Sometimes, as a writer, don't you wish you had a Han Solo at your back? "You're all clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing and go home!" The thing is, in our artist journeys, we have to be both the hero and the sidekick, both the Luke and the Han. We can help each other out, but in the end, there's no one but us who can shoot those bad boys down. Still--it's sometimes nice to dream . . .
Earlier this week, Colleen and I went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", the extraordinary movie based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I loved it. Colleen not s'much. (I was sitting there choked in tears at the end of the three hour film, so I only vaguely remember her saying something about "watching paint dry.") I want to see it again, so I'm trying to get the Gare Bear to go with me this weekend, but I won't be surprised if he reacts the same way Colleen did. The movie is long. And odd. It requires patience and a complete suspension of disbelief that modern audiences simply aren't trained for, so you've got to be in the right mood for it. The same is true of the short story, though the story and script have very little in common -- at least superficially. The story is very Fitzgerald (though it's not an example of his best writing, IMHO), and the setting -- Baltimore during the industrial revolution, Spanish Americ