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Arts & Life
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- Written by: Editor
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- Written by: Ted Kooser
He lives in Colorado, where he is the state Poet Laureate, and his latest book, “The World As Is: New & Selected Poems,” has just come out from New York Quarterly Books.
Here's a father's poem from that fine collection.
Lifting My Daughter
As I leave for work she holds out her arms, and I
bend to lift her . . . always heavier than I remember,
because in my mind she is still that seedling bough
I used to cradle in one elbow. Her hug is honest,
fierce, forgiving. I think of Oregon's coastal pines,
wind-bent even on quiet days; they've grown in ways
the Pacific breeze has blown them all their lives.
And how will my daughter grow? Last night, I dreamed
of a mid-ocean gale, a howl among writhing waterspouts;
I don't know what it meant, or if it's still distant,
or already here. I know only how I hug my daughter,
my arms grown taut with the thought of that wind.
American Life in Poetry does not accept unsolicited submissions. It is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2016 by Joseph Hutchison, “Lifting My Daughter,” from The World As Is: New & Selected Poems, 1972-2015, (New York Quarterly Press, 2016). Poem reprinted by permission of Joseph Hutchison and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2017 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.
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- Written by: Tim Riley
HAPPY DEATH DAY (Rated PG-13)
For a horror film where the main protagonist finds that her life has turned into one continuous loop until killer issues are settled, the comparison to the Bill Murray film “Groundhog Day” is not only inevitable but central to plot resolution.
But there’s more to it than that since our main character is at the surface a self-centered and on the whole unpleasant sorority girl who blissfully moves through collegiate life as if she were more likely a member of the outcast fraternity in “Animal House.”
A resolute party animal, Jessica Rothe’s Theresa Gelbman, going by the nickname of Tree, wakes up one morning, in the dorm room of nice guy Carter (Israel Broussard), hung over and thinking she’s just experienced another unfortunate one-night stand.
At this moment, Tree shifts into the “Mean Girls” mode akin to the Lindsay Lohan persona, acting rude to sorority sisters, ignoring the plea of a campus activist, blowing off a guy for asking why she’s not answered his texts, and then shamelessly pursuing an affair with a married teacher.
It doesn’t even take Tree a full day of boorish behavior to establish that she’s not likely to be crowned Miss Congeniality at the next homecoming. No wonder some mystery person wearing a clownish baby face mask stalks her in a dark tunnel before committing homicide.
Like clockwork, Tree wakes up the next morning once again in Carter’s room, knowing where he keeps the Tylenol and wondering what level of Dante’s Inferno she’s just fallen into.
To make matters worse, she ponders the dilemma of extricating herself from the embarrassment of having to relive the same day over again, which is complicated by the fact that it’s her actual birthday and her estranged father keeps ringing her cell phone.
Realizing that her life is turning into one truly annoying “reset” scenario, Tree begins to treat each day to slight variations in her daily pattern, beginning with blithe treatment of roommate Lori (Ruby Modine), who resents Tree’s cavalier attitude to life in general.
Fellow sorority sister Lori, irritatingly judgmental, is not the only Greek member with whom her encounters are bad-mannered.
Tree resents house president Danielle (Rachel Matthews) for being critical of her less-than-sisterly attitude to others.
Condemned to relive the same day over and over again until she figures out who wants her dead, Tree is put through the usual paces of a horror film, with all of the standard tropes of false scares and red herrings.
“Happy Death Day,” while tied so closely to “Groundhog Day” that one character even mentions this Bill Murray film, has much in common with the “Scream” franchise in that the comedic element is crucial.
This film is geared to a certain demographic, and it is likely to pay off dividends at the box office.
‘Loudermilk’ on Audience Network
The new comedy series “Loudermilk” on the Audience Network is sustained, in large measure, by the impertinent persona that Ron Livingston so adeptly created when he was corporate drone Peter Gibbons hating his soul-killing job in “Office Space.”
Livingston’s Sam Loudermilk, a former Seattle rock journalist with several books to his credit, is now a cynical substance abuse counselor who holds group meetings at a local Catholic community center where he constantly runs afoul of Father Michael (Eric Keenleyside).
As a recovering alcoholic, Loudermilk has an extremely bad attitude about, well, everything. He speaks with no filter and manages to upset just about everyone in his life. In a way, he has a lot in common with Louis C.K.’s character in “Louie.”
Threatened by Father Michael to lose his meeting place for the therapy group, Loudermilk reluctantly agrees to help the drug and alcohol-addicted Claire (Anja Savcic), daughter of a wealthy widow who forms an instant dislike for the substance abuse counselor.
Spiraling out of control as a result of recently losing her father, Claire is a hard case whose attitude is even more dour and pessimistic than Loudermilk’s, leading her to butt heads with the counselor as he pushes hard to enforce sobriety rules.
Loudermilk shares his apartment with his addiction sponsor Ben Barnes (Will Sasso), who’s got demons of his own that he’s finding harder and harder to hide, leading to some bad decisions that more often than not cause a few problems for Loudermilk.
Meanwhile, Allison Montgomery (Laura Mennell), a recent transplant to Seattle moves in next door to Loudermilk, and there are some romantic sparks between the two of them, but somehow Loudermilk manages to upset her almost daily, either accidentally or seemingly on purpose.
“Loudermilk,” fittingly belongs on cable television, where uncensored words and deeds never have to be held in check because of broadcast standards. A script that is partly the handiwork of one of the Farrelly brothers sees to it.
“Loudermilk” focuses on characters as the driving element of comedy, and the payoff is quite good in nicely realized dialogue, particularly for Ron Livingston.
Tim Riley writes television and film reviews for Lake County News.