Good Blood, Bad Blood

“It’s like déjà vu all over again.”

Yogi Berra

We drove through the gorge in pouring rain. So much water in December. We stayed at The Hampton, in the Pearl District. It’s close to movies, Powell’s Books, and our son’s apartment. Our niece and brother-in-law would join us in town from his home in the burbs, south of Portland.

We met to reprise the tradition of a Xmas mini-film festival. Movie and a meal, conversation and shared reviews. These convivial get togethers testify to our strong family ties. For decades we have shared vacations in the summer months. Our two families continue to renew connections during the winter holidays.

The first night we rendezvoused at the Living Room Theater. We chose the Indian film, All We Imagine As Light. It is written and directed by Payal Kapadia. I had no inkling of its story. In my last post I attempted to share the impact nurses have in my life. So, I was captivated at once when realizing this was an intimate look into the lives of two nurses and a hospital cook.

It’s a full length feature with subtitles. The art conveyed in the acting and cinematography enriches each scene. The writer explores the hardship of immigrant life in Mumbai, which is a colorful, noisy city. Quietude is elusive, loneliness pervasive. There is tension between youthful passion and the commitment of maturity. The background is a chiaroscuro of racism, living on the edge of poverty, and love.

All We Imagine As Light

Powell’s Books.

Ikimono Ramen.

We left the theater. Fortunately, a noodle shop was nearby. We scuttled through a rain shower to Ikimono Ramen. I ordered Tonkotsu Shoyo Ramen. The dish was wonderful. Like the movie, it introduced me to a collection of unique flavors. I put manners on hold and sipped the last puddle of its juice from the bowl, trying not to slurp out loud.

The rain let up. We walked home in the dark. We liked the hotel, but not our room. Too hot and stuffy. I slept poorly. Nonetheless, I arose early and drank coffee with the other ghosts of dawn. Our 2^nd movie, A Complete Unknown, did not begin until 4:15. So, we grabbed umbrellas and headed west to Powell’s Books.

We separated to browse. The tables lured customers with sale pricing and poetic reviews. I could have spent a $1000.00 in the short time allowed. I restrained myself in spite of the frenzy. I had a list. I settled on two books, North Woods by Daniel Mason and The God of the Woods by Liz Moore. I escaped, my wallet just $50.00 lighter.

We still had time before the movie. The waterfront beckoned. Rain came and went and came again. Fresh air alleviated the hangover from our stuffy room. The overcast gave the midday a mysterious noir pallor. The patter of rain drops seemed a musical interlude, in keeping with the movie that awaited us.

The Dylan film played at a massive megaplex. We entered into the whale’s maw of capitalist excess. An inordinate amount of advertising bombarded us with messages too loud and too long. Under other circumstances, I might have walked out in protest to its gross indecency. Only my passive nature and family kept my incredulity under control.

A Complete Unknown

Zab Pinto Thai restaurant.

The noir of PDX waterfront.

I reacted emotionally to A Complete Unknown. It is a fine movie. Liberties were taken. Overall, though, it should be commended for accuracy. Its honesty resides in the faithfulness to mood. I lived the impressionable 60s. I came of age when ‘the times they were a changin’. Dylan and other creatives were cross pollinating one another in a renaissance of musical genres. Add to it the Vietnam War, Civil Rights, and women’s liberation. A soul satisfying soup emerges. Distill it, put through a strainer. What remains are the unique lyrics of the one and only Dylan.

Afterwards, our group went in different directions. We talked about a third movie early the next day. But, enthusiasm waned as our schedules conflicted. So, a short but sweet festival. Bro-in-law and niece headed back to the burbs.

My wife and I and son meandered through the mist of a Saturday night in the Pearl. We landed at a Thai restaurant, Zab Pinto. I ordered Pad Cashew with chicken. So delicious with subtle seasoning along with crunchy nuts and fresh bean sprouts. Texture and taste.

Dylan or the Indian flick: which the better? Incomparable really. One interprets the history of an artist, one is, itself, a work of art. So, they need separate categories or additional entries to rate them on a scale. We’ll call it a draw.

We left early the next morning. We drove home along the Columbia River Highway in the rain, full of good food and food for thought from two excellent films.

PS: I am 150 pages into North Woods, charmed by the evolving story, characters, and innovative style.

PS #2: Here is a song, Eggs Over Easy.

PS #3 Links: The Living Room Theater; Ikimono Ramen; Zab Pinto; A Complete Unknown; All We Imagine As Light.