These are my top 10 films.

Also: Indigo Girls, how to draw a novel + more

Sunday marks my favorite holiday — my birthday! — so I’ve been celebrating in itty-bitty ways all week.

Before I get to that, though, I wanna give a shout-out to Gerry, a loooongtime reader/subscriber who very generously sent me a gift subscription to The Criterion Channel. In exchange, he had one humble request: Could I share a list of my all-time favorite films?

Below is my top 10, more than half of which have been released by Criterion. It’s funny how these lists morph with age. This time, I mainly considered a) which movies bring me the most joy; and/or b) which movies I think about most, whether I’ve seen them 2 or 200 times.

I ended up making a top 25, but for now I’ll just give ya 10:

1 - Pee-wee’s Big Adventure — The perfect film without a wasted word or second. We all have a Francis, we all know an Amazing Larry, and we all have something in this life that we never wanna lose.

2 - Harold and Maude — Love, death and banjos = my holy trinity.

3 - Sherman’s March — I’ve seen Ross McElwee’s documentary about relationships and the South so much that his family feels like mine.

4 - Say Anything… — Each morning I pass a kickboxing place on my way to work and I half-expect middle-aged Lloyd Dobler to be in there, philosophizing and blaring a Fishbone cassette. To me, it’s the funniest, most relatable teen film from the ‘80s.

5 - Grey Gardens — Are you wearing your best costume for the day? I’m forever trying.

6 - Nashville / Short Cuts (tie) — It’s my list, so ties are fine! In any case, deciding between Altman films is like picking a favorite ligament.

7 - The Empire Strikes Back — Merely typing the title makes me want to watch it again. Empire was probably the first movie I saw that didn’t have a happy ending, which can really wreck a small person.

8 - Boogie Nights — The only film I’ve seen twice in a theater.

9. A Woman Under the Influence — It takes you somewhere then breaks you in half. When Turner Classic Movies said I could pick any film to air/introduce, I chose this one.

10. Basquiat — My favorite biopic. Jeffrey Wright is stunning, as is Bowie’s wig.

So there you are. I’m sure your list is drastically different, and thank god for that, because otherwise life would be a bore.

I’m currently obsessed with the short fiction of Argentinian writer César Aira. The Divorce starts out one way, then takes about 17 sharp turns before ending up back at the beginning. This magical whirlwind knocked every shred of clothing off my skin.

Jeanne Thornton loves Martín Solares’ How to Draw a Novel, so I had to check it out, because Jeanne wrote one of *my* favorite novels of the last several years with 2022’s Summer Fun. Perfect for writers who want to learn more about how books can be structured — and “drawn” in whimsical ways — Solares educates without being preachy and, by the end, I had a long list of recommendations.

Yesterday I saw the new Indigo Girls documentary, which sent me back to ohsomany life moments that were soundtracked by this band. Directed by Alexandria Bombach, the doc includes tons of archival stuff — Amy Ray saved it all — as well as new interviews and zero talking heads. It’s a dream.

Emily Saliers & Ray discuss everything, including the sexism and homophobia they experienced from mainstream media in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Despite huge, Grammy-winning success, they were never featured in Rolling Stone, Spin or other big pubs. Mocked by SNL and never asked to be on it. Reviews were rare and often patronizing. I do think times have changed a bit, but I also know a lot of the writers/editors who ignored them are still kicking around, spittin’ spite for self-satisfaction.

It’s Only Life After All is in theaters now with a digital release May 7.

The other day I saw some pasta that looks like hair.

The weather was so lovely on Tuesday that I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and thought about nothing.

Untitled (c. 1975) by Mavis Pusey.

I went to the Whitney Biennial and much of it wasn’t quite my style, but I did dig the work of Mavis Pusey. Pusey, a Black abstract painter who died in 2019, was recognized during her lifetime but not enough to remain in New York or support herself with her art. When I started reading more about her, I was shocked to learn that the Jamaican-born artist died about ten minutes from my childhood home in Virginia. Had I ever passed her at the post office or the Food Lion? I sure hope so.

Finally, thanks to everyone who came out to the Brooklyn Independent Comics Showcase last weekend. I sold a bunch of copies of my new book, TRUDY SELLOUT, and I appreciate the kind women who loaned me their jackets after seeing me shiver.

More soon! Thanks for reading!

with a poster of Rasputin,
ol’ whit

whitmath@gmail.com | sandwich money | selfies | ruth gordon