Posts Tagged ‘positive’

The Fallacy of Fruit

Certainly you’ve heard the expression about comparing apples to apples, and perhaps also the one about comparing them ineffectually to oranges. What I have to share instead is a fruit-based illustration involving a completely different citrus altogether.
Let me explain…

 

My family and I were hypothetically standing around in an open field, discussing our upcoming theoretic existence together…a metaphysical plain of sorts. It was a bright and sunny day and fairly early on in things, as I recall. We had a lovely time being with each other but had come to a lull in our conversation because we were at a bit of a loss as to what should come next. It was at that point we were joined by another who looked every bit the part of one that might have the answers – quite possibly all of them – but not likely to share.  The newcomer to our group appeared to have news.

 

     “Hi there!”
     “That’s Life,” one of the more knowledgeable of us said to the rest of the group.
     “Say, I’m just going around providing a bundle of some basic things for folks out here and I have some other stuff with me that I’m going to just give away,” Life announced casually while reaching out to hand us something. “I’ve got a whole bunch of these,” Life continued, “and you were all just hanging out right here, so…here ya go!”

I looked down at what was in my hands. A small pile of Lemons.

     “What are we supposed to do with these?” said one. His query came quickly but was far too late; Life had already moved on. Some other souls in different parts of the field were even now looking into their hands, wondering what to make of their own existential handout.
We looked around at each other, holding our little piles of yellow and befuddlement, wondering what were possibly supposed to do.
Clearly they were meant as a gift, but what kind of a gift are Lemons?
Most of us were thinking much the same thing;  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t really want to have Lemons, ever.”  That sentiment played on mentally for some time before anyone spoke.
     “I bet we could probably pass them off to somebody,” some body said.
     “We should try to figure out what to do with them. We are kinda stuck with them…” I said to everyone, and no one in particular.
     Others said, “Screw that! I don’t want Lemons, I want Apples!”Apples and Lemons by Ellipsis-Imagery on Flickr
     “I do too!” I replied. “That would be very nice, but we don’t have any, so we’ll need to make the best of it. You do have Lemons right there in your hands!”
     “No. I don’t think so.  I want Apples and I’m going to go get some. I think I see an Apple tree way down in that valley. You coming with?”
     “I really don’t think that’s an Apple tree.   What if you get out there and it’s just a small Oak?”
     “Well, then we will have Acorns. We’re going!” they said, dropping a few of their Lemons on the ground, but somewhat incongruously keeping the rest.

 

I watched them stride away towards the indeterminate speck of a tree while others stayed with me.  I spent some time looking over my Lemons.  None of the citrus were in great shape.  They were small, a little soft, and a couple appeared to have bruises.  I was still pondering my situation when I noticed a big chunk of the remaining souls had wandered off aimlessly, practically tripping over Lemons spilled all over the ground. They appeared to be quite optically bothered. They were sniffling and mumbling to themselves incoherently, but they could barely be heard over their petulance.
No time to worry about them.
The others who kept their Lemons were already trying to find a way to relieve them of their tart juices.  I watched for a while to evaluate their process, but didn’t really learn a great deal.  There wasn’t much of a process. Just smash the things and collect the juice.  Before I knew it, there were other people coming by to offer suggestions, and containers full of the stuff were everywhere in no time at all. They were madly mixing and shaking and stirring, and spilling a little here or there. It all seemed quite promising, but it looked like that method was pretty well covered.  There had to be a better way.

 

Going off on my own a ways, I put my Lemons in a little pile and sat there evaluating them and the most precise way to create something worthwhile. I was setting my mind to extracting the most glorious possible thing that could come from this sour pile.  Who knows how much time passed, but after several promising, albeit ultimately faulty ideas, I finally had a plan, and it was a good one.   I kept to myself, took my time and very carefully manipulated the fruit, using only the most precise tools I could locate. I kept my focus on the task in front of me. I was very careful to not spill a drop as I collected flawless, pulp-free juice in crystal carafes.  After painstakingly collecting, I experimented with the extract to create the most perfect Lemonade possible.  It was far from easy, but in time, I had a stunning nectar with the perfect balance of sweet versus tart, a hint of blackberry essence, a whiff of fresh mint and perfect wedge of Lemon on the frosted glass with just a sprinkle of coarse sugar.  I was so proud and couldn’t wait to share my creation with any soul that I came across.

 

When I looked up from my creations, so much had changed. Everything was very different.
On one side, I saw a large industrial warehouse bustling with activity.  People were serving customers and stacking crates. Trucks were loaded and unloaded and new ones were arriving every few minutes.  A huge sign along the path to the warehouse advertised Lemon flavored drink mix and Lemon juice by the barrel.
To the other side I saw a massive orchard covering the whole valley, with a stream of people coming and going, picking Apples, making Applesauce and happily eating fresh Apple pie.

 

I watched for a while, marveling at the industries that were sprouting in the field around me, but I started to feel like I was missing out. I had this beautiful drink that I created and I was sure people would love it, but instead, they were flocking everywhere except to where I was.  Standing there with my pretty Lemonade in my hand, I wondered  why I hadn’t done something different with my Lemons or hunted down Apples when I had the chance.  I didn’t understand where I could have missed these other, clearly superior, options.  Who knows how much time passed as I pondered the people, the paths, the future and the fruit.  Well after the “right” time, I looked down at the drink in my hand and I made a decision.  The weather had changed by the time this decision came, but it arrived nonetheless.

 

*   *   *

 

The air is cold and the rain is losing its fight against the snow.  This precipitation battle doesn’t deter the delivery trucks on one side, or the steady stream of people on the other.  The smell of spices and crackling wood is wafting now from the direction of the Apples…hot cider still brings a crowd!  Cinching my scarf up tight, I pull my hat down a little further and hunker down by my own little fire.  It’s too late to change events; it isn’t a season for Lemonade now. When was the last time you saw a Lemonade stand at Christmas?  What they want is something inviting, something comforting, something cozy. I watch the crowds of people scurry by on their way to the welcoming promise of warm pie and cider, the vision of happiness practically projecting over their heads in a soft haloic gleam.   I put my feet up to warm by the fire and I bash my straw against the minty crust of ice forming on the top of my drink every few minutes.   Now and then I take slow careful sips of my Lemony liquid, savoring the complex flavor as it melts.

Watching…
Waiting patiently…
…for summer to finally return.

Movie Review: The Artist

The Artist

The ArtistI have to admit that quite a few people may not like The Artist (2011), and that’s really too bad.

This is a movie that has a number of issues that conspire to keep it out of the year’s “most popular” lists.  It’s first “problem” is that it is black and white.  Who wants to see a black and white movie these days?  It just feels so…old!  The next issue, no one in the States knows the lead actor or actress. Sure, there are some recognizable faces in the cast, but where is the star power?  But, perhaps its biggest issue is this: it is a silent film. Say what!? That’s right, a silent movie! Most movie-goers will be shrugging at the concept and instead plunking down their cash (more likely, their credit card) to see a big time action movie, with big time stars, than to see this film. It almost seems like a tragedy to me because I loved this movie. So much so that I thought I would break my self-imposed embargo on writing film reviews to come up with some words to describe just how much it impressed me.

I really did love everything about this film.  So many times I see movies and it’s fairly easy to nit-pick about things that I think should be changed or improved somehow, less of _this_ and more of _that_, a better way to tell the story, a better choice of actors.  Although it usually doesn’t prevent me from enjoying movies, it is a fun exercise to dream up ways to tweak things, even in great movies, just to make it better. With The Artist, I wouldn’t change a thing.

The film is not a parody, and neither is it an insolent exercise in snobbish self-importance.  It is a loving homage to the history of cinema told in the wrapper of a charming story that stands on it’s own beyond it’s tribute.  The arc of the story is familiar, as is the story’s setting of a silent film star (played by Jean Dujardin) at his peak of popularity in 1927, but perched on the verge of irrelevance in the emerging era of “talkies”. The way the director (Michel Hazanavicius) shares this familiar story, however, feels fresh and original.  He deftly uses the quintessential old-school Hollywood style, shots and techniques as tools to tell the story and not as a gimmick for laughs.  At the same time, this isn’t a film that takes itself too seriously…it is presented with a wink to the audience as if to say “Yeah I know! Isn’t this fun?”.

The Artist IS fun.  It is a lighthearted comedy that occasionally pricks your heart with a sharp pin. There are a great many laughs, but it is one of those stories where you find yourself a bit surprised at how much you connected…you really feel for the characters. Everything about this film makes you feel like you are watching a film made in the glory days of early cinema.  Even the sparse dialogue cards in the film fit right in with the overall mood, although most of the time, the cards are only required to drive home a specific point.  From start to finish this movie entertains smartly, and never treats the audience as if they need their hand held or the actions explained.  The filmmakers understand very well how the images on the screen communicate to the audience.

With an incredible eye for the beauty of black and white, the scenes are staged in a way that can only be described as art. A few scenes really stand out for their beauty, but at almost any moment you could stop the film and it would be a frame-able photo or poster. The rest of the cast are perfectly chosen (including: Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell and Penelope Ann Miller) and I would have a difficult time imagining others in their roles. Even the music throughout the film is used in a way that compliments the film rather than telling the audience what to feel, by itself a rare accomplishment these days. It is not as easy as it sounds to have all these elements work together to create a mood or a moment in a film, yet throughout,  The Artist makes it seem like the work was effortless.

It is fairly certain that if you are not already interested in seeing this film, my words will do no more than vanish into the morass of critique and commentary that plagues the Internet and numbs brains worldwide.

And that’s OK.

In a way this is just a very wordy “Like” button to acknowledge the creativity of a great film, and a simple wish that it gets the armloads of Oscar nominations and other accolades that it deserves.

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