DECEMBER SONG by Barney Rosenzweig

It would appear that any recovery from surgery impacts heavily on the aging process. Imagine not one, but two surgeries in less than half a year. My beard is shaggy, but it is not so much that unkemptness that distresses as I look into my bathroom’s mirror.

Four score and seven years ago, Myrtle Rosenzweig brought forth, upon this continent her first son and right now, I am looking every hour of that epoch.

“It all begins to turn to shit at 85” might well be true for most folks, but add a couple of years to that, plus those two hernia operations, and the doctor one might most want to seek out has a PHD after his name rather than the more ubiquitous MD. I mean, c’mon, old folks have egos too.

So far it seems that surgery number two went much better than number one. Of course, it is early yet, and I reserve the right to further recovery and more follow-up exams in four or five weeks.

The Doc says I may drive now, but I am inhibited from doing so by the huge car cover I placed over my car just before my operation10 days ago. Lifting, bending, employing a “core muscle” are all on the not-to-be-done list. Hard to remove a car cover without doing quite a bit on that list of the verboten.

My granddaughter’s holiday open house to show off her new LA apartment beckons. The 11 steps that lead up to the front door give me yet another item on my list of why I don’t like Christmas (as if I needed one).

Friends threaten to drop by for a visit. I discourage them. My kids and grandkids are different. I figure I always looked old to them.

Given the weeks of discomfort and pain prior to surgery number one, then weeks of minimal recovery, followed by my month-long cross-country drive before discovering I needed to go under the knife all over again, we are talking months of non-activity and being totally sedentary. This has led to a disquieting time for my accountant due to the higher than usual volume of queries he receives from my “sick bed” as well as a prolonged period of unemployment for the physical therapist whose mission seven months ago was to get me back onto the grass tennis courts of Fisher Island. Take it from the source, that ain’t happening. Just a return to my Island Paradise is at least a month away.

In the meanwhile, I’ve been bingeing on the Academy channel for the latest “for your consideration” movies…

Conclave is a lushly produced, nicely directed motion picture about one of the world’s more publicized events, the election of a new Pope. It stars such fine actors as Ralph Fiennes, John Lithgow and Stanley Tucci and does not skimp on sets, costumes, or any other important production value.

All that being accounted for, candor forces me to admit that I fell asleep at least twice… or maybe three times…while the movie droned on. Here is my confession: I am not Catholic and unless you are, do not bet a lot of money that you can keep your eyelids open for the entire two-hour running time of this movie.

Admittedly the story is one with which anyone in the western world can identify, there is conflict aplenty, and there are enough contemporary references to make the movie relevant. That leaves me to guess that you may have to be Catholic (or, alternatively, not recovering from surgery) to really give a damn. But then, maybe it’s just me. Peacock has this motion picture for streaming, or you can purchase through Amazon.

While I believe myself to be very pro LBGTQ (at least as much as this 87-year-old can keep up with the alphabet soup of identity politics) I am also a heterosexual, which might account for some of the lack of empathy while watching Queer, starring Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey. My general disinterest in the film went beyond an inability to identify or empathize. I just thought the movie was more weird than queer and I have trouble imagining what drew any of the principals to this piece of material in the first place. That said, for what it is worth, all the performances are excellent, and the photography is… for the most part… quite lush, as are the Latin American settings of the 1950s. Still, the movie, which will eventually stream on MAX, is not worth your time unless you are one of those who have a yen to experience what it was like to go to an art house flick at midnight in the middle of the last century. If only Queer was shot in black and white it would be a pretty fair imitation of one of those entrees.

Wallace & Gromit have been perennial Oscar winners in their category, but mostly that is when entered only as animated short films. This one (Vengeance Most Fowl) is feature length and it simply does not have the wit nor the wisdom of its shorter predecessors. This one can soon be streamed on Netflix.

Among favorites in the Oscar sweepstakes, is Nicole Kidman in Babygirl. The actress holds nothing back in this tale of desire, infidelity, and lust. It is hard to imagine Antonio Banderas as a cuckold, but the actor is spot on in his lesser role as husband to Kidman. That leaves the third part of the triangle… an actor, new to me, by the name of Harris Dickinson… who I found less impressive but, in fairness, I feel it only right to qualify my judgment due to the very real possibility of my simply being jealous of his on-screen domination of Ms. Kidman.

This is a very sexy movie and one that is well made, although it wraps up a bit quickly and overly tidy for my taste. It will eventually stream on MAX.

They do not give Oscars for performances in television series… even those streaming on HBO via MAX… but if they did you would be wise not to bet against Colin Farrell in The Penguin. He is simply brilliant in this self-effacing role as… well as… thanks to a major make-up job… being totally unrecognizable. The supporting cast are all uniformly excellent and the cinematography and sets are gorgeous.

Finally, there is Maria, starring Angelina Jolie who is, without a doubt, the front runner and the one to try to overtake in this year’s Oscar sweepstakes. It is as if the actress has been waiting her entire career to play this part of prima donna, Maria Callas, and she does so with total confidence in her own ability and physicality. The picture is beautiful to look at and a joy to hear… although, I am betting one does not have to be an Opera aficionado to appreciate this standout motion picture, which can currently be streamed on Netflix.

One more word for Ms. Jolie as Maria Callas: Brava!

Besides the movies, I am doing some correspondence, reading the very clever Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy’s Guide to the Constitution by Elie Mystal, and… for me, the really good news: I am spending at least a couple of hours a day on my latest tome, Life Without Cagney & Lacey. Unlike its author… that never gets old.