It’s a new year and the weight of hope and expectation is up to it’s usual Gleason-esque proportions. The soul is fIt’s a new year and the weight of hope and expectation is up to it’s usual Gleason-esque proportions. The soul is fattened on the frustrations of yesteryear and the need for timely change. New year, new decade, new hope, new me.
When I decided to write Mamma, it was mostly because of the fact that I was seeing exhaustion and convenience stabbing tradition in the neck before my eyes. One of the primary examples of this was the Italian American cultural pearl, the Feast of Seven Fishes being pawned off by my own family for a tray of cold cuts or worse yet, take out from an Italian Restaurant. I made a promise to myself that I would not only comment on it in my wok, but do my best to stop these heinous acts of cultural bastardization. I would fight this war with an army or I would go it alone. Either way, action needed to be taken.
2009 comes on, I find my voice and I finish my film With Anchovies...Without Mamma. This was never a film that I felt had a message that was accessible to everyone. It’s message is buried beneath beats of the dark and the absurd. I do believe though that the message is woven tightly within the fiber of the story. If the viewer is open and willing, it certainly is there for them. So in essence, I accomplished a modicum of what I set out to accomplish. I stated my case, and I felt very good about it. Empowered even. So what was left for me to do in 09? Finish the year off with an ambitious Feast of the Seven Fishes dinner to wash away the sins of the cold cuts, and the take out. I decided I was going to put together a table of food that would embody all the gluttony of Satyricon minus the young boys and togas. I did this, and I did it tenfold. I stood over a stove, watching through the window in my kitchen as friends fed on shrimp, bowls of mussels, calamari, salted cod and whatever else was slung out there. They smiled, they laughed and they were part of a tradition that brought my family so many memorable holidays. I felt like a chubby happy old Italian lady whose only true pleasure was to watch people enjoy food. It was amazing. Then like all things, the night came to an end. Unfortunately for me, the end came down harder than expected. Shortly after the last guest had left, I was ridden with chills and a lurking fever that was crawling through my system with bad intentions and a refusal to go easy on me. I never get sick, so I have to feel like this virus was a little like the guy that gets fired from his corporate job and comes back with a AK47 and shoots up the office. I was laid out. Christmas was cruel. I ended up spending Christmas Day in the hospital asking “Why? Why can’t this just happen any other time.” Fa la la la la la la la LA.
I felt robbed of my holiday, and worse yet, I felt like God was trying to knock me down a peg and tell me “It is never as good as you think it is, pal. I am going to be on you till your days end.” After I recovered from my 105 fever and violent stomach pains, I realized that I was starting to feel better than ever. The cynicism was finally beginning to dissolve. What I was getting wasn’t kicked in the head, what I was getting was a much needed reset. Better yet, I was getting that reset just in time for the new year. As many changes that were born in 09, I have to feel like they were just a prologue to many, bigger changes to come. Changes that I am fully in charge of. I told myself to embrace the reset and move forward. Finish the trailer for the film, devise new plans to promote the project, and stick to a schedule to finish the script that you have been dragging your heels on for the past three months.
I may have a bad taste in my mouth, but I can’t judge 09 on one bad virus, and one tough week. After all, I made a movie and some mean Christmas calamari. Life is pretty good, but in 2010 life for Mamma is going to be better. attened on the frustrations of yesteryear and the need for timely change. New year, new decade, new hope, new me.
When I decided to write Mamma, it was mostly because of the fact that I was seeing exhaustion and convenience stabbing tradition in the neck before my eyes. One of the primary examples of this was the Italian American cultural pearl, the Feast of Seven Fishes being pawned off by my own family for a tray of cold cuts or worse yet, take out from an Italian Restaurant. I made a promise to myself that I would not only comment on it in my wok, but do my best to stop these heinous acts of cultural bastardization. I would fight this war with an army or I would go it alone. Either way, action needed to be taken. 2009 comes on, I find my voice and I finish my film With Anchovies...Without Mamma. This was never a film that I felt had a message that was accessible to everyone. It’s message is buried beneath beats of the dark and the absurd. I do believe though that the message is woven tightly within the fiber of the story. If the viewer is open and willing, it certainly is there for them. So in essence, I accomplished a modicum of what I set out to accomplish. I stated my case, and I felt very good about it. Empowered even. So what was left for me to do in 09? Finish the year off with an ambitious Feast of the Seven Fishes dinner to wash away the sins of the cold cuts, and the take out. I decided I was going to put together a table of food that would embody all the gluttony of Satyricon minus the young boys and togas. I did this, and I did it tenfold. I stood over a stove, watching through the window in my kitchen as friends fed on shrimp, bowls of mussels, calamari, salted cod and whatever else was slung out there. They smiled, they laughed and they were part of a tradition that brought my family so many memorable holidays. I felt like a chubby happy old Italian lady whose only true pleasure was to watch people enjoy food. It was amazing. Then like all things, the night came to an end. Unfortunately for me, the end came down harder than expected. Shortly after the last guest had left, I was ridden with chills and a lurking fever that was crawling through my system with bad intentions and a refusal to go easy on me. I never get sick, so I have to feel like this virus was a little like the guy that gets fired from his corporate job and comes back with a AK47 and shoots up the office. I was laid out. Christmas was cruel. I ended up spending Christmas Day in the hospital asking “Why? Why can’t this just happen any other time.” Fa la la la la la la la LA.
I felt robbed of my holiday, and worse yet, I felt like God was trying to knock me down a peg and tell me “It is never as good as you think it is, pal. I am going to be on you till your days end.” After I recovered from my 105 fever and violent stomach pains, I realized that I was starting to feel better than ever. The cynicism was finally beginning to dissolve. What I was getting wasn’t kicked in the head, what I was getting was a much needed reset. Better yet, I was getting that reset just in time for the new year. As many changes that were born in 09, I have to feel like they were just a prologue to many, bigger changes to come. Changes that I am fully in charge of. I told myself to embrace the reset and move forward. Finish the trailer for the film, devise new plans to promote the project, and stick to a schedule to finish the script that you have been dragging your heels on for the past three months.
I may have a bad taste in my mouth, but I can’t judge 09 on one bad virus, and one tough week. After all, I made a movie and some mean Christmas calamari. Life is pretty good, but in 2010 life for Mamma is going to be better.
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