O Brother!

You wouldn't expect a movie set in the American south during the years of the Great Depression to be funny. It turns out that it can be done, and done well. O Brother, Where Art Thou? by The Coen Brothers is the movie that portrays the financially depressed, emotionally broke, socially racist Southern USA with humor. The adventures of Everett, Delmar, and Pete—George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and John Turturro respectively—and an assortment of supporting characters (played magnificently by Holly Hunter, John Goodman, and many others) provide a surprisingly good time from beginning to end.

Everett, Delmar, and Pete are buddies, mostly by the unusual circumstance that they are linked together in a prison chain gang. Together they make their escape. Together they flee. And after breaking their shackles, together they seek the treasure that Everett has made their quest. And although Delmar's soul is cleansed and he is no longer a sinner; Pete is captured, whipped, and reveals the trio's plan; and the “treasure” is only Everett's wife's wedding ring left in their abandoned family cabin located in a valley scheduled to be flooded, the three men remain constantly committed to their quest.

Because the movie loosely mimics Odysseus's (aka Ulysses's) trip in Homer's Odyssey—Everett's first name is actually Ulysses!—our triad's escape from the chain gang is only the beginning of an epic voyage, both physical (across long distances) and mental (coming to major realizations about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness). They meet people and have experiences similar to Ulysses' ten-year return home after the ten-years-long Trojan war, though they take far fewer than ten years. They are influenced by a blind seer, tempted by three sirens laundering at a river side, and threatened by a cyclops. They get driven off course, captured, and forced to backtrack. They suffer abuse and get help. Still, they reach their goal, and Everett reunites with his wife Penny (Get it? Penny!) and their children after fighting off her suitor.

Historical figures, real events, and the actualities of life of the Depression-Era South impact the shenanigans that the three fugitives witness, suffer, get into, and perpetrate. Farmers lose their land, money, and homes; banks are robbed; inhabited land is flooded; confidence men work their wickedness; and deals are made with the Devil. Politicians and kin lie and betray. And a boy band makes it big. Every bit of it is laughable, as only the Coens can make it, even the potentially charged scene of a KKK ceremony with a planned lynching and all. (It's successfully thwarted by our bumbling fugitives.)

As you can probably guess, any movie with the scope of an epic journey, offers a plethora of “little wisdoms.” A lot happens in O Brother, Where Art Thou? and a lot is said, so there is a lot to incorporate into everyday life. Look forward to many posts about lessons from this comedy!

Making Deals

My husband and I have a long tradition of making deals. I walk the dogs in the morning; he walks them in the evening. I cook dinner; he cleans the kitchen. I rake the leaves; he bags them. You get the idea.

A few weeks ago, after a reminder from a friend, we watched Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981). I cannot recall the last time I watched any of the Indiana Jones movies. Before this, we hadn't watched those movies in ages, even though the set of them is tucked into a cabinet with our other movies—between I'm Gonna Get You Sucka and Ironman, both of which we have watched in at least the last twelve months. (The Indy movies did get some play during a recent visit from my mother, though.) And so...

What a fun movie! It was great to rediscover this gem of the action adventure genre. I had forgotten a lot of the details about this story, the acting, and the cinematography. While we watched, I repeatedly thought, “Oh, yeah, this part!”

And then it happened. Just a few minutes into the movie. “Throw me the idol,” Indy says. My husband begins to laugh. And then, there it is: “Throw me the idol; I throw you the whip!”

In an instant, this became another “movie for life.”

Well, you can imagine all the uses for this! It may not work for international diplomacy. But it does well in our regular household.

Need to trade grocery shopping for dinner cooking? “Throw me the idol; I throw you the whip!”

Want to swap breakfast with the kids for reading them a bedtime story? “Throw me the idol; I throw you the whip!”

Would rather fix the plumbing than clean the gutters? “Throw me the idol; I throw you the whip!”

These little sentences are like a secret password. Give them a try. You'll be bartering and trading like a pro in no time at all.

Back to The Edge, for a minute

We don't call these "movies for life," for no reason. As Jess and I have said more than once, what gave us the idea to write about "our" films was--not that either of us harbored a secret desire to be a movie critic, but--that lines and scenes from these movies pop aphoristically onto the screen of our inner consciousness, just when we need them. Our favorites have become our friends, and they speak to us (exhort, admonish, caution, rave, celebrate, chastise) as resoundingly as does any other member of our support group. It's a bit like having an entire conversation made up of Willie Nelson song lyrics (something I heard on KUT, day before yesterday: Willie's birthday): yeah; like that!

So, even though I'm currently writing about another movie, I'm having an Edge moment, and I think I'll write about that, instead.

Here's the back story. I set goals for myself, goals and limits: milestones and budgets. As a freelance writer and editor, there's a lot riding on my abiding by the rules I set for myself after much careful thought and planning. This morning, I took a look in the coffers, and one of them is not where it should be. What was my extravagance? Gasoline and auto repairs; a squirrel unexpectedly built a nest in my engine, doing hundreds of dollars of damage. Also, I bought a shirt, and a whole mess of glass canisters so as to take back my pantry from fruit flies. It's not that I can't afford these things; it's that I think about where every penny goes, these days, and on my current budget, if I have to spend this money, it has to come from somewhere else, like entertainment. Dave Ramsey says this is a good habit to get into, and I have developed it.

Anyway, now I am faced with a dilemma: do I cut out some of my precious Hill Country trips in May and June? or do I raid my burgeoning savings account, which is burgeoning precisely because I do not raid it? Washing the dishes, the answer comes to me: stick close to home, spend less on gas, do X instead of Y, since X is just as interesting, and Y is 577 miles farther away. (Okay, Y is the trip to El Paso to see old friends, in case you're wondering.)

Done. And I think, suddenly: because we have the six matches left, and that's--all we'll need.

Who's this? Ah! This is Charles Morse telling Bob, after they've hiked all day in a great big circle and ended up back at their dead campsite from the day before, 'We're going to make it! Why? Because we have six matches. Enough for six campfires.'

As long as no squirrel builds a nest in--well, you get the point.

Trink has a full day of work ahead of her, she is happy to report.