t liked anything Quentin Tarantino has done since Pulp Fiction. But like that earlier work, Inglourious Basterds creates an crackling cinematic energy. You must first suspend your belief, as it is, at heart, a revenge fantasy against Hitler and his Holocaust. Once you accept that conceit, the film is radiant. The art direction is luxurious, creating elegant settings to support the ambitious scenario, especially in the climatic movie theater scene. Christoph Waltz is brilliant as Hans Landa, the SS officer who veers as effortlessly between four languages as he does from comic looniness to sadistic madness.

3. THE HURT LOCKER -- Director Kathryn Bigelow creates a timely, timeless tale of the Iraq war. You will be tense throughout The Hurt Locker, which is evidence of Bigelow’s genius. She takes you into the center of a most maddening job — defusing incendiary devices. She shows how these experts may not know the intentions of those around them; even a simple cell phone may ignite the bomb under question. The only aspect of this film that doesn’t place it at the top of my list is its screenplay, which allows little story or character development. Otherwise, it is a great use of film medium, especially the art of editing.

2. AVATAR TV is eating into film receipts, as audiences can be entertained for free at home. Hollywood responds with spectacle and a larger-than-home life experience. The year? No, not now, but 1959. The film that turns around Hollywood’s fortunes? Ben-Hur.
I believe Avatar is as significant in this era as Ben-Hur was in its time. James Cameron uses all available film technology to fashion a unique work that is best experienced on the big screen. He did his homework, too, creating creatures, a new language and a culture that is literally out of this world. Say what you want about the man; he bets big and wins big (re: Titanic). But he is certainly no screenwriter. That is why my favorite of the nominees is…

1. DISTRICT 9 -- Director Neill Blomkamp debuts impressively with his allegory about extra-terrestrials held prisoner in South Africa. His documentary style places us at the center of the action. He also gets more on the screen for his $30 million budget that Avatar does for its estimated $300 to 500 million. Also, the Oscar-nominated screenplay has more wit and character development than one normally sees in a sci-fi flick. One feels sympathy for the trapped aliens who want desperately to return home. In one poignant scene, an alien trembles fearfully when forced into a weapons experiment that will surely kill him. And the main earthling, Wikus (brilliantly portrayed by Sharlto Copley), makes us part of his own descent into alienation. In creating a world gone mad, District 9 did it better, and with fewer resources, than nearly any other film I have seen.

Oscar nominations, like all lists of “the best,” open up lots of debates. I expect to hear from many readers questioning my judgment and perhaps even the origins of my birth as a result of these opinions. Not to worry. The Academy’s collective opinion will hold far more sway than mine will. Furthermore, public opinion counts most of all, as that determines which films get made. So if you like a particular type of film, support it with your ticket dollars. And vote often. I still contend that a movie ticket is one of the best entertainment bargains around.

A Christmas Song from my Group

Here is a performance of O Holy Night by A Cappella Pops, a singing group of which I am a proud member. Enjoy!

Why We Like, Even LOVE, the Social Media

Everybody Tweets, or so it seems. Facebook has gone well beyond its collegiate roots, and now it's largest-growing demographic comprises people above age 54 (much to the chagrin of people like my 23-year-old son, who thinks we Boomers have ruined FB). Business people worth their salt are on LinkedIn, where the average annual income is north of $93,000. "What's wrong?," some ask. "Don't people just talk anymore?"
Sure they do. They talk all the time, more than ever. And they're doing it with Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn!
I will tell that I am thrilled about these so-called "social media." On one hand -- the less important side of the matter -- I am enjoying it as a professional communicator. All these outlets continue to help me sell copies of my book. I can inform my friends, family and colleagues of little developments, such as interviews or developments in its distribution. I can also keep many people up-to-date on every my consulting activities. And I now have a global reach, just as you do, whether or not you choose to use it.
But even this mercenary side of me, the part of me that likes to eat and keep a roof over my head, is not as thrilled about these media as the sentimental side of me is. That's why they're described as SOCIAL! My life has changed since I joined Facebook about two months. (Hey, no one ever accused me of being an early adopter.) I have come in contact with friends from literally 40 years ago. Thanks to Facebook, I had breakfast with my partners in crime, Vicki and Barbara, from college, concerts and other indiscretions of my youth. When got together, we saw photos of each others children for the first, learned how we disconnected, and then learned how to stay reconnected.
I am in contact with my first love, the brilliant blond who broke my heart but taught me how to love, preparing me for the 30+ year old marriage I am in now. I can stay in contact with my long-lost family in Italy, sharing my life with them in ways our parents could only dream of. Even the son of my best friend from childhood is connected to me.
And why, I asked myself, is this important? Why do we have the need to do this? I turn to my friend and advisor, Frank Sergi, Ph.D, a clinical psychologist and heart-warming mensch for some insight. He offered these thoughts.

"I remember reading years ago about a Jewish belief that said one is not dead until everyone who remembers that person is gone as well. Thus the grave site overgrown with weeds is that of a truly dead person. The person with flowers on their grave is still alive. It makes us feel very much alive when we realize that we have not been forgotten. If you are part of someone's memory, you have been incorporated by that person because you have left an impression upon them. In essence you are now a small part of them, and therefore less alone and less invisible in this world.
"I think this is a significant part of the Facebook phenomenon. People need to feel that they are part of other's consciousness."
But what about this need to reconnect rather than simply being known, I asked Frank. "I believe has to do with nostalgia," he responded. "A reliving of one's past that is is simultaneously recalled by the parties involved can be pleasurable even when it may be an embarrassing memory. Ultimately, we are social beings needing social contact and connections. We are such a transient society that we long for connections to our past. The Internet allows us to do that now, in a limited way of course."
And of course, this fact has long been true, even when we weren't so transient. It has remained so with every technological advance. Yes, people liked to visit in person at one time. But that was when we all loved closer to each other. When the telephone came into existence, did that mean that they cared less? Of course not; it was simply one more tool for connection. That was eventually supplanted by email, and now we have the social media. Thank goodness for all of these opportunities to widen our circle.

Okay, gotta run. I need to fulfill a primal need and distribute this virtual valentine to people I care about. And believe me, if you are receiving this, it's because I care about you, too.

What are YOUR stories about your experiences with the social media? Who have you contacted, or who has contacted you? Which bridges have been crossed or rebuilt through this new-found ability to reach out and touch someone? Please get back to me with your thoughts, either through this comment section, an email, or one of these new-fangled Internet things.