Chewing the Fat: The New Spanish Table

Author's spattering of neo-Mediterranean food proves Spain is at the tapa its game


During a 2002 trip to the Mediterranean town of Granada, a Spanish history professor told me the fork wasn't widely used in Spain until the 18th century. This meant when Columbus was contracted to "discover" America, Ferdinand and Isabella were using little more than their manos to stuff their royal faces.
However, no trace of Spain's previous gastronomic lag exists today. And given the dexterity of chefs like Ferran Adrià of El Bulli, who dubbed himself the heir to Salvador Dalí, you wouldn't know that Spain was ever behind the culinary times.

Two-time James Bear winner Anya von Bremzen's book The New Spanish Table is an immersion into contemporary Spanish fare. Two decades in the making, von Bremzen's descriptions of Spanish wine, cheeses and tortillas—which means "omelet" in Castillian Spanish, not "burrito holster"—are likely to induce strong salivary responses, so wear a bib.

The Alibi [read: Eric Howerton] recently had a chance to speak with von Bremzen about the gregarious nature of tapas bars, the effects of fascism on Spanish food, and how dishes from the Iberian peninsula compare to those from the saturated bistros of France and Italy.

Spanish culture has at one time or another dominated the global landscape, via colonialism, art, literature and movies. Why has Spanish cuisine taken so long to enter the picture?

I think a lot of it has to do with [Spanish dictator Francisco] Franco. Spain was isolated for a long time. For the longest time, Spaniards didn't have a chance to travel and, because of their isolation, they preserved a lot of their authenticity. They like their culture; they don't want to be globalized, they don't want to eat Chinese food all the time. And now you have this moment where there is a lot of money in Spain, they're happy with their politics, they have art and fashion, and now you have this avant-garde movement that is enjoying tremendous support, partly because it hasn't lost touch with tradition.

What sparked your interest in Spanish cuisine?

I did a lot of research on Spanish cuisine when I did my other book, Fiesta! A Celebration of Latin Hospitality, and that's when I fell in love with it. I was seduced by the authenticity of the culture. Then I met Ferran [Adrià] and I watched this whole revolution unfold before my eyes. I reported from the trenches ... and I just felt that I was on the edge of something incredible. And I was right. Look at it now.

Many of your recipes appeal to minimalistic tastes. How do Spanish chefs express themselves in this regard?

With simple combinations that are very striking, the Spanish have a different take because they don't like a lot of garnish or side dishes. In some places, if you ask for lemon they look at you funny. They believe in the rigor and integrity of the ingredients. When you cross the border into France you get all this stuff with all this garnish and side dishes and blah blah blah ... the flavors get obscured.
Even when [Spanish food] is inventive it's about combining three or four ingredients. And that's why it's good for the home kitchen, maximum effect with minimum effort. It's really a cuisine that's not about sauces, it's about the purity of the ingredients.

You have a number of recipes using chorizo. For the locals who grew up eating Mexican chorizo made from lymph nodes and fat, how is Spanish chorizo different from the kind we're used to?

Mexican chorizo is normally raw and Spanish chorizo is cured or semi-cured and spiced with pimentón, so it's more like salami or kielbasa. Just don't substitute the raw chorizo for the cured or you could end up in the hospital.

How do you feel about Spanish cheese and wine compared to that of French denomination?

I'm really down with French cuisine. I think their cheese and wines are extraordinary. But Spain is a breath of fresh air ... you can't really get a lot of the French cheeses [in the United States] that you get in France, but the Spanish have been very smart about marketing their cheese.

Americans tend to shy away from bold favors like anchovies and sardines and organ meats that the Spanish love. Where has our gustatory spirit gone?

I'm on a 25-city tour right now and I've been to the Midwest and Texas and I'm shocked with the level of sophistication of the people. For cooking classes, I've been making a chocolate foam with salt and olive oil mouses and people say it's a religious experience.

So America is on the verge of a gastronomic revolution?

I thinks it's happening right now. I was frankly worried before I went on tour.

Most of [my recipes] are straightforward Mediterranean cuisine, and I think everyone is tired of Italian, but they don't want to stray too far away. They want something familiar but something different.

With France's and Italy's crowning delicacies like foie gras and truffles, respectively, what is Spain's contribution?

Jamón Ibérico, in terms of something that can travel. It really is like a drug. The fat is incredible.

But when you go to Spain there are so many [delicacies]. I would say seafood is one. You really don't get seafood like that anywhere else, prepared with such skill and such finesse. And with the technical and scientific revolutions of cooking, people think it's all about being crazy, but Spanish food is about new textures and appreciating the natural flavors. It's not about creating new flavors.

In your book you mention how deconstructionism is arriving in the Spanish kitchen. What does "food" mean in Spain?

The deconstructionist cuisine is a small percentage of what you get [in Spain]. I think the main difference [between American and Spanish diners] is that, for the Spanish, food is a social activity. The entire country can feel like a small village because the Spanish treat each other like relatives; very direct, very warm.

When you get tapas it's more about going from place to place and this spontaneous social life. It's not about sitting down to this big thing with a lot of garnishes and stuffing yourself; it's about tasting things in moderation with wine and then going to a different place. The Italians are more conservative, they sit down to a four-course meal and if you don't like what you've ordered you're stuck with it. But with the Spanish avant-garde cuisine, if you don't like something you can move on.

Which recipe in your book is do you think Spanish icons like Cervantes and Goya probably ate?

Cocido (boiled dinner), if you're talking about the quintessential Spanish dish. Or sopa de ajo. Or anything done from leftover bread.

Which recipe is so avant-garde most Spaniards wouldn't recognize it as their own?

Salmon poached at low temperature with vanilla oil and salmon caviar.

One last question: Ferran Adriá is going head-to-head against Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America. Who wins?

No comment. (Laughs) Bobby's a good friend of mine.

The above originally appeared in the Albuquerque Alibi, publication date March 8, 2006

SPOTLIGHT: New Mexico Filmmakers

Zen and the Future of the Wild West

New Mexico and New Mexicans in the year 2073 don’t look much different than they do in the year 2005. In the not so distant future, New Mexicans still live in crumbling adobe shacks, eat carne seca, don sarapes and cowboy hats, drive presumed macho sports cars from the mid 1980s, and speak in pidgin Spanglish. It would appear that in the future, New Mexico still lags a few years behind the rest of the world...and the rest of the universe for that matter.

However, there are subtle differences between contemporary New Mexico and New Mexico of the future. Bilious trolls with towering mounds of hair and jagged horns play chess with their heavily-accented neighbors. Scavenger coyotes are replaced by goon squads of cosmic hit men, dispatched to hunt intergalactic mischief makers. And, in the vein of Robo-Cop, humans-turned-cyborgs are equipped with extrasensory faculties, their human emotions replaced with enhanced intelligence and superordinate killing abilities. And, as a means of transport, space ships preferred over lowriders.

The New Mexico of the future, as Daniel Otero and Javier Arellano see it, remains desolate, sparsely populated terra. However, in their film Zen and the Asteroid, the pair have done something most native New Mexicans rarely do: they’ve transformed their backyard into a movie set.

Zen, Otero and Arellano’s long-running project, made its debut at the 2005 Santa Fe Film Festival where it received a fair number of laughs. It has since been screened at theaters in Albuquerque (The Guild), Santa Fe and Espanola.

Whereas most Hollywood films shot in New Mexico rarely capture the true spirit of the state, Otero and Arellano show the heart of New Mexico and their relation to it. Films like All the Pretty Horses, 21 Grams, and The Longest Yard were all shot in Northern New Mexico, but these movies fixate on New Mexico as an uninteresting territory riddled with bleak landscapes, cacti, and undeniable traces of Old Mexico. However, the bulky equipment of Hollywood films, along with the demand for tenured actors, gives these films an erroneous quality because they a) rarely use New Mexican actors and b) only shoot parts of the state that are readily accessible. For that reason, Hollywood renditions of New Mexico seem fairly synthetic.

Though Zen only had a budget of $10,000, Arellano and Otero, who originally met circa 1986, know how to film the Land of Enchantment, and they do so by using gritty digital camera, inexperienced actors, and overexposed lighting. Whereas most filmmakers would argue that these factors are impediments to the filmmaking process, Otero and Arellano embrace them and apply them accordingly to create a realistic picture of the American southwest. New Mexico is gritty, full of awkward characters, and a bit overexposed. Even if Zen is set 68 years in the future, it is a realistic relay of sensory impressions unique to New Mexico...or at least it is once you get past that people are levitating, teleporting, and speaking to holograms!

But how does one channel the espiritu of New Mexico onto the big screen?

“The magical realism of New Mexican mysticism factors greatly into Zen and the Asteroid,” Otero said in an online interview. “I'm a completely new-school film maker. I’m inspired by well made art. I’m still learning, still earning a reputation, but have no shortage of creative ideas. Hopefully, folks will know what a 'Dan Otero' movie is in the future.” And if Otero continues to create films as unique as Zen, this fantasy has the potential of becoming a reality, even if the bizarre circumstances that occur in Zen - kung-fu action on an asteroid, falling to earth from space and surviving - never will.

It should come as no surprise that Otero’s first cinematic memory is of seeing the original Star Wars in 1977. But what is surprising is that he’s not really a movie buff. This doesn’t impeded him from understanding the power of film. “I like making movies more than I like movies,” he said when asked what type of films he gravitates toward as an audience member. “The Dalai Lama first saw a film projector as a kid in his Tibetan village and was blown away. He immediately realized the potential for spreading compassion via this medium. Any human instinct or emotion can be displayed (and abused) via [film].”

When asked what advice he gives to the cast of Zen, none of whom are professional actors, Otero said he often finds himself saying, "That was great, but let me see more Eyebrow action."

Zen a self-described “Taoist, sci-fi comedy” is, like most independent films, an obvious stepping stone for its filmmakers. And with such a meager budget and unsophisticated equipment, it’s unjust to hold the film to the same standards of bloated CG affairs like King Kong and War of the Worlds. Furthermore, to criticize the film for its corny special effects is to miss the point of Zen entirely. Zen is a different breed of sci-fi - personality sci-fi - a genre that is as much about New Mexican idiosyncrasy and unconventional camera angles than it is about how gadgetry of the future will alter the world around us.

As for Otero, who has worked on dozens of projects as a producer, writer, director, musician, and editor, he may, like the characters of his film, have an exciting future ahead of him.




Chris Roybal Says 'Hello' with a 'Goodbye'

Chris Roybal is trying with all his might to make it in the big leagues. Like Otero and Arellano, Roybal is a New Mexican native. However unlike the auteurs behind Zen and the Asteroid, Roybal currently resides in California, though he came back to New Mexico to make his film. At at SFFF reception, Roybal mentioned that, unfortunately, California is simply a better place to be for filmmakers who want to succeed.

“I have no reservations in telling people that I want to be famous,” Roybal said with earnest jocularity. “I want to be remembered, leave a legacy. My goals as a filmmaker revolve around reaching as many people as possible to not only gain some sort of notoriety but to benefit those people who have stood by me throughout my life and who deserve to be happy.”

Roybal’s short-film “Our First Goodbye” was selected by the judges at SFFF 2005 to air the week before the actual festival as part of a local parade of New Mexico pics at the Cinema Cafe.

“Our First Goodbye” is a touching film about a man who is forced to come to terms with the consequences of his actions. The protagonist, Thomas Hart (Jeff Padilla, another native New Mexican), is, to be blunt, a man too immature and whiny to accept that he’s done something that warrants harsh punishment.

Much like Ray Joshua (Saul Williams) in Slam and Monty Brogan (Ed Norton) in Spike Lee’s 25th Hour, Hart is a man who has broken the law and is now faced with an impending jail sentence. However, to complicate matters, Hart’s girlfriend is pregnant and his forthcoming 15-year prison stint is looming overhead, creating tension between himself and everyone he knows. In an attempt to not alienate himself from his daughter, Hart, a former television producer, sets out ot create a biopic of his life, his motives in the crimes he committed, and the beauty of his relationship with his unborn child’s mother, Karen (Victoria Gale). Hart’s intention is to create a video that his child can watch in order to gain understanding as to why her father is en absencia.

“I’ve often said that the greatest goal I have as a filmmaker is to make people fall in love,” Roybal said when asked what he strives for as a filmmaker. “[I want people to] fall in love with something, somebody, whatever. I want to make people tingle in that dark movie theater. If I can make films with certain moments that make people totally melt or swell with some overwhelming feeling, I’ve done my job. Good film making should come down to telling interesting stories about interesting people with passion.”

And how have you come to understand storytelling and passion?

“How I tell stories and the type of characters that fill these stories with have been influenced the most by New Mexico. [The people] have depth, strength. They’re fragile, weak, but altogether innocent. Simple. NM is simple to me, and though it may not seem that way, my films to me are simple in the same ways also. I like that. Growing up in northern NM is 100 percent different than anywhere else I’ve been,” Roybal stated. “The people, the culture, everything. When I think of [NM], I think of a real earthy, natural, slow, quiet beauty. I’d like to think my cinematic style reflects that. There’s an honesty to where I come from. Not like in cities where everyone puts on masks, where [the people have] lost a sense of self and culture. Northern NM...is precious in a way.”

The most engaging aspect of “Our First Goodbye” is Roybal’s ability to capture the “quiet beauty” and “simplicity” of New Mexico with a series of slowly-panning images. “Our First Goodbye” should be lauded, if for nothing else, for its attention to setting and the flawless cinematographic presentation.

Set entirely on the Santa Fe plaza, Roybal’s short is amazing to watch. In shooting the plaza, Roybal captured all of the area’s magnetism by shooting a movie that focuses so intensely on the historicity of the aesthetics all else falls to the wayside. Roybal has an undeniable talent frame a shot well enough to make you forget what you’re seeing is representational and not the real thing. “My father’s passion is photography,” he said, “always has been. I think I get a part of it from [him].”

But a movie is nothing without it’s characters and though Hart may not be the most likable man in the world (he’s full of antagonistic delusions and denials) his circumstances keep you interested in the film.

Hart claims he’s remorseful for his actions, his contrition never quite comes across as genuine; he appears to lament his misdeeds not because what he did was wrong, but because he simply doesn’t see his the conditions of his punishment as justice being served. Hart is essentially pouty, preachy and irresponsible, and his juvenile attitude is further demonstrated by the fact that he directly blames his crimes on his unborn child and Karen (as evidenced by his rhetorical “passing-the-buck” phrase: “I did this all for you.”).

However, despite a few minor character flaws in the film’s protagonist, “Our First Goodbye” is a touching effort, and the final scene is heartfelt and promising.

“Movies serve as a way for people to release,” Roybal said, speaking both about movies in general and the film Hart himself was making. “People enjoy movies both for the feelings they get from watching them and for the feelings they can ignore while they escape their world and live in a fantasy. It’s nice to be un-deep sometimes. To watch others live. Movies let us do that and are a way to capture beauty, in whatever form it may be, and relive it over and over again.” And with any luck, Roybal will give audiences a chance to escape into his future projects over and over again.

FOOD FINDS: Chef du Jour Review

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus is most known for his declaration “Everything is in flux,” and given the transient nature of Chef du Jour’s menu, this maxim couldn’t be any more apropos of the Albuquerque eatery.

While Heraclitus never had the fortune of dining at Chef du Jour, he died around 475 B.C.E, Chef du Jour has been hailed for years as an Albuquerque gem. Markedly different form other local gorging grounds, the cafe operates with a truly independent spirit (read: no advertising whatsoever) and maintains its fan base despite the absence of sit-down dinner service. Weekly menu overhauls encourage the return of adventurous diners to sample Buddy Murzen and Ralph Garcia’s latest experiments.

Located in a dinky three-shop crop of brick and mortar at 119 San Pasquale SW, Chef du Jour has abutted Old Town for 19 years. Murzen, who worked as a server before taking over the business six years ago, describes his and Garcia’s establishment as a “special occasions place.” And given that lunch for two clocked in at just over $30, lunch at Chef du Jour is not your ordinary twelve o’clock hustle. But Murzen and Garcia aren’t interested in giving diners an “ordinary” experience. Instead, the ever-changing menu creates a halo of mystery much appreciated by the regulars.

Upon entering Chef du Jour, one feels an immediate ease. The dining room (and the men’s room too) are designed with a quaint homeyness that immediately gives the impression you’re dining at a friend’s home. The kitchen is unabashedly open. A refrigerator stands conspicuously in the dining area. A feeling of mirth, prompted by Murzen’s casual address and Chef Garcia’s omnipresence, sets the tone for an enjoyable experience. But can the food sustain this lofty precedent?

The first courses were met with mixed opinions. The spicy tomato soup ($3.75 cup/$4.75 bowl) was more reminiscent of a thin marinara than a zesty zupa. It was not at all unpleasant, but neither was it remotely spicy. The house tossed salad ($3.50) was more diversely cast than a John Waters’ film, and in attendance were baby spinach, frisee and red leaf lettuce to name a few. But the green chile vinaigrette drizzled over the field greens was too reminiscent of a standard Italian dressing, and whatever semblance of green chile existed was drowned out by parmesan cheese and olive oil. The dressing was flavorful, but as New Mexicans our tongues were expecting a mild sense of alarm. Whatever points were lost from the hesitance of heat in the soup and salad were quickly regained by the oven-warmed baguette and coarsely-ground garlic compound butter.

With fewer than eight entrees to choose from, one would assume selecting a main course would be a simple task. It was not. I was torn between the Thai green curry pasta with pork ($11) and the smoked salmon and spinach quiche ($8) while my partner-in-dine vacillated between the margarita shrimp quesadilla with tequila citrus glaze (served flat and crispy like a wood-oven pizza, $8.50) and the green corn tamale with basmati rice and mango salsa ($8.25). In the end we both opted for our respective latters.

The smoked salmon quiche arrived on a bed of the same mixed greens as before, only this time the dressing - herbed buttermilk heavily laden with fresh dill - was outstanding. The crust on the quiche was flaky and not excessively buttery, the boldness of the salmon was controlled so as not to overpower the spinach, and the moussey interior of the pie was not at all burdened with an errant density cheese.

The green corn tamale, called “green” simply because fresh corn is used instead of lime-dried masa, was a meeting of tropical flavors, and the mango salsa (mango, onions, red bell pepper and lime juice) was fresh and mildly acidic. The use of fresh sweet corn paired well with the tartness of the lime and the crispness of fresh onion, as did the fragrant bed of basmati rice.

For dessert we sampled the chocolate burrito, more or less a frozen cannoli filled with vanilla ice cream and topped with whipped cream, fresh bananas, walnuts, and caramel ($3.50), and the apple-raisin galette with almonds and caramel ($3.25). Both desserts were so rich and sugary I was sated after two bites of each. To mediate the premature onset of diabetes, desserts at Chef du Jour should be shared.

Our total bill was $30.25 before tax and tip, and had my dining companion not dropped the remainder of her tamale in the parking lot, she would have had a healthy doggy-bag dinner too.

Chef du Jour is open Tuesday through Friday, 11 am to 4 pm. Carryout dinners can be arranged in advance by calling 247-8998.

Eric Howerton can be reached at erichowerton@mac.com.

BIG SCREEN: The President's Last Bang

On October 26, 1979, South Korean President Park Chung-hee, along with Secretary Chang of the South Korean Secret Service and several SS officers, was brutally shot and killed. Though North Korea had attempted to assassinate the South Korean president a few years earlier, Park’s neighbors to the north had nothing to do with his demise. Instead, the death blow was delivered from within his own cabinet. South Korean CIA Director Kim Jaegyu, a longtime confidant of President Park’s, led the inchoate, albeit successful, perpetration against President Park. Kim’s uprising is the subject of Lim Sang-soo’s film The President’s Last Bang.

Even though writer/director Lim’s movie is darkly humorous affair, the factual nature of Park’s massacre prohibits the film being written off as merely a comedy. Lim, assuming the role of revisionist historian, would have us believe that President Park (Song Jae-ho) was less of a political bull than he was a buffoon. Most encyclopedic references regard Park as a military dogmatist, an economic savior, or a staunchly anti-democratic, anti-communistic dictator. Lim regards the man as a lascivious drunk.

The President’s Last Bang is heavily influenced by the stylized works of crime by the likes of John Wu and Quention Tarantino, however The President’s Last Bang isn’t weighed down by genre-typifying mobster idolatry. Instead, the film addresses the tenuous nature of eyewitness recollections and textbook renditions of insurgency, and indiscriminately exposes the weaknesses of the presidential cabinet as well as those of the assassins.

The world of The President’s Last Bang is an irresolute one, a land filled with political goons hardly qualified to run a bake sale, much less a country. Chief Secretary Yang (Kwon Byunggil) is introduced as the “secretary of the liquor cabinet .” Secretary Cha (Won-jung Jeong) struts around casually with no pants. Both men are poor political appointees; Cha is a brutish slob and Yang is an obsequious slug. KCIA Chief Ju (Han Seok-Kyu) chews too much gum. And Director Kim has chronic bad breath.

As Secretaries Cha and Yang, and Director Kim dine with the president, Director Kim becomes increasingly agitated with talk of politics until he can take no more. Colluding with Chief Ju and the stoic Colonel Min (Kim Eung-soo), Kim orders the assassination of the president. Without really knowing why, Ju and Min follow their superiors orders.

The extremes with which Lim depicts President Park are both humorous and widely contested, but the The President’s Last Bang is a sly and crafty film. It is satirical without slipping into slapstick or parody. President Park is seen not only as a lout who used Korean intelligence officers to taxi around his mistresses, but also a man who constantly deferred to the Japanese who had once occupied his country. Despite domestic opposition and mild censorship of the film, Lim insists his picture is a faithful representation of both characters and events.

Lim does a wonderful job creating confusion amongst the ranks of the assassins, even going so far as to blur the motivational charge behind the murders. Whether Director Kim orders the hit out of desperation for a more democratic nation, or in response to the president’s waning favor with the populace en masse, or simply due to mental fatigue and wavering sanity, the assassination of President Park seems, paradoxically, both senseless and imperative.

The only shortcoming of The President’s Last Bang is that the source material itself is not as riveting as the events inspiring films such as Dog Day Afternoon and JFK. However, as an alternative to the trite musings of Mossoud assassins in Steven Spielberg’s Munich, The President’s Last Bang explores the insecurities and temerity of politically motivated murder from a slightly more artful, and less maudlin, perspective.

Rating: Worth Sitting Up For

The above originally appeared in a slightly altered form in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4 - Jan. 11.

CD REVIEW: Ryan Adams "29"

No one sets the bar higher for Ryan Adams than himself. From May 5 to December 20 of 2005, the 30 year-old North Carolina native and former Whiskeytown frontman released 41 new tracks on three different albums, and the collected works form a catalogue that dwarfs nearly every other release from last year.

Frequently hailed as the stagecoach driver of alt.country, Adams is the current frontrunner of the genre, as Jeff Tweedy and Wilco have veered off the trail into fragmented fields of noise, the Jayhawks have disbanded altogether, and Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes too often rides sidesaddle, dabbling equally in bluegrass banter and electronic bombast. As a versatile songwriter, Adams can be either meticulous or spontaneous, confident or self-pitying, aloofly misanthropic or hopelessly romantic. And he sounds genuine regardless of the subject matter.

Adams’s first release of 2005, the atmospheric Cold Roses, is an 18-track rhapsody harkening back to the days of roots-rock country music, a time when pastoral psalms were the voice of rural America more than they were commercial means to sell dip and Chevies. Jacksonville City Nights arrived soon after Cold Roses. Jacksonville is a honky tonk whirlwind of love songs and, arguably, the most daring Ryan Adams album to date. Combining the harmonies and language of old gospel tunes with the scofflaw of southern twang, Jacksonville is a mountain range with too many peaks to nominate one as the highest. Notable tracks are “Dear John,” a tearful duet with Norah Jones, “Peaceful Valley,” the most bizarrely belted Ryan Adams song to date, and “My Heart is Broken,” which, for all intensive purposes, could be a reworked Tammy Wynette tune.

Whereas Cold Roses and Jacksonville City Nights are steady and purposeful - collages of Roy Orbison, Merle Haggard, and the riffiness of the Grateful Dead - Adams’s newest collection, 29 (released December 20), is essentially a pop effort. 29 is Adams’s first solo production since joining forces with the Cardinals, and at times the album falters. That being said, the songwriting on 29 is most similar to the lesser appreciated Love Is Hell collection, and the album is best appreciated as a literary work. .

According to Adams, each track on 29 chronicles a year in his 20s. While the autobiographical concept may beg critiques of pretentiousness, Adams, as a character within the framework of the album itself, rarely imposes upon the other personages in the harmonics. Adams is skating on thin ice here, but the songs on 29 are personal revelations without being narcissistic indulgences. 29 - genuine, simple, and heartfelt - is simply a lyrical novel spanning 10 years

The title track “29” is an inebriated ramble up and down lonely highways littered with poorly lit poolhalls and boredom. “Strawberry Wine,” a sad, strummy hum-a-long, is about the pendulous swing of tragic characters swaying between poles of regret and failure. Hushy piano tracks like “Starlite Diner” and “Blue Sky Blues” are so well-told one has a hard time deciding if they are songs with plots or stories wrapped in blankets of sound.

The breakaway track on 29 is “The Sadness,” which has a sound unlike anything Adams has ever composed. Combining sounds from paso doble and flamenco, the song likens itself to a bullfight, and with Adams as the matador battling the minatory Love it’s unclear who will be claimed the victor. Like “Peaceful Valley” on Jacksonville City Nights, Adams’s voice on “The Sadness” exhibits a capricious elasticity not attempted on earlier works like Gold or RockNRoll.

Adams’s new era could be defined, albeit ironically, by his handicap. After a fall during a 2004 Liverpool concert resulted in a broken wrist, Adams was told he may never play guitar again. Several operations later and months of having to relearn the guitar, Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, and 29 exhibit a different breed of songwriting. From his new relationship with the six string, Adams seems to have also found new pain in his voice, a new foothold in the market, and new ways of convincing the listener to believe each chorus and every refrain.

If 2006 is as good to Adams as 2005 was, other artists may have to rethink the strategy of a releasing an album every two or three years, lest they be left in dust of Ryan Adams as he passes them by in a rusty pickup traveling much faster than it should.

The above originally appeared in a slightly altered form in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4 - Jan. 11.

IN THE KITCHEN: Liver Pentagon

Liver. For many the word itself conjures up more horrific images than moribund diction like tombstone or cemetery. Liver has unfairly fallen out of favor in America due to the selective prepackaging of muscly grocery store meats and chain restaurants’ ubiquitous abstention from serving organs. However, there was a time when liver - along with sweetbreads, kidneys, tongue, and hearts - was revered with gastronomical gusto.

Organ meats likes those mentioned above, have far more uses than mere filler for hot dogs, chorizo, and scrapple. In fact, in most parts of the world, organs are still widely consumed as healthy alternatives to fatty rib eyes and stacks of baby back ribs.

Foie gras, the fattened liver of a duck or goose, is a delicacy in most of Western civilization and can fetch astronomical prices. However, that the liver of avian species is more prized than that of mammals like sheep and cows should be no indication that the liver of a lamb or calf is to be forgotten altogether. While not as delicate in flavor as foie gras or pate, lamb and calf livers are significantly lower in fat than foie gras, higher in protein, and richer in iron and vitamin A.

Much of the stigma attached to liver can be attributed to the paucity of colorful accouterments to offset the grayish liver. Liver and onions is still frequently served in diners in the South, however liver lends itself well to a variety of flavors, offering palatable leniency to tastes both sweet and savory. For this matter, serving liver with nothing more than a few grilled onions fails to take advantage of the organ’s versatility. Below is a recipe that showcases the dexterity of this oft forgotten meat.

The liver in this dish is accompanied by four sauces and one side, each item offering a different accent to the natural flavor of the liver. The term pentagon refers to the orientation of the liver companions around the edge of the plate, not to the enigmatic offices of the U.S. Department of Defense, an agency that just might be scarier than all the liver in the world combined.

Preparation for Liver:
1 lb. calf’s liver (or organic, grass-fed beef liver)
1/4 lb. smoked bacon

Remove any tough connective tissue or gristle from liver. Soak liver in cold water or milk for 1 hour to remove excess blood.

While the liver is being bled, dice 1/4 pound smoked bacon and cook bacon over very low heat for 20 minutes or until the majority of the fat has been released from the bacon. Remove bacon from grease and set bacon and pan aside.

Pentagon Point 1: Sweet Cherry Chard
1/3 lb. sweet cherries, pits removed (15- 20 cherries)
3 cups shredded swiss chard leaves (stems removed)
1 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. lemon juice
salt

In skillet melt butter and sauté swiss chard over medium heat until leaves start to wilt. Add cherries and lemon juice. Sauté for 5 minutes. Remove from heat before cherries fully break down. chill in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. Serve cold.

Pentagon Point 2: Shallot Endive Salad
2 small heads of endive, sliced into thin rings
3 medium shallots, sliced into thin rings
1 small garlic clove, pressed
1 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds
remaining bacon from liver preparation
salt

Over medium heat, melt butter in saucepan. Add sliced shallots, garlic, bacon, caraway seeds and a pinch of salt. Sauté for 5 to 7 minutes or until shallots become mostly limp. Add endive and balsamic vinegar. Reduce heat to low. Cook until endive is moderately limp. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 3: Midnight Mashed Potatoes
3 medium blue or purple potatoes, cut into quarters, unpeeled
2 ounces soft, unaged chevre (goat cheese)
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. olive oil
1/8 tsp. thyme
salt
pepper

Bring water to boil in medium-sized pot and allow potatoes to boil for 20 minutes. Strain water from potatoes. Add remaining ingredients and mash together crudely. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 4: Tomato Cranberry Relish
1 cup canned whole cranberry sauce
2 small tomatoes, diced
3 Tbs. dry red wine
1/4 tsp. crushed rosemary
1/2 tsp. corn starch
salt
pepper

In small saucepan, break down diced tomatoes and a pinch of salt in olive oil. Add cranberry sauce, red wine, rosemary, corn starch, pepper. Simmer uncovered for twenty minutes. Cover, remove from heat and allow relish to thicken. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 5: Caramelized Onions
2 medium yellow or white onions
1 1/2 Tbs. butter
1 1/2 Tbs. brown sugar
salt

Peel onions and cut into thin rings. Melt butter in saucepan over medium heat. Add onions, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. Cover and reduce heat after 5 minutes. Allow onions to soften and caramelize (approximately 20 minutes) keeping heat low enough to prevent sugar from burning. Remove from heat once onions have darkened significantly and become fully limp. Serve warm.

Liver Preparation

Over medium heat warm bacon grease. Depending on amount of fat rendered from the bacon, add 1 to 2 tablespoons of butter.

Remove liver from milk/water bath. Pat dry with a paper towel. Dredge the liver in flour, bread crumbs or crushed soda crackers. When oil has come to temperature, place liver in frying pan. Cook 3-5 minutes until top side has released a substantial amount of blood and bottom has browned. Flip liver. To maintain the liver’s soft texture, recommended temperature is medium as overcooked liver will become tough.

Putting It All Together

Place a fair amount of each Pentagon Point (according to their numerical order) around the perimeter of the individual serving plates, forming a pentagon around the edge of the plate.

Immediately before serving, slice cooked liver into 1/2 inch strips. Place several strips in the middle of each plate. Garnish with alfalfa sprouts. Encourage guests to try each sauce separately and to combine the flavors.

Serve with a medium- to full-bodied red wine.

Serves 4.

Eric Howerton can be reached at erichowerton@mac.com.


The above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4-Jan 11.

IN THE KITCHEN: Movie munchies with panache

Excluding special exceptions, movie fare is generally bite–sized, easy to prepare, and, more often than not, high in fat, sodium or sugar. Case in point: popcorn. Drenched in butter, handfuls of minute pillows can be devoured in seconds, and preparation is as easy as pouring a glass of water. Open box. Place popcorn in microwave. Press button. Listen intently for the attenuation of exploding kernels. Enjoy with glee. (For a zestier and more health–conscious popcorn, use olive oil instead of butter and sprinkle some ground red chile, cumin and black pepper over the steaming tufts.)

Just as there are those moviegoers who shy away from action–packed Hollywood blockbusters and instead devote themselves to independent cinema, there are also those whose tastes in movie roughage strays from the candy–counter staples of Jujyfruits, hot dogs and 55–gallon drums of soda. The transformation of the local cinema into the 24 screen cineplex also brought gourmet ice creams and pizza for the patron with more “refined” tastes. However, xenophobic videophiles — and those who want a quiet night in the sanctity of their home — should not automatically head to the drive–thru on the way home from the video store or rip open a box of Jiffy Pop.

Below are two recipes that require just a little more effort than handing over ten bucks to a movie employee for a pack of Reese’s and a beverage.

Spicy Smoked Salmon Pesto Canapés

1 baguette
8 oz. smoked salmon, chopped
8 oz. cream cheese
1 log (4–6 ounces) soft, unaged chevre (goat’s cheese)
4 tbls. fresh basil, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
2 whole New Mexico green chiles
2 ancho chiles
salt
pepper
olive oil
optional: Pimento peppers

Roast chiles in the broiler oven or directly over a gas burner, rotating frequently. Remove chiles from heat when the skins begin to bubble and turn dark brown (Be sure to turn on the hood fan or you’ll be in for quite a shock when the smoke alarm sounds!). Set chiles aside to cool.

Slice baguette into half–inch sections and place on a cookie sheet. Lightly brush baguette slices with olive oil and toast them in the broiler until golden brown. (Under normal circumstances, the ideal baguette will be crispy on both ends, a little flaky under the crust, and soft and billowy in the middle. When tapped, a great baguette will sound slightly hollow and can be wielded like a scimitar without flexing or bending. In this instance, a slightly moister baguette is preferred because toasting an already dry baguette will result in oddly shaped croutons and an excess of crumbs.)

When the chiles have cooled enough to be handled, remove the skins by cutting a vertical slit down the length of the fruit. Extract the seeds and stem and ease the flesh of the chile away from the charred skin by gently pushing the skin away. (For those wanting to avoid direct contact with the incendiary capsaicin — the oil in chile peppers that induces the burning sensation — the skin of the chile can be scrapped away with the dull edge of a butter knife.) Slice the chiles into quarter–inch strips long enough to run the length of the baguette canapés.

Allow cheeses to come to room temperature. In a mixing bowl, combine the cream cheese, goat’s cheese, salmon, fresh basil, garlic, salt and pepper to taste. Mix well. Spread a generous portion of the mixture onto the toasted baguettes. Run strips of roasted New Mexican green and ancho chiles down the length of the canapé. Accent with a pimento.

Curried Shrimp Deviled Eggs

Shrimp:
1/4 lb. cocktail shrimp or 12 small–medium shrimp peeled and deveined
1 large clove garlic, finely minced
2 tbls. lime juice
butter

Eggs:
8 eggs
1 tsp. paprika
1/4 tsp. red chile powder
1 1/2 tsp. Tabasco
1 1/2 tsp. Thai House green curry or 1 tbls. traditional curry powder
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tsp. white vinegar
salt
pepper
fresh cilantro

Hard boil the eggs then place them in the refrigerator to cool.

In a skillet over medium heat, lightly sauté the garlic in butter. If using small–medium shrimp, cut each shrimp in half lengthwise. Add shrimp and lime juice to skillet. Reduce heat to medium–low. Allow shrimp to cook thoroughly. A properly cooked shrimp will turn pink and slightly resistant when poked, though not rubbery. Place shrimp in refrigerator.

Peel hard–boiled eggs. Slice eggs in half and remove yolks. Mix together egg yolks, paprika, Tabasco, curry, mayonnaise, vinegar, salt and pepper until mixture is smooth and uniformly colored. Spoon curried yolks back into egg whites. Place several cocktail shrimp or two shrimp halves on top of each egg. Garnish with fresh cilantro leaves.

The beauty of these dishes is that neither of them requires an unrealistic devotion of time nor extensive culinary prowess to perfect. And the added element of heat in each recipe will perk you up for for the main event — the movie itself. CW

Eric Howerton can be reached at www.erichowerton@mac.com

The above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly, Dec. 24 - Jan. 4.

BIG SCREEN: Syriana

Impatient people hate William Faulkner. They find his writing inaccessible, because impatient people want to understand exactly what’s happening while it’s happening and Faulkner is uncompromising in this way. The deceased postmaster’s prose has led many a student to put down The Sound and the Fury prematurely and, saddly, these readers never realize the genius of the deceased postmaster’s work is in the suspension of comprehension - this is to say, the first 30 pages may not make sense until you’ve read the final 30 pages.

Reactions to Stephen Gaghan’s new movie Syriana will be much like that of those who have only taken cursory stabs at Faulkner. With Syriana, Gaghan - screenwriter of Traffic - wants to tell you a story of intelligence, politics and the slick dealings of those who directly or indirectly profit off oil. Ultimately, Gaghan wants to tell you about all these things, but he doesn’t want you to understand them until it’s all over.

Syriana rose from the book See No Evil by veteran CIA agent Robert Baer who, in an interview on National Public Radio, revealed that Gaghan intentionally muddied the cinematic waters, obfuscated connections, and withheld information that would have otherwise made the film comprehensible. If you can accept that Syriana is an informative film without being a pandering tutorial, you will, ironically, better interpret it. But if you, Mr. Knowitall, take Gaghan’s disregard for linear storytelling and intelligibility as a personal insult, buy a ticket for Yours, Mine and Ours instead.

Like Traffic, Syriana’s narrative is driven by excess of character, an approach that reveals the interlocking tiers of human drama. The film begins when an arms deal goes awry in Tehran for CIA operative and utility killer Bob Barnes (George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck). When the missiles Barnes delivers falls into the wrong hands, the sand storm of confusion, switchbacks, and double-talk begins.

Cut to Washington, D.C. where lawyer Bennett Holiday (Jeffrey Wright, The Manchurian Candidate) is investigating the chicaneries between merging oil companies Connex and Killen. Swim across the Atlantic to Geneva where Bryan Woodman (Matt Damon, The Brothers Grimm) has the perfect life as an energy analyst and consultant for a CNN-esque newscast until his son is electrocuted at the home of a Middle Eastern emir. Zip over to the United States where Killen CEO Jimmy Pope (Chris Cooper, Jarhead) hunts zebras at his Texas ranch, Danny Dalton (Tim Blake Nelson, O Brother, Were Art Thou?) shoots his mouth off as the spokesman for the Committee to Liberate Iran, and independent intelligence gatherer Stan Goff (William Hurt, A History of Violence) mutters surreptitiously in the back of movie theaters. And leaping into thick of it all, cabals in the Persian Gulf kibitz, read from al’Quran, and recruit naifs for glorious martyrdom. The 15 additional characters - superfluously comprised by angry Pakistanis, patricidal opportunists, emir apparents, alcoholic fathers, men who like to remove fingernails, angry sons, and wives armed with ultimatums - are just the tip of the iceberg.

Gaghan’s globe-trotting and borderline-infinite character spectrum gives the impression there is no elementary provenance for any ill of the oil industry, and rightly so. Syriana makes it perfectly clear that there is never any one person or country acting alone; everything is interwoven into the fabric of corruption and greed. If Syriana is firm about anything, it is that the world is a very complicated, very tenuous Rube Goldberg machine disguised as a planet with neat combustibles inside.

Though probably the most socially aware non-documentary film of 2005, Syriana will have problems drawing in certain moviegoers, not because not because it is lacking or arrogant, but rather because the ellusive nature of the film gives the impression Gaghan has a valid point, he just didn’t get around to expressing it. Maybe Syriana is an indictment of shameful international trades that all but give license to insurrection. Maybe the film is a revelation of the ever-increasing corruption on capital hill as America has to compete with Japan and world-power-to-be China in securing natural resources. Or maybe Syriana is simply Traffic with a lot of sand.

If reading the New York Times gives you a headache, don’t see this film. If you’re expecting Damon and Clooney to look suave and wear Gucci suits, don’t see this film. If you clap your hands when spoon-fed tales of warmth and human kindness, don’t see this film. However, if you don’t mind being more than a passive spectator, flip your brain on and buy the damn ticket.

In the end, both The Sound and the Fury and Syriana make sense, they just take a little more work than you’re used to.

Eric Howerton does not own a car. When he’s not walking in the cold, he can be reached erichowerton@mac.com

A slightly altered version of the above appeared in Crosswinds Weekly, Dec. 16-23

CLASS ACT: The curtain rises on sixth Santa Fe Film Festival

In his pursuit to dissect and quantify euphoria, Lee Boot attempts to build an angel out of meat. He freely quotes René Descartes and the American Constitution, glues sequins to his shoes, and makes a cake with a rubber rat inside. Boot does all this, and more, in the name of happiness. A former school teacher and college professor, Boot’s film Euphoria — a scatological social survey/absurd performance piece — is just one of the 220 titles airing at this year’s Santa Fe Film Festival. A bevy of live–action and animated shorts, documentaries and feature–length films have been compiled into 90 offerings, which will be shown at 10 different venues throughout the City Different from Dec. 7 to 11.

The festival, now in its auspicious sixth year, features films from New Mexico residents as well as the labored pursuits from auteurs across the globe. Much like the city itself, the Santa Fe Film Festival has made a name for itself as an expansive, multicultural forum.

Jon Bowman, executive director of the event and movie critic for the Santa Fe New Mexican, said, although the festival has gained national accolades and filled niches, its goal has always been the same: to present an eclectic array of films, many of which pass under the radar of mainstream cinema. “It’s a real smorgasbord, and we like it that way,” Bowman said. “If it were too thematically tied it would get boring,” he added.

In order to keep things diverse, the members of the selection committee have chosen a hearty variety of independent flicks, foreign films, ethnographic pics, Art Matters films, comedies and dramas. If ever one were to faint from film exhaustion, SFFF is the event at which to do it.

Bowman anticipates the festival, which in its incipient year drew 9,000 attendees, will attract at least 20,000 moviegoers over the five day period.

The bright star

In the past, films with more sparkling stars than Lee Boot’s sneakers have found audience approval at the festival. Blockbusters such as 21 Grams, Pollock and In the Bedroom were screened weeks before they opened nationally. Of the films scheduled to air this winter, Brokeback Mountain, starring Jake Gylenhall (Jarhead) and Heath Ledger (Brothers Grimm) is easily the most commercial film of the bunch. However, the unorthodox Brokeback Mountain, based on Annie Proulx’s story of the same name, is about two Wyoming sheep ranchers who form a taboo gay relationship. The festival’s screening has already sold out.

The production prestige behind Brokeback Mountain guarantees a phenomenal film. Cloistering around the camera were director Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (21 Grams) and screenwriters Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana — the latter two will receive lifetime achievement awards at this year’s festival, along with documentarian of Southern music Robert Mugge, Russian filmmaker Pavel Chukhray, and wild card L.M. Kit Karson.

The New Mexico connection
According to Bowman, between 40 and 50 percent of the titles being screened have a direct connection to New Mexico.

Zen and the Asteroid, the brainchild of northern New Mexico residents Dan Otero and Javier Arellano, was filmed over a period of five years using local talent. The film’s website defines the desert dynamo as a “Taoist, sci–fi comedy for all ages.” (If you miss Zen at SFFF, it will run at the Guild Cinema Dec. 18.)

Another Land of Enchantment–based film is Cowboy del Amor. Michele Ohayon’s documentary chronicles the antics of Ivan Thompson, a former real–life cowboy who acts as a liaison between clueless American men and the Mexican women desperate enough to entertain the notion of marrying a stranger. Thompson and his clientele of past– their–prime white males are fed up with the fastidiousness of American women and go south of the border to look for señoritas who are not as demanding as their competitors to the north.

Throughout the film, Thompson shoots his mouth off with authentic New Mexico aplomb while attempting to marry off his slew of double–clutching truck drivers and smarmy used car salesmen to attractive Mexican women. Though his profession as Match.com–meets–machismo is beyond reproach, Thompson’s persistence, cattle hand conceit, and barnyard banter make the film a riot.

Other movies worth catching are Self–Medicated and American Dreamer. Self–Medicated, written, directed and starring Monty Lapica, is an intense and beautifully acted tale from Nevada involving drug addiction and institutionalized abduction. L.M. Kit Karson and Lawrence Schillers’s 1971 documentary American Dreamer, which exposes an often nude and drug–addled Dennis Hopper as Taos’ answer to Hunter S. Thompson, should prove bewildering. And for those with short attention spans, New Mexico Short Sampler I & II, the animated Madrid en Corto and Parade of Animation, and the paranormal medley Outer Limits aim to please.

Appearing in person at the festival will be consummate character actor Ernie Hudson (HBO’s Oz) to present his film Halfway Decent, in which he plays a struggling police officer. Michael and Mark Polish (Twin Falls, Idaho) will also attend to promote their new book The Declaration of Independent Filmmaking: An Insider’s Guide to Making Movies Outside of Hollywood. Special events, including dinners, live music and panel discussions, will take place on a daily basis. CW

The Santa Fe Film Festival runs Wednesday, Dec. 7 through Sunday, Dec. 11. Ticket prices are $9 per screening, 10 movies for $75, or $300 for an unlimited festival pass. For other ticket packages, film schedules and synopses, visit www.santafefilmfestival.com

The above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly (www.crosswindsweekly.com), Dec. 7-14 issue.

BIG SCREEN: The Squid and the Whale

Compelling but incomplete

Squid are cephalopods, noticeably different from octopi by two lance-like antennae in addition to their eight tentacles. Whales are marine mammals of the order cetacea, largely subdivided into two categories: those with teeth and those with baleen.

By their very nature, squid and whales are incompatible mates. Outside of cartoons, the two animals do not form symbiotic relationships, fall in love, or create offspring that inherit the maladaptive traits of both parents. Nature has, through a bulwark of finicky genes, kept these two animals from creating mutant progeny.

Strangely enough, neither cuttlefish nor sperm whales make appear in writer/director Noah (screenwriter The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou) Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale. Despite the allusions of its title, The Squid and the Whale is not set on the high seas but rather in the postimpressionistic tedium of early ‘80s Manhattan. The film involves a pair of writers and the children they’ve selfishly damaged.

Unlike marine animals, there is no Darwinian red-light when it comes to interhuman coition, and Baumbach would have us believe that “beached whale” Bernard (Jeff Daniels) and his wife, Joan (Laura Linney), are as ill-suited for marriage and child rearing as mammal and mollusk. While Bernard’s career has washed ashore and died, Joan’s late-blooming success is soaring.

Quick to gain recognition for her work, Joan’s unanchored libido and inability to keep her suction cups off other men, partnered with Bernard’s blowhole gazing, jealousy, and the conviction that his novels are still as valuable as ambergris, make for a tumultuous divorce.

Caught in the eye of the storm are Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) and Frank (Owen Kline), two minnows too small to be worthy prey for their feuding parents. Walt and Frank’s sexual confusion, masturbatory deviance, and strikes at independence are realistic and engaging, though overshadowed by Bernard and Joan’s brutality. The siblings are awash with confusion and pain, though Bernard and Joan are both too self-absorbed to notice the collateral damage inflicted upon their sons.

Like bastard hybrids of the squid and whale, Walt and Frank embody the worst of their parents. Taking after his father, Frank is crass, negative, and verbally caustic while Walt, longing to be a womanizer, is plagued by his mother’s philandering drive.

Delivered with the same deadpan candor and tongue-in-gill humor as The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and The Royal Tenenbaums, Baumbach and producer Wes Anderson attempt to stir the audience by understating the characters’ feelings (think Gene Hackman as Royal Tenenbaum). In a trick not dissimilar to the one played on the king in The Emperor’s New Clothes, Baumbach’s antithetical approach conveys emotion by avoiding it. Were it not for the talents of Linney and Daniels, Baumbach’s gambit of “resonance through the absent” would come across as inexperience rather than subtlety.

Daniels portrays Bernard with the aplomb of Rabbit from John Updike’s lagromorphic series. As Bernard the muted narcissist, he delivers a brilliant performance and does so with more authority than Bill Murray who, in The Life Aquatic, played a similar character. Lamentably, Daniels alone cannot reel in the movie and Linney, though perfectly embodying her character, is unable to break through Joan’s truncated representation.

What propels movies such as The Life Aquatic and The Royal Tenenbaums, where monotony and ho-hummery take center stage, is the startling contrast of the confrontational characters to the subdued ones. By casting characters like Klaus (Willem Dafoe) and Chas (Ben Stiller) in The Life Aquatic and The Royal Tenenbaums, respectively, the dullards are augmented by a type of absurdist buffoonery. Unfortunately, the disruptive characters in The Squid and the Whale are so ordinary they do little to offset the rest of the cast’s stifled exuberance, although, to their credit, William Baldwin as Joan’s bedfellow and Anna Paquin as Bernard’s fellatious student make valiant efforts to inspirit the film.

Misogynistic gaucherie, defiling library books, and plagiarizing Pink Floyd’s “Hey You” all make The Squid and the Whale a noteworthy piece of independent cinematography. And yet the episodic nature and lack of closure make for an incomplete voyage. While momentarily great, The Squid and the Whale is captivating for 81 minutes, at which point an abrupt ending leaves you with half a bag of popcorn and the feeling a mischievous theater employee has absconded with the last 15 minutes of the film.


Eric Howerton respects Poseidon’s wrath and can be found above water at erichowerton@mac.com.

A slightly altered form of the above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly (www.crosswindsweekly.com), Dec.7-14 issue.