50 to 1: A Bet Worth Taking

Long odds, but what a pay out if the gods are looking down on you with favor.

 Few have seen this nearly-perfect, indie film, “50 to 1”. The film takes its name from Mine That Bird’s odds at the 2009 Kentucky Derby. Bird’s unlikely road to victory inspired the movie. The odds on the making of the movie, described by Producer, Director, and Co-Screenwriter, Jim Wilson, and Co-Producer and Co-Screenwriter, Faith Conroy, in the extras on the DVD, appear to have been pretty long as well.

Bird’s story was so amazing the film had no need to embellish this fairy-tale win. 

The movie opens with a punch: Chip Woolley (Skeet Ulrich), coming to the aid of a stranger, Mark Allen (Christian Kane), in a bar brawl. The two scraggly cowboys become friends but soon after loose touch. A decade later Mark and Chip meet up and Mark Allen hires a down-on-his-luck Woolley, as a trainer.

Allen learns of an opportunity to buy Mine That Bird, the 2008 Canadian Champion 2-year-old male horse, and sends Woolley to look him over. Woolley is not particularly impressed with the small, somewhat lopsided Bird, a Kentucky-born gelding who originally had been purchased at the Yearling Sales in 2007 for $9,500 by a Canada trainer. But when Woolley sees Bird run he changes his mind.

Mark Allen, on behalf of the New Mexico partnership he co-owns, buys Bird for $400,000. Allen’s partner Leonard “Doc” Blach (William Devane) is not impressed by either Woolley or Bird. Allen, loyal to his old friend Woolley and trusting of Woolley’s assessment, offers to buy Doc out if Doc ultimately is unhappy with Bird.

Doc looks to be the more horse-astute of the partners. Bird’s initial races in the U. S. are not impressive: second place in the Borderland Derby and fourth place in the Sunland Derby.  Woolley is struggling and in the midst of his other troubles crashes his motorcycle, shattering his leg.

Meanwhile, Woolley and Mark Allen, along with everyone involved, are astonished when Mine That Bird receives an invitation to the 2009 Kentucky Derby. Even though Bird’s career earnings in graded-stakes races had qualified him for the invitation no one believes Bird has a serious hope of winning.

The New Mexico owners and their families, and Woolley as trainer, decide to accept the invitation as the lark it is likely to be, and an experience of a lifetime. Unlike the million-dollar horses against which Bird will be competing, Bird is not flown to Kentucky. Instead, Woolley, his leg still in a cast, drives Bird from New Mexico to Louisville.

 The movie portrays Churchill Downs and Derby events as elegant, the bourbon plentiful, and the other owners derisive of Mine that Bird and the rustic cowboys who brought him. Pretty close to the mark as I recall news and events in Louisville that year.

The New Mexico cowboys, as they are known at the Derby run-up, have luck riding with them as they secure the Derby-winning Calvin Borel as their jockey. The film makers had similar luck securing the affable Borel to play himself in the movie.

The rest, as they say, is history. Even though you likely know the end result of the race, it’s still a thrill to see the small Mine that Bird, played by Sunday Rest, start out about eight lengths behind the pack and then make his move to an astonishing six lengths win.

The movie, like the horse and its owners and trainer, is a long-shot worth betting on. It’s available on DVD and Netflix. 

Shangri-La

At age 62 it’s not unusual to have a few aches and pains. The only people my age who don’t have any pain are dead. And I have good reason to have a few aches and pains. Life takes a toll and then you are dead. I think Warren Zevon said something like that.

There have been numerous surgeries to correct problems. Carpal tunnel and tendon releases, spinal surgery for severe arthritis, shoulder surgery to remove a bone spur and repair a rotator cuff tear. The latter the result of walking two dogs who both saw a squirrel, make that two squirrels, at the same time.

And then there are the minor things, some of which are the most painful. A little strain in my ankle, that seems to only hurt at night. And bursitis of the hip, following adoption of a puppy who required an unusual amount of chasing after. Either that or I’m just getting old and forgetful of what chasing after a puppy requires.

I know this starts to sound like a litany of complaints about physical ailments. But there is a moral to the story—or at least a metaphor.

The good news, or so I thought, was that along with liberal doses of cortisone by injection in specific, particularly painful areas, water exercises, lots of physical therapy, and regular doses of Celebrex, a non steroidal anti-inflammatory (NSAI) that seems to dial down the pain, most of these conditions were manageable. Then I developed stomach problems.

After six months of discomfort and other unmentionable gastric symptoms, I had the medical equivalent of an insider’s tour by the gastroenterologist: an endoscopy and colonoscopy. I was due for the latter test anyway since my mother had been diagnosed with colon cancer at a young age.

I won’t bore you with the unpleasantness of the procedures or preps. But I will mention that the medical staff assured me of two things in advance. One, the gastro doctor in question would answer all of my medical questions before I was sedated. And two, a very light anesthesia is now used and I would be awake and alert moments after the procedure.

Not really on the first one. The gastro doc did speak to me before hand, but that was while I was in the operating room, me on my side, with tubes and so forth inserted, and he, with his back to me as his dictated and reviewed my medical chart on a computer. As the nurse was inserting a plastic retainer-type thing in my mouth, the good doctor asked: “So—you take prescription strength vitamin D?” I gurgle what I hoped sounded like a “yes.”

After the procedures I was awake and the gastro dr said to me and my husband only two words, “Everything’s fine.”

But then as we left the hospital the nurse gave me a card that said I had gastritis, with some other unreadable, hand-written words, and an instruction sheet that stated what I might to do to make the gastritis better.

At the top of the list was stop taking NSAI’s. The other things on the list were all things I don’t do: eat spicy foods, eat late at night, and drink large quantities of alcohol.

So my conclusion was that my beloved Celebrex, that had eased life’s many aches and pains, was to be a thing of the past. I had stopped taking that medication several days before the procedures since it has to be taken with food and I hadn’t been allowed to eat for the day of or the day before the tests.

Already nearly every body part: neck, shoulder, arm, hip, and feet hurt. As well as my stomach.

And as far the quick acting anesthesia, two days after the tests, as I studied the dishwasher and tried to remember how to stack various dishes therein, as if it was a new and exotic mental test,  I realized I was still experiencing slow-thinking, apparently the result of the anesthesia. So much for the anesthesia wearing off more quickly than the old, slow kind.

During and after the tests I had taken to watching “bad TV”. You know, the sort you don’t really want to admit you watch. Everyone has their favorite bad TV. I found myself drawn to the Bruce Willis “Die Hard” series of movies. But in my mind’s eye I kept thinking about a movie, “Lost Horizon”, which had fascinated me as a child.

A plane crashes in the remote area of the Himalayas. The crew and passengers are rescued by a group of hearty, beautiful, and young locals who take the survivors to their gorgeous village. Some of the survivors are hell-bent on getting back to civilization. As you can imagine, though, some of the survivors decide they like Shangri-La and even fall in love with one or another of the beautiful villagers. The problem occurs when some of the survivors do both, that is, try to return to civilization and also take some of the beautiful, young villagers with them.

SPOLIER ALERT: The surprise ending occurs when one of beautiful young villagers who actually is an old lady dies suddenly of old age after she leaves Shangri-La.

You may wonder why I’m doing a review of an old movie in the midst of a recitation of aches and pains. Well, Shangri-La is analogous to me on Celebrex. No, it didn’t make me beautiful or young looking. But it sure did make me feel a lot less like an achy, old lady.

When I stopped the medicine I felt like I had suddenly aged several decades and was ready to fall over, or at least get a walker and start acting like an old lady.

But unlike in “Lost Horizons” this story has a sort of happy ending. I recently say my dear, primary care doctor, who actually sits down and talk to me face to face about my health. She suggested that I try taking a generic acid reducer for the gastritis and then see if with that medicine I can resume Celebrex.

I know that all medicines have side effects and possible problems. And I don’t take any medicine without considering its risks and benefits. But for now, until I find Shangri-La, I may try following my primary care doctor’s advice. As for the gastroenterologist, I don’t plan to make the one month follow up appointment. If I need a doctor with that specialty in the future I intend to ask about his or her communication skills and whether the doctor will actually look at me when we talk.

Christmas Disaster Part 3: The Movie

You may have read my recent tales of disaster--with an attempted “natural” Christmas and also with the artificial kind.  As the holiday approaches and I need a break from the craziness of the shopping and decorating season, I turn to that all-time best Christmas disaster movie.  No, not the Chevy Chase one, or the one where Jimmy Stewart tries to kill himself.  Though I do love “It’s a Wonderful Life.” 

The all-time best Christmas disaster movie, “Die Hard” is just the ticket to get you in the holiday disaster spirit.  What’s not to like?  Bruce Willis with sort-of-bulging muscles in a dirty “beater” shirt, Bonnie Bedalia with big ‘80’s hair and shoulder pads, and a towering–inferno-in-the-waiting.  Identifiable bad guys with German accents but only greed, not real political or terrorist motivations.  And a good-hearted, hefty, Twinkie-eating cop who is smarter than all his bosses and the FBI combined.

Sorry for the spoiler but if you haven’t seen the movie by now you’ve been living on the moon or in a coma the last twenty years: the good guy wins, the obnoxious media guy gets a well-deserved punch from Bonnie, and Bruce and Bonnie decide they both should compromise and appreciate each other a little more.  And that doesn’t even mention the cute, African American limo driver kid, Argyle, who helps save the day.

Some ‘80’s media and “art” have not aged well.  But pull out your copy of “Die Hard”, or download or stream it or whatever you do.  Pour a little rum in your eggnog and have yourself a merry little Christmas disaster, complete with happy ending.  If you are surviving the holiday season you deserve it.  And most likely you did not have as tough a time making it home for the holidays as Bruce and Bonnie did.

Where Are the Cowboys? Monsters Are Taking Over Our World.

“Cowboys & Aliens”, the new Saturday afternoon, popcorn movie—“Independence Day” meets the “Wild Wild West."  There must be a metaphor there, even a strategy, for resolving the debt crisis. 

I am not going to suggest the Tea Party Republicans are like the aliens.  Kidnapping poor, unsuspecting citizens and using them for their own devices.  Exploring human vulnerabilities, as they take a bite out of poor men, intent on defeating life as we know it.  No that would be too easy an analogy.

I will suggest it could take a common threat of annihilation to bring together the dysfunctional US Congress so they solve some of the problems we face.  Not just the debt crisis but climate change, energy alternatives, and perhaps for right now in the eyes of many Americans: JOBS.

The “R’s” can choose whether they want to be inspired by the steely blue eyes of a Gary-Cooper-silent Daniel Craig: the gunslinger, retired thief who has forgotten his past after being taken by the aliens.  Or Harrison Ford: the big cattle owner, former civil war commander who hates Indians as a group but has adopted and raised a young Indian orphan boy.  Hell, they can be the Indians for all I care.  The noble natives who have cures for everything, including amnesia, and who come together with the whites to fight the aliens, rescue their kidnapped kin and save the planet from destruction.

There is precedent to hope a movie will bring the far-outlier tea partiers to the table.  The R’s invited their brethren, the Tea Party R’s, to watch the Ben Affleck Movie, “The Town” apparently thinking the tough movie talk of one criminal  appealing to his pals might inspire them to “do the right thing” for the greater good, in this case, the R’s.  Doesn’t appear to have worked but maybe it was the wrong movie.

In “Cowboys &Aliens” I see the entire western and a lot of the sci-fi genre expectations coming together to save the day.  The only thing I can’t quite figure out is what the lovely Olivia Wilde, also known as #13 in the TV show “House,” is doing in the movie or my metaphor.  OK Spoiler Alert: she is an alien too, but a good one.  Is she like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2”?  Maybe that is a role model the R’s will consider.  After all, Arnold is one of their one. 

In any case, if Congress can’t get its act together and do something for the common good then maybe we should let the aliens have our planet.  Or else go to the polls at the next election and vote the dysfunctional ones out.

What Are Our Forgotten Dreams?

We just saw “Cave of Forgotten Dreams”, Werner Herzog’s film of the earliest known cave art.  Over 30,000 years ago humans created fabulous drawings in the Chauvet caves of southern France.  Herzog’s film brilliantly illuminates, even in dim light, this treasure.

Like many movie-goers I have been subjected to 3-D technology before.  With the cheesy 3-D glasses and filmmakers’ attempts to pull their audience into chases and fights, or force them to dodge thrown projectiles, even such beautifully crafted films as Avatar left my head achy.  For me, at least, the 3-D technology not only was wasted but a bit annoying.

Not so in “Cave”.  We walked into the film just as it was starting, a result of the wrong show time having been printed in the local paper.  For future reference, the very slow ticket-taker at the theater advised, if there is a conflict between the newspaper and online we should believe the info online.  

I first noticed the screen was blurry as we found our seats in the darkened theater.  Reluctantly putting my 3-D glasses on, the film stayed blurry for a few moments.  Then, sort of like plugging my i-Phone into my new laptop, my brain registered the 3-D glasses as a new device: I suddenly started to see in 3-D.  This film with these glasses was plug and play apparently.

The cave art literally is awe-inspiring.  Very quickly I could imagine early humans dancing by flickering firelight as the horses, lions, bison and bears pictured on the cave walls moved and told stories. The beautiful renditions of a variety of animals had been drawn on the contours of caves so effectively utilizing the shapes of the cave walls that by the shifting lights (the filmmakers had been allowed to use only non-heat emitting lighting for filming the interior of the caves) many of the animals appeared animated and moving.  Maybe this really was the earliest attempt at motion pictures. 

The cave artists from the Paleolithic period lived in what is now southern France when glaciers covered much of that part of the world.  Based on tools and weapons from this period, these early humans very likely hunted many of the animals depicted on the cave walls.  The early humans no doubt dressed in the animals’ fur, ate their meat and used their bones for tools.  But what did they believe?  What did they hope for?  Did they draw the animals out of reverence, for religious rituals, or to entertain during a long cold winter?

The only drawing of a human-like figure in the caves is of the lower half of a woman’s seated body combined with that of an animal’s upper body.  One of the scientists speculated this drawing demonstrated the cave artists’ mythical or religious beliefs that the spirit world and the physical world were easily traversed.

Maybe so.  But I’m not at all sure what the filmmaker was trying to say about the nearby nuclear power plants and albino crocodiles living in a warm biosphere created as a result of the warm water resulting from the power plants.  I do wonder what a future generation 30,000 years hence might make of a wildly decorated Gallopalooza horse or an episode from a reality TV show, if those and humankind survive, that long.