Weekend at Ickie's

It's been a nice, relaxing weekend here for Watoosa and me. On Friday night, we were in the mood for a movie. We thought about going to see No Country for Old Men, which is supposed to be excellent. Although I will definitely see it in the theater at some point, neither of us were in the mood for an unflinching look at human depravity. So we opted for the other end of the spectrum and saw Enchanted. It was surprisingly good. Amy Adams gives one of the most enjoyable performances I can remember; as she sends up the "Disney Princess" character, she perfectly embodies all that is pure and wholesome and innocent in the world. We loved her performance in Junebug, and while this isn't as serious a role, obviously, it was such a pleasure to watch her thoroughly inhabit her character. It was also a treat to be in the theater with so many children who completely ate this film up. There was one little girl in front of us for whom the whole Disney romantic mythos was still fresh; at one point, I heard her worriedly exclaim, "But, she's not supposed to be with him!" It reminded me of just how absorbing and exciting it was to go to the movies was when I was a kid.

Last night, we attended the Portland Choral Art Society's annual Christmas concert, at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, which was wonderful. I've written before about how much I love Christmas music, and this was the perfect way to kick off the holiday season. Apart from some usual Christmas fare (selections from Messiah, "In dulci jubilo," "God Rest You Merry Gentlemen," and the like), there were some non-standard selections as well. Two were from Rachmaninov's sublime All Night Vigil, which the Society will be performing in its entirety later in the season. This was a treat because acoustically the basses were especially prominent, and the low-register parts are so important to Russian choral music, and that piece in particular.

There was also a contemporary piece by a local composer. It's a setting of a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Portland's most famous literary figure. I was wary of it when I saw it on the program, but Watoosa and I ended up loving it. In honor of the coming winter storm (which starts tonight), here is the text.

"Snow-Flakes," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as the cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.