I’ve been AWOL for a while, so I apologize for that.
I don’t have anything particularly meaningful to say about this film, but I had to start back up somewhere. Might as well be here.
I wish that The Wrestler had felt like this film. But I wish, also, that this film would’ve been less… triumphant. I am tired, I suppose, of the overwhelming need for things to be Bigger and Better. Why must everyone have a screaming success at the end? The American Dream? Something like that, I suppose. Even rockers want their white picket fence. It’s sad to know that things have to be such and thus, or no one can be happy.

Synecdoche, New York

30 November, 2008

I walked from the theater helpless and angry and blindly terrified of the world, of the unknowable future and the all too known past. There are so many mistakes made and so many yet to make. So many houses burning that we will refuse to leave until it is far too late.
And then I began to smile, and then I began to laugh. And I cursed Kaufman out of joy and I remembered where I am.

I don’t think I can write critically about this film unless I see it again. It’s possible that I can’t at all. But I have not seen anything that has left me feeling more filled with life in a very long time.

Dante Quartet

3 November, 2008

In four steps heaven and hell are decoded and laid bare, if you know how to see. There is terror and there is fear and there is joy and You are not sure from whence they come. There is not an ounce of truth in the separation, purgation is as harrowing as hell and heaven is as harrowing as both. And all are beautiful, all are light. Color. Rhythm. The endless pulsing of life on earth which, by including, negates death.

The Dante Quartet

Stellar

3 November, 2008

The sky is falling.
Imagine you are dead. You have died and heaven is at your fingertips. You have reached the apex of existence. Your existence.
Stan is still somewhere above you. Laughing.

Stellar

31/75: Asyl

3 November, 2008

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

Forest of Bliss

3 November, 2008

The trees of this forest have burned, and a red kite falls into the river.
The sacred and the profane are fucking in the corner.
Death is beginning to look like life, and a red kite falls into the river.

The film is possessed of a structure and cohesion that make it aesthetically inimitable. The interconnectedness of life- the looping, lyrical cycle of the world, from birth to death to rebirth and so on. There is nothing extra and nothing missing, all of the pieces are present and functioning in their capacity. Every interaction between parts of the whole is meaningful because it is required to be such- there is no differentiation between the parts of life because all of life is sacred. Death is treated with special reverence, but so is the crafting of playthings, the laughter of the elders, the play of children. Kites are constructed with the same care and worshipful attitude as funeral pyres, marigolds are tended with the same veneration as the candles of a shrine. Everything has its ritual and every ritual has its meaning, and through the rituals; be they holy or profane; transcendent existence can be achieved. The rituals possess meaning but they also create meaning where there would perhaps be none.
The film is beautiful in that it is unforced. Everything simply is, everything is allowed to exist and is inter-cut with a degree of grace that makes everything else in the world seem crass. The metaphors are not forced but are rather observed- there is no creation of metaphor, but rather an observant eye to catch the meanings that exist on another plane from the direct interaction with the world. The kites, especially the crash of a kite into the water at the moment a body is gently pushed in as well, could have become heavy handed or overwrought but instead are treated with delicacy. The entire cycle of life is laid bare in the city of Benares, it would seem. Everyone who cares to watch can see the progress of life through all of its stages. There is no hiding because there is nothing to hide- life and death are not private things to be hidden from and to hide away. Life is all there is, and death is only the beginning of new life, so there is no reason to fear the end. The end comes for all and all must eventually address it face to face. If it is present in all things, then it loses any association with fear, it loses all stigma. To face death with humility and acceptance rather than with fear and rejection seems to be a far more lucid understanding of the natural progression of things, and also to be a more mindful interaction with the course of life and the way of nature. There is a cycle, rather than a beginning and an end.
By treating his subject matter with a great deal of reverence and respect, Gardner is able to achieve something that is hard to deny; unflinchingly honest and thus incredibly moving. He says himself that there is a “phenomenon where actuality outperforms imagination, outfables the fabulous.” It is only through careful and deliberate removal of his own ego that he can find this phenomenon. He sets himself aside and allows the events of the world to transpire before him. He does not dictate but simply places himself in a situation where he will see things that will appeal to his aesthetic. There is less artifice here, and more art.

Forest of Bliss

Appaloosa

28 October, 2008

It’s not even worth making fun of it.
It’s just really bad. It tries, really hard, to be something that it just won’t succeed at.
And it steals, several times, from the score to Once Upon a Time in the West. Unacceptable.

Appaloosa

Aleksandra

28 October, 2008

All the color is drained from the world as all the promise is drained from the future in a place of persistent and inexplicable war.
It isn’t despair, it isn’t anything palpable. It simply is. Bleak and continual.

Aleksandra

There are things living in the walls, behind and under the world. They keep us moving, they keep us watching, they are waiting.

The Meaning of Life

26 October, 2008

Breathe. You are forgetting to breathe.