HARVEST HOME

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Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest home!
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin;
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come;
Raise the song of harvest home!

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TRADITION

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Today I’ll be spinning The Beatles, mostly on vinyl, all day long — it’s a Thanksgiving Day tradition. Tomorrow I’ll start spinning this:

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THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER

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This is a sweet, fairly well made teen coming-of-age story, set in the early 90s. It’s well traveled territory made fresh by the chemistry between the two leads, Logan Lerman and Emma Watson. Watson is a real revelation, spirited and sexy but suggesting greater depths than her somewhat conventionally conceived character would seem to have promised on the page.

Perhaps unwisely, one of the characters in the film says, “It’s official — my life has become an ABC Afterschool Special!”  That is in fact pretty much what this film is, though with better acting and better production values than ABC usually offered.  Why did anyone think it was a candidate for the big screen?

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Well, the novel it was based on was a huge bestseller, Emma Watson’s participation probably meant an automatic green light, and the producers, who had also produced Juno, undoubtedly thought it had the same breakout potential.  But Juno wasn’t a period piece — it was seen as a cutting-edge look at teen girl culture today, and it kept its appealing female protagonist front and center.  The Perks Of Being A Wallflower is told  from the point of view of its male protagonist and Watson, the picture’s real treasure, has more of a supporting role.

One can only hope that Watson finds better vehicles than this for her wonderfully promising talents.  Meanwhile it’s worth taking a look at her here to get a sense of what she might be capable of in the future.

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BLACK JACK

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I love watching the horses in the rebroadcasts of the various processions connected with JFK’s funeral — the calm and patient white ones that drew the caisson, and Black Jack, with the empty saddle and boots reversed in the stirrups, who couldn’t keep still. He was having none of the solemnity. “I’m alive!” he kept saying. “I’m alive!”

Black Jack was never an easy horse to deal with — he was chosen for funerals because he was so handsome. The soldier who handled him in the Kennedy processions deserved a medal for keeping him from bolting, all the while maintaining his own self-possession and dignity.

Black Jack delivered a subliminal message of vitality and high spirits that would not have been appropriate for any human mourner in the proceedings — but it was an essential message, a message of hope. He represented Kennedy’s spirit in a doleful time.