“One never knows at Christmas time, does one?” That is Miranda’s mother in the Christmas episode of the first season of “Miranda,” commenting on the dateless and timeless quality of the week between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s December 28 in my life, a fact that I can only cite because I looked at the date on the bottom of my computer screen. Absent that reminder, I would have had no idea of the date. And I think it’s Thursday.
And I’m pretty sure that I forgot to write anything yesterday, too. So that’s two days out of 365 in the year 2023 when I failed to write any words. And it’s fine. There are enough of my words out here; a few days missed production won’t make a difference.
It’s been a weird, though not unpleasant Christmas break. We didn’t really go places as we normally do because my husband is sick with the flu, and it rained for two days straight. We’ve been watching movies and sports. We’ve been eating cookies. We ventured out to the bookstore and the grocery store. It’s been low-key but kind of nice.
*****
Have you seen “Saltburn”? Starting at the end of the year, I try to catch up with movies that will likely garner major award nominations, and Christmas vacation is the perfect time to do this. “Saltburn,” which is expected to be an awards contender, is streaming now so I watched it.
Much has been made of “Saltburn.” It’s violent, sexually transgressive, mean-spirited, sharply critical of British upper class social snobbery, and full of beautiful people wearing beautiful clothing in beautiful settings; so naturally, critics have praised it rather lavishly.
Spoiler alert: “Saltburn” starts with a scholarship student at Oxford, a student named Oliver Quick whom we are at first supposed to believe is a poor and clueless outsider, completely out of his depth among his aristocratic classmates, unable to cope socially in a world of money and privilege. We’re supposed to feel sorry for Oliver, scorned and ostracized by Oxford’s elite, who grew up with an arcane and complex code of etiquette with which he is totally unfamiliar. Poor lonesome Oliver longs to belong, and he falls in love with the upper class in general and with one person in particular, the beautiful and charismatic Felix, who is the center of everything, the most inside of the insiders.
Does this sound familiar? It will if you saw “The Talented Mr. Ripley” or if you read Brideshead Revisited, both of which tell the stories of middle-class outsiders invited into the inner circles of the rich; and both of which are far more interesting and nuanced than the stylish and misanthropic and hateful “Saltburn.” Of course, nothing is what it seems in “Saltburn,” and the series of tragedies that follow Oliver’s invitation to join Felix and his family at Saltburn, their country estate, are not chance occurrences. You’ll have to watch it if you want to find out what actually happens and how. Or you could just read the Wikipedia plot summary, which might be a better idea than sitting through this movie. I did that after I watched the movie. This is how I learned that the movie was filmed in a 4:3 aspect ratio rather than the more conventional 16:9. I’m sure that there was an artistic reason behind that technical decision, but I didn’t notice it when I was watching the movie, but I don’t tend to notice details like that. I’m not a critic.
Barry Keoghan is mentioned in all of the critics’ “best of” lists and is sure to receive many nominations for his performance as Oliver. But he left me cold, as did the entire movie. Even Richard E. Grant and Rosamund Pike, whom I normally adore, are wasted here. “Saltburn” is a two thumbs down for me, but what do I know, other than the difference between right and wrong?
*****
Thursday was the first nice day all week, so we drove to Harper’s Ferry for the afternoon. West Virginia sounds so dreadfully far away but on a good traffic day, Harper’s Ferry is a one-hour drive, even when I’m driving. Harper’s Ferry is a little gem of a town, rich with history, architecturally very interesting (especially the WPA-era train tunnel), and surrounded by stunning natural beauty. It sits at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, and at the intersection of the Appalachian and C&O Trails, with the Blue Ridge Mountains as a natural backdrop. You can hike or stroll or bike or canoe or poke around in little shops and get your National Parks passport stamped, all in just an afternoon. We had a lovely time there, basking in the unseasonable warmth and clear bright late December sunshine and clean mountain air; and we were home before dark.
*****
I had to work on Friday, oddly enough. At least one person needs to be in the office during business hours (why, I don’t know) and Friday was my turn, so I left my house at 7 and breezed on to the base at 7:25. There’s always an upside of working on December 29. The streets were near-empty. And the office was near-empty, too. I worked in fits and starts, finally hitting a groove at about noon, with a burst of energy and concentration and inspiration that allowed me to finish a project that’s been hanging over my head for a bit. At 2:30, the only other person on the floor stopped by my desk to wish me a happy new year. “Don’t stay too late,” he said. It had already been unnaturally quiet on the floor, but now that I knew for sure that I was the only person left on the floor (and likely the only person left in the building) the quiet was a bit eerie. I finished my work listening to holiday-week NPR on my headphones and then packed up at 4 and walked across the empty brick courtyard for the last time in 2023. By 5 o’clock, I was home in cozy sweats, back in holiday mode.
*****
After one pretty bad movie, I watched a pretty good movie. Bradley Cooper’s “Maestro,” which was slightly controversial because of the prosthetic nose that Cooper wore to play Leonard Bernstein. I suppose I can see both sides of this little uproar, but the movie is really quite good. Cooper manages the macro and the micro very well; the micro being the story of Bernstein and his wife, Felicia Montelegre (Carey Mulligan in an absolutely lovely performance) and the macro being the whole American century that made a life like Leonard Bernstein’s possible. The movie is beautiful to look at and listen to, with outstanding performances from the entire cast, especially Mulligan.
*****
So it’s late December (well it’s January now) and what would late December in the post-COVID era be if at least one member of the household wasn’t stricken by a hideous upper respiratory infection? Three of the four of us were sick to varying degrees, with one person going down just as another began to recover. A bunch of COVID tests, dozens of oranges, a bottle of zinc tablets, two urgent care visits, Tamiflu, amoxicillin, and a partridge in a pear tree. Everyone’s fine now. For now.
****
Clutter is delightful for exactly two weeks of the year, and not one second more. From about December 19 to about January 3 or so, our house is full of presents wrapped and unwrapped, treats homemade and store-bought, Christmas decorations and knick-knacks and trinkets, wrapping and baking supplies, and a big fat Griswold family Christmas tree that takes up half the living room. And it’s lovely but when it’s over, it’s over. It’s January 3 now, and it’s over. Two days ago, my house felt sparkly and magical and cozy all at once, and today it feels like a very special episode of “Hoarders.” It’s time to break it down.
I’m always a tiny bit sad when I start taking down the Christmas decorations, but once all the Christmas stuff is packed away and all of our pictures and paintings and books and objects are back in their proper places, freshly dusted, the house seems calm and peaceful and welcoming again. The tree will stay until January 7. Its exit will clear a ton of physical and metaphorical space for a new season and a new year. The past few years have taught me not to tempt fate with hilariously snide “don’t let the door hit you in the ass” messages to the departing old year. I don’t want to encourage “Hold my beer” energy from 2024, know what I mean? I'll just leave you by saying Happy New Year.
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