November 27, 2020
I extremely randomly put on The Last Waltz yesterday. Miranda and I have had the song Ophelia in our heads for weeks after seeing a cover band play it, and our friends have a new baby named Ophelia.
The Band plays Ophelia in their seminal concert:
But I absolutely did not remember that some of the first spoken words in that movie were:
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.
Quite a coincidence since it was Thanksgiving day. It was the 44th anniversary of The Last Waltz. I was web searching around about it and found a fun article from Steven Hyden at Uproxx:
The guest list at this party is truly a mixed bag. There is a wise old man from Mississippi. There is a beautiful blonde poet from the Hollywood hills. There is a jive-talking hipster from New Orleans. There is a coked-up Canadian hippie. There is a portly, purple-suited Irishman who mistakenly believes that he knows karate. And then there’s the Jewish rock star for Minnesota who can’t decide if he really wants to be there.
Thus far, it sounds like I’m describing a Wes Anderson film.
…
And yet — in spite of the resentments, and the betrayals, and the intensifying intoxication — everyone is able to come together and conjure a feeling of community. When they gather around to tell old family stories that have been told and re-told umpteen times — like the one about Jack Ruby, or the one about shoplifting bologna and cigarettes — the brothers pretend to laugh whenever the overbearing brother takes over the conversation. (The upside of being on stage is that you can turn off his microphone.) After a while, the laughs seem less forced. They’re faking it so well that they start to feel actual community and love and understanding. This is what The Last Waltz, and Thanksgiving, is all about.
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