Fandom: Game Changers book series, Heated Rivalry Characters/Pairings: OFCs, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter/Kip Grady, Hayden Pike, Troy Barrett, mentions of many HR characters Rating: Teen Length: 6937 Content Notes: no AO3 warnings apply. Some mentions of homophobia and slurs. Creator Links:corsi on AO3 Themes: Outsider POV, Unconventional format & style, Epistolary, Worldbuilding, Fans and fandom
tried to get oomf into hockey and now she's obsessed with FUCKING HOLLANOV? THEY'RE 50 YEARS OLD
Or: Ten years, as seen through fandom.
Reccer's Notes: This is courtesy of a rec in cathexys' journal. It's another fic told through snippets from invented social media posts across about ten years, following the development, within the universe of Heated Rivalry, of hockey rpf fandom, mainly focusing on Hollanov (Ilya/Shane). It's extraordinarily well done, and although the story of Shane and Ilya's decade-long love affair is the core thread, the real tale is of the rpf fandom, specifically a few devoted fans. The poignancy and brilliance of this fic is the portraits it paints of fanwriters and young fans, immersed in the fandom while they grow and develop, moving through their own life stages and dramas while posting about the hockey players they love, especially Hollanov. And in the end, of course, the Hollanov truthers are resoundingly vindicated. The formatting makes it clear that we're seeing posts on tumblr, livejournal, AO3, Reddit, Twitter, etc., with different types of fandom on each platform. Hilarious and touching, this is a wonderful read, and the details are meticulous and very funny. PS: It may help to know in advance (as these may be hockey rpf terms with which I was unfamiliar) that 2481 is code for Hollander/Rozanov (their jersey numbers), and 2435 is Hollander/Pike. MHL is the Major Hockey League, HR's version of the NHL. Some details in the fic will probably only make sense if you've read the books. PPS: Also, there's a fictional recs list by "ice knives" partway through, and I want to read ALL OF THEM!
Fanwork Links:Love Takes Miles (read it in creator's style if you can, for the formatting)
Okay so it's not really a thing in America and mostly all we did today was lie about watching British mysteries and being thankful no one else was in the house!
I also wrote a lot and washed clothes. Put my Christmas photos in a file. Probably will share them with you tomorrow.
Summary: Angel is hosting his first Sinsmas party as an overlord. He wants to ease his nerves about it with a dinner for friends but with rival overlords and scrapping turf war wannabes, will his party be a success or a dismal failure?
Rating: teen and up
Author Note - Written for spikesgirl58’s six words challenge. The words were Form, Illness, Session, Government, Lunch,& Relief and for lyrical bingo for the prompt of Pre-1900 song. I chose There'll Be a Hot Time in Old Town Tonight by Bessie Smith.
I also wrote this a holiday gift for my friend JK. It was meant to be Pentious centric. Angel was having none of it. It’s part of my Angel overlord AU. It’s a stand alone (but feel free to read the rest of the series if you want) All you need to know is Valentino is dead (Angel killed him) and Angel’s taken over Val’s empire with the help of his brother. The couple’s outfit Angel and Husker are wearing at the party (not to mention their dance moves) were inspired by Layton Williams and Nikita Kuzmin from BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing, especially this dance
Woke up at 4:30 AM. Went back to sleep, and woke up at 6 AM. Jet lag strikes! The place that I want to go for breakfast is open, so I'll throw myself together and go there.
Went to the Corner Bakery Cafe. Their pancakes were recommended online, so I had some, and they were very good. I had Bananas Foster pancakes.
The downtown area seems to have a lot of foot traffic. Buses run late. That got me wondering about housing costs, but it’s California, so they’re probably high. Yep.
Had a nice nap. Checked where the cruise port is for tomorrow. It's a 10-minute drive from here, so I can check out a little before 11 and get there in time for boarding. (I'm in the first boarding group, and I want lunch on the ship!)
There's a Chipotle across the street. I looked at their menu though, and it doesn't excite me. I guess that I'll DoorDash. Oh, Cava (Mediterranean restaurant) is open until 10:30.
Yay, I DoorDashed clean socks (and soda). I had been wearing dirty socks. Ugh. Note to self: bring lots of socks next time for the beginning and end of the cruise. (I'm planning to wear sandals through most of it). I'll do laundry once I get on the ship.
I'm trying to get the energy to work on my Medical Journal. I just want to read though. I don't think that ChatGPT will do what I want. I'll try Word.
I got confused as to what time it was. My computer said that it was 4 PM, so I thought that I would have an early dinner. But my computer is on Chicago time. So I had a late lunch. I went to Cava and ordered the Chicken Shawarma Pita. The thing was enormous and messy. I wound up wearing part of it despite strategically placed napkins. It was good though. I had cinnamon pita chips dipped in honey for dessert.
I want to read and maybe nap. The food is knocking me out.
Yikes. My dad and his wife have COVID, and they haven’t had any of the shots. I’m worried.
Overslept my nap. It’s raining out. I’m not sure what to do now. I should get to sleep early because I need to get up early and pack, such as it is. I want to be ready to go at 10:30 AM.
It feels later than it is, not surprisingly. I think that I'll read for a while and get to bed early.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once famously said that there are no second acts in American lives. This is an aphorism that is pithy and sounds smart, but isn’t true, not even for F. Scott Fitzgerald, even if his second act (the late blooming popularity of The Great Gatsby) happened after he was dead. Second acts happen all the time, primed by luck and/or talent and/or nostalgia and/or opportunity. The interesting question for me is, what do you do with that second act when the curtain comes back up.
Get Shorty is about two second acts in American lives, one that’s just starting up, and one that’s in full swing. The one that is just beginning belongs to Chili Palmer, the movie-loving loan shark who is the film’s protagonist. The one that’s in mid-swing belongs to John Travolta, who, as this film was released in 1995, was in the middle of a career renaissance that, honestly, had seemed improbable even two years before.
Chili first. He’s a mid-level guy in Miami who as the movie opens is in a bit of a spot; his boss has suddenly died, and the new guy in charge of his book hands him off to Ray “Bones” Barboni (Dennis Farina), whom Chili has recently punched in the face over a coat. Ray Bones wants him to track down money owed by a dry cleaner, who recently died in a plane crash… or did he? One thing leads to another and then Chili finds himself in Los Angeles and making the acquaintance of Harry Zimm (Gene Hackman) a producer who makes C-list horror films, but has one great script in his pocket, if he can just get the funds to get it made.
Well, Chili is a film nut, and he knows a little about getting hold of money, so he decides to stick around and see what he can do. Is this easy? Not at all, since others are circling the script, there’s problems with the Mexican cartels, Ray Bones re-enters the picture, and most of all, Chili has to convince two-time Academy Award nominee Martin Weir (Danny DeVito) to come on board a project, and Weir is, how to put this, every single cliche of an entitled movie actor in one compact package. Oh, and there’s Karen Flores (Rene Russo), who was a “scream queen” for Zimm, and who Chili, quite reasonably, takes a shine to.
This is Chili’s story of remaking himself in Hollywood, but it’s also a travelogue of, if not the underside of the film industry, then at least some of its shabbier quarters. Everyone in this film (excepting Ray Bones and the cartel guys) is on the make in one way or another, looking for more money, more status, more presence and more cool. While this is all obviously exaggerated for the story, anyone who has ever spent any time lurking about the movie industry, either as an observer or as a participant, knows about these guys. Tjey’re all just one script or one movie star attachment away from getting their own big break into the “A”-list, dreaming of clutching that golden statuette and thanking the Academy.
There’s no crime in any of that! (Well, there is crime, and lots of it, in this film, but you know what I mean.) The striving must be exhausting, though. All that smooshing your face against the glass of the hottest restaurants, waiting to get the table, in prime seating time, that’s not by the bathroom or the kitchen door. Only Chili, in this movie, seems entirely immune to all of this. It’s because he’s new and entranced by all of it, but also, it’s because, as a loan shark, he understands the psychology of people who always feel like they’re just one roll of the dice away from their big score. They’re the people who keep him in business, after all. Chili loves the movies, but he’s too cool to lose his cool about them. At least, the money part of it. The big difference between the people he collects vig from and the people making movies, is the people making movies are having a lobster cobb salad for lunch, not the Moons Over My Hammy.
It takes an extremely cool actor to play an extremely cool character, and this is where we come to John Travolta. For a relatively brief moment in the 1970s, John Travolta was the coolest actor in the world — he had landed the one-two punch of Saturday Night Fever and Grease. The first of these exploded the disco craze, was a social phenomenon and a top ten movie at the domestic box office, and garnered Travolta his first Oscar nomination. The second of these was the top grossing film of its year, was also a social phenomenon, and gave Travolta a number one Billboard hit, one of his four top ten musical hits overall. It was literally not possible to be a cooler star than John Travolta was at the end of 1978.
That level of fame is hardly sustainable, and Travolta was not the person to sustain it. After a string of less successful films, some of which were outright flops (Moment to Moment, anyone? Two of a Kind?), Travolta’s career was in a doldrum by the middle 80s. Now, let’s be clear that when I say it was in a doldrum, this is a matter of perception, not necessarily box office: in 1989, Travolta was one of the stars of Look Who’s Talking, which was the number six box office winner of its year, and which is, counting global box office, still the second highest-grossing film of his career after Grease. We should all have such profitable doldrums. But let’s not pretend that as a matter of perception, as a matter of star power, as a matter of coolness, there wasn’t a precipitate drop. When you’re playing second banana to a talking baby, you might be rich, but you’re sure as hell not cool.
Then along came Quentin Tarantino and Pulp Fiction. There are many things to say about Quentin Tarantino, not all of them great, but one thing that cannot be denied is that he does a fantastic job of resurrecting the cool factors of formerly washed-up and washed-out actors. He’s like a financial analyst seeking out value stocks, except the stocks are actors looking to get their mojo back. Tarantino saw that Travolta and his cool factor were severely undervalued, so he dropped the actor into Pulp Fiction as the likeably strung out Vincent Vega. One role, one hit and one Academy Award nomination later, it was like Travolta, and his ability to embody extreme coolness, had never gone away.
Get Shorty was Travolta’s first film after Pulp Fiction, and while Vincent Vega and Chili Palmer are superficially similar (both mid-level cogs in a much bigger crime machine), there’s no question that Chili is the cooler character. He’s smarter, he’s more ambitious and he’s more in control of himself and his fate. Vega is (probably) who a lot of mid-level criminals are; Chili is who they all wish they could be. Travolta needed Vincent Vega to get him back to the level where a character like Chili Palmer was available to him, but once he was there, Travolta showed why the character needed him to work onscreen. It’s said that Warren Beatty, Dustin Hoffman and Michael Keaton were all offered the role before it was given to Travolta. No offense to any of those excellent actors, but not a one of them could have pulled off this role with the same panache.
Travolta’s second act, like his first, wouldn’t last forever. Travolta pretty much put a capper on it in 1999 with a little passion project named Battlefield Earth, which is rightly considered one of the worst films ever made, a genuine turd that no amount of personal cool could ever have saved. But before that moment we got this film, Broken Arrow, Face/Off, Phenomenon and Primary Colors, among others. That’s a pretty decent stretch (after Battlefield, we got Travolta in some Look Who’s Talking-tier comedies like Wild Hogs and Old Dogs, some standard-issue thrillers and also the animated film Bolt, which is a personal favorite of mine. That’s fine! He’s doing fine). Very few people get to be cool forever. I would argue that even fewer get to be the coolest actor alive twice in their career.
This is why I really like rewatching Get Shorty; it’s a study in a movie star being such a goddamned movie star, being so very much the movie star, that everything about the movie is just that much better because he’s in it. This is not role that made Travolta a star, and it’s not the role that resurrected him. It’s not the second act in the making. It’s the role where Travolta is saying, that’s right, I’m back, now watch me own this town. And then he does just that. It’s a blast to watch.
It’s the final collection of new books and ARCs for 2025, and this one is a double decker! What here is something you would want to take with you into the new year? Share in the comments!
I spent an awful lot of Christmas day asleep. That's probably a good sign that I needed to.
Put on my big, red, stretch velvet dress. Returned a DVD. Got cash. Got to the Mercury. Waited in the rain for the door to open. Got to see various peeps, including A (Foreshadowing!).
Then I got skeeved upon by a guy who claimed to know the artist of St. Rat and invited me over to the artist's place. I declined. He also claimed to be gay. Reader, that was totally not his vibe. He non-consensually touch me a few times.
In other words, this guy was the grossest tranny chaser I'd come across in years. Given the high percentage of trans women to be found at the Mercury, I suppose that was inevitable. A whispered in my ear, asking if I'd like a rescue. I nodded, and she walked me past the main bar.
A's main squeeze (Don't make me say "joyfriend"), who's AMAB non-binary and very much looks it is named J, not to be confused with J-the-lady, a pal of A's who happened not to be there last night. J-the-NB said that the aforementioned skeevy dude propositioned them. None of us got around to complaining fast enough, though, because a Merc staffer spotted the skeevy dude taking his belt off on the dance floor and immediately 86'd him. He whined all the way out the door. ¡Viva la Mercury!
On my way home I spotted DJ Wrain Havoc on her phone at the end of the alley. I waved as I walked by. She interrupted her call to say, "I heard what happened. Are you OK?" I shrugged, "It happens." I'd encountered worse, but it had been a while.
Caught the last train home — it was an hour early because of Christmas, which I hadn't known — with two minutes to spare. Then waited only two minutes for the bus. A Christmas transit miracle.
Skeevy dude is close in age to yours truly. I sincerely hope that he learns not to be gross before he runs out of years. Someone ought to do some science on those fuckers. Where do they come from? Why are they like that? How can they stop being like that?
Current Mood:calm
Current Location:the living room of the Devil Girl House
Current Music:The Magnetic Fields, "Andrew In Drag"
When I opened the watercolour painting kit from my daughter yesterday I commented that I would need a table in the basement, to which she replied that that is a great idea. Later in the day (after we were back from Christmas with her in laws) I told her I was thinking of buying a cheap card table, which would be the perfect size for the space in the basement next to the piano. She told me that I didn't need to buy a table because I could have the small table in the girls' art room that Aria has been using, because there is also a bigger table in there with plenty of room for three, and immediately she brought me down to see if we could move the table then and there. We found that we would need to take the legs off the table (which she had had to do to get it into the room originally), and she went off to find a wrench. Some time passed because I guess she got caught up with doing other things upstairs, but eventually my son in law came down with tools, removed the legs, brought the table out, replaced the legs, and set the table up in the corner.
The best thing about this table is that it's sturdy enough for me to use it as a sewing table as well as a painting and puzzle table. I was worried that a card table wouldn't be strong enough for the sewing machine, so this is great. I won't be able to leave the sewing machine set up permanently, but it's not hard to get it out of its case and set it up on the table as necessary, rather than having to lug it upstairs to the dining table. I've also been able to dig out one of the power strips I brought from home and plug that in and pass the power cord along behind the piano to the table. (It's just long enough.)
Comment with Just One Thing you've accomplished in the last 24 hours or so. It doesn't have to be a hard thing, or even a thing that you think is particularly awesome. Just a thing that you did.
Feel free to share more than one thing if you're feeling particularly accomplished! Extra credit: find someone in the comments and give them props for what they achieved!
Nothing is too big, too small, too strange or too cryptic. And in case you'd rather do this in private, anonymous comments are screened. I will only unscreen if you ask me to.
I had problems getting up this morning, but I think that I got up at 7:30 AM. Had another good breakfast. Great service—I was having problems cutting the pancakes, and a guy showed up with fresh pancakes for me and took the old ones.
Now I need to pack stuff up. Emailed my travel info to my dad. Suitcase packed. Backpack packed except for the stuff that goes in at the last minute (chargers). I’m going to lie down for a little while.
At the airport. Dropped my suitcase off to be checked. It was just under overweight, so I can’t buy anything.
I think that I might buy a meal on the flight. The timing would be right.
Made it to the gate, stopping twice. It was the farthest gate once again. No charger plugs. Or at least, they’re not working. Yay, found a charger that works. I got to the gate so early that they were using it for another flight.
The flight is overbooked. They asked for volunteers to take a later flight for a $1000 voucher. I went up to the podium, although I wasn’t sure how that would work with my checked luggage and the San Diego hotel. But enough people got there before me. I’m on the flight.
Had a large hamburger for dinner. And I slept the rest of the time. Airplane drowsiness strikes again!
In San Diego at the hotel. I want to get some stuff from Walgreens, but it just occurred to me that it’ll be closed. I thought that I ordered two bottles of soda, but just got one. Oh well. I need to order socks from CVS tomorrow.
Had a protein bar. I think that I’m going to go to sleep early because it’s later Chicago time. Not sure about tomorrow. Right now, the idea of going anywhere sounds awful. I’ll see.
Summary:All around her spread the magnificent brilliance of the shining tree, its decorations alight and glittering.
Author’s Notes:Merry Christmas to my dear friend Amaebi!
Reccer's Notes: A little girl’s Barbie dolls come to life to keep her company on Christmas Eve. The author maintains a keenly lived-in sense of scale; acting as a team in the fashion of the Madagascar Penguins, the dolls scale the California redwood heights and marvel in the celestial lighting of the Christmas tree (while remaining vigilant against the approach of the Parents—or, worse, the Kitty!)
A nostalgic snapshot of the fierce Velveteen Rabbit Reality of our imaginary friends.
It was a better one than I was imagining. The people I didn't want to be there didn't come. Whoo hoo.
We had dinner at mom's. We got fried chicken from the store (they do a nice chicken) a few days ago. My cousins made stuffed shells. Yum. And of course, cookies, so many cookies
Mostly we drank (booze helps) played games (I won trivia and the gambling ones) and they finally left like quarter to Midnight.
And literally that was the whole day so I'll leave you with this, happy holidays, if you celebrate, and if not, hope you had a great day. And also enjoy my pictures of Gallipolis in Lights. They're pretty
Fandom: Chen Qing Ling; A Christmas Carol Pairings/Characters: Meng Yao | Jin Guangyao, Jin Guangshan, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wen Ruohan, Background & Cameo Characters Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Length: 7,500 Content Notes: No Archive Warnings Apply, (although Jin Guangshan is his own content warning.) Creator Tags: Minor Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Crack, Christmas Crack, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Jin Guangyao is gonna soften his dad's heart if it kills him, Jiang Cheng wasn't even supposed to be here today, Lan Wangji is only here for the snacks, (Wei Ying is the snack), Daddy Issues: The Play, It's WangXian but that's not the focus here
Summary: It's Christmas Eve in the Jianghu, and Jin Guangyao is determined to show his father the meaning of charity and generosity and the brotherhood of man if it kills him.
(It will.)
Author’s Notes: You know, throughout this fandom I've seen fans extend grace towards all sorts of morally grey characters. There are Xue Yang stans, Su She truthers, Wen Ruohan fuckers and Meng Yao apologists, I've even seen Jin Zixun have something like a redemption arc! But the one thing I've never, ever seen is a redemption story for Jin Guangshan.
This fic isn't one either.
… Thanks for reading! I'm so sorry.
I referenced this copy of Charles Dickens' ACC while writing this fic. How come nobody told me Dickens was such a fuckin' comedian? The adaptations only ever quote the dramatic lines.
Reccer's Notes: This is one of the most meticulous, erudite, and considered pieces of crack I’ve ever read; the characters themselves are constantly lampshading the incompatibility of the crossover. Mikkeneko manages, somehow, to keep everyone in character while shoehorned into the Christmas Carol roles and to transpose this Christian morality play into the context of a Xianxia China unbothered by missionaries—demonstrating a thorough understanding of both the canons she’s Frankenstitched together. There’s a smidgen of Shakespeare in there too; the Christmas Carol scenario is a stage play, presented by Jin Guangyao in a Hamletesque ploy to lay a ruler’s sins bare.
Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings/Characters: F/M; Emily Prentiss/Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Jennifer "JJ" Jareau; Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Henry LaMontagne, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid Rating: Teen and Up Length: 50,833 Content Notes: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, bittersweet ending, canon-typical violence, colorism, period-characteristic prevalence of smoking, period-characteristic attitudes toward mental illness, PTSD, war-typical gore Creator Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Everybody's Looking Sharp, Get Some Benny Goodman on the Radio, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Author is a Research Nerd, And Not Ashamed of It Either, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Alternate Universe - 1940s Creator Links: (AO3) mosylu, (Dreamwidth) mosylu, (FF.net) mosylu, (Tumblr) mosylufanfic
Theme: Amnesty, Mystery & Suspense, Uncommon Settings, Casefic, Characters of Color, FANCAKE IS FIFTEEN, Fandom Classics, Historical AUs, Research, Women Being Awesome
Summary:Historical AU. In 1947 New York, a motley group of strangers are about to come face-to-face with the idea that you can catch a criminal from within his own mind.
Author’s Notes: Honestly, this came about because of Garcia's hair. Yes, Garcia's hair. Follow me here. There was an episode where she was wearing it in this marvelous retro-40's do, and I started picturing how she'd look in a whole 40's ensemble. And then I started picturing the entire cast in 40's styles. (Boy howdy, would it suit Reid, and Morgan would rock a fedora like nobody's business.) Then I started thinking about how different their lives would have been sixty years ago, and then the social and cultural upheaval of an entire nation coming back from WWII, and . . . well . . . enjoy.
Historical Note: Shell shock was the World War I term, and battle fatigue the WWII term, for what we now call PTSD.
Reccer's Notes: A post-WWII noir mystery AU in which an oddly assorted bunch of cops, academics, veterans, and civilians, coordinated by their friendly neighborhood reference librarian and gossip networker, band together to solve some violent local crimes—and proceed to pioneer criminal profiling in the process.
(When this fic debuted in October 2010, the mystery of Reid’s chronic migraines was an ongoing canon subplot; this setting provides a ruthlessly plausible explanation. That’s all I’m going to say.)
We (those of us who are parents) had a nice slow start to the day (the girls got up at about 5 and opened their stockings) but then they went back to their rooms and did quiet things for a while. Most of the adults were in the kitchen/living room by about 8 am, but I suspect that the girls had been playing with Uncle J for a while before that.
Eventually, urged on by impatient girls, we started opening gifts, and not long after that we set off to my son in law's mother's (grammy's) place to spend the afternoon. The main course of lunch was at about 1:30 pm followed by dessert at about 4 pm, with gift opening in between. I received a small water colour painting set from my eldest daughter and two jigsaw puzzles from my youngest daughter. My middle daughter normally sends something that arrives after Christmas.
Because there were 8 of us with the two extras, we took two cars. My daughter and I went in my car and everybody else went in the 7-seater minivan. When we were half way home I suddenly realised I had left my small backpack behind (stashed in an out of the way corner) so we had to go back. Luckily grammy only lives about twelve miles away, so going back didn't take too long.
Now we're home and everything is remarkably quiet. Aria is here in the basement with me playing with a spinning "chair" she was given by her Uncle P (her father's brother). It's a sort of fish-shaped low dish which spins on its base and she is lying on the floor next to it, spinning it, having already spent a lot of time sitting or lying on it and spinning. Violet and Eden are, I think, upstairs with Uncle J. My son in law has taken L to catch her train back to New York because she has to go to work tomorrow.
Tomorrow we're going to my son in law's sister's place which is three times as far away as grammy's, so I will make extra sure I don't forget my backpack when we're leaving there.
Is there a day in your life that you would want to live over and over again? I can think of one or two perfect days I’ve had, and at least initially I might be okay stuck in them in an eternal loop. But eventually, even a perfect day would get monotonous, and there’s the fact that the reason it was a perfect day was because you didn’t know it was going to be perfect when you woke up that morning. Knowing would take the shine off it. Also, you wouldn’t be able to replicate that day perfectly, over and over and over.
Like smelling a rose forever, eventually you would become immune to the charms of the day. You would get a repetitive strain injury of the soul, and eventually, that perfect day, eternally on repeat, might be a working definition of Hell.
Phil Connors (Bill Murray) is not having a perfect day in this film. A Pittsburgh weatherman, he’s slated to go to Punxsutawney, north of Pittsburgh, to take part in the town’s annual Groundhog Day celebration, a day where (for those you who have just beamed onto the planet), a large rodent forecasts how long winter will continue depending on whether he can see his shadow or not. Phil loathes Groundhog Day because despite his professionally genial nature, he’s a misanthrope and finds people and their quaint little traditions annoying. But it’s his job, so he heads up to Punxsutawney with his cameraman Larry (Chris Elliot) and his new producer Rita (Andi McDowell), and does a perfunctory and slightly nasty stand-up.
Then weather happens and the three of them are trapped in Punxsutawney, one of them more than the others. Phil wakes up and it’s Groundhog Day again. The day repeats, he’s weirded out, and then it happens again, and again, and again.
Why is it happening? We never get an explanation (rumor is Columbia Pictures demanded an explanation and the filmmakers made one up to make the studio happy, and then intentionally never got around to shooting it). Why is it happening to Phil? Mostly, because the jerk needs it. Many of us take years and years to deal with our shit and come out the other side a better person. Phil needs only one day, it’s just that this one day is going go on forever until he gets it right.
In this, Groundhog Day feels like A Christmas Carol turned on its head. Ol’ Ebenezer Scrooge needed the intercession of three ghosts and one night to realign his worldview; Phil Connors gets no ghosts but eternal recurrence to sort himself out. Given the choice I think I’d rather have the single night; it feels more efficient that way. But I suppose not everyone can do it all in a single night, and Phil doesn’t seem like the kind to take a hint with a single whack to the skull. He’s going to have to get whacked, again and again and again and again.
Which is fine, because it’s fun to watch Phil play the changes: first panic, then glee, then methodical trickery, then despair, and then… well, you’ll see (or have seen, this film is universally acknowledged to be one of the great film comedies of all time). At one point someone asks Phil, who seems to know everything because he’s well into the middle of his eternal loop, how he can know so much. Phil says, “Well, there is no way. I’m not that smart.” And you know what, he’s right. He’s in this loop because he’s just not that smart. He can’t learn his way out of this conundrum; he has to experience his way out of it, if he is going to get out of it at all. This isn’t a criticism of Phil, per se. I’m probably not that smart, either, and probably neither are you. If Phil could be taught to be a better and more decent human, he probably wouldn’t have been a candidate to be in that loop at all.
(This does bring up the question of why the universe or whomever thinks Phil, of all the pinched, unhappy people out there, merits a loop to sort out his issues. This is also left unanswered, and maybe there is no answer. The universe is weird and capricious, and if you or I or anyone could really understand it, we’d probably try to find a way out of it. As ee cummings once said, “Listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go”)
Groundhog Day is a tale of existential horror played for laughs, which is one of the reasons I think it resonates for so many people. It’s an easy way to approach the concept of how hard it is to turn ourselves around when we only have a single life to do it in. There are a lot of different theories about how long it is that Phil is stuck in his loop, ranging from ten years to 10,000. There’s only one correct answer: He’s in it for however long it takes to fix himself. There’s no escape before then.
The rest of us are not so lucky, or unlucky, depending on your perspective. We have to live with our mistakes and screw-ups and disappointments; there are no do-overs, only occasional second chances. I don’t want to be stuck in a time loop for years or decades or centuries, but hurtling heedlessly through time with no brakes or track-backs also seems not a great way to run a universe, at least for the humans in it.
Another reason the film resonates so much is that Bill Murray is the perfect person to play Phil Connors. Like his character, Murray’s a funny and acerbic fella who is also, if the various stories about him on set and in his personal life are close to true, fully capable of being a real asshole. There’s a “biting on tin foil” edge to Murray that makes it easy for him to sell Phil as a person who doesn’t much like people, or himself, and it’s a toss-up on any given day which he likes less.
The production of this film had Murray butting heads with director Harold Ramis to such an extent that the formerly close friends had a falling out that lasted nearly until Ramis’ death in 2014. Apparently Murray wanted the film to be more philosophical; Ramis, who was the one who had to deliver a hit to Columbia Studios, needed it to be more comedic. In the end, they both got their way, so I think it’s a shame this was the film they fell out over.
In the end, though, who else could have been Phil Connors? Of all the actors in Hollywood at the time, I can only think of one on a similar tier of fame who could have pulled it off: Tom Hanks, who despite his current reputation as “America’s Dad” was capable of some real acidity and anger back in the day (see the movie Punchline for a Tom Hanks character who is basically a talented asshole). But even Hanks would have been second best here; Hanks doesn’t teeter on the edge of being unlikeable as well or as long as Murray. Murray makes you believe in Phil’s redemption arc.
Early in the film, when he had only recurred a few times, Phil remembers a day where he was in the Virgin Islands, met a girl, with whom he drank pina coladas and got busy, and wonders why he couldn’t be repeating that day. As you might imagine from my first paragraph, when it all came down to it, I don’t think he would eventually like recurring on that day any more than on Groundhog Day. Eventually the pleasure of it would stale and he would end up the same place (metaphysically) as he was in Punxsutawney.
That’s because, as the noted philosopher Buckaroo Banzai once said, no matter where you go, there you are. The problem was not Punxsutawney, or Groundhog Day, and never was. The problem was always Phil, just as the problem would be, inevitably, any of the rest of us in the same situation. Phil gets as much time as he needs to solve himself. Groundhog Day reminds us, however, that we just have the time we’ve got, and we better get to it.
The first orchid pictured here, the Calypso, gave me one of the best "miracles" of the year. Despite having lived in their native range my entire life, I'd never seen them - they won't grow on disturbed soil, that is, anywhere that's been logged - and where they *do* grow, people pick them (don't get me started). But in one wonderful trip with the fam to Pemberton, BC, they were growing plentifully in an accessible location. It's like meeting a phoenix or a dragon, to me.
This Phrag is the first of the genus I've ever managed to bloom. I killed several of them by overfertilizing - they want weak fertilizer and between fertilizings they must be flushed through with plain water to avoid any sort of salt buildup. Otherwise they start to die back from the leaf tips.
You might think a Christmas party couldn't come as a surprise, but if so you don't know Funny Lady. With three hours' notice she texted friends to come to her place in Georgetown for a "brunch for dinner" Christmas party.
Sure enough, there were grits with Velveeta, a "mountain of bacon", homemade donuts & holes, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and mimosas. Funny Lady is more southern than I am, you see, and had the urge to fry a bunch of food.
Pity it's going to start raining before I have time to ride my bike across Lake Washington again.
Anyway, I had a lovely time, including seeing a certain troubled youth from Lambert House! She seemed to be in a much better mental state. It's a little surprising that she knows Funny Lady given her age, but then again, FL knows everybody.
Funny thing about Funny Lady: she gets anxious when I propose taking transit from her place to mine, and did even when that was a much shorter trip. She's even threatened to pay for a ride share for me. Jeez, I make transit trips like that and even longer ones at all hours pretty regularly. Mind you, if it's late enough I just want to go to bed, so I used Funny Lady as an excuse last night to get home faster. But I took the bus* to her house and in my heart I'm a good mass transit communist.
*The 5 to the 124. Ba da boom, ba da bing. I got to see how cool the few blocks around FL's house are.
Current Mood:pleased
Current Location:the living room of the Devil Girl House
Current Music:Flip A Coin, "Peanut Butter Orchestra"
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