Steak dinners

Easter Dinner was two two-inch thick porterhouse steaks slathered with olive oil and melted butter, sprinkled with kosher salt and fresh-cracked pepper, and laid in a 12-inch cast-iron pan that had been heating in a 500 degree-oven for twenty minutes, and pan-roasted--8 minutes one side, 7 minutes the other. Steaks put aside to rest for five minutes, said pan was placed on medium stovetop heat, deglazed with half a cup of cognac, splashed with a cup of heavy cream, and whisked till sauce is thick, around five minutes.

Served with a crusty baguette and a spinach-and-arugula salad with apple-butter dressing (extra-virgin olive oil, cider vinegar, kosher salt, cracked black pepper, dijon mustard, crushed garlic clove, cider, and enough apple butter to drown in, all whisked together).

Dessert was strawberries and blackberries in mascarpone cream (two egg yolks mixed with 4 ounces sugar and 4 ounces mascarpone; whipped two egg whites till foamy then folded whites into egg-cheese-sugar mix a little at a time; chilled for an hour before adding the berries).

Tonight did a variation on pan-fried steak. Slathered olive oil on four bone-in ribeyes, sprinkled them with kosher salt and cracked black pepper, laid them in two 12-inch pans (the cast iron one worked so much better, have to buy another one) on medium high heat, two minutes on each side, and maybe a few extra minutes searing the fatty sides. Set aside steaks to rest, poured out the extra oil (leaving around two tablespoons in each pan).

On medium heat, dropped half a cup of sliced shitake mushrooms in each pan, fried em for a few minutes; poured in maybe half a cup of Madeira wine followed by half a cup of heavy cream, whisked a few more minutes till thick; poured sauce over steaks, and sprinkled everything with chopped Italian parsley.

Served as side a spinach salad with an orange marmalade vinaigrette (extra-virgin olive oil, apple cider vinegar, a crushed garlic clove, kosher salt, cracked black pepper, a tablespoon of dijon mustard, and plenty of orange marmalade). Topped salad with mandarin orange segments.

Sliced a ciabatta bread open, spread herbed butter (garlic crushed with kosher salt, cracked black pepper, Italian parsley, chives in softened butter) on each side, and toasted the whole thing in an oven at 350 degrees till the bread is lightly browned.

Shohei Imamura (1926-2006)

Shohei Imamura (1926-2006)

His films weren't easy to see--only managed to see two of his films on the big screen: Kanzo Sensei (Dr. Akagi, 1998) in the Hong Kong film festival, and Kamigami no Fukaki Yokubo (The Profound Desire of the Gods, 1968), and only managed to write a short piece on the former; the rest I had to see on video, or even laserdisc.

I had this to say about Kanzo Sensei:

Shohei Imamura's "Kanzo Sensei" literally translates from the Japanese as "Dr. Liver"--which, when you think of it, better captures the fleshy, somewhat absurd nature of the film than the artier-sounding "Dr. Akagi," the film's official English title. Imamura is a Japanese filmmaker from an older tradition than, say, Kore-Eda Hirokazu ("After Life," "Maborosi") or Kurosawa Kyoshi ("License to Live"). He maintains a fashionably modern distance from his subject but his storytelling style--lively, intimate, totally engaging--recalls Japanese masters like Ichikawa, Mizoguchi and the older Kurosawa.

 

The film is about a World War II Japanese doctor who literally runs all over the small town that is his territory, diagnosing hepatitis left and right. The town authorities think he has hepatitis in the brain, but that's because the disease is everywhere, in epidemic proportions. The latter half of the film concentrates on Akagi's quest to isolate the hepatitis virus--he throws together a delightfully elaborate device involving flasks, microscopes, a slice of a dead man's liver, and (nice touch) a broken-down movie projector. He almost succeeds (which would have made the film science-fiction) but fate keeps throwing distractions in his way--like the escaped Dutch prisoner all the soldiersare looking for, or the lovestruck nymphomaniac that insists he spank her bottom (Imamura's comic erotic scenes perk you up, like cortisone injections). Akagi muddles through anyway, and achieves an ironic apotheosis--staring into an atomic mushroom cloud in the distance, he recognizes "a huge liver…magnificently hypertrophied!" "Kanzo Sensei" is a tragicomic film about World War II Japan, seen through the befuddled eyes of a benign monomaniac.

Businessworld, 4/23/99

I remember seeing Kamigami no Fukaki Yokubo in the Detroit Institute of Arts, in the early 90s. Thirty years since I saw that film, and images still stay with me--the priestess with her breasts being mashed, the giant rock hanging above the pit, and how it eventually drops to crush the incestuous lovers, the figure of a woman, prancing on the tracks, before the oncoming train...

His films were often bitingly funny and wonderfully erotic, and that the satisfaction of sexual desire onscreen was often frustrated or interrupted, which only aggravated one's thirst for fulfillment. It gave his work a dirty thrill, a live-wire energy you don't find in many filmmakers today. Also, that the focus on diseased livers probably makes Kanzo Sensei his most prophetic film, and that 'benign monomaniac' might be a good description of the man--he dwelt on the most disturbing subjects with an air of equanimity, as if talking about some pleasant subject (weather, or better yet bar chow), and trained his camera towards his characters with all the attention and intensity of a monomaniac. A great filmmaker.  

Fan mail (a response to my "Da Vinci Code" article)

Found in my inbox today, in response to my article on The Da Vinci Code (Ron Howard, 2006):

 

(Note: Lito Lapid is a former Filipino action star)

 

Mon, 29 May 2006 18:52:14 -0700 (PDT)

 

From: "al diaz" aledgeds@yahoo.com  

Subject: So dumb the Crap of Noel Vera

 

I could not believe that someone let you write this ignorant movie review you just did on The Da Vinci Code in their publication.  And I cant believe that you are this stupid.

 

Please tell me Noel Vera that you are not this fucking stupid..... Answer these questions for me please... I couldnt believe someone is really this dumb. 

 

1. What part of "FICTION" didnt you understand about this movie???

 

2. Since when did Dan Brown's objective in writing this COMPLETELY FICTIONAL NOVEL is to destroy the credibility of the Roman Catholic Church???

(PLEASE TELL ME THAT YOU ARE NOT SERIOUS IN THINKING THAT DAN BROWN WROTE THIS TO TOPPLE CHRISTIANITY AND NOT FOR FAME AND MONEY?)

 

3. Since when did the "The Da Vinci Code" become a historically educational film?

 

Let me quote this incredible Noel Vera stupidity....

 

"The Da Vinci Code isn't good history, isnt good criticism of the catholic church, isnt even decent entertainment; it deserves not our censure...."

 

GOOD HISTORY? <--- This is FUCKING FICTION!!!!

 

CRITICISM OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH? <------- I think Dan Brown wrote this Novel TO MAKE MONEY .  (DID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THAT HE WROTE THIS TO TOPPLE THE VATICAN?!?!?!)

 

Let me quote another incredible Noel Vera stupidity....

 

" (Ron Howard)... or entertaining the notion that he is in any way a director) "

 

SO WHO IS A DIRECTOR FOR YOU IF A PERSON WITH THIS MANY MULTI MILLION BLOCKBUSTER MOVIES (BEAUTIFUL MIND, APOLLO 13, BACKDRAFT, CINDERELLA MAN) IS NOT A DIRECTOR?? I BET YOU LIKED LITO LAPID MOVIES.

 

And lastly you dumb stupid fuck is, how did you become a movie critic when you are this biased?  Anticipating falling asleep even before the movie started? What kind of a movie critic are you? I BET YOU GAVE ALL LITO LAPID MOVIES 5 STARS!

 

PLEASE REPLY ASAP I ALSO WANT TO KNOW IF YOU WENT TO COLLEGE

 

ALVIN EDGENBERG

 

Mon, 29 May 2006 22:04:01 -0700 (PDT)

From: "Noel Vera" noelbotevera@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: So dumb the Crap of Noel Vera

 

Wow, hey--get that plug out of your butt, maybe you'll feel better.

Mission Impossible III (J.J. Abrams, 2006)

Mission Impossible III (J.J. Abrams, 2006)

 

Excerpt:

 

Hello, Tom.

 

Your two previous big-screen missions as IMF operative Ethan Hunt have been quite successful. Your first, directed by Brian De Palma, showed a breezy disregard for the complex script (by legendary Hollywood screenwriter Robert Towne ("Chinatown")) that at the same time managed to be lucid and exciting (never mind that, as die-hard "Mission Impossible" fans point out, you trashed the premise of Bruce Geller's original TV series by putting a premium on maverick adventuring over closely coordinated teamwork). Your second, also written by Towne, was more openly emotional (a response to complaints that the first was cold-hearted and difficult to follow); as directed by John Woo, it sacrificed plot twists for Woo's signature action sequences, complete with slow-motion axe kicks, eyepopping motorcycle stunts, a pair of blazing handguns, the flight of fluttering doves.

 

On your third outing you have carefully considered your next choice of director, having previously discarded Joe Carnahan ("Narc") and settled for J.J. Abrams, creator of the hit TV series "Alias" and "Lost," on his big-screen debut. Abrams, who has admitted that the original series influenced his own "Alias," must have seemed the perfect director for this movie. His screenplay posits a more domesticated, more human Hunt, one who has found true love in Julia (Michelle Monaghan), and is willing to propose, marry, have a baby with her--this closely mirroring your real-life engagement and impregnation of starlet Katie Holmes. Perhaps the only details that differentiate your onscreen story from your real-life one are 1) You do not jump up and down on a sofa, shrieking about true love, and 2) you do not offer to eat your child's placenta (something, it must be pointed out, that the mother and not father traditionally eats, to reduce postpartum depression).

Preaching to a bear

From Glenn H. in Bizarre Hatred of Random Celebrities:

A priest, a preacher, and a rabbi all served as chaplains to the students of Northern Michigan University in Marquette. They would get together two or three times a week for coffee.

One day, someone commented that preaching to people isn't really hard. The real challenge would be to preach to a bear.

They decided to do an experiment. They would all go out into the woods, find a bear, preach to it and attempt to convert it.

Seven days later they're back to discuss the results.

Father Flannery, walking on crutches and with his arm in a sling, says: "Well, I went into the woods to find me a bear. And when I found him I began readin' him the Catechism. Well, the bear wanted nothin' to do with me and began slappin' me around. So I grabbed me holy water and sprayed him and, Holy Mary Mother o' God, he became meek as a lamb. The bishop's comin' out next week to give him farst communion and confirmation."

Reverend Billy Bob spoke next. He was in a wheelchair, an arm and both legs in casts, trailing an IV drip. He declaimed, "Well, brothers, y'know we don't sprinkle! I went out and found me a bear. I began t'read mah bear God's holy word! But the bear wanted nothin' to do wid me. So I took a-hold 'a him and we began to wrassle. We wrassled down one hill, up another, down yet another till we came to a creek. I locked him in a full nelson, dunk'd him and baptized his hairy soul. And jus' as you say, he became genn'l as a spring lamb. We spent the rest o' the day praisin' Jesus."

They both looked at Rabbi Goldstein, who was on a hospital bed, in full body cast and traction, with IV's and monitors running in and out of him. He says "Looking back on it, circumcision may perhaps not have been the best way to start out with my bear..."

Trouble in Paradise (Ernst Lubitsch, 1932)

Saw the Critierion disc of Ernst Lubitsch's Trouble in Paradise again tonight and it sparkles on the umpteenth viewing, like the moon in that wonderful champagne. Peter Bogdanovich talks about the beginning--which Lubitsch and Raphaelson spent three days trying to think up--saying it's a twist on the Venice of the Grand Canal and its gondolas. Here the gondola is a trash barge and it's easy to say that's a way of pulling the perfumed atmosphere of Venice down a notch or two (something the Hays Office was actually worried about), but I see it differently--I think it's the garbage that's being uplifted. Garbage on a gondola, drifting down the canals of Venice--what better treatment of unpromising material can you get?

Characters like Kay Francis' rich widow or Charles Ruggles (who looks like Harvey Keitel with a moustache and a deadpan sense of humor) and Edward Horton's emasculated suitors, or Aubrey Smith's faithful chairman are revealed to have clay feet, the same time outsiders like Miriam Hopkins and Herbert Marshall's thieves are shown to have their share of hidden gold; that's what I think that garbage gondola--and this film--is really about.

I can't help but suspect Larry McMurtry somehow saw this film and was inspired to create the character of Aurora Greenaway and her several lovers, one of which is a dead ringer for Ruggles' military man; if so he's forgiven for copying such a memorable character--even if, much as I like Aurora in McMurtry's novel, she doesn't compare to Francis' sexy, scintillating original.

As for the film itself--what else is there to say, except to mention a few in an endless list of inimitable moments? Hopkins and Marshall reclining on a sofa, fading away as if into a higher plane of existence (or ecstacy); Kay Francis swinging both legs over her head, looking straight at us (at Marshall) with a provocative smile on her face, and asking if we approve (I sure as hell do); Francis later taking her pearls off (as intimate a gesture as if it were her underwear) and saying "but I don't want to be a lady." The way she fingers those pearls while saying this causes a tingling sensation in a corresponding (if considerably larger) part of the male anatomy. Everyone talks of Lubitsch's 'light' touch; personally, I think this is powerful, heady stuff, not to be seen with a beautiful woman unless you're both ready to follow through on what happens next.

The Poseidon Adventure (Ronald Neame, 1972)

The Poseidon Adventure (Ronald Neame, 1972)

Excerpt:

"The Poseidon Adventure" came out in 1972, two years after "Airport" had proven that there was money to be made in disaster pictures--again (actually, Hollywood had gone into a disaster-flick kick at least once before, when "San Francisco" (1936) became a hit, followed by John Ford's "The Hurricane" (1937) and "The Rains Came" two years later).

 

"Poseidon" set the formula; "Airport" thirty-plus years later is a dull affair, a movie literally and comprehensively about the running of an airport--how to cope with passenger stowaways (less possible now with all the high-tech security), should they or should they not offer disaster insurance, and which stewardess is sleeping with which pilot.

Irwin Allen knew what was missing; he thought he could do better, and does. "The Poseidon Adventure" is about the cheesiest enchilada in a decade full of sticky rolled tortillas--not the best, not even the most bizarre, but easily the ripest, complete with a set of the saltiest hams available.