Franc the Tanc

(Cross-posted at Grape and Grain)

In the movie Old School, Frank "The Tank" Ricard is in the inner sanctum of cool, being one of the three people responsible for founding the fraternity of misfits whose antics drive the film's plot (and most of the gags). Nevertheless, Frank--who's lots of fun but lacks solidity of character (to say the least; that's like saying NW Ohio lacks mountains)--continually takes a back seat to the other two members of the inner sanctum: the staid, reliable Mitch and the boldly charismatic entrepreneur Beanie. But, by the end of the movie, Frank has been given a few chances to shine on his own. Sure, he may not always come through, shooting himself in the neck with a tranquilizer gun or setting himself on fire while dressed in a cougar suit. But every once in a while, he rises to the occasion, stunning critics with a heartfelt rhythmic ballet routine or mystically channeling his inner wonk to school James Carville in the finer points of U.S. biotech policy.

So it is with Cabernet Franc. Like Frank, Franc is also in an inner sanctum, being one of the three indispensable red grapes of Bordeaux. (We'll leave number four, Petit Verdot, for another post.) And, like Frank, Franc always takes a back seat to its two friends, the staid, reliable Merlot and the boldly charismatic Cabernet Sauvignon. After all, when's the last time you had a glass of Cab Franc? Compare that to the last Cab Sauv or Merlot you've had, and you'll likely get the point. And there's no doubt that Cab Franc, on its own, sometimes lacks solidity of character, perhaps showing flashes--or should I say streaks--of brilliance but not able to sustain a full, developed flavor arc, which is what makes it such a good blending wine. (That may also be what makes the grape insecure and prone to saying things like, "Took the restrictor plate off to give the Red Dragon a little more juice. But it's not exactly street legal, so keep it on the down low"). But every once in awhile, it truly sings on its own, with supple fruit, deep, seductive earth and leather notes, and an intriguing floral quality that places it among the most irresistable wines you're likely to come across. And when that happens, there's only one term to describe drinking such a wine. Yep, you guessed it: old school.

Critical Summer

Edited: I finally gave this post a title. So much for blogging while very tired.

Lee's mom gave us a one-month free trial of Netflix. It's probably not the best idea for two pre-tenure professors who aren't teaching this summer so they can focus on research. But it's a great idea for two still-relatively-new parents who never, ever, make it to the movies. (A note to Jeff and Jenny and any other new parents out there: I just found out that a local theater has "baby films," with baby-friendly amenities like stroller areas and lowered movie volume. I bet Columbia has s.t. like that.)

Seen so far:
The Queen
Notes on a Scandal
Little Children
Arrested Development, Season one, disk one (#2 on the way)

Up next:
Stranger than Fiction

I actually though The Queen was pretty good. It was clear the filmmakers liked some of the characters (Elizabeth, Blair) and disliked others (Philip, Charles, Cherie Blair/Booth, Blair's top adviser whose name escapes me), and the little thread--more of an interlude, really--featuring the queen and the stag was a bit heavy-handed. But--aside from the queen/stag interlude--the movie never tried to be much other than a simple "here's what happened," with good acting, makeup, wardrobe, and sets. Not a masterpiece, but simple and well-done (if also with an agenda--but what such film doesn't?).

Notes on a Scandal was tolerable but annoying. Again, great acting, especially the boy at the heart of the scandal, who gets little notice. It's just hard to like a movie that has no likeable characters (unless that's the whole point, and in this case it wasn't).

Little Children was also pretty good. I read recently--maybe on a blog somewhere in the rhet/comp/communications sphere?--that the film was just another suburban-angst film, with the implication being that you can skip it. It's definitely got some standard-fare suburban and midlife angst, but it's also got some nicely unpredictable comic touches that make it worth at least a look: the grade-school documentary-style narrator is a hoot, as are some other great moments (like the slo-mo football game--really funny) that are strung throughout what would otherwise be too much misery and wallowing.

That's all for now (with apologies to Collin for lifting his sign-off, but I really gotta go.)