Jean Luc Goddard

If there was one word that defined hipness in high school and freshman year in college it was Jean Luc Goddard. I first encountered the name being mentioned on WBAI. Apparently, the callers were objecting to the change of the name of the film "One Plus One.
It was being changed to the name "Sympathy for the Devil."
"It is nothing but a sellout from art to commercialism," the caller ranted.
Being a big Stones fan, naturally this caught my eye. Apparently, there was a Rolling Stones movie out directed by a French arteur.

Two weeks later I was on the bus with some friends and we were headed for the movie, "One Plus One", then playing in New York. To be fair, the Stones footage is interesting. The Stones didn't look like they were having too much fun though, and the stuff outside or in the junk yard was preposterous, I thought.

Later at Rutgers, I took the class, "The French Film" (my mother used to get laughs at parties reciting the classes I was taking) and it showed "Breathless". In 1972, Jean Luc Goddard, spoke at school and I got to see him. Jane Fonda had appeared around that time too. Apparently they were both in New Brunswick, tied to the movie "Letter to Jane". Goddard's film criticized Jane Fonda and perhaps she was on the heels of Goddard to stand up for her dignity, according to one story.

"Breathless" I chiefly remember for Jean Seberg selling Herald Tribunes. Saw it again on TCM and I actually enjoyed it and understood it for the first time. I guess there are advantages in age.

I never saw "Weekend" until recently although I told a white lie about it many years ago. The teacher had said in class that we could see any film in the library collection if we needed to for a paper. The next day, however, I was turned down flat by the staff of the library. There I was informed that they never set up a projector for one student. Luckily the library had a book of the screenplay with pictures. I implied in the paper that I had seen the movie when actually I was stretching the truth.

It's hard to say that Jean Luc Goddard was a great filmaker, but he was definitely of his time. In the year 2020 when the class at high school is assigned "movies of the sixties", his films will be introduced as relics of the madness of that decade.

A night in Tunisia

A blog that is written in Tunisia and is following the excitement in that country.

Where's your tie

I wrote a new post on the Sixties blog. I think it's great our Congressman are going to do Outward Bound together. I wonder if their valets and butlers can come along.

January grumpiness

In December snow makes us nostalgic and happy about snow at Christmas. Especially if we get a day off. In January snow just makes us grumpy. More shoveling. More lousy roads.

Employers use different methods to tell their staff they have a snow day. One place I used to work used to call workers an hour before they would not normally get up to tell them not to come in the next day. Another job would send the calls out at midnight the night before. Recently I was called for a delayed opening and when I got to work the security guard told me that, in fact, the delayed opening had been changed to closed.

Early January is when most of us de-Christmas our homes. When I was a kid we used to sing Christmas songs backwards while taking ornaments off the tree.

This is also the time when we finally have to deal with our presents that have been sitting under around the living room. A few tips for gift givers. Never give large gifts to people with small apartments. Never think that you can start someone with a new hobby. If they didn't scrapbook before, they're not going to start now, even if they have a huge scrapbooking kit. Most apartments have a shortage of electical plugs and finding a new one for an unwanted gift can make people testy. And if you buy a shirt for someone to wear at work, make sure it has a pocket and is wash and wear. People aren't going to start ironing for the sake of a Christmas gift.

And why oh why don't they clean the snow at doctor's offices and drugstores! Well, enough grumpiness. At least in January you can be grumpy and not be called a Scrooge.

Life

Almost finished Keith Richards' biography "Life". Actually surprisingly literary work from the Stone with nine lives. Anita Pallenberg doesn't come off too well. Mick comes off better than advertised. Of course, the author comes off as an angel with a dirty face.

The part about growing up in England is good reading. The book has gotten good reviews and will now be part of the Stone's literary pantheon. The big dissapointment is at the end. Yes he fell on the beach at Fiji but he never climbed a coconut tree.

Editor's note: An earlier blog on the Rolling Stones. For a more literal story of the early Rolling Stones, try Bill Wyman's A Stone Alone, a good companion piece to Life.

Herkimer, New York

Family trips are often the high points of childhood memories, often increasing in their exoticism and sheer pleasure as viewed from the distant past. So it was with the family vacation of 1958. I was six years old and my father had just bought a beautiful 1958 Ford Fairlane and the family was embarking on a summer trip to Canada. We were headed for Nova Scotia, where there was a road the supposedly went uphill and downhill at the same time. We got as far as Herkimer, New York when my brother remarked to my father that the engine was making a funny noise.

My father said, "Just ignore it, turn up the radio!". Soon, passing a gas station, my father reluctantly turned in to get second opinion on the car.

Being only six, my memory resurfaces the next week where the family stayed at the Hotel Herkimer. Every day we walked through the park and every day my father came back from the garage with bad news. Apparently the family trip to Canada had met with a permanent dead end in Herkimer. The mechanics thanked my family for the watermelon we had left in the car. It must have tasted good that hot August day.

My brother and me were playing at the one pinball machine in the hotel when a man came out and said, "Hey kids, would you like to see a radio station?"

"Sure," my brother said. We walked around the station and the disc jockey, he looked like a spaceman with those huge headphones waved at us. Then the gentleman who gave us the tour gave us a gift of records. I still have the Conny Francis record in my collection.

Finally my father, exasperated by the fate of the car, sent me, my mother and brother to the train station where we took the train back to Hackensack, presumably through New York.

It was my first trip on a train.

The car was finally repaired, but it was a source of constant expense and aggravation during it's lifetime with the family. It was replaced in 1966 with a Ford Falcon, a much better automobile.

The family never made it to Nova Scotia. Thanks to college radio, I got to sit with headphones and wave to people while doing my air shift. The glamorous world of radio.

Anarchists

Just when you think we can't possibly have one more thing to worry about, we find out that anarchists are sending bombs in Italy.