A very Canadian newsletter

If you told me a year ago that—apart from everything else going on in my life—that I would take an 11-day trip to Canada, I’m not sure I’d believe you. Not because I have anything against Canada, but more because several places were higher on my to-travel list. But a friend of mine got me to go with her as she got her first tattoo, I hadn’t been on a proper vacation since 2016, and I had enough PTO at the time to extend the trip to visit another city that I more or less said, fuck it.

It was 11 days of astounding views, great food, an unexpected research foray, and diving into the deep end of hockey by catching a Canadiens game in Montréal. (Yes, I’m into hockey now and can properly support my garbage son Gritty’s team since I’m that Philly fan, but hopefully not as obnoxious.)

Oh, and a whole lot of yarn. Thanks to Digits and Threads’ Canadian Travel Guide (Yarn Store Edition), I popped into several yarn shops in Toronto and Montréal, walking away with several Québec-based yarns (two from Bar à Tricot, one from Riverside Studio, and one from Julie Asselin).

I’ve also spent the past several weeks catching up on many of the shows that fell by the wayside between NYFF and Canada. Of them, one of my favorites is definitely Netflix’s Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, an anime that remixes Bryan Lee O’Malley’s beloved series and film (one of my all-time favorites, imo) into something else entirely. It’s referential and tries to be its own thing, and I don’t know how O’Malley and BenDavid Grabinski pulled it off. And, fittingly, it highlights Toronto and pokes plenty of fun at the cliché that cities at the center of many films are practically another character.

I want 5234523 more seasons of SPTO, but I also don’t want Netflix to run it into the ground and would be equally happy if this was all we have. Bravo.

The Knits: Beeswax Cowl, Beeswax Mitts, and Ponderosa Hat

Pattern: Ravelry / Payhip (Cowl); Ravelry / Payhip (Mitts); Ravelry / Direct (Hat)

Yarn: Life in the Long Grass DK Twist in Autumn (Cowl); Marshes (Mitts); and Emerald Eve (Hat)

I feel like I’m a fickle knitter. I’ll be immediately swayed by a pattern based on the texture, or its design, or a particular skein of yarn based on the way that some variegated yarns fade colors into each other when wrapped up in a skein; often, the cake-based reality is far more stripey than I’d like. I rarely consider whether a pattern is too complicated for my skill set until I’m in the middle of making it, short of sweaters (my knitting white whale).

Fortunately, Amy van de Laar’s Beeswax Set, which incorporates the same 3D honeycomb design on each of the three items included, was easier for me to make than it looked; the third item, currently on my to-knit list, is a hat. The compactness of the garments on circular needles made the Cowl and the Mitts perfect travel companions to Canada.

The Ponderosa Hat being included in the block party indicates that holiday knits are upon us. So far, this hat is for a friend, and I’ve already finished one more Christmas knit since I took that photo.

Curious about why there are so many knits in one update? Well, I’ve had a lot more time lately for obvious reasons, and I feel like I have to do something in between pitching and filling out job applications.

The Flick: Lost in Translation

Streaming: Netflix

Over the past few years, every time we get around to festival or awards season, I have sought out older films by famed directors debuting new projects (or clear inspirations). Nobody has ever asked me to do this, and nobody on Film Twitter’s ever been a gatekeeping asshole to me about it that I know of, but I like the exercise and seeing how a filmmaker’s idiosyncrasies evolve over the years. Plus, there is the bonus of watching these great older films by the best of the best.

Before Killers of the Flower Moon, I sought out The Wolf of Wall Street and Silence (two of at least a dozen Martin Scorsese pictures I hadn’t seen yet). The Wind Rises is on my list because of Hayao Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron, as are The Lobster and The Killing of a Sacred Deer because of Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things. And because of Priscilla, I finally watched two of her earlier works, upping the grand total of Sofia Coppola movies I’ve seen so far to four. (The first film of hers I saw was, of all things, On the Rocks 🫣.)

Although I watched Marie Antoinette—a movie operating almost purely on vibes if I’ve seen one (complimentary)—more recently, it’s Lost in Translation, the movie that gave Coppola her first (and, so far, only) Oscar, that’s been more on my mind since I’ve seen it.

Like Wolf of Wall Street at the start of my Canadian vacation (mostly because I wasn’t aware that it was three hours until I hit play), Lost in Translation was also an airplane movie. And a train movie. And then it was a movie I watched the last 20 minutes of on my laptop because I still hadn’t finished it in transit.

There are some aspects to it that I imagine Coppola might be glad social media wasn’t around for—and not just stuff that some viewers/critics only took issue with in retrospect; I’ve seen reporting from 20-ish years ago that says otherwise. And I wanted to strangle Bob (Bill Murray) and Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) for being in Tokyo for all that time and spending so much of the movie in a fucking Hyatt. (Proof I can still like a movie despite characters not doing what I want them to.)

But so many other aspects of the kind of loneliness that comes with being in a new city and in a room full of people you know, of feeling lost in a life where you’re supposed to have figured it out, and finding that one person at the moment who can relate? And watching that at the end of a vacation following a major life shift? Yeah, I felt it.

What I’m Reading

• Everything I Need I Get from You by Kaitlyn Tiffany: I don’t go here at all with One Direction fandom or follow any of the members’ solo careers—I like a couple of Harry Styles songs (one of which got an orchestral cover that showed up in  Bridgerton’s second season that I was obsessed with), but that’s about it—but so much else about internet fandom existing during a certain age rang so true to life.

• The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean: Creepy, upsetting, and impossible to put down all at once. It's good I had those lengthy NYFF commutes in hand while reading this one.

• Godkiller by Hannah Kaner: Set in a kingdom where the ruler of a kingdom has outlawed all gods, a mercenary who’s contracted to kill them, a young noble, a minor god, and a knight-turned-baker team up on a pilgrimage to the one place wild gods still roam, each of them looking for something. It started off slow, but I struggled to put it down once it picked up. Super queer with lots of found family vibes and a duo who could easily either kiss or kill each other.

Shameless Plugs

• ICYMI, I got laid off a couple of months ago. In the meantime, I’m freelancing for other publications now, such as Tor—where I panned the Saoirse Ronan/Paul Mescal sci-fi drama Foe after NYFF.

• If you’re a new subscriber, I occasionally post some reviews directly on Knit(ting) Flicks, like my rave write-up of Anatomy of a Fall!

Knit-Date: Dear Björn

Have you ever knitted something you know won’t fit, yet you’ve come too far to frog it completely, so you might as well finish it? That’s what finishing the Dear Björn socks was like. They were both too big by several inches in the foot area (a good chunk hung off my toes, no small feat for my…well, big feet) and too small (I struggled to get them on over my instep, and they were tight on my calves). Even blocking them was a struggle, and I had to turn my blockers around to make it work at all.

This was a toe-up pair of socks, so I’m trying to reflect on what went wrong. Did I read the instructions incorrectly? Miscalculated on sizing? Misjudged on where to measure certain sections? All of the above?

For now, I’ll take what I can get from it. Instructive intel on toe-up sock knitting, knowledge that Dear Björn’s cabling is enough of a pain that I won’t attempt them again any time soon, and for someone out there with bigger feet and smaller calves, a warm pair of socks this holiday season.

Knitwear of the Week

Knit: A black and teal mohair-esque statement sweater that’s fit for a pirate in the Caribbean.

Worn By: The crafty pirate Wee John Feeney (Kristian Nairn), who knows his way around a pair of needles, in Our Flag Means Death season 2.

Costume Designer: Gypsy Taylor

Back in August, Vanity Fair premiered a first look at Our Flag Means Death’s second season. Within that detailed article was this absolutely delightful nugget from costume designer Gypsy Taylor about the eclectic nature of the Revenge crew’s costumes (emphasis mine):

It’s an article and quote I completely forgot about until this week when, amid my attempt to catch up on all of the fall TV that fell by the wayside (as mentioned above), I started binging OFMD season 2. It’s a show I’ve enjoyed for being incredibly silly and hilarious and queer as fuck—although some of my friends and I refer to it as “the other gay pirate show” because we don’t entertain Black Sails¹ erasure in this house—but it wasn’t at the top of my priority list.

So I was absolutely delighted when I reached episode 4, “Fun and Games,” to see Kristian Nairn’s Wee John (who most of you probably know as Hodor on Game of Thrones) in a punk-ass black and teal sweater with lots of yarnovers all over it. And in his hands, he had a knitted square that looked like it could be a swatch on straight needles.

One thing I’ve been fascinated by but haven’t had the time, bandwidth, or platform to explore in recent years is how little thought is put into how knitting is depicted on-screen. I’m not talking about actors who don’t know how to knit. Honestly, that’s fine (it’s probably easier to fudge your way through knit-acting than horseback riding), and not everyone can bring War Boy energy; it’s not like someone needs to knit a whole sweater in an episode or across two hours. But what’s shown is rarely even close to resembling what it looks like. People hold the needles wrong. They don’t know how to mimic knit stitches. They’re given knitting needles with a crocheted blanket—or a crochet hook to a knitted blanket. And they do whatever the fuck this commercial is attempting to make us think knitting is. (Although the tech bro mentality in that commercial does fit right in with the whole knitting.com kerfuffle from last year.)

It’s definitely not great when the pinnacle of on-screen knitting is a stop-motion animated chicken with plasticine limbs.

I don’t know if Nairn knits in real life, although if I had to venture a guess, I’d say probably not. (If I’m wrong, please correct me!) But he appeared to put enough care into making it look like Wee John worked on that swatch and the Calypso costume to come in a future episode that I bought into it. But as I said, it’s a very low bar.

Want to nominate your own Knitwear of the Week?

I’m now offering you a chance to nominate your favorite piece of cinematic knitwear. I’ve got more information about what I’m looking for here. So, if you’ve got one, send an email over to [email protected] with your pick!

1  If you have not seen Black Sails, fix that immediately. It will change your life. Available to stream on Starz.