BIFFMA Day 2- An Ordinary Life

Garrison Keillor: The Man on the Radio in the Red Tennis Shoes. In this labyrinth of a documentary, director Peter Rosen follows Garrison Keillor through the hobbit holes of his many-faceted life. One walks away with the impression that Keillor achieves things without ever really working, that he walks, talks and breathes the act of writing through his very existence. Beside a brief appearance by his daughter and an off-camera comment by the director about Keillor's third wife, there is no evidence to contest the impression that Keillor is an alien, shuttled to Earth from a planet of geniuses who function and invent in a time system of their own.

Towards the end of the film, Keillor admits that he once feared living an ordinary life. And then he realized that "that's what we all get; an ordinary life. And it's good enough. It's good enough." This sentiment echoed with our matted Beaver, whose new life in the country has turned out to be extraordinary in its simplicity. A cabin on a small plot, a voice on the radio, a companion in the darkness, stirring us on.

BIFFMA Day 1- Man on Wire

James Marsh's Man on Wire depicts the early days of the high-rope walker, Philippe Petit. Dubbed as the "artistic crime of the century", Petit rigged a tightrope between the two towers of the World Trade Center in 1974, and walked back and forth between them 8 times while police looked on, unable to seize him. This feat took years of planning, cross-Atlantic trips, and the sacrifice of friendships. More interesting, maybe, than the stunning images of Petit and his delirious passions, is the portrayal of the men and women he used to get to the towers. His estranged best friend who still bursts into tears when asked, 30 years later, "what happened after", the girlfriend who stood beneath him as he scaled the heights of his heart. Petit was in attendance, and spoke to the audience after. Having exchanged the high rope for the high life of motivational speaking, it would appear that Petit has finally tumbled down from above. By all appearances, the fall was long and lonely.

BIFFMA Day 1- Valerie

Valerie, directed by Birgit Möller, portrays two weeks in the life of a Polish model unraveling into financial despair in Berlin. It is Christmas, and Valerie has come to Berlin to search for an apartment and spend the holiday with her furry, sequined friends. With no money in the bank, she attends casting calls with confidence- things have always worked out before- but when too many days pass, ripples of worry trouble her face; she is passed up for younger, fresher models. Habituated to a world where paychecks are picked up by invisible hands and taxis don't run meters, it gradually dawns on Valerie that she doesn't have a penny saved nor any future prospect. Unwilling to alter the illusion of the easy life that she and her friends entertain by asking for a loan, she finds herself unable to pay her parking ticket in the subterranean garage underneath her hotel. Cast out from the Grand Hyatt after her credit card proves faulty, she begins to live in her car, changing behind doorways to emerge each night a cashmere-covered butterfly, looking for solutions in the beautiful rooms of the city. This is a film about the ramifications of people losing interest and the volatile currency of beauty.

BIFFMA comes to town

The third annual Berkshire International Film Festival has landed upon Great Barrington, bringing with it hairdos, beemers, little and not-so-little black dresses, passed hors d'oeuvres, short films, long films, good films and sketchless attempts at artistry. The opening night party, hosted by Pearls www.pearlsrestaurant.com, was a fancy pants event complete with unagi and Viggo Mortensen's doppelganger slamming out the drinks. Run, little beavies, run- the man makes a naughty margarita.

Beaver and Domo met some nice people and some lassy sailors, several of whose sea-worthy legs proved less so in stilettos. Here's a tip for sunny summer fashion: if you've gone to the effort of having your hair done, remaining coherent is almost as flattering as a square neckline.

Nevertheless, despite the crowds, the traffic, and the invasion of handbags, Domo and Beaver are looking forward to the films. After tag sales and cabbage rolls with pork belly and raw oysters, there's nothing Beaver loves more than three days of flics. Except her little Domo!

Killing me softly

So much for optimism. Several weeks ago, in the bout of junior year abroad weather that hit Sandisfield for 22 blissful days, little Beaver happily went about planting a bunch of different vegetables and herbs with hope in her heart and spring in her step. But spring has sprung...quite literally. It's hopped away like a Jack Rabbit with a precious gift tied atop his pom-pom tail. It snowed today, dear readers, and snow isn't good for infant seedlings. As the wind hushes and gushes through the rafters, the clouds collide and whisper hurtful things. You planted things too soon, little Beaver, old man frost is on its way! A silent call goes out to the small things: gerbils and bunnies and chipmunks and moles, please come and sit down on my seedlings! Warm them with your pinto-bean sized hearts and hope that they are brave enough to make it through the night!

Summer reading list

Beaver has set herself a little summer reading challenge: to read the 100 Best Novels compiled by the Modern Library. The problem is, her local library doesn't have a cornucopia of "classics". They do, however, have a nice-as-pie librarian willing to take and place special orders. While Beaver waits for her first four titles to come in, she is kicking off the season with a page turner:
Let the summer games begin!
Update: This book was so important and timely, La Beav finished it in five hours. For anyone who is worried about gas, about rents, about the provenance of their next paycheck or simply wondering how the heck everyone else is making it-- they just might not be. Although this book has been out for a while, there might be no better time to read it than now.

Grow, seedling, grow

Siberian Kale, Japanese pickling eggplants, the hottest red chilies, fingerling potatoes and heirloom black Russian tomatoes....just to name a few. From her second-story perch in the little red house, Beaver looks out at the first rain of Spring, as roots stretch and yawn, and shake out the kinks. Will the little planted seeds grown into something wonderful? Or will her lack of a little green claw dash out all hopes of a harvest? She chews on sweet birch and watches the rain. Pour que ça marche, pour que ça pousse!