Five-Day Road Trip to Chicago

It’s rare to find anyone that you really enjoy travelling with. It's rarer to find three such people. I am lucky to know three people who are not just easy to travel with, but are delightful and treasured friends of many years, and so, once again, the fabulous four hit the road for Chicago. Of course flying was considered but, with suggestions for locations of interest that could be experienced along the way, it was decided that we’d drive. The main purpose of the trip was to see the Tiffany glass exhibit at the Driehaus Museum. The only other time I was in Chicago was 2008. That was in middle of Hurricane Ike and for some reason I never found a decent place to eat. What we could only hope for this time was what we got: constant sunshine, mild temperatures, and the best food.

We set off from Toronto on Thursday morning, hitting the Detroit Institute of Fine Arts (above) by lunchtime. The Diego Rivera murals (above right), the Scarab Club (below), and so much more were very worth the trip.



Later that afternoon we visited a blog favourite, the Motawi Tileworks in Ann Arbor. We spent the night nearby after a very satisfying dinner at Zingerman's Roadhouse. I'd never heard of it before, but by the time I'd finished googling it after dinner, I felt like the last person in the world to discover it. It's a national treasure and I'm so jealous that their monthly bacon box, or whatever it's called, can only be shipped to U.S. locations. That night I was catching up on Twitter and noted that the great film director John Sayles was visiting the Detroit area, specifically the University of Michigan, at a symposium about his work among other events that also included screenings and the opening of his archive. I gnashed my teeth that I had missed this by a day. His impressive entourage for the visit included his life/work partner Maggie Renzi and actor David Strathairn (secret boyfriend!).

The next morning, before hitting the road, we decided the only logical place to eat breakfast was back at Zingerman's where I had the best breakfast of my life. Onions, potato, bacon and asparagus were sauteed together before being topped by a beautiful egg, and accompanied by the best gluten-free bread I've yet tasted. I'm still thinking of this breakfast.

We hit the road and I pondered that there seem to be only three types of highway billboards in Michigan: churches, personal injury lawyers and sex stores. One after the other we were exhorted: Injured? Call us! Jesus Saves! 50,000 Square Feet of Sex Toys! We pondered why the "50,000 Square Feet" was important as as selling feature. So when a billboard suddenly popped up advertising the Kalamzazoo Institute of Art's exhibition of Tiffany glass, it kind of stood out - big time. This is the joy of a road trip... the surprises.

Kalamazoo!!!

Kalamazoo was full of charming, clapboard houses and good people. The exhibit was excellent. It didn't just showcase stunning glass and jewellery, but also detailed the way Tiffany and his artisans worked and how the glass was treated and manipulated before being cut into different shapes.

By mid-day we were in Chicago. What a great city.



Our first stop was back at the 2nd Presbyterian Church that we first visited in 2008. There was a jumble sale in support of the church in progress and I picked up two lovely green platters made in Italy, for which they tried to charge me only a $1 each. Yeah. They got more than that. The volunteers were fantastic, taking us into the church and turning on the lights for us. Even the organist appeared and gave us an impromptu recital. Of course the main attraction was the stunning collection of Tiffany and Morris windows. The moment I stepped into the church my eyes got misty. These windows are so stunningly beautiful, and the church is so short of funds. They're trying hard to raise money to restore what they can, when they can. Oh, isn't there a sensitive millionnaire somewhere who'd like to save and restore these works of art? Below left you see up into a vaulted ceiling, and a small patch of restoration work in prrogress. Below right, patched carpet.














 















In the afternoon we arrived in Oak Park, revisited Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio and wandered the streets taking pictures of some of his other designed homes before realizing it had been a long time since breakfast at Zingerman's. In a pub in Oak Park that evening, I fell on a lamb shank like a slavering dog (well, not really, just kind of) and it was - again - delicious.







Tucked into my very comfy bed that night, I caught up on Twitter. John Sayles and Maggie Renzi, that fantastic director/producer partnership behind such great films, had visited the Diego Rivera murals the day after I had. Great minds... what can I say? ;)


Saturday started with perfection. Okay, the Richard H. Driehaus Museum isn't a home that William Morris would have loved, and normally a gilded age American home wouldn't be my sort of thing, but it happens to be the most beautiful home I've ever been in. My pictures don't do it justice. There isn't a square inch that isn't lovingly honed. There is the perfect balance between marble, wood and other materials. Just visit it. After a drool and some shopping in the giftstore (I indulged in every museum we visited), we headed off to the Loyola Museum of Art for an excellent and comprehensive Edward Gorey exhibit. Charming and whimsical. And I got a lovely print of my favourite Gorey illustration ever. It's just waiting to be mounted and hung. We had amazing burgers at Chef's Burger Bistro then headed off to Navy Pier for more of the Driehaus collection of Tiffany stained glass and more besides. Hot and tired after this, we did the only thing that you can do when you are hot and tired in a big city: find a cool, comfortable hotel bar. We escaped into the Bellwether Hotel where they took excellent care of us, serving us perfect tea and warm-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies with vanilla icecream. I think after that we could have handled anything. As it was all we had to do was step onto a boat for a Chicago Architecture Foundation river cruise. Sailing under the first bridge and seeing those well-loved towers soaring above me surprisingly brought tears to my eyes. Our excellent tour guide shared her extensive knowledge and it was so good to sit and absorb for an hour or so. After that the two ladies of the party hit Nordstroms on a flying visit (I bought clothes!) before an evening of food and laughs.







 







I checked Twitter again that night. Well.. look who had visited Zingerman's that day and had also returned.... for gelato. I thought of titling this blog post "My Trip to Michigan with John Sayles" but thought that would be borderline creepy. Heh heh.

On Sunday morning we drove through Riverside, a community designed by Frederick Law Olmstead who knew what he was doing. We saw a FLLW property that is for sale and very decrepit. Hello? Millionnaires? We visited the Art Institute of Chicago as the contermporary wing hadn't been open last time we'd visited. We had lunch in the treed and scenic courtyard and then saw the Viviane Maier photographic exhibit at the stunning Harold Washington Library (you can see the top floor atrium below), and the equally impressive Palmer Hotel with its glamorous, palm-festooned lobby and the shimmering, mosaiced Chicago Cultural Centre. Seriously... a great city. One of our party hadn't seen the Bean so we went to play there and at the wonderful outdoor concert shell, the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, designed by Frank Gehry. We then had to find dinner. The place we'd planned on eating at was closed, so TripAdvisor came to the rescue and we ate at State and Lake Chicago Tavern which is located... at State and Lake. Such good food. This is where my friend started with Coalminer's Poutines (which included guanciale and a fried egg) and continued for his main course to consume the Butcher's Bigger Brother's Beef Brisket Bacon Burger on a Bun, which give you an idea why he was feeling he'd overdone it at the end of the meal. My baked wings were incredible. The best I've ever had. My mouth is still watering. We then headed into the sumptuous Chicago State Theatre for Eddie Izzard's show, which he's touring around, titled Force Majeure. Izzard was stylish, witty, eclectic, and the huge crowd couldn't get enough of him. He was doing three nights in Chicago alone!

The next day was a slowish drive all the way home to Toronto with a lunch stop off in Okemos, MI to see some more FLLW. I don't dream of living in a FLLW home, but there is something I find endlessly fascinating about his work.

It was a splended five days in June.

Okay, Now I'm Scaring Myself

It's a theory not universally considered (well, really just by me) that once I was going to start reading again, I wouldn't stop.

Last November, in another attempt to read a complete book, I started The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. I was on a train. I was full of good intentions (never a good sign). I didn't get past the first couple of pages.

Last Friday, also on a train, I finished the book... that I had started MERE DAYS PREVIOUSLY.

*seated dance of mojo-reclaiming triumph*

What has also returned to me, along with the ability to read an entire book, is a sense of relaxation, an ability to be constructively lazy. I think Tom Hodgkinson (secret boyfriend numero uno) would be proud. I like to think he would.

As for the book, it's a tender, delicious read, and I imagine it would be very enjoyable to those who haven't read Jane Austen (or at least seen the movies). But if you have, the threads that tie the book club members to Austen's tales are well woven and fun to recognize. I saw bits of the movie on television one night, and I suppose the most noticeable difference is that the characters are much younger in the movie than the book. Oh, there's a shocker.

*middle-aged smirk*

Easterish-ish

As I prepped for Easter dinner (salmon en croute), I pled for something more Easterish than Inglourious Basterds (2009) (which I want to watch, but just wasn't in the mood for). Easterish isn't what we got, but no matter. A viewing of Silence of the Lambs (1991) reminded me what a great beyond-genre movie that is, and what a magnificent character journey Jodie Foster takes us on. Good thing we were having salmon.

Afterwards the cast of Family Guy was featured on Inside the Actor's Studio, with secret boyfriend Seth Macfarlane! That and chocolate: I was happy.

A Single Man

I'm eating a dark chocolate Godiva pearl. And thinking of movies.

I was complimented today on my movie memory. But that's it, as I pointed out; I only really remember things about subjects I'm passionate about. Everything else... meh.

You probably remember Nicholas Hoult: he was Marcus, the endearingly quirky adolescent in 2002's About a Boy, in which he shows up on Hugh Grant's doorstep and refuses to be cast aside. (About Hugh Grant, I don't know about you, but I much prefer him in slightly caddish roles; he's just more interesting in them). About a Boy also featured my secret girlfriend, Rachel Weisz.

Anyway, Hoult has grown into his eyebrows and lost the puppy fact. Chris Weitz, who co-wrote About a Boy (based on Nick Hornby's novel), produced A Single Man, in which Hoult plays a plays a mohair-sweater-wearing beautiful youth who turns up on Colin Firth's doorstep and refuses to be cast aside. Well this I understand, as Colin Firth is one of my favourite secret boyfriends.

In A Single Man Nicholas Hoult does a great American accent, as does Matthew Goode (who was compelling and strange in last year's Watchmen.) Going the other way, Julianne Moore did a surprisingly bad English accent, but she was wonderful - as usual - in every other respect.

And yes, that is Jon Hamm, uncredited, as the voice of Hank Ackerley on the telephone. And yes, that's Tom Ford, Mr. Fashion, as director and financier of the film, which was based on a novel by Christopher Isherwood.

Colin Firth gave a magnificent performance. For me, in second place, is his house. That was built in 1949, was designed by John Lautner and resides just a short distance from Los Angeles. It's stunning, compact, and worth the price of admission alone. An architectural tour of California is on my to-do list.

A Single Man might be on your to-do list. Ooh, saucy pun. Nice.

Food and Laughter... What's not to Love?

I was at a fundraiser last week at the Winter Garden Theatre and worked my way conscientiously through the delicious food stations that were set up. One of the appetizers that was brought to me as we were sitting with one of the many tasty plates we consumed was this little morsel. Well, not so little really. My companion made the clever point that in some restaurants, this bacon-wrapped sirloin bit of heaven (topped with truffle cream) would be the main course. And you'd get to pay handsomely for it. Here it was just an appetizer and as I type about it my mouth waters... do you know the feeling when your mouth waters and your teeth sort of feel soft and achey? I'm such a carnivore. GrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr. The actual show was very good, all stand-up, with Mike Wilmot as a stand-out stand-up, among several, and headliner Lewis Black topping the bill. Er... excuse me? How did I not know about this man before? My (face) cheeks were aching the next day from the laughter. Of course several glasses of wine certainly got the audience in a giggly mood. I love outrage and Mr. Lewis is a master (and my new secret boyfriend).

Then I roasted a chicken, and tried brining for the first time. This lovely organic specimen came out juicy and crispy. Mmmmmm...

The chicken in his brine:




Mr. Chicken all ready to roast:




Oh boy!

New food fun of the week took place on Saturday when I baked up a batch of Betsy's soft and chewy ginger cookies. They are delicious! The recipe makes heaps... something like six or seven dozen. I lost count as we sampled them... hee hee! Thanks Betsy. You are such a brilliant baker! I downed - er - a couple - while delving into a new book on Sunday afternoon.

Some Recent Films

I like this extra hour we got thanks to Daylight Savings. It's given me time to blog! I know I've forgotten a bunch of movies I've seen in the last couple of months, but here are the ones that come to mind:


THE WINSLOW BOY (1999)

Sir Robert Morton: "Oh, you still pursue your feminist activities?"

Catherine Winslow: "Oh yes."

Sir Robert Morton: "Pity. It's a lost cause."

Catherine Winslow: "Oh, do you really think so, Sir Robert? How little you know about women. Good-bye. I doubt that we shall meet again."

Sir Robert Morton: "Oh, do you really think so, Miss Winslow? How little you know about men."

(Jeremy Northam as Sir Robert and Rebecca Pidgeon as Catherine in The Winslow Boy, 1999)

This is a favourite of mine, and I just watched it again yesterday. The Winslow Boy is based on a 1946 play by Terrence Rattigan that was - in turn - based on a real event that took place in 1908. In the story, a family fights to save the honour of their 13-year-old son, expelled from Osborne Naval College for allegedly stealing a postal order.

The David Mamet-directed 1999 film version is intriguing. The cast includes Nigel Hawthorne as Mr. Winslow; Gemma Jones as his wife; Rebecca Pidgeon as their daughter Catherine, a suffragette; and Jeremy Northam as Sir Robert Morton, the brilliant barrister who takes the case.

It may be set in 1908, but this isn't Merchant-Ivory fare. You won't find a single golden-light-bathed moment, and for this I give thanks. What makes this film magical for me, is that there isn't evidence of art direction anywhere. I get the distinct impression that this might be about as real as it gets when it comes to recreating that time period. Nothing is designed to invoke oohs and aahs.

The idea of family is powerful: the relationships between members of the Winslow family are beautifully drawn. You know Mr. Winslow loves and respects his prickly, intelligent daughter, and there are times - no doubt - when, as much as he loves her, he might dislike her. Her mother is a simpler woman and doesn't quite understand the suffragette she spawned. The older brother is a little hapless, the younger one is endearing. Sir Robert is brilliant and enigmatic.

I like Roger Ebert's review and you can read the entire thing here.

As to the business of casting his wife in the role of Catherine, I think David Mamet did a grand job. Her English accent is impeccable and her prickly reserve and lack of people-pleasing skills is pretty refreshing from the regular line-up of Brit-dram fluffballs.


BURN AFTER READING (2008)

"Osbourne Cox? I thought you might be worried... about the security... of your shit."

(Brad Pitt as Chad)

I finally got out to see Burn After Reading last night, the latest Coen brothers film. What a cast: George Clooney, Tilda Swinton, John Malkovich, Frances McDormand, Richard Jenkins, Brad Pitt and J.K. Simmons. The cast list alone would imply that we were going to see something with heft, some intellectual weight, but basically this is great slapstick with some thought. It's surprisingly short too, only about 90 minutes. This film marks two occasions: the enrolling of J. K. Simmons (the dad in Juno) as my new secret boyfriend, and the first time I've really enjoyed Brad Pitt in anything, and that includes Fight Club, which I thought was great, but I didn't actively enjoy it in a "woo hoo!" sort of way.


DRACULA (1992)

"I... love you too much to condemn you."

(Gary Oldman as Dracula)

Halloween night we'd planned to see... well, Halloween (1978). I'd never seen it and thought, hell, isn't it supposed to be a horror classic? 10 minutes in I reckoned not, so we switched over to Bram Stoker's Dracula. This film just fascinates me. It's the best of things and the worst of things. Visually it's stunning. Some of the casting is successful, with Gary Oldman in the title role, head and shoulders and fangs above the rest; Keanu Reeves is on the other end of the spectrum, deeply miscast, as he was to be even more magnificently the next year in Much Ado About Nothing (1993).

My romantic self particularly loves the framing backstory of Count Vlad from the 15th century and his tragic love story with Elisabeta. As operatically overwrought as it is, it seems by far the most authentic part of the film. There's a lot of ham elsewhere, including Anthony Hopkins who seemed to be in training for his scenery-chewing turn in Legends of the Fall (1994). (Damn, I forgot how much I loved that film, or rather, loved laughing at it, especially Brad Pitt - him again!. In LOTF he takes off for France to do some fighting in WWI, with his freshly-shampooed and well-layered long hair. My friend F and I were respectful of the sniffles and sobs we heard around us in the movie theatre, but once we got outside... well, we never stopped laughing over it. I think my favourite moment was the old First Nations retainer stomping his way around the dead bodies in the last scene - who the hell cares about spoilers for this one? - with his deadpan voiceover: "I was hungry for scalps but it wasn't my kill." I hope a First-Nations committee got up in arms over that one. SOMEONE had to!)


ROBERTA (1935)

This film potentially has the most over-the-top tagline in history:

A Heart-Load of Maddening Beauties... In Gasping Gowns... A Fortune in Furs... A Ransom in Jewels... In a Song-Studded Romance of Paris in Lovetime!

Blimey! It's also got Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, Irene Dunne, and Randolph Scott (surely the most beautiful man in film history?) It boasts a fictional (I hope) musical troupe named the Wabash Indianians (I kid you not) and the first film outing of the song Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.

It's sentimental, heart-warming, stylish and indulgent. If this is what the Great Depression managed to pull out to distract the public from their very real sufferings, I sure hope this current economic crisis we are in can at least create some similarly-enchanting diversions.

A World-Without-End Bargain

Princess: We have receiv'd your letters full of
love;
Your favours, the embassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time.
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dumaine: Our letters, madam, show'd much more
than jest.

Longaville: So did our looks.

Rosaline: We did not quote them so.

King: Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Princess: A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:
If for my love,—as there is no such cause,—
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
I will be thine;

From Shakespeare's Love's Labours Lost (c. 1594)


One mark of my ingrained optimism is my regular attendance of live theatre. It is so very rare that I experience a performance that exceeds expectation, but - when it happens - the pay off is very powerful. If I was forced to come up with a ratio, I'd say that 1 in 10 performances delights me, and more like 1 in 20 that really moves me or inspires me. Maybe 1 in 20 is too generous. Whatever it is, I keep attending and I keep hoping.

The payoff recently has been pretty satisfying and ultimately most impressive. First off was the double-bill of The Real Inspector Hound and Black Comedy at Soulpepper Theatre, which was silly and fun (although the patchy British accents were really distracting; why do they bother? Just go au naturel!)

Then I spent last weekend in Stratford and the Stratford Shakespeare Festival's Michael Langham-directed Love's Labours Lost was better than I expected. This was cast using the young company members of the Birmingham Conservatory for Classical Theatre (the in-house apprentice program). They're not the usual rubber-stamped, good-looking, dullards of seasons past (in my opinion), but a real range of types, physiques and personalities. Senior members of the company completed most of the older roles. Peter Donaldson (as Don Adriano) and the 11-year-old Abigail Winter-Culliford (as Moth, his page) were reunited after their moving performances last summer in To Kill A Mockingbird (he as Atticus, she as Scout) and they were easily the best part of the show. I've looked back through my blog and am amazed I didn't mention To Kill a Mockingbird last year. I must have started a post and never completed it; it was easily the best thing from the 2007 season: another of those rare experiences in the theatre. And young Abigail is eerily talented, without any ghastly precociousness that you sometimes find in young performers; unlike them, she is not 11 going on 30, but very firmly 11, just remarkably talented. This was the last performance of LLL for the season and we repaired afterwards to the Down the Street pub to eat and drink and congratulate the artists who gathered there to decompress.

I hadn't seen Love's Labours Lost in over 20 years, and that Royal Shakespeare Company production was in London at the Barbican. Roger Rees was Berowne, and Kenneth Branagh was the King of Navarre and I remember him doing the most fantastic fall backwards onto the stage. I saw them that same summer together again: Rees as Hamlet, Branagh as Laertes with some great sword-fighting; and then Branagh again as Henry V, a few years before he made his movie. What a summer that was.

The next day, still in Stratford, after a morning walk around Lake Victoria, we watched Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet (1968) on television (lazy Sunday... mmmm) and were gobsmacked to realize that this film is 40 years old. Such were Zeffirelli's designers, that the film hasn't dated. No beehives or heavy eyeliner to place the film when it was made. Good stuff! I reminded my companion that Bruce Robinson (Benvolio in the film, and my secret boyfriend... sigh) reports in his wonderful book Smoking in Bed that Zeffirelli made such a big play for him, that he became nicknamed (by fellow castmembers) as Bendrovio. I never noticed before that Zeffirelli's set dresser was Christine Edzard. Must do a post on her and my thoughts there very soon! So much to blog about and so little time! ARGH!!!

I ended this particular run of theatre with a wonderful experience: the Canadian Opera Company's War and Peace. Enough said: buy a ticket if there are any left!

"She cooks as good as she looks"

I know I go on about the lack of good thrillers on the screen and yet I still fall for the promise of a chill-ride. Recently I saw 88 Minutes (2007), a last-minute error; and Deception (2008), lulled into feverish excitement by the combination of Ewan McGregor and Hugh Jackman, the latter only taking his shirt off once, the handsome rotter! Awful movies. Combined, that makes about four hours I’ll never get back.

At the same time, I caught the original Stepford Wives (1975) on TCM. Now that’s a good thriller. I hadn't seen it in years. We sat there and hardly moved a muscle until it was over.

*SPOILERS ALERT*

The interesting thing was that apparently Ira Levin, the author of the original book (which I never read), wanted the wives of Stepford in more overtly sexual outfits, sort of like Playboy bunnies. But director Bryan Forbes wanted to go with the more obviously docile and feminine look, all 70s floppy hats and voluminous, white frilly dresses. Yes, the latter look is pretty twee but much more plausible. A town peopled with Playboy bunnies is going to get a worrying amount of attention from the outside world, and surely it is the fear that the Stepford husbands feel that bring them to Stepford in the first place, to tame their wives into docile dream dolls and keep them from the outside world. Well, Forbes won and I think it a good thing. The extreme femininity, like most extremes is scary… the men are scary… Stepford is terrifying. So, when a remake was in the works I was most intrigued. The result was horrible. They did away with the ballsy chilling film that Forbes gave us, and instead came up with a goofy comedy with an upbeat ending. I suppose the attempt was to make a Hollywood blockbuster. But think of the possibilities if they had played it straight and sought to frighten us: set in a gated community: Stepford Acres. Eek!! I'll hide under the bedclothes tonight.

It was the same creative tragedy with Spoorloos (1988), a terrifying Dutch film, remade into The Vanishing (1993), which gave this horror an upbeat ending, and basically killed it. I won't tell you what happens, but only watch Spoorloos if you are not alone and are not sleeping alone. Seriously.

Another Kidman film that jumped the shark the minute the story was approved is The Invasion (2007), a dreadful, tepid remake of the two earlier Invasion of the Body Snatchers movies (1956 and 1978). The minute you see that our heroine has a cute, blond, tow-headed youngster, well, you know it’s got to have a happy ending, right? Nothing bad ever happens with a child around. Remind me to borrow a cute kid next time I take plane anywhere. Shameful premise, ghastly film. But how could I not see it? Daniel Craig, my secret boyfriend, was in it too, dashing in his corduroys. Years ago, an actress friend of mine remarked that the camera loves Nicole Kidman. It still does. She has a rare, removed love affair with the lens that is still there, despite the work she’s had done on her face. Maybe it’s that reserve that keeps that love alive. Certainly I find her fascinating and will see her in almost anything.

And finally, hunky Jackman and fascinating Kidman together at last! I found this link on Eagle Wing's blog: the trailer for the new Bazz Luhrmann film, Australia. I can't wait till November!

(Title quote: Peter Masterson as Walter Eberhart in The Stepford Wives, 1975.)

Quote of the Day

"I was at some crummy party somewhere, and here's my agent talking, and he says, 'So, what do you do?' I said, 'You're my agent!' I'll never forget him saying that."

Bruce Robinson (writer, director, actor, and one of my secret boyfriends)