Good Sunday Stack December 7th

Good evening and greetings from the London Borough of Hackney.

Two moments I noticed today:

First, this morning, I was in Peckham walking down Rye Lane with a friend. We’d just gotten coffees and were catching up after not having seen each other for a few years. We were making our way first to Pexmas, a neighborhood holiday market, and then eventually to Nunhead cemetery for a gloomy view of the city and a some mud on our boots.

View from Nunhead Cemetery

Before we could get to any of this though, or even really start catching up, we’re walking down Rye Lane and we see a bus slowing down nowhere near a traffic light or crosswalk. The driver is twisted behind her motioning to someone—another woman in the middle of the street. They’d recognized each other and began having a hand conversation that elicited laughter from both of them. The brief exchange ended with the universally recognized “I’ll call you” motion from the woman in the street and a big smile plus thumbs up from the driver. No word from the delayed passengers.

After the morning coffee, I hopped on the train to Victoria where I’d sloth my way through the holiday crowds to the Victoria Underground Line. No matter the temperature outside, the underground runs hot. Especially the Victoria line. In order to cool riders off, the trains have little windows between cars riders can, and usually do, leave open to allow an unpleasant smelling but necessary breeze into the car.

The two girls next to me were fiddling with their hair when one of them decided to take advantage of the artificial breeze. She stood face first in front of the window, the wind from the tunnel blew her hair back, and she easily tied it up into her desired ponytail.

Ahead of my turning twenty-seven later this week, I was asked last night how twenty-six went. I said that I’d made the two biggest decisions of my life thus far. Then I biked home. I’d dwelled on the decisions plenty before making them. Nothing to do now except live in this world of my own creation.

What I’m Watching (and Where)

The Godfather @ Prince Charles Cinema

Ever heard of this little underseen indie film? Didn’t think so. Worth checking out if you have the time.

All kidding aside, this was a big one to cross my list, and how lucky am I to have seen it for the first time on film, on the big screen in a mostly full cinema while knowing next to nothing. Perfect, timeless, effortless. Superlative.

Blue Moon @ Picturehouse Hackney

While I’m on the record as being a huge fan of Richard Linklater, this was my first time seeing one of his films on the big screen without having already streamed it at home. Small and unelaborate, it leaves plenty of room for its wonderful screenplay to shine. Full of quips delivered mostly by Ethan Hawke who plays Lorenz Hart a few months before he’d die with some help from Bobby Cannavale manning the bar, Margaret Qualley Hart’s muse of sorts, and Andrew Scott as Richard Rogers. As all but the prologue scene takes place in a recreation of midtown Manhattan’s Sardi’s I found myself closing my eyes and just listening, as if I was another patron, eavesdropping.

John Candy: I Like Me @ Home

This Amazon documentary recalls the Canadian actor John Candy. Before watching, I would have recognized him from Home Alone or Cool Runnings, but I didn’t know much about him or his life. While not formally revolutionary, his is a story worth hearing. There are some wonderful anecdotes from his coming up in Toronto alongside the Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, and Dan Aykroyd as well as interviews with Tom Hanks and Bill Murray testifying to his character. Ultimately though, the doc serves as a tragic reminder that we all oughta be a litter nicer to each other, and to ourselves as well. We don’t realize how much joy we bring to the world until it’s too late. Rest in peace Mr. Candy.

What I’m Reading

The Women Behind the Door by Roddy Doyle

Gloomy but engrossing, this book unfolds in the Irish capital amidst the Covid pandemic. I’m embarrassed to say it’s only now after finishing it I’ve learned that it’s the third installment of books Doyle’s written centered on Paula Spencer, widowed and divorced by this novel. She struggles to keep her feet on the grounds and her head out of the algorithms and her past trauma. Glum as it sounds, I did find myself chuckling more than once. Particularly good is how Doyle has Paula text. If you are a child who has ever texted a parent, you’ll understand.