The Ides of Mark

September 15 was Mark’s birthday and we had a long weekend of doing nice things Mark enjoys. I’ve written before that as a partnered adult, I basically get two birthdays because I enjoy most things my husband enjoys and he would be unlikely to do too many really special things that don’t involve me. Like, yes, of course, each of us will do cool stuff separately—I have a bunch of tickets to musicals this fall and a few work trips I’m extending for touristic or friendship purposes; Mark goes to horror movies or out to bars with friends Rebecca-less, but to do something REALLY REALLY GOOD, of course you’d take your spouse. Which is why I always get cake and to go to to fancy restaurants if Mark does, to make up for things like perpetually having to talk to him with a straight face when he is completely smeared with ink from his beloved incontinent Uniball Blue pen, or having spent two weeks trying to eat everything in the freezer so we can fit an ice-cream cake in it, only to be asked, “So, what kind of cake are we getting?” So I had a great weekend. As is my due.

Because I don’t have another unifying theme for this post, here is a set of micro-reviews of things we did for Mark’s birthday, and a few are just books I was reading around the same time. Basically, things that occurred this weekend:

Copper, directed by Nicolas Pereda My brother has been taking me to a film at TIFF every year for as long as we’ve both lived in Toronto, and when I hooked up with Mark he generously included Mark in the tradition. We’ve seen some real beauties and some duds but it’s always so fun to go to TIFF I don’t care. This year, the film was from Mexican director Nicolas Pereda, about a man who is riding his motorcycle to work in a mine when he sees a dead body by the side of the road. He doubles back home and tells his family, and they decide he should keep silent. I could think of half a dozen ways the plot could go from there, but it doesn’t—none of them. He just keeps silent and the body, though it comes up a couple more times, stays mainly irrelevant to the rest of the story, such as it is. Which is interesting because if you read descriptions or interviews about the film you’d think the dead body was the central problem of the film. I guess you’re supposed to be thinking about it even when it’s not mentioned? This movie is very slow moving, and oddly blocked, so that characters are often out of frame while speaking, or with their backs to the camera. I wondered if there was some symbolism for the focus being misdirected? I did not understand or like this movie, but I did pick up on the disturbing sexual undertone one was meant (I understand from interviews read after the fact) to pick up on. I was startled and thrilled when the whole thing ended abruptly after 80 minutes. Still not sorry we went, but do not recommend, although it’s possible the movie is brilliant and I just didn’t understand it. If you see it and believe this is the truth, please sit me down and explain it.

Dave’s Hot Chicken We were rushing to an appointment and stopped to eat something at a fast-food place I had never heard of, which turned out to sell various varieties of very spicy fried chicken. I got a chicken sandwich and fries with no spice, because I wanted to be able to eat quickly and sometimes I am a wimp with spicy things. Mark got mild chicken fingers, for the same reason. Everything came in “combos” but the combos just included fries and pickles, no drinks, and cost like $17, which to me is a lot for fast food. It was good though—I really liked my sandwich, and was excited about the extra pickles. There was a weird sweet sauce you could add that seemed mayo-adjacent but not too mayo-y—I didn’t hate it. I took a bite of one of Mark’s “mild” chicken fingers and thought it was very spicy, so that’s alarming! The spice is like the dust they use to flavour bbq chips, not like wing sauce, which is what I was expecting. The restaurant was spartan and uncomfortable, with just little low stools and communal tables, but it was across from TMU and we were the oldest people there (by a lot) so perhaps they knew their market. This is a newish American chain, I found out by reading the link above—I am really behind on fast food, so perhaps this is what it’s like now? Anyway, good for what it was but I am unlikely to pay another $17 to do this again anytime soon. Do recommend, a little bit.

The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken I started reading this alleged novel last month, loved the beginning, then got distracted for no reason and didn’t finish it until Monday. It’s a memoir/novel hybrid, or some type of autofiction, or whatever it is where the author basically writes about themself and their life but doesn’t have to be held accountable to the truth wherever it seems better not to be. One of those. I am absolutely not interested in where the line between truth and fiction is in this particular narrative, mainly because it feels true and I feel deeply inside the world with the narrator and her mother, who becomes a vivid person to me, and who I then mourn the loss of. It feels real in the journey from page to brain, which the gift of great writing of all genres, and memoir or novel matters much more to the writer than it does to the reader, or at least this reader. I really enjoyed reading this and it made me deeply sad. Recommended, wholeheartedly.

Universal Language, directed by Matthew Rankin Mark wanted to see this film because he read the very positive NYT review linked above and I wanted to see it because in first-year university, we had to fill out student information cards in one of my classes and in a subsequent class, a student was called upon because he hadn’t put down his phone number, to which he responded, “I don’t have a phone,” and that was Matthew Rankin. My friends and I referred to him as “Matthew with No Phone” for years and as we were all at least occasionally taking classes in the same department and he was a tall attractive guy who spoke up in class, he was easy to keep track of, though I never actually got to know him. Those who did report he was pretty nice, and did later acquire a phone. I heard he became a director but this is the first film of his I have actually seen, though perhaps now I’ll see more. Universal Language is very strange and hard to follow—it’s in French and Farsi, and the reviews say it’s about “what if Winnipeg were Tehran,” which is actually not what I thought it was about or a thing I thought anything could be about. It was a challenging weekend for me and understanding movies. Nevertheless, I liked it pretty well, because it was absolutely beautiful, and deeply Canadian and profoundly other at the same time—the rendering of a Tim Hortons as a Persian tea house is at least one joke I did understand, though I think I missed a lot of others, or sort of noticed a lot of jokes were happening but didn’t know what they were. I asked Mark, who lived in Winnipeg about a couple, and that sort of helped. I laughed at enough of them to count the movie as truly funny though. I actually don’t know what it was about. Recommended, with reservations.

The Oxley Public House Back in 2019, I was out at a literary event by myself (see, I go out alone!) and at the end of a long evening, I was sort of swept along with some people to a magnificently elegant English pub and had a lovely time. I think someone bought me a club soda but I saw other people having nice cocktails and I thought, “Oh, wouldn’t Mark like this!” And then I forgot everything about it, including even what street it was on, so I couldn’t find it again to take him there. Then earlier this year I saw an article in a foodie mag about The Oxley, and I knew that was the place! I was so excited to take Mark there for his birthday and he had a fancy cocktail and a draft beer and we had a very elegant meal. Despite being a person who sometimes says, “Oh this chicken is spiced with dust and not goo!” I can appreciate really excellent food too. Expensive but worth it. Recommended, enthusiastically.

The Art Thief by Michael Finkel This is a very well-researched, well-written and interesting account of a clever and emotional art thief in France in the 1990s and how he got away with stealing a BILLION dollars in very important art in like 6 countries. It’s a really fascinating book but I am probably the wrong audience for it. I…have been called a moral absolutist. I am just not that interested in criminals, being too mad about the crimes. I mean, someone needs to know, just not me. There’s nothing wrong with the book, I just didn’t enjoy reading it. Recommended, if you like that sort of thing.

What a weekend!