Bites, Camera, Fashion is a column from Davey McNelly, who is disabled, likes films and makes poor choices while trying to simplify his life.
I was once on a flight from Nashville to Columbus. To ride on a plane, I have to get into a straightjacket and into the tiniest wheelchair you can imagine — it looks like it’s made for a five-year-old.
I get wheeled down the aisles and then flung into a seat while my power chair, which costs as much as a new car, is shoved under the plane (the Trump administration has now made it so that airlines don’t have to reimburse for damages!). If I’m lucky, I’m able to sit in the very first seat, and often choose Southwest because I don’t have to go all the way through your first class and have people point their piggies at me while sipping champagne. I’m a man of the people, just like the movie for this month.
Anyways, while I sit there, I often talk to the flight attendants. I noticed on this particular flight that the flight attendants were on the phone back-and-forth to the pilot and I noted that they were saying movie titles. Being a curious person, I asked what was happening. They were playing a game where the pilot would say two sentences about what the movie plot was and the flight attendant had to try to guess which movie it was.
Naturally, I asked if I could play the game too, and was able to stump the pilot on this one: A boy moves to a new city and makes a good friend. They bond over sports.
The answer: “Air Bud,” obviously.
Bites
I went to see the biopic “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere” with a friend who loves Springsteen. They love Bruce Springsteen more than I have loved any other musical artist, and I just drove to Chicago for one night to see Jens Lekman stage a surrealistic play about being a wedding singer. It’s hard to have a conversation with my friend where they don’t sneak in a Bruce reference.
Before going to the film, I had some leftover pozole, a Mexican-style soup my friend had made for their annual Día de los Muertos party. The soup was rich and hearty, with beans and pork, poured over rice. Perfect for fall and remembering our loved ones.
Camera
Now for the movie summary game: A man waits too long to go to therapy.
For two hours, Springsteen writes songs that I don’t particularly like, but respect. Then his manager finally tells him he needs professional help instead of more fast cars and lying around on his shag carpet (It’s the early ’80s! We can’t expect much from interior decor or men’s emotions!).
I’m not sure if I like “Nebraska” as an album, but I do like it when men go to therapy. Jeremy Allen White does a serviceable job as The Boss, and all the men do a serviceable job of ignoring his mental illness.
Eventually, Bruce is treated for his depression and his father comes to one of his shows. His father, who seems to have schizoaffective disorder, is in recovery himself, and in a surreal moment, has Bruce sit on his lap. Bruce finally gets what he needed all those years: a dad who cares about him. Nice. Now we need another film that tells us why he is called “The Boss.”
Fashion
The yearly Día de los Muertos gathering is an important time for me. We collectively grieve losses, place photos on a tiered table of marigolds we all grew, and light candles. It’s beautiful, and a way to share our losses. We don’t get a chance to collectively grieve very often, and I try to do it as much as possible.
I’m finally getting around to writing this Nov. 15. Alice Wong, the disability rights advocate, has just passed away. She has written and edited numerous books and collections, with my personal favorite being “Disability Visibility.” I encourage everyone to read it. As one of her obituaries by Sandra Ho says, “May her memory be a blessing and a revolution.”
Here’s to all of us who are trying to change the world for the better.
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