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Amour

First – the big news – his mother called this morning to say that Booboo is crawling – forwards, not backwards. Immediately I went on-line to look at baby gates. Glamma must be ready. Because in this kitchen are not only concrete stairs, but a collection of Fiestaware at a toddler’s eye level.

Next, he’ll be ready for a car.

Sweet Lady Sybil! Say it isn’t so! How can life – or Julian Fellowes – be so cruel? Everyone at the Y was talking about it. “The minute he said ‘swollen ankles’, I knew!” said one indignant woman in the lounge. “That useless snobbish doctor! Shocking!”

Heavens, there’s so much going on at Downton. Why has not a single person pointed out that that poor girl had to turn to prostitution because she was left with a baby and no help from anyone? People are so mean. I love how Carson has the best heart in the world except for fallen women, and the nasty valet sobs when he hears about Lady Sybil. As did I. The Bates stuff is getting tiresome, with all that plotting in prison – enough already, let the guy out. Is Matthew taking over the management going to be the way out of Downton for him? Apparently the actor is leaving the series, and I can’t see how this will be done, right now; they can’t kill him too. So maybe he and Mary fight so badly that they separate.

Or something.

Such a great way to spend Sunday night.

And a great way to spend a hideously mucky Monday afternoon was seeing a film with my dear friend Ken. Mind you, this film – “Amour” – is not for everyone. It’s the story of an elderly Parisian couple who face disintegration and death in extreme close-up, and it was pretty rough going for me, especially right now, bringing back so clearly this last year with my mother – the indignities, the diapers and incoherence, the spoonfeeding, the impatience, pity, confusion and fear. Heart-rending.

But it is a brilliant film, a must see, for its writing, direction, filmography, and for the stunning performances of its French leads. Several scenes – one, a tiny scene between the ill old lady and a careless nurse, and her comeuppance – so raw and real, breathtaking. It’s a glimpse into the life of the French intelligentsia, with their gorgeous apartment and cultivated lives. The couple were so formal with each other, so dignified and reserved, that I thought they had only recently begun a relationship, not that they’d been married for decades. As with their daughter – in her first scene, I thought she was having a conversation with a man her mother had recently started living with, not her father. They’re not like us, those French.

And yet in the end – in this portrait of dignity, fortitude, duty, and great love – they are. We are all alike.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

Some Blogs I Follow

Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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