Scent of a Woman

A Movie Review by Zinta Aistars




* Starring: Al Pacino, Chris O'Donnell
* Director: Martin Brest
* Format: Color, Closed-captioned, Dolby, NTSC
* Rated: R Not for sale to persons under age 18.
* Studio: Universal Studios
* Video Release Date: July 23, 1993
* $9.98


To what vinegar and bile a man's heart turns when he travels through his life without love. As sweet as the scent of a woman, it is the woman beneath the scent the retired Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade, played by Al Pacino, has longed for all his life, and this is the final message of this remarkable film. Tough as nails, the blind military man rankles and spits and curses, making it impossible for the young college man, Charlie, played by Chris O'Donnell, to get along with him, let alone be weekend companion to him. Who, then, is the tougher one? Do as he might, Slade cannot rid himself of the college boy watching over his safety in an impromptu visit to New York City. Comes a time, he no longer wishes to; it is the boy who outlasts him in steely determination.

Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade has given up on life. He has lost his military career, once promising. He has lost his sight through machismo pranks of tossing grenades. He has lost the affection and support of his family through his impossible manner, save a daughter who loves him through clenched teeth. He has never been able to hold onto a woman, except for a woman's paid services. For his pleasure, indeed, he has only ever had the scent of a woman. The woman herself, her body purchased, her heart and spirit forever elusive to the man, requires far more courage to hold than that what is required in the escort services Slade relies upon. But Slade's courage is limited to military and machismo realms; he has none when it comes to the challenge of emotional courage.

To his young and idealistic companion Charlie, everything Slade is not, or perhaps was, but long ago, Slade says in a critical moment: when in my life I have done the right thing, I did it to feel important. You do it because you are a man of integrity. Charlie tells Slade, you are not a bad man. You are hiding behind your fear.

The impossible becomes possible when Charlie's idealism wins over Slade's moment of despair. Something heroic resides in Slade after all. When Charlie must make a difficult choice that involves a harsh test of his personal honor, Slade comes to his side. The resulting speech alone is worth the price of this film.

Once Slade allows his integrity (and, yes, it was in him, beneath the fear) to surface, the scent of the woman at long last embodies the woman herself. A breakthrough always has that kind of dominoe effect, even in reality.

Pacino's performance in this film is exemplary. O'Donnell, too, is first class, convincing in his portrayal of youth in all its bumbling innocence, as yet uncorrupted ideals.



Blogarama

Victory by Joseph Conrad

Book review by Zinta Aistars



* Hardcover: 385 pages
* Publisher: Everyman's Library, 1998
* ISBN: 0375400478
* $20.00


Now and then, we must leave the literature of our day and delve deeper--in time and in literary style. Joseph Conrad has survived time as a classic, because his work is of classic quality. I submerged into Victory as into cool, deep water, to emerge refreshed and moved by the literary experience.

Woe, yes, to the man whose heart has not learned to hope or love (and is love without hope possible?) or trust in life. Without hope, without love, without trust, life is but a living death. Axel Heyst, Conrad's hero of Victory, is a complex man we are deeply drawn to--for he has the heart and he has the high ideals, if not the hope or trust. In his vulnerable youth, Heyst's father stripped him of these tools without which living a meaningful life is a barren if not futile prospect. Yet a man's heart is a stubborn thing in its will to beat with red blood. Even in his willful isolation, a woman's love finds the hermit. Conrad indulges in a little formula damsel-in-distress rescue, and Heyst brings Lena to his solitary island of Samburan, where they slowly develop a kind of haven.

Life has a way of being messy and intrusive, Conrad knows, and so he brings the conflict of the story to the island, undeservedly bad reputation following Heyst there in the often comic and villanous figures of Ricardo and Jones. This showcases the figures of Heyst and Lena. If Heyst's heart does indeed love, and passionately so, then Lena's heart has within it the unconditional devotion perhaps only a woman can fully express. And so woman gives life. The tragedy of Heyst is that he so rarely knows how to express his love. Perhaps the story ends, then, in the only way it can, in sacrifice.

The true victory of this novel is the gift of Conrad's writing. Characters have depth and motion; plot is not overwhelming, but enough to hold suspense; dialogue is real and revealing. Conrad does plenty of tell, not show, which writers are today admonished not to do, but I loved every moment of the skillful telling. He is a master, taking on themes and characters that have lasting value. I plan to read and reread his other works.

Possession: A Romance by A. S. Byatt

A book review by Zinta Aistars



# Hardcover: 640 pages
# Publisher: Modern Library; 2001 Modern Library ed edition (July, 2002)
# ISBN: 0679642382
# $17.95

Possession is a gourmet feast of subtle flavors and delicate spice. When it was first placed in my hands by a fellow writer in anticipation of my delight... I recognized the classically beautiful cover. I had picked this book up several times in a bookstore, several times put it down again. A romance? Not tonight, honey. Too often that label turns to something sickly sweet, nothing but indigestible corn. Mmm, but not this dish. This time I bit in. The more I tasted, the more I wanted. Byatt's prose is rich. Her attention to detail brings her created world alive to all senses. It is nearly impossible to write a fresh love story... haven't they all been told? And this one, a Victorian tale superimposed over a modern day tale of hearts, holds no new revelations on the theme. All the more impressive that Byatt so entices. Her scenes of intimacy perhaps impressed me most of all. Not the graphic slop so often appearing on the bestseller table, so cheaply won -- hers are subtle and fine, elegant and true, exquisite.

"They took to silence. They touched each other without comment and without progression. A hand on a hand, a clothed arm, resting on an arm. An ankle overlapping an ankle, as they sat on a beach, and not removed. One night they fell asleep, side by side, on Maud's bed, where they had been sharing a glass of Calvados. He slept curled against her back, a dark comma against her pale elegant phrase."

Perhaps the finish of the book is a bit predictable... but no less rings true and satisfying. One closes the cover with regret at the leaving behind of this lavish language, this world of lovers in two such different times who have connected both in body and mind. I am inspired to reach with a real hunger for the next Byatt treasure.