2026/01/13

Jim: A Rubino’s Pizza Short Documentary (Noah Abrams, A-Team Films, 2025)

    Man, Rubino’s Pizza totally rules. It’s likely you’ve never had pizza with a crust so thin. Imagine a saltine, cut in half horizontally and dusted with cornmeal on the bottom. Physics dictates that there can’t be much added to a slice so slight, so the sweet sauce and small blobs of mozzarella don’t add much weight to the pizza. You know it’s gonna be crispy given its low profile. When you order it to-go, it comes in a bag. A bag. It’s a crime that I’m not eating some right now…

    I promise that will be it with my attempts to describe the quality of the pizza because this documentary on Jim Marchese, the current proprietor of Rubino’s Pizza in Bexley, Ohio, doesn’t focus as much on the pizza as it does the institution, the man, the spot. A pizza place that can survive 70 years of changes around it must be doing something right with its food and its vibe. It has never expanded, never franchised, never relocated. Jim recalls a moment when a woman opened the door and inhaled deeply, then left. She “just wanted to smell Rubino’s.” To me, that sounds like torture, but it says something about the quality of the place that a single sense memory can be so powerful. 

    Early in the film, we learn that the original concept of Rubino’s came from founder Ruben Cohen who thought maybe his name might not give an indication of authentic Italian food. Thus, Ruben became Rubino’s for the sake of marketing and there’s never been a reason to doubt the quality of the product. Jim’s father bought the business when the original owner retired and Jim helped his dad run it and has been the man in charge ever since.

    The film is a tribute to him as he grows closer to aging out of the ability to run the shop. He’s got stage four kidney cancer, which has returned after being in remission 15 years ago. His daughter, Julie, is ready to step up when the time comes. Working in a family business is often a way for managers to easily manipulate and exploit those closest to them. That doesn’t seem to be the situation at Rubino’s. There’s a moment when Julie has to take a breath and step outside because things are getting a little hectic behind the counter. It’s not like that is a situation unique to family-run foodservice. Julie’s candor in her responses and her work ethic both indicate that she will do an excellent job of running the show when its her turn at the reins. 

    That attitude, surliness, or “jive,” is part of the appeal of going to Rubino’s in the first place. Yeah, the food is excellent, but Jim’s demeanor is an attraction in itself. The film does an excellent job of expressing this trait of his. It’s subtle, but there’s a shot where he answers the phone (there is only one phone at Rubino’s) by pounding the receiver with the fat of his fist so it flips into his hand. It’s so slick. Stay at Rubino’s long enough on a night when they’re slammed and you can be treated to the sight of Jim hitting the counter itself hard enough to launch the receiver into his hand. The coordination required to pull that off is remarkable.

    Despite the gruff way he comes off in the film and in real life, Jim is a sweetheart. Julie explains how he has quietly helped customers’ families with college payments or medical bills over the years. That kind of support to people who have patronized this business for decades is why people get misty-eyed when thinking of local small-business owners. Jim represents the apotheosis of that type of dude running that kind of shop, and as Abrams reveals in Jim, the secret recipe is “40% pizza, 60% bullshit.” So, the pizza gets you in the door but the bullshit keeps you coming back over and over again.


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2026/01/06

Stranger Things, Season 5, Episode 8: The Rightside Up (The Duffer Brothers, Netflix, 2025)

    They stuck the landing. They really did it! I’ve talked with friends who have watched the finale and who have seen different things online than I have about the final season’s reception. Although there are plenty of haters out there, the response seems to be positive enough for now. Maybe it’s just the honeymoon period and reality will set in after a few weeks or months. I’m more than OK with how the show ended. Any of the various threads left untied are just frayed ends, not ropey cords. In the words of Mr. Clarke, it was “pretty goddamn swell.”

    In my previous review, I had thought the show was heading for a triple climax, even if all the main crew were together at the end of episode seven. That didn’t quite happen, but the crew didn’t completely stay together the whole time either. Making predictions isn’t the most interesting part of writing about narratives, even if it is fun when they end up correct. It would have been boring and silly for Jane, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Jonathan, Joyce, Nancy, Steve, Jim, Vickie, Murray, Kali and Robyn to stay together for the entire episode. Instead, we get Max and Vickie holding down the fort at WSQK; Jim, Murray, Jane, and Kali infiltrating the lab, and the rest of the crew trying to make it into the abyss from the upside down. Jane later joins them when things seem to have gone so very wrong. Even with the main party split into thirds, it’s not quite a triple climax because they are all aiming for the same goal—Vecna’s destruction.

    The action sequences are not the reason I enjoy the show, so I was glad that this section was fairly short. Yes, it’s the final confrontation with the nemesis of all the characters, but that doesn’t mean it needs to involve belabored combat. It was just long enough. The key element for me is the interaction between Will and Henry Creel when Will is entering Creel's mind.

    As I discussed a few weeks ago, the hive mind that possesses Will throughout the series can be considered to be heteronormative society. He is able to wield his powers and become a sorcerer because he knows who he is, who his friends are, and who he’d like to partner with romantically. It’s not just that he comes to terms publicly with the fact that he’s “not into girls.” Accepting your gender identity and sexuality (even if merely heterosexual & cisgender) makes you a sorcerer. Creel chose to give in to the power of the hive mind instead of trying to figure out who he was. That gave him unimaginable power but Will and Jane were able to stop him because they knew who they were by developing friendships and relationships and learning to be true to themselves no matter the cost. Creel had a stunted adolescence and never went through that coming-of-age identity integration / formation developmental process, so his powers were ultimately limited. Who is his family? His friends? His romantic partner? He has none of those people in his life, and has had none of them, so he is a full-grown, maladjusted adolescent.

    Unfortunately, we do not learn the origin of the fragmented rock from the briefcase that made young Henry Creel give in to the power of the hive mind. All we know from the show is that it was a U.S. government secret and someone was trying to obtain it. Young Henry panicked when the agent with the briefcase tried to use a gun to prevent him from opening the case. When Young Henry prevails, he opens the case and the rock fragment is inside. Where it’s from and what powers it has are under explained. It slips under his skin and causes him to mutilate the corpse of the government agent. He’s horrified by this power. He cannot resist it. He would rather wield the power of the hive mind (i.e., fall in to line with the mores of heteronormative society) than explore who he is and what he loves.

    Creel’s choices become Vecna’s when Will tries to get him to abandon his hateful ways. Will implores him, “You were just a kid, a kid like me. And it used you. It used you to bring it here. You’re just like me, Henry. A vessel. But you can resist it. Help us fight it. Don’t let it win, Henry, please. Don’t let it win.” For a moment, we think Will’s argument might sway Vecna. Maybe there is a heart there after all. That would be too easy a conclusion, too simple an out. 

    Creel replies, “No. It showed me the truth… It has never controlled me. And I never controlled it… Don’t you see, William? I could have resisted it. But I chose to join it.” In this scene, Creel doubles down on the hate and the power it brings. He’d rather stay maladjusted and powerful than figure out who he is as a member of society. It is a little frustrating that the origin and nature of the rock fragment isn’t explained in this episode, even if it’s clear that it is what allowed Creel to tap into the hive mind and wield the power of heteronormativity in the first place.

    The only other quibble I had with the finale was the use of two PRINCE songs in the escape scene. A wiser friend has since pointed out to me that “When Doves Cry” and “Purple Rain” are the first and last tracks on the second side of Purple Rain. I figured it was just a gratuitous use of two PRINCE songs, simply as a flex. It makes more sense now, but it still threw me for a loop because none of the characters in the show have mentioned PRINCE before.

    In comparison, Dustin flipping the bird to the principal while grabbing his diploma and jumping off the stage is exactly what his late hero Eddie said he’d do at graduation. So it only makes sense that we’d hear IRON MAIDEN with “The Trooper” in the background. (Remember, Eddie maintained that “this is real music!” while holding a copy of Piece of Mind on cassette in a pivotal scene in season four.) It doesn’t make much sense that Dustin would be so angry with his principal, though. These guys are all nerds. Don’t they at least begrudgingly accept their administration’s decisions and policies? Probably would have been too deep of a cut to pull out “Administrative Decisions” by SACRED REICH here. Oh, and the use of “Here Comes Your Man” by The PIXIES as “a new favorite” on WSQK as graduation nears makes sense in the world of the show, too.

    So yeah, the Duffer Bros. hit the right notes, stuck the landing, and tied up most of the loose ends. Even if the finale doesn’t hold up on repeated viewings, I will still cherish the experience of watching it for the first time. My family went to see it on New Year’s Eve at the Gateway Film Center in Columbus, Ohio. This theater is affiliated with The Ohio State University, and is located just south of its campus. We were there to watch this episode in a movie theater at roughly the same time that the Buckeyes were playing in ESPN’s College Football Playoff. They lost. I’m glad I passed on the chance to watch that game on television so I could experience the once-in-a-lifetime thrill of seeing the conclusion of Stranger Things’ ten-year-run in a public setting with my fellow nerds. The theater wasn’t full but the reactions to key scenes got enough of a pop from the crowd that it made the whole experience more special than any high-stakes game could have. And now, at home, at least I can watch it with subtitles.


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2025/12/30

Stranger Things, Season 5, Episodes 5-7 (The Duffer Brothers, Netflix, 2025)

    It looks like the Duffer Brothers are going to stick the landing after keeping viewers waiting for three long years. There is only one episode left of Stranger Things, a series that began filming during Barack Obama’s second term as president. It has been part of the cultural backdrop for over a decade and its narrative is now one day away from concluding. There are a lot of expectations bound up in that conclusion. There are also a lot of plot threads that need to be tied together or deliberately let loose.

    Early in episode 5, Dustin refers to one of the triple-climax plot lines in Return of the Jedi. He, Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy are like Han Solo and the Ewoks of Endor who need to deactivate the shield generator so the assault on the reconstructed Death Star can proceed. This moment seemed like more than just a throwaway reference to one of the most famous science-fiction movies of all time. Instead, it foretold a possible triple-climax at the conclusion of season five. The gates need to be sealed; Vecna must be destroyed; and the powers of Jane, Will, and Kali need to be explained. These various goals would likely need to involve different parties in different locations, but by the end of episode 7, all the protagonists are in the same space and going to the same place.

    Part of me hopes the action is resolved quickly and most of the final episode is dedicated to explaining why the military is using the blood of psychic children to create Manchurian candidates in the first place. It’s the Cold War, right? A commentary on the folly of mutually-assured destruction? The nature of the psychic powers and what that implies for adolescent identity formation is still an interesting angle that may not be adequately resolved, but will fuel speculation and fan theories for years to come. It recalls the “what happens on Monday?” hypothetical of The Breakfast Club. In a few days or weeks or months, what will happen to these characters? Are they forever connected by the shared trauma of these events, or do they move on and grow up? The more I think about the show, the more questions like these come to mind and the more it seems like it will be difficult to resolve the coming-of-age narrative with the sci-fi horror explanations of what actually happened in Hawkins. They’ve had three years, though. I still have hope in their ability to pull it off.

    Given that this is the end of the series and there has usually been a notable character killed off in each season, it is fair to consider who might be on the chopping block this time. After patching up their falling out, Steve and Dustin re-commit to the fight against Vecna and exchange the lines “I die, you die; you die, I die.” If this becomes prophetic, then it is way too heavy of foreshadowing. It’s a good red herring, though. It made me squirm.

    Will finally comes out to the whole crew, which was touching and well handled. Note that he doesn’t say he’s gay, just that he’s “not into girls.” As I mentioned in my thoughts on the first four episodes of this season, it seems like Will’s ability to integrate his identity and share that transition with his social world is the key to how he will ultimately wield his powers. Yes, he can tap into the hive mind (i.e., heteronormative society) but he is not of it. He’s aware of how it affects him, but it does not control it. I may be wishing too hard on this star, but there does seem like plenty of room to explore this idea in the final episode.

    There hasn’t been much grey area in Jane Hopper / Eleven’s development as far as desires go. She and Mike have had their ups and downs but nothing else has indicated that she is questioning who she likes or loves. Her adolescence is marked by the need to integrate herself socially and emotionally into world where she is an escaped experiment. She’s found solace in her peer group and has been accepted and adopted by adults like Jim and Joyce. Most recently, an erstwhile friend has reemerged: Kali from Chicago. All three of these parties are fighting for their part of Eleven, and all are at cross purposes. The boys of Hawkins want her to save the world with them, Hopper wants her to stay safe and survive, and Kali wants her to sacrifice herself while saving the world. She seems least likely to follow Kali’s lead, even if it will make the world safe for everyone else. It’s too much, too soon, and her connections to the established characters are too strong.

    Aside from the resolutions of the character arcs mentioned above, I’m also curious about what is in that goddamn briefcase. In the scene where Holly and Max are exploring Henry Creel’s memory, they see him kill a government worker and open his steel briefcase. Whatever he learned from the information inside it has traumatized him enough that he wants to merge oblivion’s abyss with the world of Hawkins.

    In a perfect world, the explanation for how Henry Creel became Vecna should be explained in terms of how this trauma stunted his development. It’s not just that he beat the guy to death with a rock. There’s something he learned that made him unable to adjust socially, cognitively, physically, emotionally, and psychologically to the world he knew. I have high expectations for a satisfying explanation of this aspect of his character, and I am crossing my fingers that the Duffer Brothers will deliver.


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2025/12/23

Home But Alone No More (John Abendshien, Abendshien Associates, Inc., 2025)

    The guy who was living in the Home Alone house when they filmed Home Alone has written a book about the experience. If you must know, he is an expert in the field of healthcare strategy and policy. That doesn’t mean that Peter McCallister was also involved in healthcare in some way, but it at least puts to rest the idea that he was involved in criminal activity (unless you understand the U.S. healthcare system to be a form of theft) or that he inherited his wealth (Abendshien discusses his own humble roots in the text). There’s much more interesting information to be found here anyway.

    I’m obviously biased toward Home Alone as an all-time favorite movie, Christmas or not, because I’m only slightly younger than Macaulay Culkin and because I grew up maybe 10 minutes from the house. That meant I saw the movie at least three times while it was in theaters (thank you Mom and Dad) and that by going a block or so out of the way, I could see the house after a visit to my childhood dentist. To say this movie is wrapped up in nostalgia for me is quite an understatement. Thankfully, it’s a good enough movie on its own that I don’t have to rely on “my childhood” as a reason for enjoying it. It’s not like it became a worldwide success only because people from the North Shore loved it so much.

    Abendshien knows that as well, though the consequences of signing his family up for this situation were not immediately apparent. He admits that he didn’t think the script made much sense from a plausibility angle (pp. 29-30). He figured allowing the filming to occur at his house would be disruptive for a short while because the movie would bomb and people would forget all about it. The idea that his house would eventually become famous enough to be made into a LEGO set was the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, he maintains that he would not sign up for the opportunity again if he knew what he knows now. The reasons are not that it wasn’t worth it, but that there were so many things that had to go just right—and did—that it would be a miracle to think it could happen again. “We were blessed, plain and simple, to work with the folks, the producers, cast, crew—who turned this film into a bona fide gift to the world” (p. 164). It was a right place, right time kind of phenomenon, which only makes the movie itself all the more special.

    It’s so special, in fact, that Abendshien can’t even escape the house’s fame in professional settings. He opens the book with a story about a presentation he was giving at a conference. Instead of the host giving the usual rundown of Abendshien’s accomplishments, he simply quipped that the next presenter was the guy who lived in the Home Alone house. There was scattered applause and a few giggles. After the presentation, though, the only questions the audience had were about his experiences with the film. No one asked about the talk he’d been invited to give! That being the case, it seems like this book had to be written.

    For many reasons, it’s great that it wasn’t written in 1992 or 1995 or even 2005. Abendshien and his now ex-wife sold the house in 2012. They had more than 20 years of living in the house after filming concluded, which means they had plenty of time for fans to pay visits to gawk at the house (and intrude on their privacy). If he’d tried to write this book before his family had moved out of the house, then many of the stories might not have happened the way they did. They needed time to set, to incubate, to cure, before certain themes about the house and the movie emerged. Also, as Abendshien told me when I purchased the book from a local bookshop while he was there to sign it a few weeks ago, he had a job to work and a life to live. He couldn’t have written it before now because there wasn’t time.

    Since so much time has passed, you might think all the stories about Home Alone have been told. They haven’t, and this book is full of them. I won’t spoil all of it but I will give a few highlights.

    The Abendshiens lived in Evanston prior to moving to Winnetka. John Hughes’ location scout approached them about filming in their Evanston house for Uncle Buck, but it didn’t work out. A year later, that same scout came with Chris Columbus to their house in Winnetka so they could discuss possibly using it for National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which Columbus was briefly involved with as a director. That didn’t work out either, but the house was still on Columbus’ mind when Hughes invited him to direct Home Alone (p. 21). It’s wild to think there’s a reality where the Uncle Buck house or the Christmas Vacation house is instead the Home Alone house.

    Kevin’s backyard treehouse did not last long past filming. Wisely, Abendshien had the crew dismantle it (p. 100). One can only imagine the number of kids (myself likely included) who would love to try to get a view of the house from it at night. As a suburban homeowner, the insurance liability of an attractive nuisance is making my head spin.

    Even though northern Illinois gets plenty of snow, there were scenes that needed some Hollywood magic (i.e., potato flakes, shaved ice, soap foam) to get the look just right. In a hilarious twist, the one time the crew was trying to get a shot of the yard covered in pristine snowfall, Abendshien messed it up. He’d been on his way back from O’Hare airport from a business trip and noticed that his street was unusually calm for a film location. As he tells it, he got his car stuck in a snow drift in the driveway, “waded through the snow to the front door, and then realized I’d left my briefcase in the car. So, back through the snow I trudged, fetched the briefcase, and made another trek through the drifts.” He opened the door to see various crew members, including Chris Columbus, and one of them greeted him with “Hey, Mr. A., you just fabulously fucked up our shot!” (p. 59). As with many elements of Home Alone that couldn’t happen now, that story would not have happened because someone from his family or the crew would have contacted him to let him know not to mess up the snow in the front yard when he arrived home. But now, it’s a cool story for him to tell and a moment for eagle-eyed viewers to spot. (Check the space between the driveway and the front door when Kate McCallister exits the Kenosha Kickers’ truck at the end of the film; Abendshien’s footprints are visible but the car is out of the shot.)

    The book’s key chapter shares the title with the book itself. It’s full of stories about the home in the years since filming wrapped. Abendshien traces his initial shock and frustration to an eventual acceptance of the house’s importance to so many people. By 1991, he says he was ready to sit on his porch with a shotgun and have the clip from Angels with Filthy Souls (“I’ll give you ’til the count of ten. One, two…[sound of gunfire]”) playing as people approached the property. We’re all glad that didn’t happen. We’re also glad that the house became a big enough part of the film that it is available as a gingerbread house kit. Abendshien reflects on the bizarreness of the fact that “people can literally eat what used to be our house” (p. 151). If that kind of consumption doesn’t meet with your approval, maybe you’d enjoy reading this book instead. It’s a marvelous tribute to a timeless movie told from a perspective that no one else could have had.


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