FilmVomit

Asyl is an examination of the fragmentary relationship between time and space and our existence within that. The delicate balancing act, the tenuous grasp one has on life. There is a creature-ness here, the aliveness of everything in relation to everything else. Every time of each place exists at once; the past, the present and the future coexist at each point. Every moment can be condensed into a single moment, every place can be condensed into a single place. Time and space are synonymous and moved through in an ever expanding path. There is no past nor is there a future, in essence. There is only here and now, an endless series of ‘here and now’s, strung together like beads on a string, like frames in a filmstrip. Film allows us to re-visit those ‘here and now’s inside of new ‘here and now’s, to experience anew the existence of some other person.

31/75: Asyl

I know that this isn’t really pertinent, but I loved the man, or at least his work. And so expect a whole bunch of Paul Newman movies to be reviewed shortly.

So here’s a list of the things I need to write about:
Immer Zu
The Secret Story
Pony Glass
Possessed
Rehearsals for Extinct Anatomies
No Country for Old Men
Hancock
Werckmeister Harmonies

I swear on something super special that I will get this done, soon.

this is an interlude. i owe some major updates, i’ve watched a lot and not written about it. but for the moment, check this:

i had an accident.

I’ve been trying to figure out what my problem was with this film. It’s gorgeous, absolutely. The story is charming, well-executed for the most part (though it lost track of itself at the end), full of quirky reflexivity and generally fitting into the same category as most films I enjoy. And yet, it felt lacking somehow. There is a certain self-consciousness to the film that makes it quaver where it ought to have conviction- a feeling that it, or Tarsem at least, is uncertain of its own charm and thus layers things on too thickly. Things get a bit heavy handed and gimmicky in places where they shouldn’t, and hold back in others when a bit of drama would be called for. And the last reel and a half, starting with the direct theft of the Brothers Quay’s Street of Crocodiles, is a bit unfortunate. Tarsem quoted the Quays in The Cell, quite effectively and with a great deal of love, so I am certain he meant no disrespect, but what he has done here is nothing short of plagiarism.
I suppose the real truth here is that I wanted to love this film, and I couldn’t. I was stuck at really liking it.

The only thing I watched today was my own footage. It’s quite beautiful, and I’m quite pleased. Perhaps someday I will actually make something from it. 

I would like to solicit suggestions from anyone who cares to tell me what to watch. Please leave them either as a reply on this post or send them to me via e-mail. striegl(at)gmail(dot)com.

What can I say about this film that I have not already said to someone, at some point?
I will never cease to be awestruck at the first sequence. As in every Western, it all comes down to land. And more importantly, to water, and who controls it.
I could go on in rapture over Charles Bronson’s face, over Henry Fonda’s eyes, over Jason Robard’s beautiful chops. Instead, though, I will leave you with this: The first time I saw this film, I knew nothing. When I left the screening, I knew even less. But the snow was falling and I was well and truly in love with celluloid.

C’era una volta il West

The two most recent films are pieces by the inimitable Stan Brakhage. It is possible to see them, on this collection. However, I use the DVD versions as a reference point, a form of recall to the screenings of the physical film I have seen. This is not to say that the DVD version is bad, it is simply diminished. Which, by the way, is how I feel about the DVD version of anything that is not mass-produced popcorn shlock.
That is all.

this is a placeholder. the actual entry will be long. but i did watch the film the other night.