Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce this week’s blog. As you may remember, last week I considered holding a summit involving a bobcat sighting in our neighborhood. I had posted the warning on Nextdoor and all the cats and dogs in the neighborhood stayed inside and waited for the danger to pass. This week, considering the terrifying incident Belle and Bernard D. Bunny experienced, I decided to call a neighborhood summit to discuss the matter. I even invited Crispin Z. Coyote to the meeting. I thought he might be able to bring some insight into the matter.
“Oh,” he said. “You mean Bebe.”
“Bebe,” Edison the Manx said. “This thing has a name?”
“You have a name. I have a name. So, of course this bobcat has a name. Bebe.”
I cocked my head. “Have you had a run in with Bebe?”
“I would not call it a run in. I would call it a civil discussion.”
“You had a civil discussion with a bobcat,” Charlotte the Chow said.
“Yes. More than once.”
“How is that possible?”
“Bobcats and Coyotes coexist. We don’t necessarily go after the same prey, and we don’t necessarily hunt at the same time in the same place. But, yes, we have had some heated but civil conversations.”
Edison the Manx stopped licking his paw. “About what?”
“Hunting for one. We Canis latrans like to hunt in the open where Bebe and the other Lynx rufus like to hunt in the woods. I kept telling her hunting in the open is so much better. No roots to trip over, no thorns getting into your paws. But can I convince her of this? Not a chance.”
“The point at hand,” I said, “is why did she wander into our neighborhood?”
“I believe she often wanders into neighborhoods. Especially if there are a lot of rabbits around. No offence, Bernard.”
“None taken,” Bernard said stiffly.
“They like to hunt in neighborhoods like yours.”
“That is most unsettling,” Madeline the British Shorthair said.
Crispin shrugged. “It is the way of the carnivore.”
“You really should try grass,” Belle Bunny said.
“Yuck.”
“Well, I like it.”
“To each his own, little bunny.”
“The point,” I said, “is for you to instruct us on how to avoid being the prey of Bebe.”
“Well, Bebe hunts in neighborhoods when the wildlife is scarce. My guess is that is why she showed up.”
“You live around here. Is the wildlife scarce?”
“I wouldn’t know. You and your friends have provided my friends with dog food in an agreement that I won’t hunt the neighborhood pets or your bunnies and squirrels.”
“Here, here,” Sergio the squirrel said.
“Are you saying we should make a similar deal with Bebe?”
“I think she might be up for a cat food alliance,” Crispin said.
“And how would we arrange a meeting with her?”
“I could give her a call.”
“And how would we know we would be safe?” Ruffles the Bulldog said.
“I would have your meeting in a non-wooded area.”
“We could meet her at the playground at the park, I suppose.”
“Excellent. I’ll let her know about the matter and give her a ring. Or a text. Maybe an email.”
Until next week, I bid you adieu.
MY BOOKS
You can check out my books Chicane and all five installments of the Musicology book series Musicology: Volume One, Baby!, Musicology: Volume Two, Kid!, Musicology: Volume Three, Twist!, Musicology: Volume Four, Sweetie! and Musicology: The Epiquad on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback editions. You can also check out Musicology’s web site at www.musicologyrocks.com and vote for who you think will win Musicology!
JEANNE DIELMAN, 23, QUAI du COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES (1975)-HBO MAX
For the past week or two I have been searching for films that would be considered cinema as opposed to motion pictures designed to merely entertain. Movies that stand out and what I would call literary films. This one was named the greatest film of all time by the Sight and Sound poll. The members of the Sight and Sound poll are a mix of esteemed film critics, industry professionals, and filmmakers held every ten years to re-evaluate the very best of the artform. Each member submits a list of their top ten films of all time to determine the top position. I personally would not call it the movie the greatest film of all time. But I would call it one of the greatest films of all time. Cinematic masterpieces that have held the title in the past are Citizen Kane, Bicycle Thieves, 2001 A Space Odessey, Tokyo Story and Vertigo. Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles marks the first time a female director has taken the title. Her name is Chantal Akerman, and she was only twenty-five years old when she wrote and directed the film. She also made sure that her crew was 80% female, something that was unheard of at the time.
A note here: Jeanne Dielman will likely play better to a female audience than a male one, much like I think The Godfather plays better to a male audience than a female one. The reason for this is for a female audience, the story hits at a visceral level. A level that drives one to be both mesmerized and filled with fury. Women will find the film highly relatable today even though it takes place in the last quarter of last century because of the oppression it represents and the way women are, even to this day to some degree, considered second class citizens.
The story represents the grueling reality of what it has meant to be a woman for millennia. The boring, day-to-day nightmare of doing mundane yet necessary tasks the world takes for granted. And doing them mostly for indifferent thankless men. At times Jeanne is seen as a joke, in others an annoyance, yet others sexually objectified and worst of all being dismissed as irrelevant, unappreciated, and a mere shadow on the wall, out of sight. What Akerman does here is put the mundane on the screen like a horror story and quietly force the audience not to watch but to become immersed for no less than three hours and twenty-two minutes in Jeanne’s domestic prison like a ticking time bomb on the verge of explosion.
There is very little dialogue in the film. Mostly what we see is Jeanne doing her daily chores. The scenes in the apartment have a tight, claustrophobic effect. Usually there is some small item in the frame that is red like a thermos or a small glass bowl in the hutch, foreshadowing perhaps. We watch Jeanne (brilliantly played by Delphine Seyrig) get up out of bed, fix coffee and breakfast for her self-absorbed teenage son (not a daughter), Sylvain (Jan Decorte) polish his shoes, help him with his coat, and get him off to school. She then does housework, babysits a baby boy (not a baby girl) for a neighbor (voiced by Chantal Akerman herself) for free. She then goes shopping, not for herself per say but for food or a button her son needs for a sweater she’s knitting him. I might add she always wears a silk scarf when she leaves the apartment and it is also red, albeit a softer shade. When Jeanne goes out, she is always doing business with women who are shopkeepers, salesclerks, and waitresses. Except for one place: the bank. That worker is a young man. It is a man who stands between her and money. She deposits cash she keeps in a decorative ceramic pot on the dining room table.
Then she comes home and spends time preparing dinner. Right after she starts to cook the food, the doorbell rings. A man enters. She takes his coat and hat; they greet each other politely and then they go down the hall to Jeanne and her late husband’s bedroom and proceed to have sex. The hall changes from daylight to evening light quickly and the two emerge from the bedroom. Jeanne helps the man with his coat and hat, and he politely pays her and says he’ll see her next week. Every day brings a different steady client. Her oblivious son comes home from school where she serves him dinner and helps him with his schoolwork. During the rare moments when they do have a conversation, he often dismisses her or criticizes her offhandedly, like telling her there is a button undone on her housecoat. After dinner they go out for a walk, then they return home, pull out the couch bed, he goes to sleep, she goes to her bedroom and she goes to sleep. They get up the next day and do it all over again. And that drudgery is Jeanne’s hell. We follow her for three days through her unsatisfying life, moment to moment until …