Right before dawn, 5:45 AM, there's a hoot owl that announces himself near my bedroom window.
He sounds like, Whooooo Coooooks for Youuuuu? Who Cooooooks for Youuuuu?
His call is authoritative and spooky...mournful and powerful.
I heard someone once say they mistook an owl's call for a woman in distress. "I nearly called the authorities. I just pictured some naked, mad woman out there, screaming for help." Once you hear an owl, you don't forget it.
Two movies out: one I recommend, the other...not so much.
Bright Star-- a must see. Written and directed by Jane Campion. A love story about the short, brilliant life of John Keats and the girl next door, but more than that, an ode to the power of poetry. You'll come home wanting to re-read Keats...dig up that old college anthology on the Romantic Poets.
Where the Wild Things Are...I love the book, of course.And I'm a fan of director Spike Jonze's work, particularly Being John Malkovich. But I guess I'm one of the few not wild about the movie. It has its captivating moments, but it struck me as violent, anger-fueled, testoterone heavy...and sad. Entirely the point, I suppose. But hitting owls with rocks? Chopping down trees? Rock fights? Oh, boys, all you talk about is war, war, war. I dunno. I preferred Pan's Labyrinth-- a violent tale centered around a child, but in the end redemptive, too.
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