The Hurt
Defeated, but with intent, he inhaled deeply and plunged himself under the above-ground pool's water line. He tried to stay motionless but submerged while he stared at the girl's slowly swinging legs. In this way, she couldn't make eye contact with him, and also his vision was blurred just enough to restrict his ability get an effective mental picture for that evening's fruitless masturbation attempts. The expanding pain in his lungs rose up into his brain as she floated naively three feet above.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Squalorism
I stated that I'd have a vacation blog upcoming but this won't be it. Soon enough I guess. Being that I was on my honeymoon I didn't go out of my way to write things down, so it's clearly not a 10-day full log of the proceedings. My intent though was to type up all of what I do have, which is substantial, and then fill in the gaps while typing with more remembrances. So that bit of ambition is slowing me down, naturally.
Also is the fact that I'm having a hard time reassimilating into "world" and "life" and "normal." Returning home Wednesday night, going to work for two days, and then having two weekend days seemed to be close to a perfect path, but here I am nearing the end of Monday workday and I don't have any feel for how to effectively or efficiently or industriously complete a day. Nor do I have the usual vague sense of excitement that I ought to be having to finish up here and head home, because I haven't staked out a half-decent evening flow either.
I can't decide if I just want to hide out in my apartment for a couple weeks or hide out anywhere but my apartment for a couple weeks. Complicating the matter of course is the fact that my status in terms of life-sharing with Sara is both assumed and official now. And so the old coping mechanisms really aren't as relevant. I usually like to put off everything and vegetate, sorta temporarily embrace the squalor, but that's no way to live with someone else. Probably I ought to slap my reflection in the face and tell it to act like a man. And maybe I ought to just step back and stop moping about feeling normal. And be patient. And stop starting sentences with conjunctions. Grammatically poor is no way to feel sorry for yourself, not when you know better.
Also is the fact that I'm having a hard time reassimilating into "world" and "life" and "normal." Returning home Wednesday night, going to work for two days, and then having two weekend days seemed to be close to a perfect path, but here I am nearing the end of Monday workday and I don't have any feel for how to effectively or efficiently or industriously complete a day. Nor do I have the usual vague sense of excitement that I ought to be having to finish up here and head home, because I haven't staked out a half-decent evening flow either.
I can't decide if I just want to hide out in my apartment for a couple weeks or hide out anywhere but my apartment for a couple weeks. Complicating the matter of course is the fact that my status in terms of life-sharing with Sara is both assumed and official now. And so the old coping mechanisms really aren't as relevant. I usually like to put off everything and vegetate, sorta temporarily embrace the squalor, but that's no way to live with someone else. Probably I ought to slap my reflection in the face and tell it to act like a man. And maybe I ought to just step back and stop moping about feeling normal. And be patient. And stop starting sentences with conjunctions. Grammatically poor is no way to feel sorry for yourself, not when you know better.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Arriba!
Clearly, I'm going to provide a much longer perspective on my honeymoon to Mexico, but here now are a few quick mostly non sequitur thoughts:
1. Mexicans: not good drivers. Actually, more than just poor but unconcerned with basic rules of the road.
2. Yes, the Yucatan in August is hot. Very hot. But it wasn't all that humid. Hot heat though.
3. The only dickhead Mexican person I encountered was at Cancun airport. A guy dressed to look like official jumped out as we got out of our car and took our large bag into the airport and showed us the clearly-marked Jetblue sign. Since it took all of 30 seconds to get from point A to B I gave him the 5-peso coin I had in my pocket. Sara didn't even want me to give that because he was clearly preying on ignorant tourists, but I figured what the hell and I'm going to do with a 5-peso coin? So the dude shows his gratitude by saying in English: "what is this, like 50 cents? That's it?" With great restraint, I replied: "Sorry that's all I've got." So he says, while opening his wallet and rifling through some bills: "Hey I've got change for American, anything?" Are you fucking kidding me? The guy is trying to scam people and when someone shows up and doesn't play his game he has the nerve to get offended? Also, fucker moved my bag no more than 50 feet total, half of which he rolled it, and had to climb zero steps. The most unbelievable thing is that he wouldn't be getting an attitude if other tourists don't actually succumb to that shit. Damn. If his countrymen hadn't previously built up a ton of goodwill, I would have been very much soured by this last interaction.
4. Bottled water is so ubiquitously present, even in the smallest towns, that the old "don't drink the water" bacterial fear Americans have been parroting back and forth to each other is essentially irrelevant. I also ate fruit and fresh vegetables at every stop of the trip and never got a stomachache. In fact, on only two days did I even take any Immodium, and those were two mornings after the heaviest drinking days of the trip: not necessarily caused by the food.
5. The "jungle" wilderness of the Yucatan is very very rocky. Not bumpy rocky like in Central Park, but like a normal forest that had been subjected to a snowstorm in the form of 12inch diameter rocks.
6. A frightening number of local Mexicans in the tourist areas spoke very functional English to us even when we started the conversation in Spanish, whereas in the non-touristy areas, anytime we started a conversation in English, the locals would force us to use what turned out to be very functional Spanish.
7. Sara is pretty much afraid of fish.
8. Staring at iguanas doesn't get old.
9. Being married is great.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Some Film Thoughts
Sunday I decided I was going to have some time and I watched a couple of movies. I watched another last night, actually. Only one of these three was new to me, but the other two repeats I feel like I gained enough new perspective to revisit them here.
The one of the movies that I hadn't previously experienced, if you can believe it, was The Dark Knight, a movie that I'm relatively sure is as good as a comic book movie can get.(1)
The Dark Knight is very good movie, and an even better movie experience. But make no mistake: it isn't nearly as good as so many people have claimed over the last couple years. It's far too long, it suffers from the contemporary action movie syndrome in that its plot is needlessly complex and twist-errific, it's presumed main character isn't much of a character at all and is further burdened by an absurdly affected stoic and gravely voice, and, ultimately, it fails to become more than a comic book movie.
The question to ask then is threefold: why did it fail to become a great film--period--instead of just a great comic book movie; did it in fact ever even aspire to be more; and finally, as a general (non-comic-book-centric) moviewatcher and reviewer, should I forgive it this humility and appreciate it more for what it is and less for what it isn't?
Those are difficult questions, mostly because it is such a standout of its genre. It's a very good film in the gene
ral sense, even, though I won't go farther than "very good."
First of all, even though Christian Bale has nothing to work with and does nothing with it, whatever has been said of Heath Ledger here is deserved. I hate to sound cliche but the man brought a dignity to his part as the Joker. He wasn't just a "villian." He didn't just scare or amuse or disgust with his performance, like so many others may have; he enthralled and he aroused and especially he made us understand to the highest degree that that was possible. In a weird way, a fine acting job stops being a great study of a character and reverts back to its basest form: a great performance. We can always watch a merely good actor today like George Clooney or Tom Hanks do excellent work in portraying characters, but it's a far smaller percentage of the profession who can go above and deliver performances.(2)
Last night's viewing was There Will Be Blood, a film I saw once in full and another time broken up over a few sittings.
I'm pretty sure I had strong things to say about the music in this film the last time I talked about it but what struck even more this time about it was just how much the music really dominates the film. I mean "dominate" in every facet of the word. Jonny Greenwood clearly did a great job with the music and should be lauded accordingly, but for music to dominate a film
such as this,(3) it had to be a very deliberate decision by the filmmakers.
In large part, There Will Be Blood really is a filmed opera. And this is a good thing. This realization caused me to enjoy and appreciate it a little bit more than before. To clarify, I'm saying that the film isn't just metaphorically operatic (though it is that as well), but literally.
The film notably begins with lots of silence--but only spoken silence--there is plenty going on audibly: long bits of normal and repetitious sounds (a pickaxe cutting into rock, a rope on a pulley turning, and finally a man struggling one move at a time to drag himself) interspersed with crescendoes and slow build-ups. Many of the finer visual moments of the film are operatic as well. The camera following a man in frame (and accompanied by wonderful fitting music) as he passes by whole scenes that tell us without words exactly what has happened and will happen. Everything is very clearly staged, not just so that the cameras can pick it up nicely but so we the audience can experience what we are seeing in a greater more enhanced way. One of the greatest ties to the opera in There Will Be Blood, though, is Daniel Plainview, a character well suited to an opera house and a full orchestra. He is a tragic hero prone to outbursts of violence and confrontation, and yet he is constantly lonely, offering not so much visible as just understood vulnerability.
I also that this operatic viewing of the film can help to explain its shortcomings, for anytime the structure departs very much from it, at best it loses impact and at worst it loses credibility. I can still say that I don't terribly care for the last 30-40 minutes of this film, and the almost constant dialogue is one big reason why. Also try to remember the more memorable speaking moments from the film. I think you might agree with me that these are not the moments of interaction but more of Daniel Day-Lewis, with the assistance of a sweeping score, larger than life facing the audience and projecting his character through direct force.
The last film I've just watched (not chronologically last, in that regard it was in the middle) is The Wrestler, one that I really loved the other time I saw it, which was in a theater last Christmas. I didn't quite like it as much this time. Not much more to say about Mickey Rourke, he's just as good the second time around and it's a poor shame that Sean Penn beat him out for the big prize in what can only be explained by politics. The film as a whole didn't quite come off as well in the rewatching, though. Let's say that it dropped from a truly great film to a sorta great film. The realism of the filming style, the intensity of the story, the perfection of the multiple POV shots, and definitely the ending are top notch, but it seemed like a lot of the smaller things dragged it down. Evan Rachel Wood should be barred from accepting serious roles for three years for her efforts here, like a probation. And, once the incredibly pleasant shock of Marisa Tomei's nudity wears off, so too does most of what seemed to make her so impressive. I guess a lot of the story details seemed a little too cliche the second time around. Oh, he lives in a trailor park. Oh, he can't pay the bills and sleeps in his car. Oh, he's estranged from his daughter. Oh, he works part-time stocking a warehouse. Oh, he hangs out at a strip club--and befriends a single-mom stripper with an internal crisis. Oh, he does steroids. Oh, older wrestlers have beat-up bodies. Oh, he gets down on himself, does coke, and bangs a chick in a bar bathroom.
In light of all this, I have to say that the big Oscar scene for Rourke when he's sitting and talking to his daughter by the beach was a little tough to take at face value. Sure he still did a nice job but the set-up was just a little too hacky and unoriginal. That's why I'll go back to what I said before and say that the best moments of this film were those in which the story diverted from expectation. When he took the job at the deli counter was about my favorite part. And all of the post-coronary stuff. And definitely all of the ending sequence. Basically the last 45 minutes was excellent: everything after the heart attack with the exception of anything involving Ms. Wood.(4)
1. If you know my tastes, you'll know that this statement is both more and less meaningful than it might normally be. More meaningful because I can't stand those types of movies and yet here is one that I admire. Less meaningful because I can't stand those types of movies and so there a bit of a tallest midget effect.
2. I'm trying not to give voice to this thought because it seems silly but I can't put out of my mind Marlon Brando from Last Tango in Paris. There's not a ton that's truly impressive in that film, and if you were to watch it for interesting character you might appreciate but not revere it, but the bluntly great acting performance on display there was as good as I've ever seen. To a much smaller degree, that is what I was seeing with Heath Ledger in this movie.
3. I mean, a good film. You could say that something as loathsome as Armageddon was dominated by music and sound, but that is completely irrelevant to what I'm saying now. And Armageddon was a train wreck of massive proportions. Truly one of my least favorite movies.
4. Some of my disappointment with watching The Wrestler a second time might reasonably be credited to my own huge disappointment in there not being any bonus materials on the DVD. I heard that there was some stuff on the Blu-Ray. Fuck you, technology. It's way too soon to be neglected the DVD. But to the point, there aren't a lot of recent movies I can think of that I would be more excited to go through the bonus materials than this one. And nothing. A commentary track with Aronofsky and Rourke (maybe even through in whoever was responsible for the wrestling realism) would be gold. A look into the lives of former pro wrestlers, and how their stories relate to The Ram's would be gold. Even just a stock making-of would be great. Come on, guys.
The one of the movies that I hadn't previously experienced, if you can believe it, was The Dark Knight, a movie that I'm relatively sure is as good as a comic book movie can get.(1)
The Dark Knight is very good movie, and an even better movie experience. But make no mistake: it isn't nearly as good as so many people have claimed over the last couple years. It's far too long, it suffers from the contemporary action movie syndrome in that its plot is needlessly complex and twist-errific, it's presumed main character isn't much of a character at all and is further burdened by an absurdly affected stoic and gravely voice, and, ultimately, it fails to become more than a comic book movie.
The question to ask then is threefold: why did it fail to become a great film--period--instead of just a great comic book movie; did it in fact ever even aspire to be more; and finally, as a general (non-comic-book-centric) moviewatcher and reviewer, should I forgive it this humility and appreciate it more for what it is and less for what it isn't?
Those are difficult questions, mostly because it is such a standout of its genre. It's a very good film in the gene
ral sense, even, though I won't go farther than "very good."First of all, even though Christian Bale has nothing to work with and does nothing with it, whatever has been said of Heath Ledger here is deserved. I hate to sound cliche but the man brought a dignity to his part as the Joker. He wasn't just a "villian." He didn't just scare or amuse or disgust with his performance, like so many others may have; he enthralled and he aroused and especially he made us understand to the highest degree that that was possible. In a weird way, a fine acting job stops being a great study of a character and reverts back to its basest form: a great performance. We can always watch a merely good actor today like George Clooney or Tom Hanks do excellent work in portraying characters, but it's a far smaller percentage of the profession who can go above and deliver performances.(2)
Last night's viewing was There Will Be Blood, a film I saw once in full and another time broken up over a few sittings.
I'm pretty sure I had strong things to say about the music in this film the last time I talked about it but what struck even more this time about it was just how much the music really dominates the film. I mean "dominate" in every facet of the word. Jonny Greenwood clearly did a great job with the music and should be lauded accordingly, but for music to dominate a film
such as this,(3) it had to be a very deliberate decision by the filmmakers.In large part, There Will Be Blood really is a filmed opera. And this is a good thing. This realization caused me to enjoy and appreciate it a little bit more than before. To clarify, I'm saying that the film isn't just metaphorically operatic (though it is that as well), but literally.
The film notably begins with lots of silence--but only spoken silence--there is plenty going on audibly: long bits of normal and repetitious sounds (a pickaxe cutting into rock, a rope on a pulley turning, and finally a man struggling one move at a time to drag himself) interspersed with crescendoes and slow build-ups. Many of the finer visual moments of the film are operatic as well. The camera following a man in frame (and accompanied by wonderful fitting music) as he passes by whole scenes that tell us without words exactly what has happened and will happen. Everything is very clearly staged, not just so that the cameras can pick it up nicely but so we the audience can experience what we are seeing in a greater more enhanced way. One of the greatest ties to the opera in There Will Be Blood, though, is Daniel Plainview, a character well suited to an opera house and a full orchestra. He is a tragic hero prone to outbursts of violence and confrontation, and yet he is constantly lonely, offering not so much visible as just understood vulnerability.
I also that this operatic viewing of the film can help to explain its shortcomings, for anytime the structure departs very much from it, at best it loses impact and at worst it loses credibility. I can still say that I don't terribly care for the last 30-40 minutes of this film, and the almost constant dialogue is one big reason why. Also try to remember the more memorable speaking moments from the film. I think you might agree with me that these are not the moments of interaction but more of Daniel Day-Lewis, with the assistance of a sweeping score, larger than life facing the audience and projecting his character through direct force.
The last film I've just watched (not chronologically last, in that regard it was in the middle) is The Wrestler, one that I really loved the other time I saw it, which was in a theater last Christmas. I didn't quite like it as much this time. Not much more to say about Mickey Rourke, he's just as good the second time around and it's a poor shame that Sean Penn beat him out for the big prize in what can only be explained by politics. The film as a whole didn't quite come off as well in the rewatching, though. Let's say that it dropped from a truly great film to a sorta great film. The realism of the filming style, the intensity of the story, the perfection of the multiple POV shots, and definitely the ending are top notch, but it seemed like a lot of the smaller things dragged it down. Evan Rachel Wood should be barred from accepting serious roles for three years for her efforts here, like a probation. And, once the incredibly pleasant shock of Marisa Tomei's nudity wears off, so too does most of what seemed to make her so impressive. I guess a lot of the story details seemed a little too cliche the second time around. Oh, he lives in a trailor park. Oh, he can't pay the bills and sleeps in his car. Oh, he's estranged from his daughter. Oh, he works part-time stocking a warehouse. Oh, he hangs out at a strip club--and befriends a single-mom stripper with an internal crisis. Oh, he does steroids. Oh, older wrestlers have beat-up bodies. Oh, he gets down on himself, does coke, and bangs a chick in a bar bathroom.
In light of all this, I have to say that the big Oscar scene for Rourke when he's sitting and talking to his daughter by the beach was a little tough to take at face value. Sure he still did a nice job but the set-up was just a little too hacky and unoriginal. That's why I'll go back to what I said before and say that the best moments of this film were those in which the story diverted from expectation. When he took the job at the deli counter was about my favorite part. And all of the post-coronary stuff. And definitely all of the ending sequence. Basically the last 45 minutes was excellent: everything after the heart attack with the exception of anything involving Ms. Wood.(4)
1. If you know my tastes, you'll know that this statement is both more and less meaningful than it might normally be. More meaningful because I can't stand those types of movies and yet here is one that I admire. Less meaningful because I can't stand those types of movies and so there a bit of a tallest midget effect.
2. I'm trying not to give voice to this thought because it seems silly but I can't put out of my mind Marlon Brando from Last Tango in Paris. There's not a ton that's truly impressive in that film, and if you were to watch it for interesting character you might appreciate but not revere it, but the bluntly great acting performance on display there was as good as I've ever seen. To a much smaller degree, that is what I was seeing with Heath Ledger in this movie.
3. I mean, a good film. You could say that something as loathsome as Armageddon was dominated by music and sound, but that is completely irrelevant to what I'm saying now. And Armageddon was a train wreck of massive proportions. Truly one of my least favorite movies.
4. Some of my disappointment with watching The Wrestler a second time might reasonably be credited to my own huge disappointment in there not being any bonus materials on the DVD. I heard that there was some stuff on the Blu-Ray. Fuck you, technology. It's way too soon to be neglected the DVD. But to the point, there aren't a lot of recent movies I can think of that I would be more excited to go through the bonus materials than this one. And nothing. A commentary track with Aronofsky and Rourke (maybe even through in whoever was responsible for the wrestling realism) would be gold. A look into the lives of former pro wrestlers, and how their stories relate to The Ram's would be gold. Even just a stock making-of would be great. Come on, guys.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
