"2005"

By now you know I love movies, but the fact is, I’m equally passionate about music. My taste runs to the more modern forms tied to this country’s rich history: jazz, rock, rhythm and blues, and of course, those evergreen standards from the Great American Songbook, interpreted by giants like Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Ella Fitzgerald.

As this stay-at-home period persists, I am increasingly grateful to be somewhere where I can get out and walk. Even so, cabin fever is very real. I feel it in my bones.

It seems that many Americans of all ages are willing to forego even outstanding movies that just happen to be made in a different language. Obviously the reasons for this go beyond patriotism, so I went online to check out a few blogs on the subject. I found some choice comments:

Some say the term “movie star” is outmoded, since studios don’t make as many movies or build up their acting talent as they once did. But I think the term still applies to George Clooney, who’s very much with us as he nears retirement age (63) this month. But don’t expect him to slow down.

At age 83, Anthony Hopkins became the oldest person ever to win a Best Actor Oscar, for his astonishing portrayal of a proud man struggling with dementia in “The Father” (2020).

As the weather warms, in our house the Brazilian tracks start playing, mainly those glorious sixties samba tunes from Antonio Carlos Jobim, Joao Gilberto, Stan Getz, and so many others. The music is sexy, sad, and impossibly romantic, like the country itself.

After the particularly painful song of ice and snow that was Winter 2013-14, I’m happy to say that the robin in yonder dell is finally chirping “Spring! Spring! Spring!” Yes, the world is puddle-wonderful again and that means that, like any other hibernating animal, I feel an urge to shake off the cold, stretch my legs, and participate in some old-fashioned migration. So windows are rolled down, sleeves are rolled up – it’s time for a good long drive to greener horizons, or most anywhere from here. I raise my face to the sun, and movie fanatic that I am, hear Groucho’s voice ringing in my ears: “Sing ho! For the open highway! Sing ho! For the open road!” (Anyone remember the movie?) Or maybe the strains of Bob Hope – “We’re off on the Road to Morocco!” (Bob – it’s better off-season.)