4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is the Cannes Film Festival winner from director Cristin Mungiu. It recreates the bleak period of suspicion and black markets in Romania just before the fall of its dictator Ceaucescu. With this background, the director chooses cinema verite to tell his story. There are no fancy cuts or even cross-cuts between the principal actors. The lighting is restrained at times or overlit at others. Most of the shots are medium shots of two people talking. Sounds grim, huh? That's just what the director wanted. This is the uncomplicated story of two roommates at college who seek out an abortionist. The more naive of the two has allowed her pregnancy to go on much too long (see title), and they are forced to use an unscrupulous pig of a man for the operation. Since this is against the law, the film builds suspense with the questions of whether or not they will be discovered and whether or not the operation will succeed. The director cleverly pits these two women against a number of men besides the abortionist. There is the roommate's boy friend who treats her roughly and calls it caring. There are the hotel employees who snicker at the women. The abortion itself is shown in detail, and the graphic shot of the fetus on the bathroom floor will linger in the viewer's memory. 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is not for the squeamish, but it is a strong statement about dictatorships, both national and personal.

Dark and Light

Opening on the same day, Mama Mia! and The Dark Knight present two extreme attitudes about life and love in the modern world. Both are entertaining and both are drastically removed from reality. Christopher Nolan's uber-violent, humorless adventure grabs the viewer by the throat and doesn't let go for a full two hours and thirty minutes. Fueled by a ghoulish and artful performance by the late Heath Ledger as the Joker, the second of Nolan's Batman films is set in a modern Gotham that is obviously Chicago. Gleaming with modern pride, the city is rotting from within. Despite the efforts of the caped crusader and honest law officers, the city has fallen into the hands of the Joker. Some reviewers have called this epic the best of all the Batman movies, but they forget several qualities necessary for such praise, humor and the creation of an imaginary world that will enthrall viewers. The Dark Knight has little of either. Think back to Tim Burton's trippy Batman, in which Gotham City was freakish amusement park with Jack Nicholson's Joker conducting the mayhem. The incredible art deco sets matched with the decaying monuments of buildings provided a perfect setting for darkness and fun. The grand finale, with its allusions to Hunchback of Notre Dame and Phantom of the Opera, takes place in a crumbling Gothic cathedral that resembles Gaudi's Barcelona cathedral in its last stages. Burton and composer Danny Elfman create a world of dark beauty and funky fun while the composers for The Dark Knight provide too much bombast, sometimes so loud we can't hear the dialogue. Credit Nolan with great action sequences and a great cast, but his take on Batman lacks humor, music, and hope.

On the other extreme there is the new film version of Mama Mia! which offers a large cast of talented actors the chance to run amok on a dazzlingly beautiful Greek island. Almost anyone who breathes knows the music of the Swedish pop group ABBA, whether they want to or not. The infectious, sometimes infecting beat lifts the banal lyrics to almost operatic heights. Consider Meryl Streep as she belts out "The Winner Takes It All," to a non-plussed and almost non-singing Pierce Brosnan. The film version of the amazingly popular musical which is still running on Broadway and all over the world seems less clunky than the play. New dialogue and character dialogue give the slight story a humorous boost, and the cast has a ball with all the silliness. Streep, who may be a bit mature for a former free spirit and leader of a girls' Bangles-like group, gives her role the energy, joy, and even the sadness it needs while Christine Baranski almost steals the film as a randy divorcee. When the group belts out "Dancing Queen" in their full glitter and boots regalia, only a thug from The Dark Knight could resist. The film also puts a new spin on the ancient Greek chorus, employing all the locals to comment on and participate in Streep's romantic dilemmas. Like Streep, they race around the island, dive into the sea, and dance the film away. You should too.

At the end of Casablanca, Rick assures Ilsa, "We'll always have Paris." What is it about the City of Lights that causes so many Americans to call it their favorite city? I first saw Paris the summer of my college graduation in 1961. I was alone , but the charm of the Left Bank, the museums, Notre Dame, and all the rest swept my gloom away. I was determined to return.

Finally in 1985, I came back with my wife, another Francophile, and our three daughters. We rented an apartment and spent a month living the Parisian life, or at least our version. Each day, we would walk down to the market and get French bread for breakfast. After that, we would stuff our bag with sandwiches and head out for our highlight of the day. Whether it was a glass factory, the Goblein tapestry museum, an intimate museum such as the Musee Moureau, or an afternoon at the Tulieries Gardens, we never got tired because we had the time to relax. At lunch we would eat our picnic lunch and in the afternoon we would head back to our apartment via the same street--the one with the ice cream shop with every imaginable flavor. The proprietors came to know our favorites, especially that of our youngest daughter Kristin, chocolat. So for a magical month of July we bought a good bottle of vin rouge for 10 francs or a dollar, delicious cheeses and pastries, and daily ice cream. Instead of one trip to the Louvre, there were many. And, for the most part, nobody got tired.

Only two years later, I returned to Paris on a NEA grant for the Humanities to study Gothic art and architecture for 6 weeks. Our program was sponsored by Cornell. Each week we had lectures on the history, style, and importance of the Gothic movement, and then we hit the streets finding many superior examples close to my apartment on St. Germain, including the old St. Germain church itself, Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, and many more. Every Wednesday we would head out to Chartres Cathedral, where Malcom Miller, the noted Chartres expert would concentrate on several aspects that most tourists never see. The most thrilling were walking among the rafters beneath the nave roof, where one mistake could send you topling down towards lower ceiling, and walking outside along the nave towards the towers as well as climbing up inside the towers. In my down time I ran in the Tulieries or sunned and read in the Luxembourg Gardens. All were in walking distance from my 6th floor apartment. I have never been in as good shape as I was that summer, especially since there was no elevator to get to my room. I did make some interesting friends in the study group and we often went out to eat or see a concert, but I was relieved when Betsy came for a week and when my parents and my sister came as well later. That six weeks in Paris was the most intense and delightful time since the earlier 4 weeks in 1985.

In 1989 my wife, youngest daughter, and I joined a group of Darlington students and parents for a tour of Paris and the Loire Valley, among other sites. It was not our most endearing trip. At the very end, some of the students got smashed and the teacher/escorts were held responsible, even though some of the offenders' parents were there. Needless to say, bad feelings ensued. It would take several years before we took a student tour again.

Now it is 2008, much too long a time span to be away from Paris. On this trip, my wife and I joined our oldest daughter Cat, her husband Chris, and our two grandsons Jay, 8, and Graham, 6, for 3 days in Paris and 7 in and around the Pyrenees. More on this trip next time.