Favorite Films of 2001

I’m creating my movie best-of lists retroactively. See all of them.

We’re now over 20 years away from the films in question. This means my impressions of the ones I haven’t rewatched somewhat recently are encased in metaphorical amber, for better or worse. It also means I wouldn’t have seen a good number of them until years after they came out, which will grow only truer the farther I go back.

Regardless, this year’s crop is quite top-heavy, with some all-time keepers landing in my top 4. Contrast those with some all-time stinkers (hello Corky Romano and Pearl Harbor) and it adds up to a notable year at the movies.

On to the list…

1. Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Had to go with my heart on this one, my favorite and the best of the trilogy. (The #1 Trilly.) I’d only vaguely heard of the original books before seeing the trailer on TV. Once I did see the movie in theaters (probably more than once) I was hooked, reading the whole trilogy before Two Towers came out the following year. Because of that familiarity I had with the subsequent films, I especially treasure this one (and its Mt. Rushmore-worthy original score) for the pure cinematic experience it bestowed upon me like a gift from Galadriel. (See more LOTR posts.)

2. Memento

Making this #2 was an agonizing decision. Really, Fellowship of the Ring is 1a and Memento is 1b—a dynamic head-and-heart cinematic dyad with vastly different styles yet equally excellent stories and execution. It was my first encounter with Christopher Nolan, Guy Pearce, and the unique thrill of getting my mind blown by a film. (Note: this is listed as a 2000 film on the internet, but that’s when it premiered at a film festival and I only consider a film’s wide release date to be its official one.)

3. Ocean’s Eleven

One of the most rewatchable movies ever.

4. Zoolander

One of the most quotable movies ever.

5. Enemy at the Gates

This was one of a handful of war movies released around this time—along with Saving Private Ryan, The Patriot, and We Were Soldiers to name a few—that helped to define that genre for me, for better or worse. And this is definitely one of the better ones thanks to the performances by Jude Law, Ed Harris, and Rachel Weisz.

6. The Royal Tenenbaums

Peak Wes Anderson in the best way.

7. Escanaba in Da Moonlight

Written and directed by Jeff Daniels, a Michigan native, this small and delightful indie focuses on the peculiarities of hunting culture in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Read my review.

8. Black Hawk Down

Add this one to my aforementioned “war movie canon” as well.

9. Monsters, Inc.

Even second-tier Pixar like this is still first-rate compared to animated movies in general.

10. The Mummy Returns

What a year for Rachel Weisz! If Dagmara Dominczyk in The Count of Monte Cristo was my 2002 cinematic crush, Weisz in this swashbuckling (if kinda silly) sequel was my 2001 one—and not just because she’s a librarian.

Honorable mentions:

  • Bandits
  • A Beautiful Mind
  • Shrek
  • Legally Blonde
  • Amélie
  • America’s Sweethearts
  • Rat Race

April 10, 2022 Add Comment

Fine free fate

What happened when New York Public Libraries eliminated overdue fines last fall? Exactly what always happens when libraries go fine free:

A wave of returned overdue materials came crashing in, accompanied by a healthy increase (between 9 and 15 percent, depending on the borough) of returning visitors.

Since last fall, more than 21,000 overdue or lost items have been returned in Manhattan, some so old that they were no longer in the library’s system. About 51,000 items were returned in Brooklyn between Oct. 6 through the end of February. And more than 16,000 were returned in Queens.

Any library that hasn’t eliminated overdue fees by now is either so strapped for cash that they can’t survive without the (negligible) revenue fines provide—or someone in charge (usually on the board of trustees) has dug in their heels against the mission of libraries. Either way they’ve got some explaining to do.

April 2, 2022 Add Comment

Long live the limited podcast series

My recent experience with the Band of Brothers podcast made me realized I’m very much a fan of the modern trend of “official” companion podcasts released alongside limited series by the show’s creators—Watchmen and Station Eleven being two recent examples I enjoyed and appreciated.

These are slightly different beasts from the popular post hoc recap podcasts of long-running sitcoms like Office Ladies and Parks and Recollection (two other favorites). Such pods return to their shows years after they ended and usually require a much bigger time investment, given the protracted length of traditional TV shows.

A notable and early hybrid of these approaches: the Official LOST Podcast, hosted by LOST showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. It ran concurrently with the show from 2005-2010 and was probably the first podcast I and many others ever followed. Listening to it meant subscribing via iTunes and then syncing new episodes to my good ol’ click-wheel iPod.

Regardless of the structure, all of these podcasts have the benefit of access to cast, crew, and behind-the-scenes insights you can’t get elsewhere. But you really have to love the original show and the podcast hosts to make them worth your while.

(In that way they’re like modern iterations of DVD commentaries. Which, though eclipsed by the rise of streaming and decline of physical media, are still alive. And long may they live.)

March 24, 2022 Add Comment

Recent Views

More photography here and on my Instagram.

Into the tundra:

A ghostly window creature:

3 year old was “helping” me clean out the car on a warmer day by “fixing” a headrest with a wrench, but all you can really see is the reflection of the sun and clouds in the rear window:

Among the pines:

Stumbled upon this view (while walking on a bike path under a bridge), in which the sunlight hitting the dirty creek water formed an X-ceptional angle:

More shapely, shadowy scenes on aforementioned walk:

March 21, 2022 Add Comment

Courage & Camaraderie in ‘Band of Brothers’

Band of Brothers, the 2001 Tom Hanks-produced HBO miniseries that dramatized the history of Easy Company paratroopers throughout World War II, was a formative viewing experience for me, especially on the heels of Saving Private Ryan.

That was as a youngster interested in history and World War II, and as the grandson of a veteran who lived through similar combat experiences as Easy Company. But I’ve remained a fan of it due to its earned status as an exemplar of history come to life.

Pod of Brothers

Recently I listened to the official HBO podcast series released last fall in honor of the 20th anniversary of the show. With one episode dedicated to each of the original 10 Band of Brothers episodes, the podcast features interviews with crew—like military consultant Dale Dye—and cast, including Donnie Wahlberg (Lt. Carwood Lipton), Frank John Hughes (Sgt. Bill Guarnere), Damien Lewis (Maj. Dick Winters), Scott Grimes (Sgt. Don Malarkey), and Ron Livingston (Capt. Lewis Nixon).

Two themes emerged among all of the performers who were interviewed:

  1. They commiserated about the 10-day military boot camp they endured during pre-production, which, though not the equivalent of true military training, helped forge real camaraderie and ensured an authenticity that’s hard to find in Hollywood versions of warfare.
  2. They spoke in reverent terms about the real-life men they portrayed, and felt an immense responsibility to honor their true experiences within the larger story of Easy Company. Several of them got choked up when talking about the relationships they developed with their real-life counterparts, and all of them said they’d been personally changed for the better.

Getting the Band back together

Inspired by this listening experience, I did a Band of Brothers rewatch thanks to HBO Max.

Of its many marvels, I’m in awe of just how much is squeezed into 10 hours. Such a runtime sounds quite long, but not when you consider everything Easy Company went through on their journey from Georgia’s Camp Toccoa in 1942 to Germany’s Berchtesgaden in May 1945.

Written by a handful of writers—including Tom Hanks and future Boomtown creator Graham Yost (who used Band of Brothers as inspiration)—the series wisely modulates its storytelling pace within and between episodes, which allow for a dynamic range of experiences and perspectives.

So a single episode can span one day (Episode 2, “Day of Days”) or several months (Episode 5, “Crossroads”), and follow one primary perspective (Episode 6, “Bastogne”) or many (Episode 10, “Points”)—all without sacrificing clarity or emotional investment.

Indeed, our investment only grows as we get to know and grow attached to the huge and hugely talented ensemble cast. Winters and Nixon serve as the emotional core, but it’s the literally dozens of other actors who make the show sing.

(Not for nothing, four of the core cast went on to star or feature in my beloved Boomtown: the aforementioned Donnie Wahlberg and Frank John Hughes, plus Neal McDonough [Lt. Buck Compton] and Rick Gomez [Sgt. George Luz].)

Courage over combat

In the podcast interview with Richard Loncraine, director of Episode 2 (“Day of Days”), he reflected on the show’s legacy:

Band of Brothers should be shown to schoolkids, and they might realize [warfare] is not a glamorous, exciting world—it’s where you die. Hopefully when they watch it, what they’re not thinking is ‘Wow, I’d like to have been there.’ If they do, then we all failed.

In this they definitely succeeded, because the series manages to pull off the tricky tightrope act of valorizing the courage of the soldiers without glorifying combat itself.

The combat we do see is rightfully hellish: gruesome wounds, slain comrades, and haunting horrors no one deserves to witness. The nitty-gritty of the front lines in all its awful agony.

How did these men get through it? In Episode 3 (“Carentan”), Lt. Ronald Speirs, played with icy assurance by Matthew Settle, delivers to a frightened private what I imagine to be an essential insight into the psychology of warfare:

We’re all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there’s still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead.

I’m not sure if all soldiers would agree with this perspective. It’s certainly as fatalistic as you can get.

But when I watch even the dramatized versions of Speirs and Blithe and so many other brave GIs run through machine-gun fire and artillery and other horrible weaponry, when every single move they make could mean a sudden and grisly demise, I can only stand in awe before their resolve in the face of death—however they find it.

Company of heroes

But what ultimately makes Band of Brothers successful, I think, isn’t the verisimilitude of its battle scenes. It’s the emphasis on the titular brotherhood and their everyday heroism, both in and out of combat.

Sometimes that heroism looks like what Hollywood has conditioned us to expect from war movies: carrying a fallen comrade, charging through a storm of gunfire, capturing enemy fortifications.

But sometimes it looks different: caring for someone suffering a shell-shocked breakdown, risking execution to protest a superior’s professional malpractice, offering to take the place of a rundown veteran on a risky nighttime raid.

Though not as sensational as battle, these moments are just as important. And they validate what Tom Hanks said of the show: “This is not a celebration of nostalgia. This is an examination of the human condition.”

When you examine Band of Brothers closely, you’ll see talented craftsmen doing their best to honor the ordinary, real-life humans who were thrust into inhuman, extraordinary conditions. For that, it stands alone.

March 17, 2022 2 Comments

The Rockefeller theory of time travel

Morgan Housel:

Charlie Munger was born in 1924. The richest man in the world that year was John D. Rockefeller, whose net worth equaled about 3% of GDP, which would be something like $700 billion in today’s world. Seven hundred billion dollars.

OK. But make a short list of things that did not exist in Rockefeller’s day: Sunscreen. Advil. Tylenol. Antibiotics. Chemotherapy. Flu, tetanus, measles, smallpox, and countless other vaccines. Insulin for diabetes. Blood pressure medication. Fresh produce in the winter. TVs. Microwaves. Overseas phone calls. Jets.

To say nothing of computers, iPhones, or Google Maps. If you’re honest with yourself I don’t think you would trade Rockefeller’s $700 billion in the early 1900s for an average life in 2022.

March 15, 2022 Add Comment

Connect 4 with a 3 year old

Things my 3 year old did while he and I played Connect 4:

  • Said “I block you!” after each time he inserted a disc, even when he didn’t block me
  • Inserted discs pell-mell with the goal of filling the entire board
  • Inserted discs using his toes

Things he didn’t do:

  • Attempt to connect 4

March 10, 2022 2 Comments

It’s Chadabout time

Well, I done did it—I started a newsletter.

It’s called Chadabout and it’ll be a monthly digest of my writing from this blog, plus other things of interest from real life and around the web.

No spam, no ads, no algorithms—just words and links sent with love from your favorite librarian, cinephile, and typewriterist.

A newsletter, huh?

I know, I know: Another newsletter by a straight white dude?

Let me make two things clear: it’s not on Substack (it’s on the minimalist Buttondown) and it’s fully free. Not free for two weeks then paywalled—100% free.

My readership, as humble as it is, has been pretty spread out between WordPress, my various social accounts, and individual-post email followers. I figured this would be the best way to have a direct line to people who are interested in an occasional update on what I’ve been up to.

Fear not: writing on ChadComello.com will remain my priority and labor of love, as it has since 2006. This newsletter is just a supplemental tool for spreading the good word of my work.

I’m in, now what?

You can read the first issue here. It includes the origin of “Chadabout” along with some links I enjoyed, a recommendation, a quote, and a question I hope you’ll respond to.

If you follow this blog via email or WordPress you should have gotten the first issue already. If not, head here to subscribe via email or RSS.

Regardless, thanks for reading my stuff, however you do it.

March 3, 2022 Add Comment

Into his great daily unknown

We celebrated Little Man’s third birthday this week (well, fourth if you count his actual day of birth). While looking through my photos of him I noticed a motif of capturing him from behind as he ventures forth at varying speeds.

I like this vantage point for a few reasons. Since we don’t post his name or face on the internet it’s a convenient angle for sharing. But it’s also an accurate representation of me watching him discover his world over and over again.

Most of the above shots are from very familiar places: our backyard, our local park, our regular family getaway spot. For me as a jaded adult visiting them can get monotonous, but there’s really no such thing to a toddler. Everything can be new and adventurous no matter how many times he’s encountered it.

That’s why I consider it a privilege to follow him into his great daily unknown. All I can do is hope to continue capturing these views, fleeting as they are.

February 19, 2022 Add Comment

Media of the moment

An ongoing series

Extra Life: A Short History of Living Longer by Steven Johnson. My favorite author does it again, using his signature storytelling savvy to explain how human life expectancy has doubled in the last century. Vaccines, epidemiology, pasteurization, drug regulation, penicillin, and automobile safety sound like dry topics, but how they came to be is anything but.

KIMI. A lean techno-thriller from Steven Soderbergh. It’s like Searching meets Rear Window with a dollop of COVID paranoia.

Station Eleven. The book was on my list of favorite books of the 2010s, so I was cautiously optimistic about this limited series adaptation. Glad to find it totally lived up to the spirit of the book while thriving as its own thing. Special shout-out to episodes 1 and 9 for being exceptional television.

Hud. That Paul Newman was a gosh-darn movie star.

We Had A Little Real Estate Problem: The Unheralded Story of Native Americans & Comedy by Kliph Nesteroff. Told in rotating vignettes, this book spotlights Native American performers and comedians who have used comedy to cope and reckon with the shameful abuse of Native Americans throughout history.

The Tender Bar. A likable coming-of-age story, with Ben Affleck as the wise and weathered uncle.

The Last Duel. A stellar cast and interesting premise, telling the story and fallout of a rape in medieval France from multiple perspectives. It’s good but also a tough sit.

February 16, 2022 Add Comment

Under the bookfluence

Call me Influencer.

(just kidding, please don’t)

I don’t use TikTok but I’ve started making Instagram Reels for work and have grown to appreciate the format, however much of a time-suck it can be. There’s lots of creative, funny, and relatable ones out there if you can navigate the ever-changing algorithm.

I figured the easiest way in for me personally was to dash off a few of my strongly held (and correct) assertions about reading and books:

Based on the responses I’ve gotten, if only from friends, they have clearly touched a nerve. There are lots of shame-based reading practices lurking out there, and I’ve now made it my mission to target and destroy them.

I will probably branch off from bookish takes at some point. (Lord knows I have thoughts on movies, libraries, and typewriters at least.) But like my M.O. with this blog, I’ll wait for inspiration to strike.

February 10, 2022 4 Comments

No disclaimers

As a drummer in my college’s jazz program, I once got recruited by one of the jazz guitarists for a paying gig he’d gotten at a local restaurant.

I was interested not just because of the money, which was negligible (not that there is such a thing for broke college kids) but because the idea of being paid to perform with an ad hoc ensemble felt very adult and professional. It was a unique feeling for an introverted 20 year old who was still unsure about his abilities and place among his peers.

The night of the gig, I’m getting situated with the guitarist and bassist, another college-aged recruit whom I’d never met. We’re about to start playing.

I’d drummed publicly many times before: high school jazz band, high school garage band, church services, college jazz ensemble. But this time felt different. Suddenly, the allure of being a very adult professional dissipated and, struck by imposter syndrome, my insecurity leaked out.

I said to the bass player, “You know, I’m not really a gigging musician…”

He gave me a kind of wry smirk. “Nice little disclaimer there,” he replied.

The guitarist counted us in and we were off. I pretty quickly settled in and regained confidence in my abilities and right to be there. The gig went fine, and I certainly appreciated the cash.

This memory has stuck with me years later because it gave me a valuable life lesson:

No disclaimers.

Don’t kneecap yourself before you begin whatever it is you think you can’t possibly do. Even if you suck (which you won’t), just do it and then move on. That’s all you can do.

I deserved the bassist’s smirk. How could I not be a gigging musician when I was seconds away from playing music at a gig?

If you think you aren’t ready, you are. If you think you aren’t good enough, you are.

No disclaimers.

February 6, 2022 2 Comments

Recent Views

More photography here and on my Instagram.

Shoutout to this Ameritech relic on a power box:

Little Mr. Autumn Man:

That golden hour light:

Same garage, different day and view:

More golden hour light and shadows:

Morning breaking in the backyard:

February 1, 2022 Add Comment

Stop reading books you don’t like

In conversations with friends, family, and acquaintances, I’ve repeatedly encountered a few sentiments about reading that drive me absolutely bonkers.

Things like:

I’m not really enjoying it but feel like I have to finish it.

It’s taking me forever to get through this.

I should be reading more educational/informational books instead of this light/fun/enjoyable novel.

By the power vested in me as a professional librarian, I absolve you of your guilt and hereby order you to stop reading books you don’t like.

Stop reading books you don’t like.

Stop reading books you don’t like.

Why?

  1. You don’t owe anyone your time or attention.
  2. The author isn’t going to find out if you didn’t like or finish their book.
  3. You’re not in school anymore. (If you are in school, assigned reading is the obligatory exception to the rule.)
  4. There’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure.
  5. Reading for pleasure isn’t frivolous.
  6. One reader’s trash is another’s treasure.
  7. Life’s too short.

If you’re one of those people who feel like you need permission to do or not do something, you now have it.

Stop reading books you don’t like.

Be free. Now go forth and multiply (your reading).

(See more on reading.)

Update: I got so fired up about this topic that I made my first Instagram Reel about it:

January 27, 2022 7 Comments

Where there’s fire, there’s the genius of Aretha

Magazine mashup of the April 2021 issue of National Geographic. More mashups here.

January 26, 2022 1 Comment

Draw it, erase it

My wife found a kid-sized easel on post-Christmas super sale that’s whiteboard on one side and chalkboard on the other, and so far it’s been Mr. Almost 3’s go-to activity.

Fortuitously, and perhaps relatedly, his drawing skills have evolved just enough to be able to depict some basic body-like shapes and eyes:

Though they look more like ghosts (or amoebas, or maybe potatoes?) than humans, he’s on the right path and I’m impressed all the same.

It’s been fun drawing alongside him, and trying to keep up. I’ve had to relearn a lesson similar to when he was in his building blocks phase as a baby: no matter how proud I am of what I manage to make, it’ll be gone in a minute or two, tops, because he loves erasing as much as drawing.

“Draw it, erase it” is the new “build it up, knock it down”.

January 23, 2022 1 Comment

Favorite Books of 2021

In 2021 I read 31 books. That’s 13 more than my record-low in 2020, so that’s nice.

Regardless, my prime directive as a librarian and reader remains to follow my own reading values. Don’t worry about the quantity. Read serendipitously and at whim. Don’t forget fiction. And heed the Pollanian reading maxim.

With that in mind, here are the books from 2021 that stuck with me.

10. The Great Glorious Goddamn of It All by Josh Ritter

Josh Ritter, creator of one of my favorite albums of all time, dropped his second novel this year and it was quite good. I read the audiobook, which was narrated by Ritter (and probably shouldn’t have been [professional musicians ≠ professional narrators]). But I still enjoyed the narrative voice of the main character, reminiscing about his time in the lumberjack era of early 20th century Idaho.

Choice quote:

Memory comes in to fill the spaces of whatever isn’t there. … Memory has a way of growing things, of improving them. The hardships get harder, the good times get better, and the whole damn arc of a life takes on a mystic glow that only memory can give it.

9. Wonderworks: The 25 Most Powerful Inventions in the History of Literature by Angus Fletcher

I can certainly understand the criticisms of this book, which examines literature through a utilitarian/scientific lens that can come across as reductive. But since books are technology (which Fletcher defines as “any human-made thing that helps to solve a problem”), then it’s perfectly legitimate and even necessary to explore them as such. Examples include the catharsis of Greek tragedies helping to purge fear (while mimicking the benefits of modern EMDR therapy) and riddles activating information-seeking neurons that trigger dopamine hits. The author’s appearance on Brené Brown’s podcast is a good introduction to what you can expect.

Choice quote:

Literature was a narrative-emotional technology that helped our ancestors cope with the psychological challenges posed by human biology. It was an invention for overcoming the doubt and the pain of just being us.

8. The Plot by Jean Hanff Korelitz

This was a late-year read after Malcolm Gladwell raved about it in his newsletter. Figured it was worth a try as I rarely read mysteries or thrillers. Indeed it was fun to go on the ride of a novelist who comes upon another writer’s plot, harnesses it into mega-fame, then deals with the fallout. As with movies, I didn’t try to figure out the ending as I went, so when the twist arrived it felt earned and as if it were there the whole time.

Choice quote:

Once you were in possession of an actual idea, you owed it a debt for having chosen you, and not some other writer, and you paid that debt by getting down to work, not just as a journeyman fabricator of sentences but as an unshrinking artist ready to make painful, time-consuming, even self-flagellating mistakes.

7. The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green

This collection of essays originated as a popular podcast by the author, which “reviews facets of the human-centered planet on a five-star scale.” Topics include “humanity’s temporal range”, Canada geese, Indianapolis, and many other things you didn’t realize could make for viable essays. Green’s earnest, wending style and keen observational approach makes for very pleasant reading.

Choice quote:

All I can say is that sometimes when the world is between day and night, I’m stopped cold by its splendor, and I feel my absurd smallness. You’d think that would be sad, but it isn’t. It only makes me grateful.

6. Bewilderment by Richard Powers

After I gave up on Powers’ massive The Overstory, I was glad for a shorter story to glom onto. This one, set in my hometown of Madison, follows a recently widowed astrobiologist professor struggling to raise his perspicacious but troubled nine-year-old amidst increasing political, professional, and climatological turmoil. How do you look for life in the stars when it’s under threat on earth?

Choice quote:

Life is something we need to stop correcting. My boy was a pocket universe I could never hope to fathom. Every one of us is an experiment, and we don’t even know what the experiment is testing.

5. In the Heights: Finding Home by Lin-Manuel Miranda

For me 2021 was already the Year of Lin-Manuel Miranda due to his music in In the Heights, Vivo, and Encanto, and direction of tick, tick… BOOM! And yet I still managed to sneak in this book documenting the journey of Miranda’s first musical to the stage and screen (now in my top 10 of 2021), complete with Miranda’s characteristically vivacious libretto annotations.

Choice quote:

The rush of the final Usnavi section stays with me always, and my prevailing memory of performing it is the faces in the front row of the Rodgers Theatre: our $20 section, often filled with young people seeing their first musical on Broadway. I lock eyes with them, night after night, and as their eyes fill with tears, so do mine. I’m delivering these words, but I’m also trying to tell them: I’m home, and Usnavi’s home, and in this time you’ve chosen to spend with us, so are you. Welcome home.

4. Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon by Malcolm Gladwell

Available only as an audiobook, this “audio biography” centers around hours of conversations between Simon and Gladwell about the genius musician’s life and career. It’s less a book and more a limited podcast series, which now seems like the only right way to do a music biography. Made me appreciate Simon’s work anew. (Review)

Choice quote:

Taste is the combination of memory and judgment.

3. Paper Trails: The US Post and the Making of the American West by Cameron Blevins

Learned a lot from this history, which is primarily for 19th century American history nerds but is still refreshingly accessible and peppered with illustrative graphs throughout. (Review)

Choice quote:

Despite the popular ‘Wild West’ narrative of self-reliant cowboys and pioneers, the real history of the region is one of big government: public land and national parks, farming subsidies and grazing permits, military bases and defense contracts. Arguably no other part of the United States has been so profoundly shaped by ‘the state’.

2. Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman

An approachably philosophical exploration of the wily, incorrigible thing called time and humanity’s dysfunctional relationship with it. It’s like a self-help book that deconstructs the need for self-help books. (Review)

Choice quote:

If you can hold your attention, however briefly or occasionally, on the sheer astonishingness of being, and on what a small amount of that being you get—you may experience a palpable shift in how it feels to be here, right now, alive in the flow of time.

1. The Memoirs of Stockholm Sven by Nathaniel Ian Miller

I’d never have heard of this one, let alone picked it up and read it, if it weren’t for a tip from my mother-in-law. This fictional cradle-to-grave memoir follows the misadventures of a caustic early-20th-century Swedish man who, disfigured in a mining accident, retreats to an Arctic archipelago for a self-imposed exile, only to almost accidentally collect a motley crew of friends (human and canine) and reconnect with family in surprising ways. Miller’s exceptionally crafted narrative voice and eye for harsh natural beauty made this a rewarding read.

Choice quote:

For now, take stock of yourself. This is the chance you waxed about so long ago. Listen for the voice that speaks when all others go silent. Be alone—be entirely alone. I am not saying you will find anything of worth there—certainly no cosmic truth—but maybe you will begin to feel as pared down, efficient and clean as a freshly whittled stick.

Non-2021 books I read this year and loved:

January 13, 2022 1 Comment

Favorite Films of 2021


In 2021 I only saw three movies in theaters, which is two more than I saw in 2020. A personal historic low, it probably goes without saying. But ultimately I’m just grateful to be able to watch great movies, whether at the theater, on a streaming service, or with a library Blu-ray.

To that end, here are the 2021 movies that stuck with me.

10. Shiva Baby

This indie comedy had me cringing but also grinning at its fairly astounding tonal tightrope act, which follows a sardonic young Jewish woman navigating family, friends, and lovers during a shiva. Such a singular, confident debut from 26-year-old (!) filmmaker Emma Seligman.

9. C’mon C’mon

I was split on Mike Mills’s last two features: 2017’s 20th Century Women was as middling as 2010’s Beginners was marvelous. This feels like a return to form, with Joaquin Phoenix as a radio journalist caring for his estranged sister’s nine-year-old son during her absence. It’s a closely observed, touching, and tumultuous portrait of surrogate parenting, and echoes this line from the Richard Powers novel Bewilderment: “Nine is the age of great turning. Maybe humanity was a nine-year-old, not yet grown up, not a little kid anymore. Seemingly in control, but always on the verge of rage.”

8. Pig

Yet another self-assured directorial debut, this one from Michael Sarnoski about a reclusive former chef (Nicholas Cage) who embarks on an illuminating quest to recover his abducted truffle-hunting pig. It’s become pat to laud Cage for the roles in which he really Gets Serious (in contrast to the Go Crazy ones), but it’s nevertheless refreshing when he does tap into his innate performative greatness. And he does here to a quietly magnificent level.

7. In the Heights

With all due respect to Spielberg’s West Side Story, this was the superior NYC-set movie musical of 2021. Better songs, far better talent and chemistry among the leads, and a better overall story that nods to tradition while dancing to its own beats. The mark of a good musical: whenever I listened to the soundtrack (which was often), the songs would earworm me for days. Also recommend In the Heights: Finding Home, the book by Lin-Manuel Miranda and his collaborators about bringing the stage and film versions to life.

6. Passing

This directorial debut from actress Rebecca Hall kinda knocked me out. Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson star as two African American women and reacquainted friends in 1920s New York City, one of whom is “passing” as white. Facade cracks of many kinds abound, and the film uses the fullest of its rather short runtime and black-and-white cinematography to pack a dizzying amount of portent through them.

5. The Green Knight

I went into this wholly ignorant of the source material but was eventually won over by the haunting filmmaking (by David Lowery, whose A Ghost Story was one of my favorites of 2017) and mesmerizing performances—specifically Dev Patel, whom I hadn’t seen since Slumdog Millionaire (meh). Ultimately it was the film’s perfect ending (maybe the best of the year?) that transformed a pretty good experience into something I knew I’d have to revisit.

4. Dune

Similar to The Green Knight, I went into this as a complete Dune newbie and emerged a fan, both of the world the film created and how Denis Villenueve went about it. Compared to Villenueve’s previous film Blade Runner 2049, which was pretty but alienating, Dune is gorgeous (in a deadly way) and mesmerizing—so much so I had to watch it twice in pretty quick succession. Not sure I’ll actually dive into the novels though.

3. Procession

This Netflix documentary features a group of men who were molested by Catholic priests as boys using drama therapy as a way to overcome their long-festering trauma, by making (non-graphic) short films dramatizing their experiences. Despite (or maybe because of) the heavy subject matter, it’s a really beautiful portrait of a brotherhood formed by shared anguish as these men help each other get through their emotional journeys together.

2. The Rescue

An extraordinary documentary from National Geographic (available on Disney+) about the 2018 Thailand cave rescue, which I remember happening at the time but hitherto knew very little about. Combining arresting firsthand footage with talking heads by the amateur British/Australian cave divers recruited for the job, the filmmakers expertly show how the massive operation’s inspiring cross-cultural cooperation and logistical creativity led to a near-impossible outcome. (I mean, just read the details of the actual rescue for a taste of how preposterous it was.) It felt a little like Arrival meets My Octopus Teacher—two other top-10 films for 2016 and 2020 respectively. Other dramatized versions of the story are coming, but be sure to watch this.

1. The Beatles: Get Back

This nearly 8-hour documentary from Peter Jackson telling the story of the Beatles’ January 1969 recording sessions spoke to me on many levels. As a former drummer in a rock band, I recognized the tedium, tension, and creative thrills that hours upon hours in the studio can engender. As someone interested in the creative process, I relished watching even certified geniuses inch their way from nothing to serenading London from a rooftop in less than a month. And as a huge Beatles fan, I treasured being able to spend so much quality time with the lads from Liverpool as they worked through a difficult period together. This film feels like a miracle, and I’m glad to have witnessed it. (Watched on Disney+, which is the wrong fit for this project. Even if it introduces a younger audience to The Beatles, the long runtime will put off just as many potential fans.)

Honorable mentions:

  • Licorice Pizza
  • Listening to Kenny G
  • A Quiet Place Part II
  • Bo Burnham: Inside
  • The Harder They Fall
  • Spider-Man: No Way Home
  • The Lost Daughter
  • CODA

Haven’t seen yet:

  • Red Rocket
  • A Hero
  • The Tragedy of Macbeth
  • Summer of Soul
  • The Disciple

Non-2021 movies I watched and liked:

  • Klaus
  • Witness for the Prosecution
  • Crimson Tide
  • Showbiz Kids
  • Thief
  • Run
  • Palm Springs
  • Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President

January 9, 2022 1 Comment

2021 in review

See previous year in review posts.

My view from the end of all things 2021:

With the day off from work, I spent the morning traipsing around our snowy yard with Little Man. He introduced me to his snowman (above), we threw snowballs at trees, and rolled down the small hill in our backyard. Lots more snow is on the way, apparently, so we’ll be out there shoveling again soon to welcome the new year.

I don’t have an overarching thesis of my 2021. In most ways it was just like last year: COVID, living with a rambunctious and hilarious toddler, and doing the little things of living every day. Sometimes that’s all you can and should do: shovel snow when you have to, and roll down a hill when you can.

A few highlights:

December 31, 2021 Add Comment

Revolver Soul

My Better The Beatles series rolls on with the ultimate selection of the best from Rubber Soul and Revolver. I ended up with a clean eight from each, combined here into Revolver Soul:

  1. Good Day Sunshine
  2. Taxman
  3. Drive My Car
  4. Eleanor Rigby
  5. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)
  6. Yellow Submarine
  7. Michelle
  8. You Won’t See Me
  9. Here, There And Everywhere
  10. I’m Only Sleeping
  11. Nowhere Man
  12. Girl
  13. I’m Looking Through You
  14. In My Life
  15. For No One
  16. And Your Bird Can Sing ​​

That’s right, the song one listicle ranked as the very worst Beatles song (not going to link to it because it’s ipso facto garbage due to that ranking) is now at the head of the line, despite “Taxman” being one of the best first tracks ever.

The departed from Rubber Soul: “The Word”, “Think For Yourself”, “If I Needed Someone”, “What Goes On”, “Wait”, and “Run For Your Life”. Not sad about these.

The departed from Revolver: “Love You To”, “She Said She Said”, “I Want To Tell You”, “Doctor Robert”, “Got To Get You Into My Life”, and “Tomorrow Never Knows”. Sorry to get rid of both Harrison joints, but I’m just not into the sitar.

You’re welcome.

December 28, 2021 Add Comment