Photo Courtesy © Buena Vista Pictures

Dan in Real Life

Directed by: Peter Hedges

Written by: Pierce Gardner and Peter Hedges

Starring: Steve Carell, Juliette Binoche, Dane Cook, Norbert Leo Butz, Dianne Wiest, John Mahoney, Emily Blunt.

I have long been in love with Juliette Binoche. From the moment that I first saw her as Hannah in my beloved English Patient, I knew that I would follow that beautiful face with its sad, tender eyes anywhere. In high school, after my brother showed me Kieslowski’s Bleu for the very first time, I ran out and cut my hair exactly the same way that she wore it in the film. (I sadly remember taking the cover of the film’s soundtrack to the salon and telling the hairdresser, “Make me look like her.”) To this day, my haircuts tend to be variations on this same style, my unconscious homage of sorts to the French actress.

Like many actors who become exceedingly brilliant at playing one particular kind of character, Binoche is known mostly for her dramatic, borderline tragic roles. I have to admit that even though I have seen her in lighter romantic comedies such as Jet Lag and A Couch in New York, these are never the films that automatically come to mind when I think of her. Instead, there’s Michéle in Lovers on the Bridge, Tereza in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Julie in the Colors Trilogy, Alice in Alice et Martin and Pauline in The Widow of Saint-Pierre—all characters who share one thing in common: intense, gut-wrenching suffering.

As a result of her tendency towards the heartbreaking, I grew accustomed over the years to never seeing Binoche smile let alone laugh…and I have to admit that this rather strange fact never even dawned on me until I watched her in her most recent film (the first American production that she has done in years), Dan in Real Life.

In the film she plays Marie, a beautiful and interesting woman who falls in love with Steve Carell’s Dan while attending a family reunion of sorts with her boyfriend, who also happens to be Dan’s brother, Mitch (played by, yawn, Dane Cook).

The part of Marie is nothing remarkable (the only requirement the character seems to have is that she be “cultured” and interesting, meaning, foreign) and the same could really be said for the feel-good movie itself, which felt oddly reminiscent of 2005’s The Family Stone. It is the obvious chemistry between Binoche and Carell, however, which makes the film worthwhile and steals the show. The best parts of the film are the scenes where Carell makes Binoche laugh hysterically—after seeing her in crying scene after crying scene for so long, I had forgotten just how magical her smile could be, something that Carell, who is really great in the film and a terrific (handsome!) leading man, plays off of with ease.

This is director/co-writer Peter Hedges second film; the critically hyped though somewhat middle-of-the-road Pieces of April was his first. I’ve read several reviews of Dan in Real Life where viewers stated that they wished the romance had been its own separate film, without all of the annoying family drama in the background, and I can’t say that I disagree. None of the supporting characters really bring anything new to the story and ultimately take away from more Binoche-Carell interaction. Several times throughout the film I found myself wishing that I were watching the movie at home so that I could fast-forward through all of the background noise and get to the good parts—the scenes where Carell and Binoche just stand there, smiling goofily at one another and lighting up the screen.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Focus Features

Lust, Caution (2007)

Directed by: Ang Lee

Written by: Eileen Chang and James Schamus.

Starring: Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Wei Tang, Joan Chen, Lee-Hom Wang, Chung Hua Tou, Chih-ying Chu, Ying-hsien Kao, Yue-Lin Ko, Johnson Yuen and Kar Lok Chin.

Lately, I’m beginning to notice a pattern in the quality of work directed by Ang Lee.

The pattern is very simple to understand: he makes one very good film followed by one not so good. Brokeback Mountain sits in the very good category; Lust, Caution, unfortunately, finds itself in the not so good section.

Now, before you cancel any plans to see the film because of my previous statements, I want to make sure you understand my reasons for not loving the movie. The primary reason why I’m labeling the movie mediocre at best is due to my high expectations of Ang Lee. In a way, you could say that the fault lies equally with us both—it is his fault for making awesome movies like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Brokeback Mountain, Eat Drink Man Woman, The Wedding Banquet, just to name a few, and mine for thinking that every new film he makes will be his next masterpiece.

Lust, Caution, in theory, has all of the makings of a masterpiece but when the film ends you feel like there was still so much more to be said. The actors are superb, the cinematography beautiful and the mood is just right, but the story lacks substance or direction. There are not enough twists and turns to make the film a full-blown suspense movie and yet there is not enough romance for it to be labeled truly “erotic.” These have been the film’s two main selling points in Lust, Caution’s marketing campaign and yet in the end neither succeeds.

Juanmarcos@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Focus Features

Reservation Road

Directed by: Terry George

Written by: Terry George and John Burnham Schwartz

Starring: Mark Ruffalo, Joaquin Phoenix, Jennifer Connelly, Mira Sorvino.

My first reaction when I saw the trailer for Terry George’s Reservation Road was: “Ugh, why would I want to put myself through that?” Just watching the trailer was painful—akin to visiting the dentist—something that you dread and fear doing but you know that you have to do regardless.

Now, I know what you’re thinking; watching a movie isn’t really something that you have to do but when you’re a movie fan and you see a film that a) is directed by the same man who brought you Hotel Rwanda (who also wrote the screenplay for the extremely underrated Daniel Day-Lewis film The Boxer); b) has Oscar-nomination written all over it; and c) stars Mark Ruffalo, Joaquin Phoenix and Jennifer Connelly, not to mention the rarely-seen as of late but always terrific Mira Sorvino, you really don’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Before I go any further with this review, however, in the interest of full disclosure (and, oddly enough, in keeping with the themes featured in the film), I feel that I should come clean about something: I missed the first 10 minutes of Reservation Road. Due to circumstances beyond my control i.e. thanks to the kind folks at the MTA, I was not at Lincoln Center Plaza at 9:25 and thus did not see what is, by and large, the driving force of the movie (or as my mom would say, “The most important five minutes of “Law & Order.”): the crime. As a result, by the time I rushed into the theater and grabbed a seat, Ethan (Joaquin Phoenix) and Grace Learner’s (Jennifer Connelly) son Josh was already dead, Dwight Arno (Mark Ruffalo) and his son had fled the scene, and the film was in a state of full-on, heightened emotions, feelings that I really couldn’t match having just walked in.

Even though it was only ten minutes that I missed, I felt like I was playing catch-up emotionally for the remainder of the movie. On the other hand, I do think that had I seen Reservation Road in its entirety, I would still be as confused about the movie as I am now. All of the elements that make a great and memorable film are there—well-told story, fantastic actors, and interesting, unforeseen arcs—and yet I walked away from the movie feeling like I had just watched something good on HBO. Although the dialogue in the film and the plot felt real enough, and the scenes featuring Phoenix and Ruffalo really do resonate powerfully, no substantive connection is made with any of the characters. Reservation Road is the kind of good film that proves just how hard it is to make a great film—there is no guaranteed formula and sometimes neither great actors nor a well-written script can prove otherwise.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

DVD'S:

Photo Courtesy © NBC/Universal

“Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”

Created by Aaron Sorkin

Cast: Bradley Whitford, Matthew Perry, Amanda Peet, Sarah Paulson, Steven Weber, D.L. Hughley, Nate Corddry and Timothy Busfield

Finally, after months of anticipation, the third series of the Aaron Sorkin triumvirate of television brilliance is upon us in DVD format with “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”. Sadly, not unlike the first of the trio “Sports Night,” “Studio 60” did not last long on the airwaves; only one season to be exact. But it did turn out to be an extraordinary season. As per usual, Sorkin’s writing is the main feature. His sharp wit and snappy dialogue keep every moment smart and entertaining. Marry brilliant words with the terrific chemistry of the show’s stars Bradley Whitford and Matthew Perry and you’ve got yourself a show on DVD that defies you to press the stop button on your remote.

The male leads are supported by very strong shoulders, particularly by the talented Sarah Paulson. Her absolute charm and intelligence bring the character of Harriet Hayes to life in a way that is totally endearing. The other pleasant surprise in the cast is Nate Corddry; the “everyman’s” comedian who’s wonderfully understated performance of the show-within-the-show’s cast member Tom Jeter is reminiscent of the legendary Jack Lemmon. It’s nearly impossible not to notice that many of the show’s best episodes, “The Wrap Party,” “Nevada Day” and the climactic storylines of the three-part episode “K & R” and the finale “What Kind of Day Has it Been,” all include some of Corddry’s finest moments. However, I would still argue that “The Christmas Show,” where displaced New Orleans musicians are featured, represents the peak of “Studio 60’s” powers.

As far as special features are concerned, there aren’t many. A behind the scenes documentary with the poorest sound quality I’ve heard on a DVD in a long time is included. Far better than that is an insightful commentary by Aaron Sorkin and director Thomas Schlamme on the pilot episode. But supplemental material isn’t all that important on a set like this. With a show this good, the 22 episodes are well worth the purchase.

David@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Paramount Pictures

NEXT

Jeanne: We’re watching Next!

Chris: (reading) “Intense sequences of violent action!” Yes!!

Rick: Like when I kill myself?

Yes, I haven’t seen a frame of the movie and already want to quit. I love Julianne Moore way more than any fan ought to, but you know what? There are limits to love. And for me, Next is that limit. As the movie begins, Lily defends herself by stating that she does not force us to watch bad movies… We always choose the ones we review ourselves. And by that, I mean that Chris always chooses what we watch.

Chris: We’re the Nic Cage Review Gang

Jeanne and Rick simultaneously shout out violent disagreements.

Lily: I don’t think even Nic Cage wants to see Nic Cage movies.

Rick: Next month, are we going to do Leaving Las Vegas?

Jeanne: (laughing) Nothing funnier than a man drinking himself to death! And a hooker! I like hookers.

Meanwhile, Lily is saying goodbye to Rick (who’s leaving town!) and threatening to sneak into his empty room and sniff his mattress. Really. I have this on tape.

Rick: (into recorder) I’m going to cut myself. A lot. After we finish watching this movie.

The movie finally begins. Chris notes that Peter Falk is in it as well.

Rick: We should note that it’s 1 o’clock in the effing morning.

Jeanne: We’re forced to do this because Richard is leaving tomorrow…

Rick: And never coming back! This is based on… something by Philip K. Dick. Who is also the creator of the Blade Runner. Story. That Blade Runner’s based on. “Why Do Sheep Dream?”

Chris: (laughing, mocking) “Why Do Sheep Dream?!?” Richard, why DO sheep dream?

Rick: “Why Do Sheep Dream About Clones?” or something.

Meanwhile, in the movie, Nic Cage is sitting in a diner, drinking. Very early in the day.

Rick: Look! He’s drinking a real martini and not a martini glass full of jellybeans!

Jeanne: But he still has bad hair.

Chris: But that place wouldn’t sell martinis. That’s like a diner.

Rick: I know! It’s like he’s still in Leaving Las Vegas. He’s still trying to drink himself to death. Goddammit, Nicolas Cage, stop making fucking movies already.

Jeanne: Is Jessica Biel playing his love interest? That doesn’t make any sense. Jessica Biel wouldn’t go anywhere near that.

Rick: He looks like a horse’s penis.

Elvis Presley’s “A little less conversation” begins to play as Nic Cage walks out onto the streets of Vegas.

Jeanne: If he dresses up like Elvis, I’m stopping this.

Jeanne has Elvis socks. Nic Cage turns out to be an illusionist in a Vegas casino. Awesome. He performs some tricks for an unimpressed audience. He picks a guy out of the audience and says, “You’re a soul man!”

Rick: Why? Because he’s black?

Chris: He’s Korean!!

Jeanne: Are you blind??

Rick: (Ignoring their rightness) This movie isn’t funny, Chris. Look, Julianne Moore’s there and she’s not amused. Much like me.

Jeanne: That means you have to like it—she’s in it.

Rick: No! I don’t understand what she’s doing in this movie. (to Julianne Moore) You’re beautiful!

Nic Cage begins a narration. It doesn’t return for the rest of the movie. I find that very odd.

Rick: Let’s just fast-forward to the scenes that Julianne Moore’s in.

Jeanne: Is this what Harry Potter’s gonna look like in 10 years? ‘Cause he’s a real magician.

Rick: No, I think that that’s what the horse Harry Potter was naked with in that play is gonna look like in 10 years. Nicolas Cage walks into a bar. Bartender says, “Why the long face?” (complete silence from Chris and Jeanne) That joke’s old, isn’t it?

Chris: Yeah.

Jeanne: I wasn’t paying attention.

Nic Cage goes to a different casino and tries to gamble. The casino security guys recognize him as a great and powerful magician (Which equals big fat cheater) and decide to kick him out. What’s odd is that while they’re talking about him, he stares into the camera, like he can hear them! It’s because he’s psychic. He can see at least two minutes into the future. When we were watching this movie, I had the same exact power!! I saw myself puking.

Rick: You can smoke in a casino?

Chris: I guess. It’s Vegas.

Rick: But when lung cancer happens in Vegas, lung cancer doesn’t stay in Vegas.

Nic Cage manages to disarm a guy who was about to shoot two people while trying to rob the joint. Rather than just waiting for the cameras to prove that the gun he now holds isn’t his, he runs and manages to cleverly avoid the security team. It’s like he’s always one step ahead of them! Or 2 minutes ahead.

Jeanne: Why is he running?

Rick: I know, the movie doesn’t make sense, right? It’s like, stupid? I know… Why is Julianne Moore in this?

Chris; This is not gonna lead to a funny review if you’re just like, “This movie is stupid. Yeah? It’s stupid…”

Jeanne: Dude, “Sharon Stone’s vagina” led over and over again to a funny review. Sometimes it works.

Rick: I wish Sharon Stone’s vagina was in this.

Chris: You wish that in every movie.

Rick: Although, Nicolas Cage’s face?

Jeanne: A little like Sharon Stone’s vagina?

Rick: A little like Sharon Stone’s vagina.

Jeanne: Sort of wrinkly and a little balding.

Rick: Yes, with a bad toupee. (after a moment of silence) Merkin! 

Jeanne: How does he do his magic tricks? I guess his only power isn’t like, seeing into the future.

Nic Cage is switching clothes to elude the security guys.

Rick: He’s going to change clothes and no one will recognize that it’s him…

Jeanne: Dude, you have the most recognizable receding hairline in that building.

He steals a hat. This works because now the camera team has lost him completely. Some guy barks into a radio, “Where is he?”

Rick: He’s in my pants!

No. Rick has confused the fine line between funny and horrifying. Nic Cage sneaks out of the casino by hiding amongst a wedding party and then slips into a car. Another valet lost his job and it’s all his fault.

Jeanne: Wait, so he took a crime he didn’t commit and turned it into car theft.

A car chase ensues!

Chris: It’s a good idea! You guys aren’t giving it a chance.

Jeanne: Where’s Donal Logue?

Suddenly, Nic Cage’s car drives right into an oncoming train!

Rick: YEAH!!

Chris: Movie’s over, he just got killed.

Rick: Awesome!

Jeanne: Yeah that would be awesome.

Rick: I would give it a good review then.

Obviously, this was just a flash that Nic had showing what one possible future was. He avoids it, and we have to sit through another hour and 15 minutes of this. Damn your sixth sense, Nic!! His car builds up speed and then JUMPS across the tracks, barely missing the speeding train.

Rick: That looked real.

Jeanne: About as real as his fucking toupee.

As Cage continues driving, the scenery in the background isn’t just fake, but looks awfully and obviously fake.

Rick: That looks real, too. I like the fact that just the simple act of him driving a car through a neighborhood can still look incredibly fake. Like, they did that in the 30s and 40s and it looked better than this.

Julianne is trying to explain to her boss that Nic is the only person who can help find a nuclear bomb that will blow up Los Angeles. Therefore, they should be using more manpower to help find HIM rather than… you know, the bomb. Her boss agrees to let her continue finding Nic.

Chris: Won’t he see that coming? Doesn’t she realize that?

Julianne is on the phone, saying, “Get me the head of casino security!”

Chris: Literally, his head!

Rick: I would do that for Julianne Moore. I’d behead somebody for Julianne Moore. I’d behead Jeanne for Julianne Moore.

Jeanne: What?

Rick: I don’t want to cut your head off. But if Julianne Moore wanted me to cut your head off, I would do it.

Jeanne: She doesn’t, because she’s The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio and she’s a lovely person. She just wants to write jingles.

We are suddenly interrupted by the sight of Nicolas Cage. With his shirt off! Why wasn’t this one of those things they warn you about at the start of the movie, along with the intense scenes of graphic violence? Also, Peter Falk shows up.

Rick: Oh my god, it’s Columbo. OH MY GOD, Nicolas Cage, keep your shirt on AT ALL TIMES!

Fortunately, there is a cut to another Julianne Moore scene. However, all that time passes and when we return to Nic Cage, he STILL hasn’t covered up.

Jeanne: Okay, apparently Nicolas Cage will never put his shirt back on. The rest of the movie actually will be done shirtless. And the finale? Pantless. The toupee will never come off, though.

Julianne Moore tracks Cage down because he stole a car with LoJack^®. Nicolas Cage and Peter Falk play pool. Both are thankfully completely dressed. Julianne shows up and has a conversation with Cage. She needs his help to figure out where the bomb will be set off. Julianne says something that ends with the word “Hard.”

Jeanne: (gasps) That’s what she said!

Rick: (clearly still trying to figure out why Julianne Moore is in this movie.) She has kids to feed.

Oh yeah, then it turns out that the whole scene was just a vision Nic was having, so he ditches before Julianne even shows up. Meanwhile, some bad guys with strange accents come looking for Cage at the casino. They shoot someone in the knees. The next day, Nic is back at the diner, drinking another margarita and creepily stalking Jessica Biel.

Jeanne: So he fantasizes about this chick he’s never met?

Rick: He’s like, “I loved her in “7th Heaven!” …it looks way too early in the day to be drinking.

Jeanne: If you were Nicolas Cage, you’d have to start drinking as soon as possible just to accept being Nicolas Cage.

Chris: I like Nicolas Cage!!

Rick: He’s like the Coppola who didn’t quite live up to the family name.

Chris: (scoffing) Oh. Yeah.

Jeanne: That’s why they didn’t give it to him. That’s why he’s a Cage.

Rick: Chris was about to dis Sofia Coppola. It’s okay, I understand.

Rick loves Sofia Coppola. And he must admit to loving Nicolas Cage a couple of times, most notably in Adaptation.

Jeanne: I would be the one to dis Sofia Coppola. Um, I like Nicolas Cage in some stuff. But when he’s bad, he’s hard to watch.

Chris: No, he’s even better to watch when he’s bad.

Rick: Apparently that’s the theory that you’re going with. Hence, this. Us. Here. Now!

Jeanne: This torture.

Soft music plays and Jessica Biel finally shows up.

Rick: (in a girly Jessica voice) “Hi, my name’s Jessica. I like long walks on the beach…”

Jeanne: “…and Justin Timberlake’s penis!” Especially when it sings “sexyback.”

Chris: Eww.

Nic goes through several different scenarios, trying out different lines to come on to Jessica with. All suck. As much as this movie. At some point, Rick honestly begins to moan in misery.

Jeanne: It’s kinda like Groundhog Day.

Note: I’ve never seen Groundhog Day, but I’m sure it can’t suck this much. Even with Andie MacDowell in it. I mention that to Chris and Jeanne.

Chris: But it’s got, got-

Rick: Bill Murray!

Chris: I was gonna say Chris Elliott.

Rick: Chris Elliott’s really not a selling point for me.

Chris: (after a moment) But he’s in so few things he’s like a rare gem.

Eventually Nic manages to impress Jessica. By getting into a fight with the stalkerish-ex who is bothering her. Also by answering, “Who the hell are you?” with “I’m her future.”

Rick: It’s like we keep watching the same scene over and over again and it never gets better! (pause) But I like the part when he punched the fuck out of Nic Cage. (in Jessica Biel’s voice) “I think you’re way too old for me. I’m sorry.”

Jessica agrees to take Nic with her somewhere, noting that as soon as she feels the “psycho vibe” he’s out of the car.

Rick: Dude! No! You don’t even let him in the car at this point. There’s already a psycho vibe! Look at him!

Cut to another scene of Julianne Moore trying to figure out where Cage has gone.

Jeanne: I’m going to sleep!

Rick: No!

(Rick and Chris decide to poke Jeanne at the same time, thus ensuring her continued awakedness.)

Jeanne: No! Stop poking me, everybody!

Rick: That’s what she said. At the orgy. In the Clive Barker novel. (Something Canyon. It was gross. I think I can pinpoint the moment where I realized that I never wanted to be touched by anyone else again to the moment I stopped reading that book.)

Julianne Moore says something really cool like “If anything happens on that job, I wanna know right away. I don’t care if it’s a papercut!”

Rick: (laughing) I love you, Julianne Moore. I still love you. I don’t care about this movie. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. (Hello, Magnolia reference!)

Chris: From now on, whenever anybody mentions Next, you’re gonna be like, “What’s that? Next?” Yeah, Richard, that movie we saw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The bad guys with dubious accents appear again.

Jeanne: Who’s that guy? That guy’s- that’s Patrick! That’s the guy from “Coupling!” Funny guy- Jeffrey! (pause) My Jeffrey. (pause) Is it?

Chris: I don’t think it is.

Jeanne: No, maybe it’s not.

Rick: I think you’re wrong.

Jeanne: I think I am. I’m gonna pretend none of that happened. Don’t put that in the review.

Rick: I’m putting that whole thing in the review. (silence) OW! You hit me in the stomach!

Chris: (mocking Jeanne) It’s the guy from “Coupling!” That’s the guy from “Coupling!”

Jeanne: I hate you all!

Rick: He’s making fun of you!

Chris: That guy’s eating a caramel apple! (Chris is easily distracted.)

We return to the movie, unsure what has happened since we lost focus.

Rick: Where the hell are they? Like, a Tibetan monastery in the Grand Canyon or something?

Jeanne: I have no idea.

Rick: Did she change clothes?

Jeanne: Wait, Vegas and the Grand Canyon really aren’t that close together.

Chris: Maybe they’re at a different canyon that’s not so grand.

Nic and Jessica are met by a group of small children. And possibly a piñata.

Jeanne: She took him to like, a kid’s birthday party? She just met him, drinking a martini at nine in the morning. In a diner!

Chris: She didn’t see that part.

Jeanne: He was drinking at nine in the morning!

It turns out that Jessica has brought Nic to some kinda Indian reservation where she teaches. Although why she doesn’t live closer to her work is never mentioned. After a bit, Nic decides to impress the kids with his magic tricks. I mean, his illusions! Using rocks.

Jeanne: I want him to like, bean one of those kids in the head by accident.

Nic holds a rock up in front of the kids to perform an illusion!

Rick: I’m gonna make this rock disappear the way that I’ve made your family’s land disappear over the years, and made your ancestors disappear!

He makes it turn into a salamander or something.

Chris: (in a child’s voice) “Why do you give this to me? My people think this is a great insult! We must duel to the death now!”

Rick: Dude, this movie would’ve been worth it if someone had scalped Nicolas Cage.

Chris: It’s the equivalent of like, smacking someone with a glove in their culture, giving them a salamander.

Jeanne: I don’t believe you.

Chris: It’s true.

Cut to Julianne Moore at a shooting range, angrily pulling the trigger again and again.

Rick: She has a lot of rage. You know what would make this movie absolutely, totally worth it for me? Is if Julianne Moore-

Chris: And Jessica Biel made out!

Rick: No…

Jeanne: If Julianne Moore had sex with Nicolas Cage.

Rick: No, if Julianne Moore shot Nicolas Cage dead. Like, that violently? I would buy this movie. I’d be like, “Yes!”

Jeanne: I have a feeling that’s not going to happen. But that would rock. I just think you have a lot of aggression that you want to take out on Nicolas Cage.

(It’s true. Between National Treasure, Ghost Rider and this, I have spent too many hours watching him in horrible movies. It’s time for me to resign from the Brooklyn Gang.)

Rick: I liked him in Wild at Heart.

Nic is trying to impress Jessica with a story about how it once rained fish in Denmark.

Jeanne: What?

Rick: You’re… a crackhead!

Jeanne: No. That’s not true. Never believe anything Nicolas Cage tells you. Why are you letting him drive your car? He’s a madman. He drinks martinis in the morning.

On their way back to Vegas, a bad accident in the rain means they have to turn the car around.

Rick: “I guess we have to stay in the car! How are we gonna keep warm?”

Jeanne: They have to stay at a motel together! That’s gross. She could be his daughter.

Rick: He’s going to fist her like a Muppet.

Jeanne: Oh. I’m going to sleep now. And I’m going to have horrible dreams.

He tells Jessica another bullshit story. It works and they do the deed. Someone makes a joke about a hot dog and a wizard’s sleeve. I will not name that person.

Rick: I like her underwear.

Chris: ‘Cause they’re boys shorts and you’re gay.

Jeanne: It’s true. You like boys.

Rick: Thanks for spelling it out for me guys! It’s all clear to me now.

Back to Julianne. Someone has a lead on Nic Cage. But “it gets worse.”

Rick: HOW CAN IT GET WORSE??

Jeanne: The Bermuda Triangle has moved inland!

Rick: (Regarding Julianne Moore) She’s a firecracker!

Julianne finally convinces her higher-ups (as if!) to let her bring in Cage. They head out to pick him up.

Jeanne: He’s going to know you’re coming. Start calling him by another name. Or when you think of him, picture someone else.

Rick: Winnie the Pooh!

Jeanne: Exactly. Imagine you’re taking out Winnie the Pooh. Then maybe he won’t know you’re coming. ‘Cause he’s not Winnie the Pooh.

The morning after, Nic is re-seducing Jessica while Julianne Moore and her team helicopter to the hotel.

Rick: Did you see that look that she gave just there? She’s trying not to throw up. She’s like, “I haven’t been in a movie this bad since Lost World: Jurassic Park.” Heh. I’m kidding. It was Evolution.

Chris: Aww… I liked Evolution. Where did Orlando Jones go?

Rick: Sprite commercials? EW!! (muffled) Oh my god, Jessica Biel, you’re too hot for this!

Jeanne: It even looks like she’s cuddling with a dead body.

Rick: He’s very waxen.

Chris: Those were 7-Up commercials, by the way. Not Sprite.

Rick: I’m sorry, they all look the same to me.

Jeanne: Black people?

Rick: No, lemon-lime sodas.

Chris: Remember because it was “7-Up Yours!”

Rick: You know, I don’t particularly care for Jessica Biel. In fact, I call her “Jessica Bile,” but I don’t think—I think she’s too good for Nic Cage.

Jessica leaves the hotel for breakfast fixings. Julianne grabs her for a word.

Chris: Can they make out now?

Julianne shows Jessica the tape from the casino, which makes Nic look like a crazy criminal. Jessica’s like, “Oh my god.”

Jeanne: That’s not fair. He’d been waiting for her… Wait, why do I care? I don’t.

Chris: You’re getting into it.

Jeanne: No.

Rick: Julianne’s like, “Try and act, honey.”

Jeanne: That’s harsh.

Julianne convinces Jessica to drug Nic so that they can go in and grab him. At one point she says, “We’re on the same team.”

Jeanne: Lesbians. (silence) No? I’m the only one going with the lesbian joke?

Rick: I get it! “We’re on the same”—like A League of Their Own!

Jeanne: What?

Rick: Rosie O’Donnell. Madonna. (noticing Nic Cage back on the screen) Oh, dammit, put your shirt back on. Seriously, man, it’s not a horror movie.

Jeanne: Take off your toupee, that’s really sexy.

Rick: Put some damn clothes on, man.

Chris: (responding to the score) This is supposed to be really intense.

Jeanne: It’s not.

Jessica pussies out and stops him from drinking the drugged whatever, then tells him that Julianne is out there ready to get him!

Rick: This movie is really well written. (makes puking sounds like he’s 10-years-old)

Chris: I think it’s absurd that-

Jeanne: That she decided to protect him?

Chris: Well she knows him better than she knows Julianne Moore. He’s got a day on Julianne Moore.

Jeanne: But Julianne Moore’s like a federal agent. That should make her more trustworthy.

Nic goes outside, drinks a different drink to psych them into thinking he’s going to be drugged. The easier to try and escape! The phrase “Meat cookie” is used. By us, obviously. Nic heads out and uses his mojo to escape the agents, dodging bullets and an overturned car. But he gets caught anyway and wakes up later, bound to a chair with one of those Clockwork Orange things that keeps your eyes wide open. Jessica has been kidnapped by the terrorists! Good job, Nicolas Cage!

Chris: Is it really such a bad thing to help them stop a nuclear bomb?

Rick: He sympathizes with the terrorists.

Julianne leaves Nic to see if he can see into the future while watching CNN to figure out where the nuke will be found.

Rick: I hope that they’re not using all of their resources on like, this one method of stopping it. ‘Cause that’s worrisome.

Jeanne: I think they are.

Nic finds a report about a hostage with a bomb strapped to her on a parking garage roof. Holy crap, it’s “7th Heaven’s” Jessica Biel! In the future! And… she explodes!

Chris: KABOOM!!

Nic Cage manages to escape from Julianne and co. but is eventually caught anyway by Julianne because she kicks major ass. He leads her to the parking garage where he saw future Jessica get blown into tiny little pieces. Julianne gets him to agree to help so that they can save Jessica. Which they do. And then it’s time for them all to escape/fight the terrorists. Best lines:

 Julianne Moore: Can you see it?

 Nicolas Cage: It helps if you don’t speak right now.

…that’s what she said.

Chris: Richard just started crying.

Jeanne: Is it that bad?

Chris: Richard, come on. It’s almost over. You’ve got like 15 minutes left.

Rick: Do you promise? Are they gonna blow up Jessica Biel?

Chris: They might!

Rick: All in all, Jessica Biel, you probably would have been better off with the creepy guy who hit Nic Cage in the restaurant. (long pause) Julianne Moore is the most awesome person ever!

Lots of silence. It’s almost as if we’re all enthralled by the movie. But I’m sure there’s a more logical explanation. Nic Cage directs Julianne Moore and her team towards the bad guys.

Rick: Julianne Moore’s like the puppet and he’s like her puppet master. Which is upsetting to me, on a lot of levels.

Chris: There are only ten minutes left.

Rick: (as Jessica Biel, who has been recaptured already) “I wish I had not given up teaching on the reservation today. I shouldn’t have called out to have sex with Nicolas Cage.”

Nic splits up into several different Nic Cages. It’s possibly the most disturbing thing I’ve seen in my entire life. I suggest that Julianne Moore goes the Speed route and shoots the hostage. She doesn’t, which makes me sad. Once they get rid of the bad guys, guess what? The nuke goes off anyway, since everybody was wasting their time looking for Nic Cage and Jessica Biel. Yes, my dreams come true and they’ve all been dusted! Except that Julianne Moore survived because she’s God.

But wait, that’s not it! No, because ever since Nicolas Cage woke up that morning all post-coital in the hotel? He’s been seeing this possible future. Yes! The last half hour of the movie? All in his head!!

Chris: When I said there was only 10 minutes left, I meant there were 35!

Jeanne: I hate everybody.

Rick: (genuinely panicking) What??

Chris: I’m kidding.

Nic Cage calls Julianne Moore telling her that he’ll help under one condition: Protect Jessica Biel!

Jeanne: So, is she like his muse? Is she why he was able to see so far into the future?

Chris: Yes.

Rick: Sex with Jessica Biel enhances his powers. From two minutes to two hours. But sadly, the sex only lasted two minutes.

Jeanne: Richard! You’re probably right.

Rick: Nic Cage is like, “You’re my hottest co-star since Elisabeth Shue in 1995.”

Jeanne: Also there was Jared Leto in Lord of War. Jared Leto’s pretty cute. For a girl. He wears a lot of mascara.

Rick: He’s in 30 Gays to Mars.

The movie finally ends.

Jeanne: Fucking awful.

Chris: It wasn’t that bad.

Rick: I still liked it better than Crash.

Jeanne: It was, whatever. Déjà vu was better.

Rick: No.

Jeanne: I think it’s just because Denzel Washington maybe is less of a terrible actor.

Rick: If it had been Denzel Washington instead of Nicolas Cage, I would have probably liked it more.

Chris: But you don’t like Denzel Washington!

Rick: I know, that’s kinda saying a lot, isn’t it Chris.

Jeanne: No, because remember we decided that you said you didn’t like Denzel Washington, but you in fact liked him in every movie he had ever done, basically.

Chris: You’re racist.

Jeanne: That’s why you hate Crash.

Rick: I think he’s very over-rated. Everyone in Crash was racist! That’s why I didn’t like it! Just give me the fucking tape so I can go to bed.

P.S.: While Nicolas Cage may be awful and his toupee horrifyingly bad, I walked away from Next thinking, secretly, very deep down, that I liked it better than I thought I would. Don’t tell Chris. Also, if you can explain what’s so fucking amazing about a manipulative movie where 99% of the characters are deplorably racist assholes, please e-mail us at brooklyngang@picturesandframesmagazine.com. Happy Thanksgiving from the Brooklyn Gang!

The Saturday Night Itinerant Brooklyn Gang is:

Jeanne Lopez, Cookie Monster

Rick Sayre, Pop-Culture Critic

Christopher Wilson, Vampire Hunter.

BrooklynGang@picturesandframesmagazine.com

MUSIC:

Radiohead – In Rainbows

With six albums and a countless number of hits under their belts, our daring musical heroes have come back to give us a pot of gold at the end of In Rainbows. In a move that can only be called visionary, Radiohead has decided to use this new release as an opportunity to cut out “the middle man” (i.e. the record label) and bring you their music direct. So what does this mean to the eager consumer like you and me? Well, simply put, you name your own price. After fulfilling their record contract with Emi/Capitol, our favorite English lads have become free agents, masters of their own domain, so to speak. While this doesn’t mean that they will never go back to a label, temporarily they are the ones calling all of the shots.

Radiohead’s 7^th studio album, In Rainbows, is a beautiful collection of feelings and emotions that opens with a rush of electronic beats that take you to a world called “15 Step,” where dream-like landscapes are filled with the cheer and approval of little children. From a great opening we move on to the catchiest guitar riff on the album, the classic Radiohead formula of blood, sweat, tears and great rock and roll. “Bodysnatchers” will cause your body to perform strange sudden movements know in the medical world as dancing. After such an energetic pair of songs there’s nothing better than letting yourself drop and relax in the “Nude,” a meditation in bass lines, vocals and the wonderings of strumming that slides between the guitar strings filling your life with reason. This is by far one of my favorite Radiohead tracks ever, quite possibly a perfect song.

Picking up the pace, an arpeggio leads the way in “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi,” a rhythm delicacy that gets eaten by the worms and weird fishes. Guitar and orchestra strings playfully contrast Thom Yorke’s angelic voice in “Faust Arp” and “Reckoner” is a gradual melodic buildup that leaves the orchestra with the final word. In “House Of Cards” you will be transported to an intimate setting that puts you in the room with the band. This is one of Thom Yorke’s classic vocal performances—simply amazing. “Jigsaw Falling into Place” is the last rocking song on the album, with a catchy drumbeat and a smooth bass line and one last reminder of why Radiohead is the band of our generation.

Just like with any great story, “Videotape” is the song that provides the great ending. As the piano resonates to a sad farewell, a rainbow slowly fades and the curtain starts to come down. The last bit of lyrics sung provide us with some comfort and closure: “no matter what happens now you shouldn’t be afraid, because I know today has been the most perfect day I’ve ever seen.” Regardless of what critics might say, “In Rainbows” is Radiohead’s most personal and musically mature album to date. It is a perfect example of how a great band can continue to reinvent itself, choosing to move on and boldly go where no band has gone before rather than sticking to the same formulas and sounds that gave them commercial success. So go ahead, name your price, download In Rainbows and enjoy.

http://www.inrainbows.com/

Juanmarcos@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Foo Fighters - Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace

The Foo Fighters have always been a band that is impossible to pin down musically. Go to most record stores and you’ll most likely find their albums filed under “Pop/Rock” and yet the fusion of these two genres don’t even begin to do the band’s intricate sound justice. Every one of their past albums, from the amazing The Colour and The Shape (which was actually re-released earlier this summer for its 10-year anniversary) to last year’s solid, hard-rock fueled In Your Honor, contains songs that range from sad, pensive ballads to romantic love songs to screaming rage-filled anthems…and yet nothing could have prepared me for their surprising new album, Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace.

The last time that I heard an album this diverse in the rock realm was in 1995 on The Smashing Pumpkins seminal double album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. (In fact, “Once and For All,” a bonus track included on Patience has an opening guitar hook that is eerily reminiscent of Pumpkins signature guitar sound.) On Echoes, lead singer Dave Grohl goes to places vocally and in his songwriting that he has never been to before. Sure, the album contains the familiar guitar-rock oriented, radio-friendly Foo Fighter tunes—“The Pretender,” their first single off of the album is a blast to listen and rock out to, with a chorus that was created to be yelled loudly, as do songs such as “Cheer Up, Boys (Your Make Up Is Running),” “Erase/Replace” and “Long Road To Ruin,” the latter which will be their next single—but these are actually few and far in between on this album.

Instead we have introspective, lyric driven songs such as “Home,” “Statues,” the lovely, melodic “But, Honestly,” and my personal favorite, “Stranger Things Have Happened.” “Goddamn this dusty room/this hazy afternoon/I'm breathing in the silence like never before/this feeling that I get/ this one last cigarette as I lay awake and wait for you to come through that door/Oh maybe, maybe, maybe I can share it with you/I behave, I behave I behave so I can share it with you,” Grohl sings on the track, his voice brimming with emotion.

Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace is the Foo Fighters sixth album and it really is amazing to hear how this band has evolved. “Ballad of the Beaconsfield Miners” is a clear example of the new direction that the band seems to be going in. The guitar instrumental (which also features guitar goddess Kaki King) was written by Grohl for the miners involved in the Beaconsfield mine collapse in Tazmania. The story goes that two miners who survived the collapse were asked by rescue workers, who knew that it would take several days to get them out of the rubble, if they could get them anything to ease them through the wait. One of the miners requested an iPod with only one album on it—the Foo Fighters’ In Your Honor. Grohl was so touched that he penned the song for them and the result is a beautiful and moving tribute.

There isn’t really much more that I can say about this album except to say this: every track on it is a potential single, and every song is a joy to listen to, again and again. I have a feeling that Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace will be featured at the top of many a music critics year-end list—it will definitely be on mine.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

BOOKS:

Affinity

By Sarah Waters

It is London, in the late 19^th Century, and Margaret Prior has recently lost her father. After recovering from an attempted suicide, she begins to occupy herself with charity work, volunteering as a “Lady visitor” at Millbank Prison. While her family is busy with her sister’s wedding and her brother’s impending fatherhood, Margaret, a plain-looking but intelligent and independent spinster, becomes more and more drawn to Millbank, specifically to a young prisoner named Selina. The younger woman is a medium, all the rage in the days of Spiritualists, who was arrested after a disastrous session with a teenage girl went wrong. Margaret’s obsession with Selina soon begins to affect her every waking hour and even her sense of what is real and what isn’t becomes clouded by her passionate fixation.

I was loaned Affinity by a friend who shares my love for another wonderful writer named Sarah, Sarah Dunant. Like Dunant, Waters is also from the UK (Wales to be precise), and has made a name for herself over the years with a slew of successful female-centered novels such as Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith, both of which have been made into miniseries on BBC.

Because of my love for Dunant, as I began to read Affinity, I have to admit I was a bit skeptical; it didn’t take long however until I was impatiently watching the clock tick away, waiting for the moment when I could return to its pages. Waters has created the sort of novel that slowly and unexpectedly creeps up on you, taking hold of your imagination and careening through every twist and turn. Either as a character study, a Victorian thriller, a lesbian drama or a mystery, Affinity couldn’t have pleased me more. I look forward to reading more of Waters’ novels.

Rick@picturesandframesmagazine.com

FICTION:

Photo Courtesy © Jeanne Lopez

 Blankets & Other Good Things

By Noralil Ryan-Fores

Peugeot

  When they dropped us of at the cabin, they said, “We’ll be right back.” Grandma Silva stood in the window, looking down at Elijah and I, all bittersweet tenderness standing between her and us.

   “Right back,” my father said.

   I grabbed my duffel bag and swept Elijah’s from the trunk.

   The sea gray Peugeot sped off in one direction. We walked the other.

  I knew to look back.

 I loved that car.

War Stories

          When we first moved here, Grandpa Bean taught Elijah and I about love, romantic love that is, that being his favorite subject and the only one about which he was an expert. In his life, he said, “I have fallen in love one hundred times and always in different ways.”

          On cool days, we sat on the steps of the porch, languishing in his shadow, listening to his rambling memories about Carols, Jennys and Rachels, all women we would never know, all fictionalized perfection.

          “I met her at a dance, Melinda. I told her I’d take her home in my car. Course I didn’t have a car, but I wanted her to think I did. See, Elijah, that’s what you have to do with women. Make them think you have something and then make them want that. Then you just deny it from them. Helps for two reasons. First, you don’t have what you say you have, and second, they’ll come crawling in if they think you still have something to offer them that they haven’t yet gotten. So, with Melinda, I said, “Well, I have a flat tire. I’d loved to drive you home, but what with the flat, I just can’t.” Then she got all sullen with me, her eyes dropping to the ground, and that’s when I said, “How about I walk you home? Then later, when I get the car fixed up, we’ll ride around town.””

“He’s full of falsehood, children. Don’t listen to a word he says.”

          Despite her laugher while folding laundry and hanging it to dry, Grandma Silva hated those talks on the porch and always found a way to interject her two cents. I supposed then it was because she wanted to think Grandpa Bean only ever loved her.

          “The girl in Philadelphia had green eyes and a parrot named Ramon. He worshipped me, that bird, would repeat everything I would say...Lily, oh how she could dance across the floor, drawing every man’s eyes to her swaying hips and red lips…She told me she loved me, and I told her I’d rather miss her than love her. But, boy, when she walked out, I loved her more than all the missing in the world.”

          These stories kept Elijah and I up at night, and sometimes, he’d slip into my room, crawl into my bed and ask me if he thought he would one day be good enough to love that many women, and I told him, “Yes, Elijah, you’re the best boy in the world,” and I always meant that. But, I wondered the same thing for me. Would I ever be thin enough, my lips red enough, my hip sway seductive enough, my laugh light enough, my caress gentle enough, my passion great enough or then just, would I be enough? The questions would nag at me during classes, lunchtime, at recess, especially at recess when all the boys came out to play kickball.

          I played the name matching game. Mrs. Laurel Harris, Shepards, Carter, Reynolds, Fitzpatrick, Young, Donnelly, on and on, but not one of them fit and made me feel whole. The boys seemed to agree with me, always passing me by for the Dianes, Brittanys, generic name girls who wore name brand clothing and drank boxed fruit juices. I watched as the flirting, leaning, kissing on the cheek from elementary school turned during middle school into hands placed on breasts and thighs, tongues slipped into mouths, the heartbeats pounding audibly, “I want more and more,” and maybe some people did that, but even now, I don’t want to know. Even now, in the freshman hallways, when I hear it, I don’t listen. Because we’re too young. Because I’m scared. Because I’ve dieted and purchased make-up. Because the rouge smears my cheeks a shade of pink too dark, making me clownish and awkward. Because I flirt and boys laugh and call me “friend,” always friend. Because my affections are too long in coming and longer in leaving. Because it’s easier to be alone. Because I’m not wanted.

Grandma Silva sees me struggling, asks one day what’s wrong and though I don’t want to admit it, I tell her everything, and she studies me as if I were an unfinished painting, a pitying expression in her eyes for a work half complete, pitying me because I may never be complete.

          “Frederick,” she calls, and Grandpa Bean comes in with his cane, cigar and mischievous glint in his eye.

“Tell her about the love stories.”

          Then the spark in his eye fades in confusion, and I know all of the sudden that he’s lied this whole time, and I know this lie isn’t a good one.

          “I never made it into the army,” he tells me. “Bad eyes, bad health.”

          He looks at Grandma Silva, and the gaze is pleading, all pleading because if she says the words aloud, and if she says them so I believe them, then the spell will be broken. I imagine my grandfather shrinking, his stature reduced by degrees.

  “I wanted to be in the army,” he says. “Those women, they…”

          Never existed, were imaginary comforts who held him through the loneliness of jilted expectation. These fabricated love stories replaced an unlived war. I feel, for both of us, the battle scars are not openly visible, but they are very much there, deeply cut, just under the skin.

The Daily Grind

     She sits in the main window of the coffee shop, her mug cradled in her hands. She looks older than she did last year, crumpled around the edges, her sweater frayed at the cuffs, her jeans too large, her cheeks sunken. She, like Miguela, has lost weight. I ask how she is.

          “Fine,” she says, monosyllabic, but I guess if I were a teacher, I wouldn’t want to talk to a former student either, especially not one I’d seen cry in class.

 “How’s high school?”

“Fine,” I say.

          We look at each other Ms. Stills and I, and I see myself in her place, at middle age, no children, no spouse, mortgage, health insurance bills. I want to ask her about these things. I want to know how she manages.

          “Day by day,” she’d say, and I’d laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it’s true, and I’d laugh to sound older than I am, privy to knowledge about these things when I’m not. She’d tell me not to worry about money but to worry about my spirit, and then she’d tell me about him.

          He had a sticker on his truck that read, “And, on the last day, he went fishing.” He read philosophy books with Wal-Mart purchased bifocals. He always asked when he finished a section, “Darlin’, what’s my purpose?” and then laughed, and when he laughed it was always too loud for the small spaces; he didn’t smoke; he cared for two dogs, three cats and one parrot.

          “In short,” he’d say to her, “I’m a bum if you don’t love me.” Then, he’d laugh again.

          She’d tell me about his tendency to roll over her while they slept together in bed. All night, he would launch his arms and legs over her, slide his stomach past her frame and then nudge her to the opposite side of the mattress. He’d wake up in the morning on the wrong side of the bed saying, “Well, what the hell,” but he’d never ask what happened. Just like he didn’t ask later when she got depressed and started reading his philosophy books herself.

          Curled up and sitting on the rocking chair, she’d drink tea and read Kafka, The Metamorphosis over and over again. Then when they would have sex, she would imagine that she was a bug, and he was trying to crush her. His pounding and pounding, too frantic and fast, the pressure pushed up into her, his hands pulling down on her hips, the feelings condensed into the delicate space of the womb. Her splitting open into innumerable segments of pain bordering orgasm, her feet arching, legs pulling up towards her back. Her just wanting it to stop and repeating her own name in a loop, “Jennifer, just stay with me. Stay here with me. Stay here.” At first he liked her cries; they made him feel like a man, someone strong, capable of hurt and then—Slow down!—pleasure. But, she never got to that last part, her climaxes always mundane, like an old woman knitting scarves, and so after the first few times she did this, he pulled back, into himself as her cries, “Jennifer, just stay with me,” got increasingly desperate.

          “You need to see a doctor,” he’d say, and that would make her feel worse than before and so she would sleep, sometimes all day. Then when she wasn’t sleeping or reading, she was frantic, cleaning the house and then cleaning it again, grading papers and then rechecking them to make sure she’d given the right scores. On the really bad days, she’d go on long drives, neglecting to come home until after dark. She stopped making dinner. Stopped kissing him good-bye before going to work. Just stopped.

          “Clinical depression,” the doctor would say later, after he’d already left, packed his things, almost everything, in a van and left. “Therapy and drugs, that’s all I can offer.”

          She’d tell me she’d taken the drugs, not the therapy and then she’d taken some other drugs, and now she was on the third prescription, and maybe if she was lucky this time around, it would start working in ninety days. She would tell me we all get depressed, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’d tell her, “I know what you mean,” but this time I would say it out loud.

          But, these aren’t things she would tell a fourteen-year-old, especially not a former student and one she’d seen cry in her class.

          “Everything has a purpose,” I mumble, and I don’t know that I’ve said it aloud until she stares at me, straight into my eyes, completely aware for the first time during the conversation that I know and remember.

          “It does,” she says, and maybe only God knows why that makes us both smile.

In Memory of Our Children

          On Sunday mornings, when everyone else heads to various masses and services, Elijah and I bike down to the river in town to feed the ducks. Grandma Silva won’t let us bring whole pieces of bread down, but she let’s us keep our crusts during the week.

          “Which ones do you like better, the white ones or the others?” Elijah asks.

“Mallards.”

“What?”

     “The other ones are called mallards.”

          We like to watch the ducks stick their heads underwater and wiggle their butts in the air. When they surface, spraying water all over their backs, we clap for them. They shoot us strange looks.

We do this for hours.

          “I like the little one over there who’s not quite white. You see, he’s got that light gray patterning on his face and chest.”

          I point him out for Elijah, who’s now daydreaming and out of my reach. Upstream a ways, I see Mr. Keller walking Joseph. Joseph is a large man with a small mind. At least that’s how Mr. Keller put it the first time I met the two of them.

          “He’s not like everyone else,” Mr. Keller had said. “He’s special, a gift from God.”

“What’s his gift?” I’d asked.

          Mr. Keller had stared down at me for a while, the muscles of his mouth collapsing onto themselves, folding down and in toward his chin.

    “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

          I wave at Mr. Keller and Joseph, and they pick up their pace to meet us. Joseph knows my face by now and always smiles when he sees me even though I don’t think he knows my name, where I’m from or why I come here.

“You like it here!”

          That’s one of the few things Joseph does like to say, in different inflections and with different intentions.

“You like it here?”

          He stares at the ducks and shakes a bit, rubbing his left hand against his temple.

          “We come here to feed them.”

          I hand Joseph a piece of crust and show him how I throw mine. He pouts for a second, looking over at Mr. Keller.

  “I like feeding ducks too.”

          Joseph does a little dance in a circle, waving the piece of bread up above his head. His massive belly rolls like moving cumulous clouds, but his legs hit the ground, two soft kittens.

   “You like feeding ducks too!”

 “Do you?”

          Elijah looks up from his daydream, and we’re all surprised he has said something, each of us having forgotten he was sitting nearby. Joseph stares down at my brother with big brown eyes, and there’s a spark of recognition in them, not the type he shows me when he picks up his pace to say a hello; it’s more the type of recognition between two old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, the type that is full of wonder and joy and sadness all in one.

      “You like to conjure?” Joseph asks.

          Elijah furrows his eyebrows before nodding his head.

          “You like to conjure,” he repeats. “You like to conjure!”

          Before Mr. Keller can grab hold of Joseph, the big man grips onto Elijah and runs him to the other end of the park. They run like two wolves, quick and together, as if they both know where they are going and what they are looking for when they get there. Mr. Keller and I take off behind them, our steps clumsy and confused, uninspired. We are not a part of this.

          When we arrive, both of us breathless, Elijah sits cradled in Joseph’s lap. His arms outstretch toward a black statue, and he moves his palms in circular patterns over a list of names. Andrea, Layla, Taylor, Jesse...