The Carreón Cinema Club: Election Day Edition

The Carreón Cinema Club: Election Day Edition

If you’re like me, this Election Day is all about comfort food and comfort movies. If you need to break away from the pundits & prognosticators, here are the Carreón Cinema Club’s Top Five Election Day Movies to help steady, or jangle, your nerves as we await the results of a lifetime.

  • TED (2012) – Feeling the need to bust a gut, look no further than Seth MacFarlane’s Oscar-nominated hit, TED. One of my favorite R comedies ever, the image of a trash-mouthed, alcoholic teddy bear is perfect for tonight. Starring Mark Wahlberg and Mila Kunis, prepare for a case of the moist fuzzies thanks to MacFarlane’s pitch-perfect voice performance as Ted. It’s for anyone who needs a thunder buddy tonight.
  • THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (1940) – One of my favorite films ever, George Cukor’s 1940 classic THE PHILADELPHIA, is as perfect a comedy as you’ll ever see. Starring Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and James Stewart in his only Oscar-winning performance, this is a film to treasure thanks to a screenplay that is practically music to your ears. Classy, legendary, and funny in its depiction of class, media, and marriage, you will swoon away the anxiety in no time.
  • WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN (1988) –Tap into the pop kitsch of Spanish iconoclast Pedro Almódovar’s first mainstream hit, WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN. This Spanish-language comedy from 1988 reveals how far an anxious woman will go to get a call back from a straying lover. A hilarious look at relationships and gender, you’ll be ignoring your telephone as election updates start coming in.
  • NETWORK (1976) – If you need something a little more substantive, why not Paddy Chayefsky’s brutally funny but accurate look at media with NETWORK. Directed by Sidney Lumet, this prophetic movie details how a last-place network taps into the era’s popular rage with outrageous and tragic results. Featuring William Holden and Robert Duvall, it is the Oscar-winning trio of Faye Dunaway and Peter Finch, along with Chayefsky’s script that makes this film a classic for any media age.
  • Z (1969) – For the nihilists just looking for a cathartic release, may I suggest Costa-Gavras’ Z, a dark and chilling account of Greek politics following the assassination of a Greek political leader. Inspired by real events, Z’s representation of the event’s aftermath, including a mass cover-up and a coup d’etat, is sobering and all-too timely. One of the first films to be nominated for Best Picture and Best Foreign Film Oscars, winning for the latter. Unforgettable.

Hang in there, mi gente. We have each other for whatever happens next. See you on the other side of history.

The Carreón Cinema Club: An Introduction

The Carreón Cinema Club: An Introduction

For as long as I can remember, movies were my refuge of choice whenever the world felt like it was out of control. Even more so than books, films were that perfect, transcendent experience.

Genre did not matter to me, at least not at first. I allowed myself to be transported beyond worlds big and small with time, from fantasy to gritty realism, from historical epics to contemporary narratives of great emotion and truth. It didn’t matter the language, either. What mattered most was what captured by the camera and how it made me feel. At 53 and with over 25 years of working in the film industry, the education I’ve received introduced new perspectives and profound respect for those who dare to engage an audience.

With today’s comment box mobs raking most efforts through the coals instead of offering profound analysis, it is hard not to take offense. If you don’t like what you see, make your own damn film. See how it feels! Worse, in this era of YouTube and TikTok stars, I fear the historical significance of so many masterworks from the past will simply turn to dust.

While I understand streaming platforms’ entertainment value, I admit I was slow in making them a part of my viewing outlets. I still prefer sitting in a plush movie theater, a luxury I sorely miss during these days of the pandemic. When I do connect with the streamers, I find more comfort watching television series from the past than anything of the moment. Some days you just want a nice grilled cheese sandwich with a hot bowl of tomato soup, right? In reality, I accept not being the demo for most mainstream streaming platforms’ original programming. Thankfully, friends and colleagues have offered sublime alternatives, which has turned my living room into an international film festival.

A pattern is emerging from what I’ve made time to watch these last few months. Seeking distraction from what ails us is not always an admission that serious events undermine our fragile and privileged peace of mind and ways of life. It is essential to be aware, to make a difference through educated activism or donating to a cause, all actionable outreach, to ensure these dark days are not the harbinger of worse things to come. My motivation to turn away from social media, in particular, was to stop screaming into a void, to not contribute to the virtue signaling of hashtag politics, and to fully restore a sense of civility and humanity, at least in my sphere of living.

I’ve found so much to ponder and marvel thanks to The Criterion Channel, Kanopy, and the TCM App. While Hulu and Amazon Prime possess some gems, I didn’t expect the sites mentioned earlier to remind me why I fell in love with film oh-so-many years ago. Expertly curated, they offer a window into the world, past, present, and even a bit of the future. From a personal level, I find my faith in the creative process restored as I reflect on the universal themes and emotions that inspire us to write, act, and roll the cameras.

We don’t know what lies ahead in our shared futures, but I resolved to view 2020 as a bittersweet gift. This painful reality we continue to witness is a much-needed moment to take stock and build a better self. We may never get a chance like this again. Why not look back at our world film history and see what we can carry forward in terms of the art we seek? In any language, the power of cinema is its ability to capture a moment in time. For however long the feature lasts, you know events happened, a group of likeminded artists lived it, and their record of said events remains eternal. You will feel the best part, for at times you can’t help but think it still can be a beautiful life, indeed.

Since I was in middle school, I wanted to be a film critic. My first printed reviews were on David Lynch’s “The Elephant Man” and the classic comedy “9 to 5,” starring Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, and Dolly Parton, both released in 1980. Amazing what can happen to a young David Ansen in 40 years. My career took its path through studio film publicity before reaching its peak as a content producer/interviewer. Still, I never lost sight of that first dream, even achieving it briefly for the excellent Latinx entertainment news site Desde Hollywood. That’s what brings the Carreón Cinema Club full circle.

The Club was inaugurated over a decade ago when my siblings and I would take my late father to the cinema every weekend to see the latest blockbusters. We created this joyful tradition before Alzheimer’s ultimately made it difficult for him to participate during the summer of 2018.

Up until that point, Dad never missed an opening weekend thanks to us. His reviews would often make us smile because you can see he enjoyed being with us in the dark, eating popcorn, and escaping the world for just a moment, too. Dad left us in February 2019. It is that smile of his that guides me through this next project at hand. I will always picture Dad sitting next to me, offering some popcorn or reacting to the film’s incredible sound design on the screen with a “thumb’s up.”

In the days ahead, you will see capsule film reviews highlighting the best of what certain streaming platforms have to offer. Curated with classics from around the world, Hollywood blockbusters, bad movies to love, and other cinematic gems worth your time, the CCC is here to offer a break from what ails us all. A bolt of positivity, no snark, awaits. Either way, it is with the love and emotion that started the CCC I hope translates onto the video chapters to come.

Welcome to the Club!

Subscribe to the Carreón Cinema Club YouTube Channel today.

#CarreonCinemaClub

IG: @CarreonCinemaClub

Twitter: @CarreonClub

Bruised fruit.

Bruised fruit.

Southern California is on fire again, filtering the L.A. sunshine through an apocalyptic haze, a burnished glow that is beautiful and malignant at the same time. I won’t be walking today, avoiding the layer of ash that has fallen overnight, blighting the suburban oasis that is my sanctuary, my home.

It makes sense that I chose to spend the day indoors. I won”t speak for all, but these last months of chaos and quarantine finally forced me into retreat. I don’t know if self-preservation is a last-ditch effort to sustain a sense of inner peace, but avoiding fear, anger, and other negative malaise is my true goal. I keep to myself because my penchant to speak frivolously is out of tune with what we are enduring as a nation and society. How anyone can stand the sights and sounds of an American “president” who insists on trolling the world through Twitter to get attention and spread his brand of lies, hatred, and instability is beyond me.

What I find is that I can’t bring myself to contribute to any dialogue surrounding politics anymore because I find my tenuous sanity threatened and edged towards collapse. I think the scarier truth is perhaps my years of misguided narcissism and self-absorption have been reflected at long last.

Perhaps years of continually promoting the false color and sound of the “Jorge Show,” which first exhausted my closest friends, has finally spent me.

Perhaps the years of living breathlessly to contribute overstimulated conversations about all things fabulous are no longer enough to hide the reality that I’ve worked too hard to cover up my truest self and hide it from the world.

Perhaps these months of stripping away the layers of my own corpulent body and emotional self down to the core are starting to reveal a better and healthier?

Perhaps I’ve finally made peace with the reality that no one should have to put so much effort into making themselves “interesting” to the outside world.

I won’t call it an epiphany as this process of self-discovery is still happening in real time. Most days are about clarity, others are definitely opaque. I’m at once eager to move forward and terrified to even make the slightest acknowledgment or move. I’ve had chili cheese fries and chicken nuggets. I’ve stumbled in communicating with people I love. I’ve slept way too long on weekends, avoiding any form of contact on purpose. Is it depression? Yes. Is it debilitating me like before? Not as much. The processes of wellness and its struggles don’t stall me, either. I just aim to make sure the next day isn’t about dwelling on the choices that are not wise and get back on track.

When I do feel able to absorb the outside world, I am able to to accept how we cannot act like these crises of late don’t involve us; they do. What crisis can do is reveal who we are, inside and out. Perhaps that’s why people choose not to incorporate themselves in these waves of change. Yet, change is inevitable. If allowed, it can carry us to a better plane of existence. That’s what I want to see in others and myself. To take the time to feel, react, and be moved to be better at living life.

I recognize that even this expression of thought appears to be an extension of the “Jorge Show” in many ways. That isn’t my intent. What I hope is transmitted, too, is how it is possible to look outward from our safety bubbles. It is possible to bear witness and respect the selflessness and sacrifice exhibited around the world, inspiring the many who choose to care and act in our best interests. It is also essential to bear witness to the subtle reminders that exist in between those moments. We need to keep an eye out for the beautiful lessons that still exist in this reality, despite the screaming heads and endless virtue signaling defining our era:

The little boy living with his parents across the street from me acts out his own Super Bowl moments daily by playing football alone. He is victor, cheerleader, fan, all in one. Completely unfiltered in his excitement, a team of one. I never see him play with other children, which doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. The joy on his face is unbridled and true.

The little girl I saw at the Mission Ave. Metro Line station during one of my daily walks around the neighborhood. She chose her moment to spin in place, smiling and laughing. The happiness of being able to move freely in the warm sun of a weekday afternoon in South Pasadena demanded that she throw her arms out and twirl around as her mother smiled with her.

The father and young son walking down the street near my home, taking their daily constitutional, I hope, enjoying the time together. Seeing the son put his hand on his father’s back, a gesture of such respect and love, nearly brought tears to my eyes. The father reacted positively, not negatively, looking down at the boy with a smile, the world’s most natural thing.

Garfield Park is teeming with natural life, families, birds, squirrels, children, older people, all basking in the breeze found in the shade when the sun feels merciless. Butterflies and hummingbirds dart in and out with purpose, reminding me of Dad whenever I seem them. Or, the little girl singing to herself as she ran across the lawns of the park. I live in a primarily white neighborhood, which is why I was heartened to see how many of these moments included people of color or mixed race families. It is the flip side of the burning rage that cannot be ignored, either. It is the balance that still eludes us.

I know it all sounds and reads a bit soft. I don’t care. The simplicity of it all, the humanity of such moments, gives me a reason to stop dwelling on past mistakes and present tense ennui.

The bruises I’ve inflicted upon myself for such a long time are less purple and painful, and yes, healing. Moving forward, I find myself pondering where do we go from here? What happens after the pandemic, the angst of unrest, and the demand for cancel culture finally abate? What will we become once the hashtag protests, election manipulations, disgusting conspiracy theories, and natural disasters stop long enough for us all to take a breath? How do we protect a state of mental grace when the roar of change and progress consumes us anew?

I take solace in knowing that many of us are all bruised fruit now, but we remain intact. We retain our sense of purpose and our commitment to furthering the message that we can better. I believe we can still nourish one another by skipping the judgments and accepting the flaws. We have to admit that we will never win over those who have chosen to ignore all that is right, just, and scientifically correct. We have to focus on those who teeter on edge, who will benefit from a guiding hand and an open heart.

And we need to take a moment to throw our arms out and spin whenever we feel the damn need. At least, that’s what I feel today.

I’m killing myself slowly.

I’m killing myself slowly.

It was around 8pm on a Saturday night in early March. I was in bed, watching my umpteenth rerun of “The Golden Girls” on Hulu.

That was when I noticed a missed phone call from the One Medical group, my medical provider. My iPhone was set to send all unrecognized calls to voice mail. Needless to say, this was one phone call I should have answered before the second ring.

Early Friday, before I made my commute to work. The one that feels like a living documentary? Yeah, that commute. I stopped by to see the phlebotomist at One Medical’s DTLA office as ordered by my physician. Nothing out of the ordinary, unless you factor in the day I slurred my words after a family lunch. (I don’t drink.) How about the interview where it took an effort to get full sentences out while I was in Atlanta? (No one noticed that episode but me.)

It’s been nearly six months since I’d had my blood check for all those damn demons of mine. The results were predictably bad. Why else would the nurse practitioner call me on the Saturday night after my blood was drawn? No suspense music sting here.  I’ve written about my stratospheric A1C and triglycerides readings before. After steady declines, it only took me a few months, but I’m back to a 13 reading (A1C) and over 1200 (triglycerides). After speaking with the nurse practitioner for a few minutes and reading the lab results, I reclined on my bed, took a deep breath, and said quietly:

“I’m killing myself.”

Was it intentional, this act of self-murder? I don’t know. What I do know is that all I can say more often than I care to admit is, “I don’t care.”

I thought after Dad’s passing that some magic window would open and I’d find myself on a new path. We’d spent so many years making sure he’d never feel like a “sick person” because of his Alzheimer’s, my siblings and I literally hit the Pause button on our lives to give him our undivided attention. That hasn’t been the case. Even my younger brother moving on and out of my apartment didn’t manifest itself into some giddy “Space Unicorn” moment.

No, I’ve opted to kill myself because I can’t handle the loneliness and anger that has me in a vice grip. I turn 53 this year, single, not caring to mingle, and determined to live out some “Leaving Las Vegas” agenda. I will literally eat myself to death. The truth is, though, I don’t know if I really want to die right now.

My family, extended and otherwise, is a shambles right now. We’re a microcosm of the world, never happy, always critical, and aggressive in terms of how we express our feelings. We eat. We criticize. We eat some more. We laugh for a bit. We eat a bit more. Someone gets hurts feelings. Someone leaves. Eat. Speak. Yell. Slam. Repeat. We are better is small groups, but it has to be a certain combination of temperaments. I can weather it just fine on some days, but most of the time I find I want to be left alone. That mindset has been the catalyst for some serious health issues.

img_20150710_110400486I’ve felt broken for a long time, a total relic in this modern age of “Notice Me Now!” Flirting with pancreatitis is not romantic, neither are the signs that my body is no longer coping with inactivity, which are visible and painful. I’m in trouble, folks. I don’t think I’ll withstand another episode like the one 10 years ago where it felt as if I was in the throes of a heart attack. I want to send out a search party for my will to live and to care about life, myself, anything. It’s been gone so long, I don’t even know if I’d recognize it, but I know it exists. Will is what keeps us from falling into the gaping maw that appears so inviting, but is only out to destroy you.

I’ve been staring up at this mountain of issues, feelings, and tasks for so long. It’s all I have been able to do for years now. Wedged in between are this selfish rage, apathy, fear, and other wickedness. Sigh. I have seen doctors. Meds are being replaced with other chemical life preservers. Anti-depressants are back. A visit to Overeater’s Anonymous is in the books. The search for the appropriate therapist is also in full motion.

I know how this may look and sound to some people. I can’t worry about it. More, I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. No one wants to look weak or vulnerable to the people they love. Yet, at what point do you be strong for the person who needs you the most? Yourself. At what point do you stand facing your image in a mirror and say “I love me?”

That’s what I intend to find out.

Quotes, Pedro Almodóvar Edition

Quotes, Pedro Almodóvar Edition

“People have stopped surprising me so much, they’ve stopped exciting me as much. And secondly, there’s the pain.”

He paused.

“Pain is not something you can share with other people.”

Oscar-winning filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar on his latest film, “Pain and Glory.” Quote from Kyle Buchanan’s interview for the New York Times, Sunday, 10/16/19

 

Quotes, Stephen Sondheim Edition

Quotes, Stephen Sondheim Edition

“I’m interested in the theater because I’m interested in communication with audiences.”

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Sondheim (left) wrote the lyrics for West Side Story; classical-music superstar Leonard Bernstein (center) was the composer, Jerome Robbins the director and choreographer. The story of the show’s genesis is told in the special NPR series 50 Years of West Side Story.

Otherwise, I would be in concert music. I’d be in another kind of profession. I love the theater as much as music, and the whole idea of getting across to an audience and making them laugh, making them cry — just making them feel — is paramount to me.

The process of putting something down on paper is very important in keeping the stuff alive in your head. You can improvise and think, ‘Wait, that A-flat doesn’t sound right,’ and you change things as you go along, even though you’re just sketching.

From Stephen Sondheim‘s interview on NPR’s “Fresh Air,” February 16, 2012.

Quotes, Margaret Atwood Edition

Quotes, Margaret Atwood Edition

“I’m a writer. I figured that out young, and writers write.”

IMG_6202They speculate. Engage ideas. And at that moment in time, in the ’80s, I was hearing a lot about what people would like to do if they got into power, and having been born in 1939 and been through WWII and its aftermath when we were all trying to understand what happened, I knew Hitler spelled it all out in the 1920s, in his book, what he would like to do if he got power, and people did not take that seriously.”

So I believe if someone says they will do certain things, unimaginable things to many, they will, in fact, do them when they get the power they’re after. That is what you’re seeing now. What’s going on now with those in charge in this country was forecast then and since: They told us what they were planning and now it’s in progress. We can’t say we’re in a totalitarian state now, not yet, because we wouldn’t be talking—I wouldn’t be talking as much as I am—I’d be in jail.

Margaret Atwood on writing “The Testaments.” Interview by Amy Grace Loyd for Esquire.com, 9/24/2019

Quotes

Quotes

“I didn’t know how it was going to take shape I never know. I just kind of have an idea and have a few moments that I need to get to, and sometimes I know what the end is, weirdly enough.”

I wrote it pretty quickly. I was really in the free-fall — that’s a word we used to have in the play that we cut — in the free-fall of the writing.

Is the feeling as you write the same?

Not the same. For a book, it’s more meditative and controlled, and I feel like can return to it. I feel like an adult. When I’m writing a play, I just feel like an adolescent.”

Writer Adam Rapp, with Mary-Louise Parker, on writing his new play “The Sound Inside,” opening October 17 on Broadway.

From the New York Times, September 29, 2010

Quote, part II

Quote, part II

“The writer is situated in his time. Every word has consequences. Every silence, too.”

Jean-Paul Sartre (June 21, 1905 – April 15, 1980) was a French philosopher, playwright, novelist, screenwriter, political activist, biographer, and literary critic.

He was one of the key figures in the philosophy of existentialism and phenomenology, and one of the leading figures in 20th-century French philosophy and Marxism.

Sartre’s work has also influenced sociologycritical theorypost-colonial theory, and literary studies, and continues to influence these disciplines.