Mystic River

I watched the movie Mystic River this week--most of it a couple of days ago, and the final half-hour last night. I've been thinking a lot about it. It's a beautifully shot, evocative movie--just on technical terms alone, it's a great movie. The shot where Sean Penn visits the crime scene and tries to bust through the line of cops, who hold him back, wailing "is that my daughter in there?" the camera pulls up and up, as if it can't bear such close witness to this man's pain. The neighborhood is spare and...there. Here. Not a set, but someplace real.

The story is what's really sticking with me, though. It's about three kids (who grow up to be Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon and Tim Robbins) who are playing one day, a car pulls up and a guy steps out pretending to be a cop, and intimidates the Tim Robbins kid (Dave) into the car, where another guy waits. They take him off for four days of hell--he's able to escape, but the neighborhood consensus is that he's "damaged goods." Flash-forward to 25+ years later, and the three now-grown men lead largely separate lives, until Sean Penn's (Jimmy) daughter is murdered--Kevin Bacon (Sean) is a state cop who's investigating the murder, and Dave is a suspect. Jimmy starts his own investigation with his neighborhood boyos...( Spoilers )

Doodness!

Now the White House has a Mama Duck!

I love the fat, contented look of that duckie. Ducks are so cool. I love watching them paddling around in ponds, looking so smug and then suddenly--tushies to the wind! And then they pop right back up again, still looking smug. Make way for Ducklings!