Love Actually

So the review for today is one of my absolutely favorite holiday films, the 2003 romantic comedy “Love Actually”

Please remember that this is one of my favorite movies and I will watch it any chance I get. I say this because I have some rather harsh things to say about the movie.

It was with a touch of a hangover and a lack of rest that I dug out the DVD and threw it in the night after Christmas. The wife was half snoozing on the couch the boys were goofing off as they are prone to do and I was cleaning the kitchen. She immediately picked up a book. I wondered how she could not like the movie. I asked her and she just said she didn’t like it. She wouldn’t go into it much further. Sitting down to watch it finally with her and the boys asleep, I think I understand why.

A few years ago as our relationship was “under review,” shall we say, she pointed out that all of my heros, Cary Grant, Thomas Jefferson, etc. were in fact Misogynists. It was with this in mind that I watched this touchingly sweet tale of modern love. It took about 30 minutes for me to realize that this movie is in fact, a misogynist view of love. A love story created for men.

First, the movie consists of many different interrelated tales of love. Each one touching in its own way, however telling several stories at once appeals to a man’s greatly reduced attention span. It also prevents us from looking too deeply into the background, motivations, or emotions of any single relationship. We are able to look at only the “love” aspect of each relationship.

Let us begin with my favorite story line, Liam Neeson and his step son’s quest to win the heart of the boy’s crush. The man and boy find themselves coping with life without the motherly influence after the touching funeral of the man’s wife and boy’s mother. It is determined that winning the woman’s love can be accomplished through learning the drums in an attempt to get close to her. It does of course work out wonderfully to the point that his performance even puts Liam in a position to bump into the lovely Claudia Shiffer.

A second love story revolves around Colin Firth’s escape from home following his wife’s adulterous affair with his brother. Colin runs off to the south of France where he quickly falls madly in love with a much younger female servant with whom he cannot even speak with because of a language barrier. It’s terribly sweet when he flies off to propose to her in broken Portuguese, but then what man does not dream of a beautiful, young, mute bride.

The story that my wife identifies with is that of Emma Thompson and her adulterous husband Alan Rickman. They are the older married couple and while she is at home making costumes for the children’s Christmas play, he is out buying Jewelry for his wonderfully evil and not as hot as she wants to be administrative assistant. Of course, when I watch the movie I believe the infidelity is suggested but he resists, thus his confession “I am a bloody fool.” We also are twice shown her alone in her room, cherishing her bauble and not being presented the necklace in flagrante delicto.

Other subplots involve the man with a delicious infatuation with his best friends wife that when admitted garners him the all to biter sweet kiss; the young and always offensive English boy who runs off to America to be wooed by not less than three gorgeous and not all that intelligent American birds; and of course, the dashing and single Prime Minister who sets state policy based on his love for the much younger staff member. I wonder how often Bill Clinton watches this movie around the holidays.

So, it was with a much greater understanding of love that I watched this movie late, late Friday night. It was still touching, all the way down to the ridiculous story of brotherly love between Bill Nighy and his manager, the ugliest man on earth. I still love this movie. I will still watch it every Christmas and without fail will almost tear up during the funeral scene, and will find myself unable not to smile during the final homecoming scene in Heathrow. I will not however put it on while the wife is awake.

So to men everywhere, I say, go get yourself a copy of this movie and watch it late at night, hung over, with a tall bourbon close by.

Salty Senorita

It's that time ladies and gentlemen. It is Novemeber in the valley and the patio is open.

As you go through the rest of your day, I warn you from spending too long thinking how outright perfect the weather is for sitting on a patio with a cold beer or margarita watching the clouds go by.

Phoenix is full of spectacular patios. Some with splendid views of the mountains, some with spelendid views of the, er... well, you know.

There are Several Salty's around town. Each with its own particular flavor but all offer the same essentials.

1. reasonably priced beers. (mexican imports and domestics)
2. attractive female patrons. (youngest in Tempe, hotest in old town, easiest on the west side)
3. endless chips and salsa. (cough up the 2 bucks)
4. acceptable house Margarita (There are better in Phoenix but over all, a fine drink)

The food has changed a couple times this year and although I am not a fan and wouldnt go there for the food alone, it is allright when you have had a couple and decide you should probably eat something. I do not think you can call Salty's a Mexican restaurant without insulting Mexican restaurants from Santa Barbara to Brownsville but if you are interested in a quick nosh, i suggest the taquitos. Servings are smallish and pricey, but like I said, you are not here for the food.

So the next time the gang from work is kicking aroud where to go, and its November, and the weather is perfect, and you have an itching for a little lime and tequila... I highly suggest the Salty Senorita.

Tomorrow we will talk real Mexican Food.

True Blood

A bright spot in what has prooved to be a rather dismal television season, this tale of a world where Vampires have been let out of their coffins by the introducton of synthetic blood has prooven to be consistently compelling, suspensefull, witty, and as with any good vampire story, terribly sexy.

Following the life of young Sookie Stackhouse True Blood reveals a rural Louisiana populated by a charming and suprisingly attractive group of young waitresses, road workers, cajuns, vapires, shape shifters, demons, voodoo priestesses, yankee hippies, and of course, a good old boy sheriff. If there is a downside to this wonderful little escapist romp, it is the accurate portrayal of the vivacious twenty-something Sookie, a simple Southern gal with the power to read minds. As a mature viewer (ouch) I suppose I am bound to be frustrated by the moody, tempermental, selfishness of an under 30 heroine. Happily, she is counteracted by the unrelenting charm of her man-slut brother and her troubled best friend.

The vampires are a wonderfully eclectic bunch. Vampire Bill, Sookies love interest and the first man shes ever met whose impure thoughts regarding her ripe young boosom are not readilly accessable to her sixth sense, is a troubled soul, plagued with guilt over her immortal blood lust. Much like Louis of the Anne Rice Vampire tales without the overly homosexual flair. Even more interesting have been the other creatures of the night that have come wandering into the story along the way. It is hard not to go into each episode hoping for less Sookie and more Vampires.

Engaging and suprising throughout, the series worked itself up Sunday to leave us pondering what new directions they will take us as we look forward to the last hour of a now painfully short 12 episode run. Cursed HBO! Just when we had gotten over the Sopranos and were free to wonder if we could save ourself 15 bucks a month, they do it to us again, pulling us into a strange world, too close to our own not to be seduced by the what-if it supposes.

Four Peaks

Ah, the Brewpub. A fad in the late nignties, there are still a few of them kicking around, the foremost of which in the Valley is Four Peaks. With a location in north Scottsdale a staple of the office happy hour crowd and one in Tempe serving a mixture of working whitecollar folks and college students, these fine establishments serve a mixture of acceptable micro brews of their own mixing and a nice, if overly high end menu of typical Bar food.

An acceptable burger is a mainstay but with this menu its best to branch out. A cheesesteak that is a bit of the frufy side wont bring back immages of Rocky running the streets of Philly but it will delight the tastebuds and fill the belly. Nachos are tasty, Chicken fingers are exceptional.

The wait staff is friendly, fit, and fun, if possibly a bit on the younger side. The hostess one day didnt know that the Cardinals came to us via St Louis. Where were these girls fathers?

The beers are fine microbrews if that is your thing. I suggest the Raj. If you are looking for something more predicatble, the 8th street is nice. If you are a Guiness Drinker they are going to push you towards the Oatmeal Stout and you are going to be disappointed. But you should be because Guiness is motoroil to begin with.

Myself, I would opt for a more traditional bar with a better selection of Domestic Drafts and better Happy Hour pricing but to each his own.

If you fancy yourself a beer snob, Four Peaks is the place for you.

Skeptical Chymist

Bar food is a fickle master. Certainly, there is something to be said for simple American fare made from high quality ingredients and served hot and fresh by a friendly beer wench with a smile and a wiggle.

That said, so often today, the standard menu of cheeseburgers, chicken sandwiches and cheese steaks is abused. The cheese steaks are poor and the burgers bland. With that in mind, one is prone to venture out to one of the higher classes of pub/grill establishements. Skeptical Chymist in North Scottsdale is one of these offering a bit of Irish flavor to tempt the odd fellow in search of beef and beer.

I have yet to see the aged Irish ex-pat responsible for this fine eatery. In fact, I have come to grow suspicious of the somewhat Disney appearance of the decor. Perhaps they tried just a bit too hard. The menu is a lively mix of Irish sounding dishes and the typical American staples. The servers are by and large female and attractive and for the most part friendly, but I digress.

The ruben, as should be expected is traditional and served with a large portion of thick cut fresh corned beef. Possibly a little dry, I would ask for Mayo or extra dressing. The fish and chips are served American style with smaller portions of breaded something or other or more traditionally, as large slab of half a fish in a nice beer batter breading. The stew sounds promising but we were warned away from it by the staff. go figure?

The highlight of the menu is the Belfast Burger. A large patty of quality ground beef cooked to order. Yes, you can get it pink and warm in the middle. Topping this burger is the magic. Grilled onions peppers and shrooms dripping with cheese. A large tasty bun, and a giant onion ring. It is truly a mouth watering delight and when served with an icey Carlburg Lager is sure to leave any Irishman worth his clover feeling sated and happy. A second Carlburg and a Car Bomb later and you will be ready to dance a jig with the lovely little brunette behind the bar aptly named Kelly.

The late night crowd is a disappointingly young group of college aged rugby wannabe's and their not so cute dates but lunch time is a pleasure and Happy Hour on the patio is a treat. Most of the TV's are wasted showing soccer matches off the satelite dish but I suppose it adds to the flavor of this very cute, satisfying, mental vacation to Irie.

all new, again

So, I used to blog a lot. Had a little diary I updated regularly. I loved it, and it was a disaster.

I’m starting again. We’ll see where it goes or if its any good.

I ate too large a lunch today. It was only a burger and fries but I had a margarita too. I think the saltiness of it all is what did me in. I didn’t start the day overly motivated and this little dining experience has pretty much done me in.