Exploring connections and the Southern Reach trilogy

I'm currently reading the Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer, which consists of three books--Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance. I read Annihilation after I had seen the film of the same name directed by Alex Garland, who has admitted that when he made Annihilation, he was influenced by the film Stalker, which was directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, who in turn was influenced by the book Roadside Picnic written by Arkady Strugatsky and Boris Strugatsky. These types of connections are what I enjoy so much about the creative world; there's a kind of flow from one genre or creative art form into another. Sometimes that flow is successful, sometimes not. But it doesn't matter to me, what matters is that the author, filmmaker, or songwriter took a risk, stepped out of his or her comfort zone. That's what matters, in the end. There will always be people who love what you did, and those who didn't. Some will even hate the finished product. Does it really matter? Life goes on, creativity goes on, the flow goes on. As an artist, you know that you will have touched someone's soul, and that someone will remember that touch for life. I know that's true for me. I can list up books that I read as a teenager that touched my life forever; the stories have stayed with me for so long, that's how powerful the writing was. 

Authority is the weakest book in VanderMeer's trilogy, but I understand why he wrote it. He wanted us to really get to know Control, the new director of the Southern Reach. Control is a troubled soul, a middle-aged man who really doesn't know what he wants. He's a loner for starters, the son of a domineering mother and an artistic father. His mother is part of the organization, Central, that Control works for. His mother pulls a lot of strings, including for him. You could almost say that she is the puppeteer and he the marionette. They have a strange relationship, very difficult to define. The book is difficult to categorize overall, but it has its creepy, hair-raising moments. As I wrote in my review of the book on Goodreads: 

There are whole passages in Authority that are downright creepy, e.g., when Control discovers what Whitby has been doing and where he has been doing it. The description of his meeting in the 'secret room' with Whitby will make your hair stand on end. Or when the building wall dissolves, and the former director shows up. I live for those moments in these kinds of books. VanderMeer has a way of building up the anticipation of something bad that's going to happen, even if it doesn't at exactly that time, as when Control visits the director's house. But you know disaster is coming. When he writes like that, this book is at its best. But there are also whole sections that are too drawn-out; I suppose VanderMeer wanted to enforce the idea that Control was a pawn in Central's bureaucratic game (and in his mother's as well). But this means that there are long descriptions of bureaucracy and chain of command, and of events that are illogical at best, e.g. why Lowry was the Voice. But in a place like Southern Reach, it would perhaps be hard to expect anything but irrationality and chaos. VanderMeer is a very good writer, but the book could have been shorter without losing any of the 'atmosphere'. I am currently reading Acceptance and hope that the mystery of Area X is explained satisfactorily. 

After I finish reading Acceptance, I will read Roadside Picnic. I'm looking forward to reading the book that led to the films Stalker and Annihilation. And after that I will watch a few more Alex Garland films, although I've already seen 28 Days Later and Ex Machina, both of which are excellent. If you haven't seen them, I recommend them highly. 

Winter darkness

This was how it was for us when we were working during the wintertime--getting up and leaving for work in the dark and leaving work and arriving home in the dark. The sun rose after 9 am and set shortly after 3 pm, here in Oslo. It's a darkness that envelopes you; you get used to it, but I still say, give me summertime any day. This cartoon by Gabrielle Drolet is from The New Yorker from a few days ago.  

 

Reflections on careers--my husband's and my own

I remember the first time I traveled abroad; it was in August 1987. I attended a flow cytometry conference in Cambridge, England, and had planned my trip such that I had a few days to myself in London before I made my way north to Cambridge by train. I've written about this trip before, so I won't retell the story. Suffice it to say that I met some really wonderful people who made me feel right at home in England, and I'll never forget them. 

The Society for Analytical Cytology (SAC)--that was the organization responsible for the conference. It is now known as the International Society for Advancement of Cytometry (ISAC), even though it was always an international conference from day one. When I started working in the Investigative Cytology lab at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in 1982, I had the privilege of working with some of the founding fathers of flow cytometry/flow cytometric techniques--Myron Melamed, Zbigniew Darzynkiewicz, Frank Traganos, and Don Evenson. I knew already then that I was in the presence of scientific visionaries; men who were ambitious and generous with their expertise and time. Their lab was a dynamic place; inspiring and progressive. There was room to grow, and I did, under their tutelage. Their generosity extended to allowing all lab members to travel to relevant conferences, and that's how I ended up in Cambridge, England. 

After I arrived in Cambridge and settled in (a simple dorm room with a bed, desk, closet and chair), I found my way to the conference hall for the introductory lecture and presentation of the conference schedule. I sat alone in the auditorium, but after some time a woman entered and went to the podium area to check on the microphones. I have never forgotten her because she had dark hair with a large gray streak; her name was Donna Arndt-Jovin. From what I heard at a later time point, she was an American who had married a German scientist, Tom Jovin, and they lived in Germany. When I heard more about her life, I thought it was so interesting that she had married a fellow scientist and that they shared a passion for flow cytometry. This was before I met my husband, so I had no idea of what was to transpire in the coming years. The only thing I knew was that I liked the fact that they were professional equals. It appealed to me, to be able to share your work life with your spouse. 

My husband retired yesterday, and his department (Radiation Biology) gave him a very nice sendoff--an afternoon gathering with cakes, coffee, and speeches about his 44-year long career and what he has meant to his department. He is one of a rare breed of employees that remained at the same workplace for his entire career, of course in different positions. He started as a Master student, got his PhD in biophysics, did a postdoc, and then was hired as a full-time cancer researcher. He eventually became a research group leader but also leader of the flow cytometry core facility. I met him in 1987 in Cambridge, when he came over to and sat down at our table in one of the pubs my lab colleagues and I frequented. I believe it was the pub where Watson and Crick (of DNA helix structure fame) met and discussed their findings. He and I hit it off, and the rest as they say is history. 

I reflected on all of this yesterday when I listened to the talks and saw the slides that rotated continually throughout the afternoon. Some of them were of him and me, together at conferences. We looked so young in some of them; so strange to think that we are now at retirement age. We attended nearly every flow cytometry conference that SAC and ISAC arranged, which meant that we got to travel to some interesting places, among them: Hilton Head Island, SC; Cambridge, England; Breckenridge, CO; Asheville, NC; Bergen, Norway; Colorado Springs, CO; Lake Placid, NY; Montpellier, France (twice); Budapest, Hungary; Leipzig, Germany. The Norwegian Cancer Society was always generous enough to pay for these conferences; the professional and social (networking) gains were worth the money. Even though I moved to Norway after I met my husband, I kept in touch with my former colleagues via these meetings, and of course via Christmas cards and eventually emails. It always felt like a small world--this network of cytometrists. We all knew each other, and it was always enjoyable to meet again at conferences. 

I retired in August 2021, and now my husband is retired. We were both cancer researchers (my PhD is in tumor cell biology) and flow cytometrists. I realized yesterday that my first thought at my first conference in Cambridge--that it would be nice to have a spouse who shared my work interests--in fact became a reality. I hadn't really reflected fully on that until yesterday when I saw the photos of us together. During the past thirty years, we've collaborated on a number of research projects, and I must say that those times were fun times; not only enjoyable in terms of both our research teams working together and getting to know each other, but also the professional enjoyment connected to a job well-done (published papers and presentations at meetings). I'm thankful for the past thirty years, that we made that happen. We chose that path, despite the occasional difficulties and differences of opinion. It was worth it. 

When I retired, I was happy to leave my workplace behind. I had been ready to do so for several years prior. I too was given a nice sendoff by my department, and I left knowing that I had done the best job I could do under the circumstances (very little research support and reduced staff). However, I do feel that he was valued in a more concrete way by his department than I was by mine; he had firmer support from research leadership than I did. I stay in touch with former colleagues; we meet for dinner a few times a year, and in the summertime, I invite them to a garden party. I hope for my husband that he stays in touch with some of his colleagues, who became friends over the years. They will miss him, that I know, because he, like my former bosses at Memorial, was very knowledgeable and generous with his expertise and time. 

Thanksgiving reflections

It's easy to become complacent about life, to take for granted what we have and ignore what is happening in the rest of the world. It's easy to block out the misery around us, or to pretend that there is no misery around us. But there is. Even in a rich country like Norway, some people have problems paying their bills or having enough money for food. Some dread the thought of Christmas because they won't be able to buy gifts for their children. The Salvation Army (Frelsesarmeen) and The Church City Mission (Stiftelsen Kirkens Bymisjon) have sent out pamphlets informing that the number of people who stand in food lines has increased dramatically. This is a result of the extremely high electricity prices that affect all sectors of society. Food prices have increased, some restaurants have closed or have limited hours, my former workplace (a huge city hospital at three locations) has lowered the inside temperature at each location to circa 65 degrees. In the middle of winter, that's chilly. Employees walk around with thick outdoor jackets, indoors. I remember the last three years of working at my hospital; it was just plain cold in my office during the winter. Some people brought oil radiators from home; I did the same. If it's like this in a rich country, imagine a poor one. 

We have much to be thankful for, but we must never take for granted what we have. The world situation is quite unstable now, what with the war in the Ukraine, power-mad leaders like Putin and dictators elsewhere. Luckily the USA dodged a bullet and has remained a democracy as revealed by the mid-term elections, but it may not be so lucky the next time a wannabe dictator gets ahold of the megaphone. There is no commandment from God that says that the USA will always remain a democracy. 

We need to be the change we want in our societies. If we want more kindness and more compassion, then behave kindly and compassionately. If we want more empathy, be more empathetic. If we want more reflection and intelligent decisions, be more reflective and educate yourselves on issues of importance. If we want more respect, then respect others. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The Golden Rule. It really is. 

I am reposting this post I wrote in 2011 about empathy. It's entitled: Learning Empathy. 

A New Yorker in Oslo: Learning empathy (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com)

Be the change you want in your life

I saw this quote on social media today and thought it was worth posting. It was written by Victoria Erickson. 

"If you inherently long for something, become it first. If you want gardens, become the gardener. If you want love, embody love. If you want mental stimulation, change the conversation. If you want peace, exude calmness. If you want to fill your world with artists, begin to paint. If you want to be valued, respect your own time. If you want to live ecstatically, find the ecstasy within yourself. This is how to draw it in, day by day, inch by inch."

Two by Tarkovsky

I watched the sci-fi horror movie Annihilation on Netflix this past week for the second time; the first time was during the pandemic. I didn't remember some of the plot points, so it was good to see it again. A very good movie overall, with some interesting points to discuss. It was directed by Alex Garland of Ex Machina fame, another sci-fi (with some horror elements) movie that was excellent. In Annihilation, the 'Shimmer' is a land zone defined by continual mutation and which, once you enter, alters (mutates) a person inasmuch as the entry of said person alters the zone (its physical/biological/psychological/ emotional composition). All those that have previously entered the Shimmer have not returned and are presumed dead, with the exception of a man named Kane, who is married to Lena (played by an excellent Natalie Portman), a biologist and former soldier (like Kane). The reason for missions into the Shimmer is to find out what has happened at the lighthouse on the coast, where it is rumored that a meteorite has hit, bringing with it something extraterrestrial. The Shimmer seems to be mutating and expanding continuously with the expected repercussions (altered humanity and animal/bird life and death). Kane is completely disoriented upon his return and falls gravely ill within a few hours afterward. Lena joins a five-woman team of scientists who enter the Shimmer in order to find answers as to how to save Kane, what the Shimmer is as well as to what has happened to previous missions. Lena also wants to assuage her conscience of the guilt she has over an extramarital affair that Kane found out about, and which influenced his decision to join a military (suicide) mission to enter the Shimmer. I won't give away any more of the story, since it's absolutely worth seeing as much for the story as for the scares. The theme that runs throughout the film is that human life is characterized by a propensity for self-destruction (via our biology, psychology, personality and choices). When I was reading about the movie online, I found out that it was based on a book (book 1 of the Southern Reach trilogy) by Jeffrey VanderMeer, which I plan to read. But a major influence on Alex Garland's Annihilation was the 1979 Soviet sci-fi film Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky, which Garland has acknowledged. 

I rented Stalker last night and watched it on GooglePlay. Like Annihilation, Stalker got under my skin. I thought the film, although long (2 hours and 42 minutes) was very good, but it's definitely not for everyone. It's a bleak film with a bleak message, no doubt influenced by Tarkovsky's personal resistance to the oppressive Soviet communist regime (dark, bleak, cold). The story is about a Stalker (a guide) who leads a Writer and a Professor into a zoned-off secure area where no one is permitted to enter, so they must sneak their way in. The Zone is an unpopulated nature preserve where there exists a house with a magical room that grants a person's most fervent wishes. As the Stalker explains to the two men, they must not wander off or disturb the Zone in any way, because it is dangerous to do so. The Zone senses the presence of the men, and as in Annihilation, few to no people return from the Zone. The Stalker's work is to guide unhappy people into the Zone and guide them out again; he earns money doing this, but he himself is not allowed to enter the wish room. The Stalker's life is not very happy; his wife berates him for leaving her and their crippled daughter for days/weeks at a time, they have very little money, and they live in a small flat that vibrates when the trains go by. As the film progresses, there is much discussion about the meaning of life, the meaning of art and science, the meaning of the wish room and the repercussions of having one's wishes granted. It is a philosophical film in that regard. I found it bleak because I felt for the Stalker, a good and simple man whose sole goal was in helping others to be happy and not worrying about himself. He believes in hope and the possibility of a better life for others, less for himself as he seems to have accepted his fate as a poor man. He does not want the Zone destroyed as it would destroy the meaning for his existence. He believes in the Zone and that the Zone has to be respected and preserved. He has faith that his work is helping others, but by the end of the film, that faith has been shaken. Again, I won't give away the story, as it is worth experiencing. What compounded the sadness for me was learning that Tarkovsky, his wife Larisa, and the man who played the Writer (Anatoly Solonitsyn) all died of the same type of lung cancer after the film was released--Solonitsyn in 1982, Tarkovsky in 1986, and his wife in 1998. It is thought that their cancers resulted from exposure to toxic chemicals from the chemical plant located upstream from the movie set--a deserted hydroelectric power plant in Estonia. 

Stalker was made in 1979; Tarkovsky's probably best-known film, Solaris, was made in 1972. The film Solaris from 2002, directed by Steven Soderbergh, is also one of my favorite films (A New Yorker in Oslo: “There are no answers, only choices” (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: The Martian Chronicles and Solaris (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com). Both films are based on the book Solaris by the Polish writer Stanislaw Lem. Both deviate from Lem's book; apparently Lem was none too pleased with Tarkovsky's changes to his book and was even less pleased with Soderbergh's. I rented the 1972 film today on GooglePlay. Like Stalker, it's a long film, clocking in at 2 hours and 47 minutes, with long sequences here and there focused on one object, e.g., waving grass, a picture on a wall, a pitcher, a broken container. Both the length of the film and the extended sequences can test your patience, and I can't help but think that the film could have benefitted from trimming at some points. But I fall into the category of viewers who give directors the benefit of the doubt. Are they leading us somewhere? Are they revealing small clues as to what's coming? Like Stalker, Solaris has an atmosphere of foreboding that hangs over it; you know that something's coming and that it's not likely to be good. Tarkovsky is excellent at creating 'atmosphere'; it can be uncanny, bleak, grim, mystical--sometimes all of them in one. Both films deal with metaphysical questions--who we are, what makes us who we are, the importance of memories, the meaning of existence, the acquisition of sentience and the implications of that for the definition of humanity. Again, as I wrote in my blog post 'There are no answers, only choices', that remains the conclusion (for me) after seeing both of Tarkovsky's films. He was not interested in providing pat answers for us, he was interested in probing these questions. As such, his films are not for everyone, especially not for those looking for sci-fi movies with alien monsters and the resultant body count. In Solaris, the 'alien' is a sentient ocean, one that is trying to understand humanity as much as humans are trying to understand it. The Solaris Ocean provides humans onboard the spaceship, who are probing and studying it, with 'gifts' in the form of people they have known and loved but who are actually dead in reality. These entities, called 'guests' in Tarkovsky's film, can be viewed as manifestations of an individual's nagging conscience regarding the deaths of his or her loved ones. The sequence when the psychologist Kelvin first arrives on the spaceship is eerie enough; the spaceship is mostly deserted, and the two surviving crew members have chosen to remain in their rooms rather than greet him on his arrival. Over the course of the movie, we learn that some of the crew members (now dead) went insane because of these 'guests'. I'll have to go back and reread Lem's novel, but both Tarkovsky and Soderbergh came up with interesting endings for their respective movies, even if Lem didn't approve. They are the kinds of endings I love, as they lead to discussion about what happened and what the director was aiming at. I like doing postmortems on movies, but I know that not everyone does. I also like a good alien monster move, because I love movies, period. If the movie is made well, I enjoy it. Stalker and Solaris are both worth watching and discussing afterward. 

If you want to waste your day

 

The year of pandemic living

I just finished Elizabeth Strout's new book, Lucy by the Sea, and found it to be a good read. The main character, Lucy Barton (a writer whose second husband recently died), finds herself riding out the pandemic in a rented house in Maine together with her ex-husband William, who has orchestrated the entire arrangement. He and she have remained friends after their divorce; he contacts her right before the pandemic hits bigtime to tell her that they need to leave Manhattan immediately. She acquiesces rather quickly, knowing that he is a scientist (parasitologist) and that he probably knows something she doesn't. The novel details their year together in a house by the sea, and how their relationship is rekindled after many years of living apart. William is now in his seventies and has major health problems, whereas Lucy appears to be in her late sixties and still relatively healthy, although she suffers from anxiety and the occasional panic attack. They are older and (presumably) wiser, dealing with regret and with the knowledge of their mortality. He is sorry for how he treated her (had affairs); she seems to be struggling with being alternatively judgmental and forgiving. In that sense, she is like all of us who have been hurt by someone--we want to forgive, we do forgive, but we wonder if we are being weak by doing so. We wonder if we should be hard and unforgiving. The novel deals frankly with the pandemic and the political events of the past several years. 

What struck me about the novel was the description of the loneliness that many Americans felt during the pandemic, as well as the panic and anxiety that many of them lived with each day. It was different here in Oslo; we underwent a similar type of lockdown, but I don't remember feeling that loneliness, the way Strout described it. It felt so empty, so desperate, so sad. And yet, I can only speak for myself. I know that the pandemic affected many people here in similar ways, especially those who lived alone. Perhaps that is what made the difference--having someone with whom to share lockdown. Because social life as we knew it ceased to exist. There were no get-togethers, parties, weddings and reunions were cancelled, bars and restaurants were closed, and people worked from home. I didn't find the latter bothering at all, in fact, I preferred it because I never felt lonely at home as I did at work. But again, everyone is different, and I can only speak for myself. 

Strout's book has gotten good reviews, but as always, I'm interested in the negative reviews as well. Those who are negative about the book are so because they did not want to read a pandemic book that reminded them of a horrible time. Additionally, they felt that very little happened to the main characters and that there really wasn't all that much to write about. While the former is true, I disagree that there wasn't really much to write about. The exploration of one's emotional life is not nothing. Lucy finally has the time to figure out how she feels about many things, and what she finds out is that life in general and her life in particular are complex, and that most of us live in the gray area between the black and white. In other words, while we would like life to be black and white, it is not. We are always struggling with our thoughts and emotions. But in the end, we are who we are and as we approach the last chapter of our lives, it is unlikely that there will be major personality changes. If you are the forgiving gentle type, you will most likely remain that way. If you are the aggressive unforgiving type or the philandering type, ditto. So that begs the question of whether she can trust William when he tells her at the end of the novel that he loves her. He seems to, and perhaps he always did, throughout his affairs and their divorce. The question, as her daughters remind her of, is whether she can trust William. The novel provides no answers to that question, and as Lucy herself points out, “It is a gift in this life that we do not know what awaits us.” How true. 

A month of rain

It has rained on and off in Oslo for nearly a month now, sometimes heavily, other times lightly. Each day we wake up and hope for sun, sunshine, warmth--for the crisp, cool days of autumn punctuated by sunny blue skies. But apparently, it's not to be, not this year. I have no idea how much longer this weather is expected to continue. If it's too hot or too cold (extremes), people will complain. But I never complain that it is too sunny outside. And I don't complain when it rains a few days here or there. But this type of rainy weather that we have now is irksome. I'm glad I got most of my garden prep work for the winter done during September and early October. I've been in the garden a few times during the past few weeks; the ground is muddy and slippery, the grass is a soggy, sloppy mess, and the air is damp and chilly. Not very inviting to spend time there. 

In the summer of 2018, Western Europe experienced a heat wave for several weeks that was often referred to as a 'heat dome' that had situated itself over that area; it led to drought-like conditions. I remember it well because we were traveling in England and Ireland at the time, and most of the vegetation we saw was not green, but brown. Everything had dried up or dried out. These weeks of rain I will be labeling a 'rain dome' even though I know there is no such thing in meteorology. I've read that some meteorologists have stated that this is normal autumn weather. I reply unequivocally that it is not. There is nothing normal about this weather. 

Anyone who states that climate change is a hoax is simply not registering what is going on around them. It doesn't matter to me whether the climate change is natural or manmade. The point is that it's happening all around us. I am not very optimistic that we will be able to do much to reverse it. Perhaps we will be able to slow it down, but it's not encouraging to witness the increase in the number of hurricanes, the increase in hurricane intensities, the melting of the glaciers in Greenland, the melting of the polar caps, the rising sea levels, and the steadily increasing instability of the atmosphere. This past summer in Oslo had to be one of the windiest on record. I gauge that by how many times we were out on the boat; I don't go out on the boat when it's windy because I don't like the resultant choppy water. I was on the boat about three or four times this past summer. That's not a lot compared to other summers where the weather has been more stable. 

It is said that one can get used to pretty much anything. I hope that is the case. Humankind in the twenty-first century has a lot of formidable challenges in store for it. I don't think all of the challenges can be met or tackled. For the first time in my life, I see the limitations of our human existence and of science. We live after all on a planet in a universe that is constantly expanding. There is no reason to expect that our planet will remain stable in terms of its meteorology. And there is no reason to expect that mankind can win against the forces of nature and the universe.

Some new street art in Oslo

Wandering around Oslo, walking in different areas of the city; I ran across this cool graffiti recently. Intriguing street art--I love the use of the different colors! I don't know who the artist is, otherwise, I would credit him or her immediately. If someone who reads this post knows who the artist is, please let me know and I'll update this post. 

One more song by Gilberto Gil--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith)

Another song by Gilberto Gil that I love--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith) from his album: Um Banda Um. 

Toda Menina Baiana by Gilberto Gil

Toda Menina Baiana (Every Bahia Girl) is a great song by one of my favorite Brazilian artists--Gilberto Gil. I first discovered Gil in the mid-1980s in the world music section of Tower Records in Manhattan. I used to stop there often on my way home from work, and usually left with a new album or two. I fell in love with most of Gil's music and spent some time trying to learn to pronounce the lyrics (in Portuguese) when I sang the songs. I had no idea what I was singing about, but it didn't matter. The music was captivating and made me happy, which was a welcome change for my life at that time. This song was released in 1979 but I didn't hear it for the first time until the mid-1980s. 

As fate (God) would have it, a young Brazilian scientist (Juli) started working at my research institute in 2006, and we got to talking. I mentioned that I loved Gilberto Gil, and lo and behold, where do you think she came from? Bahia. The area of Brazil that Gil comes from and sings about. Coincidence? I don't think so. She too loved Gil and she gave me a CD with some of his music. Over the years we've become good friends and in 2009 we attended the World Music Festival here in Oslo where Gilberto Gil was performing. His concert was wonderful; people didn't want it to end and kept clapping so that he would continue singing. I would love to see him again in concert, but I wonder if he still tours (he's 80 years old now). Every time I hear Toda Menina Baiana I think of my friend, the Bahia girl. She lives permanently in Norway now and doesn't get back to Brazil very often. I've never traveled to Brazil but I'd love to visit the country at some point, and Bahia will be on my list of places to visit. 

Barbara Acklin - Am I the Same Girl from 1968

I don't remember this song from growing up, probably because it was a bit before my time. I heard it recently as background music on, of all things, a garden program about a Swedish couple who had built their dream garden in the backyard of the house they had purchased in Sicily. When construction was finished, they had a party, and this song was playing in the background. So I just had to know what song it was......I love it. Swing Out Sister did a very good version of it in 1992; you can find it here: Swing Out Sister "Am I The Same Girl" 1992 - YouTube

Drake--Flight's Booked

Drake's new song--Flight's Booked 👍👍from his Honestly, Nevermind house music album. A great dance song.....

The Nightmare Before Christmas--a Halloween film that's become a classic

I remember the first time I saw The Nightmare Before Christmas (The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) - IMDb). It was in 1993 and we were still living in San Francisco, although our year there was coming to an end. The film was released in the USA on October 29, 1993, just in time for Halloween, and I saw it during the first week of November in a movie theater on the north side of Golden Gate Park. I remember that day very well, because I was the only one in the theater for the 3 pm afternoon showing, which they did not cancel, thankfully. I had left work early in order to see the film and it would have been disappointing not to have seen it. I left the theater thinking that I had seen an amazing film, and some years later I actually bought a video cassette of the film and watched it one or two more times before VHS films were phased out. I never purchased a DVD version of it; it was always on my to-do list but eventually streaming channels came along and I figured it would be possible to watch it on Netflix or HBO or the myriad of other streaming channels at some point. Sure enough, it's available on Disney+ (no surprise there since it's a Disney production) and Apple TV, among others. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it highly. The story of Jack Skellington the Pumpkin King, who decides that he can better his life by 'producing' Christmas one year instead of Halloween as usual, is a memorable one. The songs, the text, the creatures, the animation--all of them combine to make a film that is truly exceptional. As I said, at this point it's a classic.

Apart from It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which is a wonderful Halloween classic, there aren't that many films that can be considered classic Halloween films for the entire family (meaning kids and their parents), not in the same way as for Christmas films. I know that there are a lot of Halloween horror films and that many of them are classics, but they are for adults and teenagers (the Halloween movie series comes to mind, and yes, they are creepy). 

There is something about seeing some movies on the big screen together with other people you know are fans. That was my experience today. Frogner Cinema in Oslo, which dates from the 1920s, set up two showings this weekend of The Nightmare Before Christmas. I went to today's 3 pm showing and the theater was almost filled, which was good to see. The majority of the attendees were teenagers and young adults, men and women alike. At the end of the film, people actually clapped, and that hasn't happened in ages in my experience. It was good to see because it gave me hope that there is still 'room' in modern society for movie theaters. I don't want them to disappear because there is nothing like seeing a movie for the first time (or even second and third times) in a dark movie theater. It's always a memorable experience, especially if the film is worth seeing. Many of my memories from youth are of times spent going to the movies. I thank Frogner Cinema for setting up these showings this weekend; it was a fun way to spend a couple of hours on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Just in time for Halloween......