I'm still looking for next great movie

Like a delicious piece of pie, a transcendent film experience is worth the search.

A dollop of whipped cream adds a lightness — like the closing song of a classic musical — to this dark, rich Chocolate Jalapeno Pie.

I’m thinking about movies today.

Not just because I watched the Academy Awards Sunday night, although obviously that’s part of it. More because I’ve been sick. Nothing serious, just a cold, you know, the kind that hit you out of the blue and then that punch makes every muscle in your body ache so you lay down on the couch, cover up in a warm blanket, snuggle the dog in the crook of your legs, and, because it makes your head pound to read, you turn on the TV for a week. (No, I don’t have COVD. I took a test.)

So I watched a lot of movies this past week.

My sister and my dog, Albus, watch "The Devil Wears Prada" on a hotel TV in Cheyenne, Wyo.

I like stories and music and pretty people (they’re always pretty) with complicated lives, and I enjoy enjoying those stories in a dark theater, with a bag of popcorn, with a friend or a bunch of strangers. But I wouldn’t put myself on par with those people who lose themselves in a dark theater, who return to familiar characters or story arcs or lines of dialogue again and again to make sense of their own lives or their uncertain futures. Not like Roger Elbert, not like that kid in “The Fablemans,” aka Steven Spielberg, not like the dad in the book “Film Club” who let his 15-year-old son drop out of school if he agreed to watch three movies a week. I mean, really, very few people like movies that much.

My mom was a movie fan, so that's just my inheritance. Or maybe I learned to enjoy the respite when I was little and my mother, seeking her own respite, sent us to the (age-inappropriate) summer movies to get us out from under foot during long summer breaks from school. I don’t remember the ones I liked, even though we went every week, just the ones that I was too scared to see through to the end: “The Cowboys,” “ Scrooge, the Musical, “Ben Hur,” “Darby O’Gill and the Little People.”

Scarlett O'Hara, played by Vivien Leigh, and Rhett Butler, played by Clark Gable, embrace as Atlanta burns in "Gone with the Wind."

I probably saw my first great movie when I was about 8 and my mother took my sister and I to “Gone with the Wind” at the Aggie Theater in downtown Fort Collins. (Today, that theater is an SRO music venue that mostly features bands that haven’t yet found their place on the hit parade.) My mother was a super fan of Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh, like all her friends and her sisters and millions of other movie-watchers in the 1930s and ‘40s. That day, I was still too young to be able to read the lengthy segues, so my mom whispered them to me as they scrolled past on the screen. When we wandered out to the lobby at intermission to get some popcorn, a fifth-grader who lived down the street was still inconsolable about the horse who dropped dead at the gates of Tara after heroically carrying Scarlett & Co. away from the red-hot flames of Atlanta.

(I know it is currently stylish to denounce “Gone with the Wind” and to lament the history and the story, as well as the treatment of the actors and the broad brush used to create minor but pivotal characters. I, however, believe “GWTW” remains one of the greatest achievements in film history and that Scarlett O’Hara still has things to teach us about loyalty, familial love, sacrifice, responsibility, reinvention and resilience.)

A little older, junior high maybe or late elementary, I saw a lot of movies with my brothers. My younger-by-a-year brother liked war movies and westerns, so even though I had not yet forgiven the Duke for “The Cowboys” (nor ever will), we sat through many John Wayne movies. My older-by-a-year brother took me to “Jaws” and let me squeeze his hand during the scary parts. And we went to Steve McQueen movies — “Bullitt” and “The Getaway” and “Junior Bonner.” He was a real cowboy, you know, Junior Bonner and sometimes my brother.

When I was in high school, after basketball season and before football, my friends and I would go to the movies every weekend. I think we took turns picking the show, although not in any kind of orderly fashion, and we saw a lot of really good movies: “Star Wars” and “Coming Home,” “Kramer vs. Kramer,” “Grease” and “Footloose,” “Superman” and “Rocky,” “Raging Bull,” “Reds,” and “Breaking Away.” For a really long time, “Breaking Away” was my favorite movie. I love, love, loved that movie, all heartbreak and triumph and teen-age angst.

We also saw some terrible movies, but I don’t remember most of those. Except one. It was a WWII story; I don’t even recall the title. But there are two images that are seared into my mind’s eye: one of a sadistic Nazi visiting a woman’s bedroom in a swastika thong and said Nazi cavalierly chopping up a prisoner’s fingers while he cut carrots for stew. It’s been, like, 40 years and I can still feel in the back of my throat how horrified I was by that movie, which I guess might, in fact, underscore the filmmaker’s skill.

The Sharks dance in a spicy routine in "West Side Story."

About that same time, I also watched a lot of old movies, with the volume turned low, after the 10 o’clock news while I was babysitting. I remember seeing “The Apartment” and “Some Like It Hot” and “West Side Story.” “West Side Story” was my second great movie. I didn’t realize it though until several years later when I saw the long dramatic overture, uncut, all red and purple, on a big screen in a theater with movie lovers, musical lovers, with the volume turned up on the amazing score, loud enough to wake any children who may have been sleeping in the balcony. (We were college students, watching at the Lory Student Center Theater at CSU; I’m pretty sure that if anything was going on in the balcony, it wasn’t sleeping.)

When I was in, say, sixth grade, or seventh, my family went to Santa Fe for Christmas. I remember the long drive from Colorado Springs to New Mexico, an aberrant journey for a family of six who had heretofore never left home for the holidays. I remember the farolitas that lined the roadways and rooftops, turning our Christmas destination into a fairyland, enchanting and beautiful. And I remember riding home in the “way back” of our nine-person (a generous description to be sure) Pontiac station wagon, devouring “The Lord of the Rings,” barely looking up from the pages of the Christmas present — for 350 miles. And I remember thinking: This is perfect; nothing will ever match this.

Then I saw the movies.

Like everyone else, I first watched the trilogy in the days, and years, right after 911 when we were all desperate for a just end. Peter Jackson perfectly captured (and perfectly cast) what America — maybe all of the world — was going through: fear of a great enemy, anxiety about an uncertain future, longing for and romanticizing of a simpler past, desperation for a hero who we could look to for answers, who would touch us, bring us along, deliver us, who was of us. You could feel all of that — and believe it — when you set off on that cinematic journey with an unlikely fellowship.

(An interesting aside: JRR Tolkien was a soldier during WWI, and he wrote "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings" in the years leading up to WWII. It is probably no coincidence that his story resonated so deeply with a world unmoored by terrorism. If you’re interested, take a look at the 2019 film “Tolkien,” a good, although probably not great, exploration of Tolkien’s early years, his WWI service and the Battle of the Somme, in which two of his college chums were killed.)

Nearly 20 years after those first screenings, in the first lock-down days of COVID, my dad and I set out on a journey through Middle-Earth. We watched all six of the “Hobbit” and “Lord of the Ring” films, one a day for a week, thinking that by the time Frodo boarded the ship for the Undying Lands, we would be released back into the world. That isn’t quite how it happened, of course, but the time I spent with my father in fantasyland softened the rough edges of an otherwise troubling time.

Michaeal Keaton and Mark Ruffalo play champions of the First Amendment in "Spotlight."

Fourth on my list (or would that be sixth) of great movies, a surprise to no one who knows me, is “Spotlight.” I love it, and it’s a movie I will watch over and over, even though there are no longer any surprises, and I’ve internalized the story arc and memorized dialogue. I love it because after 20+ years working in a newsroom, I recognize the little details, like sheet cake farewell parties in an industry that sees too many of them and peanut-butter crackers for dinner. And I love it because the big things are true: that bad things happen when institutions become too big, that ordinary people can be heroes, that even victims can take back their stories. I love it because it underscores the importance of a free and functioning press to our everyday lives and because it holds the press accountable for its failures, just as it does the church. There are lots of movies out there about journalists — “His Girl Friday” anyone?, “Nancy Drew: Reporter” — but hands down “Spotlight” is the best of them.

It's been a while since I found one, but I continue to search for a movie that rekindles the feeling of spending two hours in a darkened theater, suspended in the magic of a communal experience, getting lost in a riveting story, making friends with complex characters, cheering on heroes, weeping for shared tragedies. These days, with 35,000+ movies on my television screen and a lingering uneasiness about post-COVID gatherings, that feeling is increasingly elusive. But I remind myself that the first time I saw “Breaking Away,” I watched it on a television set much smaller than the one I have now, interrupted by commercials and the ambient noises of everyday life.

And so last week, when I was too sick to want to do anything else, I watched movies: “Tar” and “Top Gun: Maverick,” “Women Talking,” “The Banshees of Inisherin,” “All Quiet on the Western Front” and “Butterflies are Free,” “Our Friend,” “Almost Famous” and “I Used to be Famous” and “Tick Tick Boom,” as well as documentaries “Daydream Believers,” “Four Seasons Lodge,” “Amy Tan: Unintended Memoir” and “The Booksellers.” ( I guess, now that I look at the list, I recognize that some of these movies I watched in other weeks when weather or ennui kept me home this winter.)

They were good. I would recommend any or all of them (well, except maybe “All Quiet on the Western Front” and “Daydream Believers,” unless you are a huge fan of the Monkees or of mud). Some of them were really good.

But I’m still looking, still watching for the next great one.

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Chocolate Jalapeno Pie is spicy like the Sharks dancing and singing on the roof of a New York apartment building in "West Side Story."

I was looking for something fun and different to make for a treat when my sister visited last week, and I came across this yummy recipe: Chocolate Jalapeño Pie, which seemed like the perfect dessert for two women who love chocolate and Mexican food, together and/or separately.

It’s also a great pie for your movie marathon, because it’s:

> Sweet, like Laurey and Curly singing their way to love in “Oklahoma;”

> Surprising, like the ending to “The Phantom Thread;”

> Spicy, like the beach scene in “From Here to Eternity;”

> Rich, like the dilettantes in “The Great Gatsby;”

> And dark, like the mud in the trenches and on the faces of the soldiers in “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

A couple notes about this pie, I made it with a chocolate crust, but I think a graham cracker crust would give it an inviting change in texture and taste. I have included recipes for both.

The jalapeño in this recipe gives the chocolate pie a little heat, pleasant but not overpowering. If you want a more assertive spice, steep two peppers (with seeds) in the milk.

Also, a dollop of whipped cream really does add some needed lightness and lift to this recipe. However, I’m a fan of whipped cream with almost all cream pies, so take this suggestion for what it’s worth.

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The Recipe: Chocolate Jalapeno Pie

Chocolate Jalapeno Pie is sweet like a 1990s rom-com starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

Ingredients:

Recipe for one chocolate pie crust or graham cracker crust (see below)

1 jalapeño pepper, halved and sliced into 1/2-inch pieces

1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and sliced into 1/8-inch pieces

1 cup whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate (55% cocoa), broken into 1/4-inch pieces

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons fresh lime juice

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 325°F.

Place the prebaked crust on a rimmed baking sheet. (For crust making and prebaking instructions, see below.)

Combine the sliced jalapeño (with seeds), sliced ginger, milk, and cream in a saucepan and bring just to a boil. Remove from heat and cover. Allow to steep for 6 to 8 minutes.

Combine chocolate, cardamom and salt in a large heatproof bowl and position a fine-mesh sieve over the top.

Bring the cream mixture back to a simmer, and immediately strain it over the top of the chocolate. Let stand for 5 minutes, and then whisk steadily until all the chocolate is melted.

Crack the eggs into a separate bowl or large measuring cup. Whisk.

Slowly stream a small amount of the chocolate mixture into the eggs, whisking as you pour.

(If you are not careful, you can scramble the egg in this step so take care to only pour in a small stream of the melted chocolate and to add it slowly.) Continue until the egg mixture feels warm to the touch; then mix it back into the chocolate mixture.

Add the lime juice and whisk until smooth.

Strain the filling through a fine-mesh sieve directly into the pre-baked crust. If that seems awkward or too difficult to manage, strain the filling into a separate bowl and then pour it into the pan.

Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 30 to 35 minutes, rotating 180 degrees when the edges start to set, 20 to 25 minutes into the baking.

The pie is finished when the edges are set about 2 inches in and puffed slightly and the center is no longer liquid but still wobbly.

The filling will continue to cook and set after the pie is removed from the oven so be careful not to overbake.

Allow to cool completely on a wire rack, 2 to 3 hours. Serve slightly warm or at room temperature.

Chocolate crust

Stir the flour, cocoa, salt and sugar together in a large bowl. Add the butter pieces and coat them with the flour mixture. With a pastry blender, cut the butter into the flour mixture, working quickly until mostly pea-sized pieces of butter remain. Work quickly and be sure not to overwork the dough.

Combine the water, cider vinegar and ice in a large measuring cup or small bowl. Sprinkle the ice water mixture, 1 to 2 tablespoons at a time, into the dough and mix until the dough comes together in a ball. You will be unlikely to use all the ice water; you do not want your dough to be sticky or too wet, just moist enough to come together. Shape the dough into a flat disc, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, preferably overnight, to give the crust time to mellow.

Roll out the crust and put in a springform or tart pan. Crimp edges. Place crust in refrigerator to rest for at least 30 minutes. When it's fully chilled, use a fork to prick all over the bottom and sides, 15 to 20 times. This step, called docking, helps eliminate the air bubbles that can form when the dough is exposed to heat and also prevents the crust from shrinking. Place the crust in the freezer for about 10-15 minutes.

Position the oven racks in the bottom and center positions, place a rimmed baking sheet on the lowest rack, and preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

When the crust is frozen solid, line it tightly with aluminum foil. Make sure the crimped edges are completely covered and there are no gaps between the foil and the crust. Pour pie weights or dry beans into the pan and spread them so they are concentrated more about the edge of the shell than in the center. Place the pan on the preheated baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes, until the crimped edges are set but not browned.

Remove the pan and the baking sheet from the oven, lift out the foil and pie weights, and let the crust cool for a minute. Use a pastry brush to coat the bottom and sides with a thin layer of egg white glaze (1 egg white well-whisked with 1 teaspoon of water) to moisture proof the crust. Return the pan, on the baking sheet, to the oven's middle rack and continue baking for 3 more minutes. Remove and cool completely before filling.

Simple Graham Cracker Crust

1½ cups finely ground graham cracker crumbs

⅓ cup white sugar

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon (optional)

Combine graham cracker crumbs, sugar, melted butter and cinnamon in a mixing bowl; mix until well blended. Press mixture into the bottom and up the sides of an 8- or 9-inch pie plate, springform or tart pan. Bake in a 375-degree oven for 7 minutes. Cool before filling.

Chocolate Jalapeno is dark like the real-life stories behind "Women Talking."