Tag Archive | Life

Review of the 2003 Film Big Fish—Something a little different from the usual

big-fish-french-movie-poster-2003Big Fish, Small Pond

    The 2003 film Big Fish starring Billy Crudup and Albert Finney follows the lives of the Bloom family. Will Bloom has always been told wondrous tall tales by his father Edward about his life. During Will’s wedding reception, his father tells the guests the enthralling story of how Will shot out of his mother like a slippery missile and how on that day Edward almost lost his wedding ring to an overgrown fish. This is the last straw for Will, who cannot take another one of his fabricated stories -stories that Will has heard his entire life. Outside, he confronts his father. This is the last night that Will speaks to his father for over three years. It isn’t until Will’s mother Sandra calls him to inform him that Edward is very sick and his days on Earth are numbered. Seeing this as his last chance to get to know his father, Will and his pregnant wife Josephine return to Will’s hometown of Ashton.

Despite the fact that Will and Edward have been estranged for years, Will makes an attempt to have a relationship with his ailing father to try once and for all to get Edward to tell the truth about his life without hiding behind the fable tales.

Edward, bedridden and fading, recounts the memories of his life to Will and Josephine. He tells them mystifying stories: Carl, the giant who became his friend and joined the circus; Amos Calloway, who he worked for at the Circus and also happened to be a werewolf; Jenny, a young girl from Spectre that had a crush on him; the singing Siamese twins Ping and Jing, who Edward helped during the Korean War to get to American entertainment industry. Will believes his father has lied to him all of his life about who he is, where he has been, the things that he has seen and stories he has told. Throughout the film, Will tries to get his father to tell him the truth of who he is -”the good, the bad, everything” (Big Fish). His father replies, “I have been nothing but myself since the day I was born. And if you can’t see that, it’s your failing, not mine” (Big Fish). As his father gets weaker, Will thinks he will never get to know his father for who he truly is.

Sandra, Will’s mother, shows Will the telegram she got when Edward was in the Korean War telling her that Edward was missing in action and presumably dead after Will scoffs off his father’s story about Ping and Jing during the war. Will is shocked and asks, “that really happened?” (Big Fish). Sandra replies, “Not everything your father says is a complete fabrication” (Big Fish). At this moment wheels begin to turn in Will’s mind now that he knows that there is some truth to his father’s stories.

The turning point in Will and Edward’s relationship is when Edward has a stroke and is hospitalized. There at the hospital Will asks the doctor who delivered him to recount the story of his birth. The doctor retells him and states that it was a simple normal birth. Though it is never truly said in the film, Will finally sees the beauty in his father’s stories. The way Edward told stories made it memorable, vivid, and turned ordinary things into extraordinary tales. The truth has always been important to Edward. Will finally understands his father and sees the beauty and truth in Edward’s method of truth telling through storytelling.

When his father finally passes away, Will meets the characters from Edward’s fantastic stories at his funeral. Will sees that all the people in the stories are real, yet not the fantastically magical people that he was told about. Carl isn’t a giant, but he is tall. Amos Calloway is hairy and short, but most definitely not a werewolf. Jenny is older now. And the singing Siamese twins Ping and Jing are not Siamese twins, but they are identical.

When Will’s son is born, he passes on his father’s stories and has developed the love of telling truths in the form of storytelling. Edward had always wanted to be the big fish in a small pond. He understood that each one of us as a story to tell and we can tell it anyway we want because when we are gone all we have is our stories. Our stories and the truth in our stories will be passed on from one generation to the next. In this way, we become immortal.


The Life and Death of Flowers

These flowers have known decay

They have seen life

taken nutrients from the Earth

felt the rays of the Sun

and grew to blossom.

Their roots have sunken into the dirt

planted and stemmed

rose and stretched their leaves

so they may stand on their own.

A small beauty in a world of chaos

prospered against the odds

have eluded stomping and destruction.

And when they wilt and die

their scents, their essences

their aromas carry on

waffing through the air

filling our lungs.

These flowera have known decay

Thay have seen life

Fine Line: A poem born out of movie viewing

I wrote this poem after I watched the movie Beautiful Creatures for the first time. I found it interesting that a movie and the movie’s theme fired up my neurotransmitters in my brain to create this poem. It’s interesting to me how the little things in life can provoke such a creative and powerful image or string of thoughts in a person’s mind.

Here it is:

Fine Line



Hollow and deathly, filled with Turmoil.



Euphoric and lively, pure with Love.


The fine line between

A thread that balances the two,


An intricate design weaved

Into the puzzle, the mystery.


Two halves of the same whole.

Are they not the same?


Strong in their intent,

A gray cloud forms at the centerfold


But both are lost in the Haze.

No more potent than the other.


Both are claimed,

Yet only one is considered



Poetry Workshop: A learning experience

Today was my first poetry workshop. I was nerve wrecked and couldn’t sleep well the night before because I was so worried that I had done the poem wrong, that the wording wasn’t right, and that it was awful compared to some of the poem of fellow writers in my group. How very wrong I was.

They loved the poem, the wording, and gave me great feedback and reassurance. I was pleasantly surprised at how well they thought it was and how sure they were that I conveyed such emotion and meaning. It was honestly the first poem I have ever written and it was so hard, challenging to write, yet so rewarding to see and hear when it was done.

So here it is:



The sand beneath the water

rises and dips

Yellow-streaked light

in the windblown ripples reflect.


In our ignorant bliss,

we play–





I place you upon my shoulders

above the tide as

we wander and glide,

until I misstep.


A deep pocket pulls us below.

Your weight pins me down.

You resist the imminent trepidation

as I struggle to hold my breath.


I sink further into the

fog of dense chaos under.

Hoisting you from my shoulders,

I prod you to the hill.


Weak with exhaustion,

I swim for the surface–





Penetrating the division,

I force in a gust of air,

look sober-eyed to the sky,

solace sets in.


As I reach the panoramic shore

where you wait,

I lull in a daze–

heart racing,

chest aching,

mind swarming.