G and I watched the movie Jayne Mansfield’s Car last night. He wasn’t impressed, but I actually liked it. Of course, I’m more of an Indie Film kind of girl.
The movie is about a dysfunctional southern family (who just so happen to live in Georgia) forced to meet the English family that their matriarch abandoned them for, as a result of her untimely death. The English family is honoring her wish to be buried with “her people.”
The cast is stellar, and the characters they play are larger than life: Billie Bob Thornton (who also directs) is a 50-year-old who still lives at home with his father, his brother and his brother’s family, Robert Duvall is a father obsessed with car wrecks, Kevin Bacon is a hippie who has never gotten over the fact that his father never responded to the soul-baring letter he sent him from Viet Nam.
I related to the characters on so many different levels: as a southerner, as a member of a dysfunctional family, as a free spirit who needed more than my first husband could offer. But what really struck me was how the characters managed to maintain their façade of southern hospitality while at the same time struggling desperately with their own internal issues. To put it bluntly, they were all really f***ed up. It made me laugh to think that southerners (me included) can come across as so sweet and nice and normal, when we are all probably just as f***ed up as the characters in the movie!
On an entirely different note, G is making dinner tonight:
He’s marinating swordfish in white wine, lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, habañero peppers, bay leaf, sea salt and cracked pepper. Then he’s going to grill it. I am absolutely weak with anticipation! He’s also going to make his fabulous mushroom risotto with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
I sure am a lucky gal.