“Dinner Party” scene from Beetlejuice (Tim Burton, 1992)
We’ve got a real Belafonte fan on our hands, which I guess is what happens when you play his records all the time. Still, Elias loves the song “Day-O” and, as Nicole discovered, is quite enamored with this clip from Beetlejuice. Pretty sure this movie constituted my introduction to Belafonte’s music (“Jump in the Line” at the end is maybe the best use of any song in any movie) so I guess it’s fitting that Elias got his dose early. To her credit, I think Nicole forgot about the unholy shrimp hands that come roaring out of the cocktail dishes to palm everyone’s faces at the end of this clip, but Elias thinks the whole thing is nothing but funny.
“Day-O” on The Muppet Show (1978)
This here is an even bigger winner with Elias. Not only does he get to see Belafonte in action, but he gets to see him interacting with all of his Muppet friends. Why this show couldn’t have had the same longevity of Saturday Night Live is beyond me. Why Belafonte had to go on to make a movie with post-Pulp Fiction John Travolta (who is nearly identical in all-around corniness to pre-Pulp Fiction Travolta) is also beyond me. Though, to Belafonte’s credit, this was immediately post-Pulp Fiction, when Travolta stock was pretty high. Maybe one day Elias, Arius and I can have a Pulp Fiction/White Man’s Burden double feature to get to the bottom of it (we’ll also take the WMB challenge and try to keep from wincing whenever Travolta speaks jive).
Granted, this is the band that Elias, Arius and I are in with our friends Marc and Harper, but Elias loves watching this video over and over and over (Arius is three-months-old and likes to sleep). That’s Harper doing the sumo stomp. The two of them got together this weekend and compared dance moves for a good 45 minutes.
Any interested parties can download the song for free here.
We picked up this Dr. Seuss book from the library months ago and have renewed it a third time because Elias is so enamored with it. The book tells the same story as the short film—a boy who doesn’t speak but utters sound effects instead is cast out by his family and peers before landing a gig at a radio station—and is a lot of fun to read, though it’s hard to top ol’ Marvin Miller‘s delivery.
The film won an Oscar and it’s easy to see why. The simple but dramatic animation adds extra context to the story (though the film came first)—mostly in the severity of Gerald’s father’s reactions to his plight and the manifestation of poor Gerald’s melancholy. The emotionally distant dad puts the film squarely in the ’50s, as does Gerald’s loving but timid housewife mother, but the core message is good: often the thing that makes you different is the thing that makes you special. The message loses clout by the end, however, when it seems that he has friends and the love of his parents only because he has a lucrative job. Granted, his success is due to his unique abilities, but it’s still a bummer.
We watched this three times last night while Nicole cut Elias’ hair. Once it was playing, he sat perfectly still and the haircut ensued. Elias gets upset every time Gerald packs his suitcase to leave home. “The boy’s sad. Oh no!” he says. By the end, however, he is always happy to report: “He’s going home.”
“Substitutiary Locomotion” from Bedknobs and Broomskicks (1971)
This is one of the musicals I remember hating less than all the others when I was growing up. (I’m working on a post about how Elias’ love of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang has given me pause in my distrust of musicals.) Elias seems most excited about the dancing shoes. We watched this three times before he was ready to switch back to the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang soundtrack. I’m glad that Elias’ first memories of Angela Lansbury will be of her as a vibrant young woman and not a withered detective. Not that there’s anything wrong with Jessica Fletcher. Internet tells me that Murder She Wrote was the longest-running detective series in television history. You’ve got your work cut out for you, Bored to Death.
“Mah-Na Mah-Na” from Sesame Street (1969)
Sesame Street at its very best. The little guy, Bip Bippadotta, reminds me of a jazzer who plays aloof, when in actuality his whole routine is an intuitive build-up. Like a cuddly Charles Mingus. Elias likes to dance to this. According to this site, the song was written by and Italian composer for a documentary on Sweden (?). You are awesome, internet.
Having lived with multiple boozy roommates and done some light social work, I’m accustomed to the perils of babysitting a day drunk. They soil themselves, must be hand-fed at times, yell incoherent things at the top of their lungs, need supervision in the bathtub, cannot always dress themselves, have trouble explaining their needs, tumble at random, are not to be trusted with sharp objects, musn’t go near heavy machinery and often smell of throw-up. It’s a real circus.
These days, I’ve been revisiting a scene in John Huston’s Under the Volcano—based on Malcom Lowry’s novel chronicling the madness of an alcoholic British consul—in which Albert Finney stumbles naked through a room, in the throws of a severe bender. It’s a fragmented memory of a movie I saw years ago (drunk myself at the time) but I relive it at least once a week as my two-year-old son, Elias, sprints nude through the house yelling “see you later, daddy” and slamming doors in my face. Like a day drunk, he also soils himself (though he’s very nearly potty-trained), needs help with his fork, can’t bathe alone … you get the picture. This connection is mostly something that makes me and some other dads I know laugh, but it’s occurred to me that it does draw parallels to possible root of alcoholism.
My father has serious problems with drinking and has been through some of the day-drunk lowlights listed above. While his compulsions are a stew of mental and physical dependency, I wonder if the experience of drinking himself into helplessness might be some sort of subconscious plea for a return to a time when his safety and health were his mother’s concern. A time when he was acceptably irresponsible and not just bumming his family out with poor decision after poor decision.
From having been drunk a few thousand times myself, I know the breezy feeling of utter coziness it affords. The harsh certainties of mean old world are at bay and every fancy that floats through your head feels new and profound. Of course, come morning, that sense of security has receded and all of those deep thoughts seem shortsighted and a little foolish (at least the ones you remembered to jot down). You feel as frail as ever and, I imagine, if you are desperate for more drink, you also feel totally helpless (a sensation captured very astutely by Jack Lemon in The Days of Wine and Roses).
Spending time with day drunks and living with a two-year-old have both made me reevaluate the place alcohol has in my life, for separate reasons. In the case of the former it’s because drinking to excess is really ugly business and watching someone navigate a day that simply must involve alcohol is quite the detractor. In the case of the latter it’s because I don’t want to miss out on any of the fleeting moments I can capture with my son, like watching him pee on the floor six inches from his potty and slap at the puddle with his bare foot. Some of his more manic behavior would puzzle even a grizzled day drunk—specifically, scooting around the house on his potty with a bright, wide smile stuck on his face—but it’s lovely to me.
Still, it’s worth considering that our basic needs don’t shift much from child to adult, and a return to the stormy, unaccountable ways of the two-year-old can come quickly as addiction takes hold. The short window in our lives when we are flushed with raw emotion and an insufficient vocabulary to vent it is tumultuous but very special. It’s a time of intense self-discovery and hard-knock learning. It’s also also a time that’s begs no re-visitation and I will have failed as a parent if I cannot guide my boys into an adulthood unmarred by substance abuse.
It’s also worth remembering that Albert Finney is an awesome talent. Probably the finest screen drunk after Mickey Rourke in Barfly.
I watched a lot of Gumby growing up, but this might be better than any episode I can remember—though I did always want to skate into books. Elias suggested we watch this seven times in a row on a recent Saturday morning (we did).
I Come to Shanghai, “Your Lazy Eye” (Adventureface, 2009)
Very nice song that seems to be about the lovable whimsy of the human body. I found the video at work and sent it to Nicole. She and Elias watched it together at home on the laptop. So much going on, I’m not sure what made the biggest impression on him. The kaleidoscopic hot dogs? He has played his ukulele shirtless before, maybe that was the draw.
