do the brown egg dig.

Oh! oh! Also, last night, at Best of the Northwest Film Fest, saw a Vancouver, BC narrative mini-feature, Why the Anderson Children Didn't Come To Dinner, directed by Jamie Travis. Three glum, chubby but malnourished-looking children live with their obsessive-compulsive mother, who cooks disgusting feasts of meat—four cartons of eggs, stacks of greasy toast, roasted pig heads and liver and tender battered whole frogs—and forces them to eat every bit, with chopsticks. It meditates on abuse and its remedies, and is immaculately stylized, aside from a cuckoo-clock moment (a surprising cliche in conceptual heaven—so cliche I wonder if it was meant to act as a visual bookmark). Disciple of Royal Tenenbaums and Parents in both imagination and its multidimensional depiction of children, who are too often relegated to filmic paper dolls.

Other great films in the fest: Sherman Alexie's 49?, about the Native American song tradition which now incorporates Patsy Cline, Hank Williams; and Entry, a gauzy moment with one of my favorite dancers, Dayna Hanson of 33 Fainting Spells.