So, I’m supposed to start a new weekly editorial series in a couple weeks. I’ll have a platform to write just about whatever I want as long as I can somewhat relate it to film. Or, at least that’s what I’m hoping for, but it remains to be seen if that becomes reality. I have these warped ideas of what I will write about, and it is possible (read: very likely) they will all be denied and I will be forced to resort to writing the same kind of film analysis as the other “film critics” or else be kicked out entirely.
Fear and Loathing? The good kind of insane paranoid cinematic adventure. A Scanner Darkly? Much more tedious. Druggies do love spastically talking until they fall asleep or fall into their next drug induced stupor, and while it can be entertaining for a while to watch someone unhinged from reality, it does get to be a bit grating. These people need too much care and attention and constant babying – which I thoroughly detest. I don’t want to have to baby a person who isn’t a baby or an invalid or elderly or having any good reason for needing to be babied.
We’re not necessarily even talking about just drug users who find themselves in the midst of a bad trip or partiers who find themselves retching up their dinner into a back alleyway corner or, if they’re lucky, a toilet. Let’s also throw those perennial “needy” people into the mix. The people who just can’t seem to function without your help.
8.5/10 – Grilled Seal of Approval
In honor of the college friends in Kicking and Screaming who cannot seem to move on from each other and begin their lives, let’s take roll call for my own motley bunch of loons who are my regular drinking mates and romantic misadventure confidantes. And, unlike the character’s of Baumbach’s debut, they have all (unsurprisingly) led very successful lives upon finishing college.
We tend to have the good luck/misfortune of being referred to by other people as “the guys from Africa” or “the African guys.” Africa was the name of our college house during senior year. The name could be (and often is) misconstrued as something racial, but, in actuality, we were just paying homage to a song we could all agree was awesome – the 80s hit of the same name by soft rockers Toto – and then the name stuck. Go figure.
As a ghost, I spent most of my time haunting the hallways and flitting between cliques with enough frequency that none would ever be able to accurately recall if I was there or not, so I was ecstatic to reach my fourth year of high school – senior year – when I would only be required to attend a half days worth of classes before I would be allowed to run, jump, and skip down the hallway and out the door to the parking lot and to my car and into it and out and away from that fucking waste of a place that occupied less of my mind while I attended than it does now.
It’s summer and I’ve just finished cutting the grass and I’m lying on my back with my sunglasses on wearing my ripped checkered stained shorts I always wear when I do lawn work and no shirt and a bunch of tan lines that represent I’ve spent the summer working outside for prolonged moments during the hottest points of the summertime day.
I could dive into the sky and the blue would barely register a ripple, but today I’m content to gaze up and into its expanse and wonder when the whole thing will come crashing down upon me. I grow smaller or the blades of the grass grow taller and I find myself sinking deep into my lawn – the stalks rise like a forest of green Greek pillars and I tumble further and further into their embrace.
9/10 – Grilled Seal of Approval
So! Three days down at my new internship and we’ve reached the weekend. (Remember I’m writing these from the future – *Twilight Zone Music* Do Do Do Do Dooo.)
I have a 1.5 hour bus ride in the morning and a 1.5 hour bus ride in the evening, and in both of those times I get the lovely chance to witness my fellow New York Bound/ New Jersey Returning worker bees trying to get a few moments of rest or skipping ahead on their workload or catching up on their workload or looking at porn on their computers or something else entirely.
“Back to wooork, back to wooork, to prove to the ‘rents I do more than lurkkk.” Sing it to the tune of “Back to school” from Billy Madison.
Well, tomorrow’s the day. I’m heading into New York to start an internship at a new video start-up. It’s been a while since I was in an “office” kind of setup, so hopefully I don’t trip and break a couple computers or pass out in the bathroom or do something else unfortunate. Onward and upward right? Perhaps if this goes well they will offer me a full-time job, but, hopefully, I will realize if an offer will come sooner rather than later seeing as it will cost me more to head into work then I will be receiving as a weekly stipend.
So, I took the Myers-Briggs personality test today and according to the test I am an ENTP. To that I resoundingly say, “Okay, maybe,” because I always kind of see myself in all of the personalities. That being said, the ENTP does seem to explain me a little better than I expected (or maybe my mind is just looking for answers and chooses to look at the results in a particular way).
Some things I learned about myself according to the test:
8.5/10 – Grilled Seal of Approval
Wong Kar-wai movies (well pretty much every beautifully exotic foreign film too, I guess) offer great incentives to get out of the country and head back to strange lands on the opposite side of the Earth. The brilliant lights and colors and sounds of Hong Kong blend together with stunning women and sweeping operatic scores and mafioso and it’s easy to imagine myself standing in the rain in the middle of a bustling unusual city crying and begging my former girlfriend or wife or love or lover to come down from her apartment so we can talk and repair the broken strands of Us. There’s almost always a scene in the heavy rain in these movies, but I’ve never cared strongly enough about a disintegrated relationship to stand outside and beg for a small glimpse of her formerly familiar eyes, so it’s odd I would imagine myself doing it in Asia.
I told one of my ex-girlfriends, “No one’s going to love you more than I do,” (I was listening to a lot of Band of Horses at the time) and, of course, at that time, in that room, with us on her bed and her mouth spilling out the words that were cutting us apart, sure, I believed it. She, on the other hand, instantly saw through my bullshit, and simply laughed. Not in a mean way like she was making fun of me, no, but in a way that signified she knew she had more knowledge of the situation and that she knew she was the most mature person in the room and the one required to make the decision that must be made. She wasn’t mad at me, if anything she felt sorry for me. She felt sorry I was older than her and a whole lot more emotionally stunted.
We’re gonna have to start putting the “auteur” title on Shane Carruth if he keeps this up. First Primer, then Upstream Color – quite the impressive one-two punch.
I reviewed Upstream Color a few days ago so just keep scrolling if you’re interested in my thoughts on that. As for Primer, no it isn’t as peculiar of a film as Upstream, but it is good. And as a debut it is very good. And as a film that was made for $7,000 it is very, very, fucking good.
But it really is a call to arms. It’s a loud heralding to greet the rising sun. It’s the head of a newborn poking through the amniotic sac. It’s a breath of fresh air in a room of rotting fruit. Or maybe I’m heaping too much praise upon it simply because I saw Upstream Color first and loved it and I expect great things to come from Carruth. Sure, it could be that, but the film is interesting in its own right, and it’s exciting to be present at the beginning of an artist’s career.