The awards season and the accolades it's received have brought Boyhood back into the limelight, making that piece I've been putting off for several months finally topical again.
I saw Boyhood back on August 30 at IFC. My immediate impression was that the existence of the film was quite a feat, but the film was not mind-blowing in and of itself. While the passive storytelling wasn't extraordinary per se, it was a demonstration of precisely what I love about Richard Linklater's work. His films explore the passage of time like no other filmmaker, and this project seemed like his ultimate experiment.
A lot of time has passed, obviously, between when I saw the movie and now, as I write about it, so I won't bother to list its many fine attributes or plot points, but one of the aspects of the film that has really stuck with me is Mason's characterization. I've heard that many critics, those both underwhelmed and awestruck, felt that Mason was hollow or completely reflective of his atmosphere, that he was too passive or poorly drawn to carry the film. I disagree. One thing I absolutely loved was that this was a true picture of an introverted character in film.
Though my circles were pretty universally in love with Boyhood, I've been hearing a lot of backlash about the film since the Oscar nominations and the Golden Globe wins. Of the most striking critiques, the one about how Boyhood doesn't capture or represent everyone's boyhood, just that of a Texan WASP, caught me a little off-guard. Of course this isn't supposed to be everyone's boyhood; it's just a boyhood. Was that not clear? Perhaps it's just because I'm a black woman and I'm used to watching and relating to others onscreen despite our most obvious differences, but I never assumed I was watching a stereotypical childhood unfolding onscreen before me. Mason's quiet demeanor was one of the most telltale signs for me that I wasn't just watching any kid grow up. Not to say that he was special, but it does seem like every other movie is pedaling a version of the hot-blooded American male that is assertive, loud, non-discerning, and decisive, not to mention white and mysteriously (financially) carefree.
So when I started making out the portrait of a quiet, thoughtful, hesitant kid, I found the idea of Mason refreshing. I also related to it, as someone who grew up with a similar demeanor, and I realized we don't see much of it in film.
Why is that? What other examples of quiet, thoughtful, observant (non-fantastical) characters do I have to relate to onscreen? It seems that they always have an extra characteristic tacked onto them, almost like a shorthand that makes them seem taciturn despite their necessary dialogue or explain their away their silence: the brooding hottie, a la James Dean, Gilmore Girls' Jess, or Steve McQueen's Bullitt; the depressive, like Paul Dano's Dwayne in Little Miss Sunshine; or the psychotic, from Javier Bardem's Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men to Norman Bates. (Let's table the fact that I couldn't think of any compelling quiet women characters to mention for another discussion.) None of those characters were quiet, thoughtful people who drank in their surroundings just because. Introverted people rarely have the time and space to fully develop onscreen.
I realize that it's much harder to fully develop a character with a rich inner dialogue than it is to create someone who is self-aware enough to just lay their thoughts bare to anyone who will listen. I recently saw Inherent Vice, and I thought Joanna Newsom's Sortilège was a really nice way to voice the inner essence or perhaps higher consciousness of a character. She serves as narrator as well, but she also allows Doc to be as thoughtful as he needs to be in the moment without him having to piece the puzzle together for the viewer himself. That said, all of those moments she was speaking as his conscience, she was doing just that—speaking. Boyhood was also a triumph in my eyes because there was so much space in which to think, to live, to soak up and experience time, just as Mason was doing.
Most viewers take for granted that onscreen characters are often telling us everything that they're feeling. Yes, it is a visual medium, and yes, we bestow awards on those actors who can best channel unexpected, raw, unfiltered emotion while speaking the words of the script. I totally support and understand that. But even emotions and gestures can be loud and attention-grabbing, especially when they are supposed to register what sometimes amount to sweeping changes over the course of a two-hour film. I really loved that Mason's character was able to be carved out of and through time through small, subtle reactions and events. Because we spent so much time with him over the course of twelve years of moments (and, of course, because of Richard Linklater's deft cinematic and storytelling choices), we are able to observe when he chooses to speak up and when he doesn't, when he chooses to actively take part in something and when he chooses to hang back and watch. And the film ends—appropriately, in my opinion—just as he is beginning to take those lessons and accumulated experiences and exercise some agency, as he goes off to college to explore the wilderness and begin to find the right words to say aloud.
I agree that Boyhood is a feat, and that time is really the essence of all of its grandeur: the very idea of the project, the commitment of the cast and crew to such a long undertaking, the passage of time made visible, and the fact that it was finished at all are all impressive successes in their own rights. But I want to also give credit to the kind of characterization that is uniquely possible with this type of project. I was struck by something Ethan Hawke said in a recent interview with Terry Gross on Fresh Air, that real formative moments don't often happen in the blink of an eye or at one important turn of events; impressions are absorbed and then harden into thoughts and feelings over time, and those thoughts and feelings grow into the building blocks of what we believe as teens, students, and adults. The temporal space of the film gives Mason's character room to breathe and form as slowly as personality realistically does, especially for a quiet, thoughtful person as he turned out to be.
Showing posts with label getting older. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting older. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Do the Hokey Pokey
February 11, 2014
Something's not right. As I sat in bed last night reading Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones (a long overdue read for someone who devoted so many years to studying China and the Chinese language), I was finally able to put words to the creeping feeling I've been getting for the past few months. I miss thinking. I miss thinking critically. And working in video production isn't providing this important need for me.
SM and I waded through accumulated, muddled feelings together to get down to the root causes. When I was in college, my intention was to use my skills both technical and mental, to think and do, in the world of media. I was drawn to cinematography because of the combination of technical precision and big picture grasp of art, of art and science, that was intrinsic to the work. But after it became apparent how quickly film as a medium was waning in the industry, I lost hope that the technical skill of video would measure up to that of film. Instead I turned to producing because I would be able to stimulate both sides of myself if I applied my skills to organizing and thinking through the creative process. I thought that with the right partners in the creative realm, I'd be able to both think and do.
I've always been most comfortable in a supporting role. I've never been the writer/director type; instead I've always said that I'm the one who helps translate other people's visions to reality. Additionally, I want my work to mean something to others, to help on another level by informing and educating others. It's one reason why I was attracted to documentaries and non-fiction production. Fiction film, on the other hand, seemed more selfish for me to actually take part in. Obviously I love fiction films, and I think there's a lot there to think about (hence this blog), but when taking part in a fiction production, part of me can't fully commit because I don't believe I'm contributing to society. Part of me wishes that I could be an artist who is compelled to make art and thus justify bringing in tens of people to execute my visions. The same goes for thinking about going to back to school for film theory. But that's just not me. It's an odd desire, but I wanted to help someone else help the world.
My dream job used to be working at Sesame Street. I wanted to create the content that would help kids learn and be ready for school, just as Sesame Workshop's mission states. The catch is that I wanted to create that content in every sense of the word. I wanted to be Joan Ganz Cooney and Jim Henson. But those jobs don't exist, less now than ever. Sesame Street's production is actually done by a few third party production companies, where shooting and editing content is divorced from its conception, writing, and even puppeteering. It's been a real example of the market for video for me, a telling dead end on the path toward my non-existent ideal occupation.
At this point arriving at this conclusion, that I can't really tell someone else's story or explain someone else's information without ceding some control of the full capacity of my brain power, seems like common sense. It's hard to do and think critically on behalf of someone else, especially in such a specialized and growing industry. But I guess I had my hopes up because I was looking for a place where I could put my whole self into my work.
It's interesting how each step of my career has been a test to drill down to what I'm really looking for. When I was in college, I was running on all cylinders, nurturing my mind in all aspects as I learned about film theory and history along with the technical aspects of film production. When I moved into my first full time position, I continued to feed my curiosity through the content I was working on, even while the rigor of production wasn't too demanding. It was moving away from the engaging material and leaning solely on my production skills that started me questioning whether or not this was my calling. "Okay, so it's the content I'm missing," I thought. "I need to find a place where my approach, where critical thinking, will be valued as an asset." But the catch is that more I look (and this is an experiment conducted over 8 months of unemployment and then some), the more I'm beginning to think such a place doesn't exist. Furthermore, even if I were to find a few like-minded people and start my own venture, I'm not sure our niche would even be seen as a marketable edge over the competition. It's just not what the people want.
So, forget what the people want; what do I want? I want to help people. I want to think critically and do good. I want to use my whole self.
For these and other reasons I am aching to go back to school. I want to learn something new, and then I want to apply it in a realm that needs my assistance. I have always been interested in how things work and how things can run in the most efficient and best way possible, and I have also always been interested in applying such questions to people. It's part of what I wanted to bring to cinematography, to understand how characters were thinking and to help convey that to viewers. My new path is toward understanding the human mind and helping them through therapy and counseling, as counselors have helped me. Furthermore, I hope that by going into a profession that offers more stability both in my mind and in my bank account I will also be able to better pursue my interests in video, to actually afford to buy my own camera and to go to the movies and think about film in ways that I can't while spending time hustling for rent and happiness—always doing and rarely thinking as much as I would like.
Something's not right. As I sat in bed last night reading Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones (a long overdue read for someone who devoted so many years to studying China and the Chinese language), I was finally able to put words to the creeping feeling I've been getting for the past few months. I miss thinking. I miss thinking critically. And working in video production isn't providing this important need for me.
SM and I waded through accumulated, muddled feelings together to get down to the root causes. When I was in college, my intention was to use my skills both technical and mental, to think and do, in the world of media. I was drawn to cinematography because of the combination of technical precision and big picture grasp of art, of art and science, that was intrinsic to the work. But after it became apparent how quickly film as a medium was waning in the industry, I lost hope that the technical skill of video would measure up to that of film. Instead I turned to producing because I would be able to stimulate both sides of myself if I applied my skills to organizing and thinking through the creative process. I thought that with the right partners in the creative realm, I'd be able to both think and do.
I've always been most comfortable in a supporting role. I've never been the writer/director type; instead I've always said that I'm the one who helps translate other people's visions to reality. Additionally, I want my work to mean something to others, to help on another level by informing and educating others. It's one reason why I was attracted to documentaries and non-fiction production. Fiction film, on the other hand, seemed more selfish for me to actually take part in. Obviously I love fiction films, and I think there's a lot there to think about (hence this blog), but when taking part in a fiction production, part of me can't fully commit because I don't believe I'm contributing to society. Part of me wishes that I could be an artist who is compelled to make art and thus justify bringing in tens of people to execute my visions. The same goes for thinking about going to back to school for film theory. But that's just not me. It's an odd desire, but I wanted to help someone else help the world.
My dream job used to be working at Sesame Street. I wanted to create the content that would help kids learn and be ready for school, just as Sesame Workshop's mission states. The catch is that I wanted to create that content in every sense of the word. I wanted to be Joan Ganz Cooney and Jim Henson. But those jobs don't exist, less now than ever. Sesame Street's production is actually done by a few third party production companies, where shooting and editing content is divorced from its conception, writing, and even puppeteering. It's been a real example of the market for video for me, a telling dead end on the path toward my non-existent ideal occupation.
At this point arriving at this conclusion, that I can't really tell someone else's story or explain someone else's information without ceding some control of the full capacity of my brain power, seems like common sense. It's hard to do and think critically on behalf of someone else, especially in such a specialized and growing industry. But I guess I had my hopes up because I was looking for a place where I could put my whole self into my work.
It's interesting how each step of my career has been a test to drill down to what I'm really looking for. When I was in college, I was running on all cylinders, nurturing my mind in all aspects as I learned about film theory and history along with the technical aspects of film production. When I moved into my first full time position, I continued to feed my curiosity through the content I was working on, even while the rigor of production wasn't too demanding. It was moving away from the engaging material and leaning solely on my production skills that started me questioning whether or not this was my calling. "Okay, so it's the content I'm missing," I thought. "I need to find a place where my approach, where critical thinking, will be valued as an asset." But the catch is that more I look (and this is an experiment conducted over 8 months of unemployment and then some), the more I'm beginning to think such a place doesn't exist. Furthermore, even if I were to find a few like-minded people and start my own venture, I'm not sure our niche would even be seen as a marketable edge over the competition. It's just not what the people want.
So, forget what the people want; what do I want? I want to help people. I want to think critically and do good. I want to use my whole self.
For these and other reasons I am aching to go back to school. I want to learn something new, and then I want to apply it in a realm that needs my assistance. I have always been interested in how things work and how things can run in the most efficient and best way possible, and I have also always been interested in applying such questions to people. It's part of what I wanted to bring to cinematography, to understand how characters were thinking and to help convey that to viewers. My new path is toward understanding the human mind and helping them through therapy and counseling, as counselors have helped me. Furthermore, I hope that by going into a profession that offers more stability both in my mind and in my bank account I will also be able to better pursue my interests in video, to actually afford to buy my own camera and to go to the movies and think about film in ways that I can't while spending time hustling for rent and happiness—always doing and rarely thinking as much as I would like.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Stasis
Shuffle this evening:
Ryan Adams - This House Is Not For Sale
Sufjan Stevens - Holland
The Magnetic Fields - Meaningless
Snoop Dogg - Beautiful
Battles - Snare Hanger
There is a point at which one's music library ceases to collect and hardens into a time capsule. I'm beginning to think now is that time.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Graduate
One of my friends recently saw The Graduate for the first time, and sent two of us an email about it. DS and I had two separate but perhaps complementary ideas about the aims and ending of the film. I thought y'all might find this interesting. Below I've pasted our emails, spelling/grammar mistakes and all. What do you think?
Subject: The Graduate
------------------------
From: JW
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 12:25 AM
To: TS, DS
From: DS
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:04 PM
To: JW
Cc: TS
The way I read it was as a subltey creepy and perhaps solipsistic pursuit and ending. The very last shot is the most damning one of the film, they're on the bus, grinning, not talking, consigned to spending the rest of each others lives together in relative alienation. I don't remember exactly, but aren't they surrounded by old, decrepit couples on the bus?
To me that's the central concern of Dustin Hoffman's character, the fear of the alienation of being an adult and entering the modern world of wage labor and shallow relationships, (like the oedipal one he has with Mrs. Robinson.) Hello darkness my old friend indeed.
----------
From: TS [Me]
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:55 PM
To: DS
Cc: JW
I haven't seen the movie in a while, but I'd always read the end as a testament to his persistent immaturity and as a damning realistic take on romance. Ben spends most of the movie in over his head without doing much about it: he doesn't know what he's doing with his life after school; he falls into an affair, more out of curiosity and laziness than anything else, while not making any career moves; and then he finally finds something in his life to latch after he connects with Elaine, but he finds he doesn't know how to go about it. His relationship with Elaine is the first thing he has been forced to fight for, and he goes about it with no grace whatsoever. I don't think they were meant to be romantic as much as clumsy and embarrassing. He's lucky Elaine likes him at all, because he played all the wrong cards. By the time they leave the wedding and get on the bus, I think they're both faced with those facts: wow, this tactic worked...what now? He's over his head again, and she's stuck with the guy who acted the way he did, on all counts (banged his mom, took her to a strip club to turn her off of himself, pursued her to Berkeley, etc.). Lots of movies have their characters do these ridiculous things, and they're rewarded for it without stepping back to think, hm, what does it really mean to be the person who does that kind of thing? Though the rom com in its current form didn't exist back then, the grand "romantic" gestures sure did, and I saw this movie as a contrasting reality check to those gestures. We're supposed to feel a bit creeped out, I think. Also, keep in mind that this is Dustin Hoffman here: the original beta male, he became known for playing complicated, yet somehow likeable underdog characters. He wasn't Robert Redford or Warren Beatty, and I think this peculiar star status lends itself to the role.
These are just impressions I remember from my last viewing. I also like [DS]'s reading of the film.
******************************
If you guys have other readings of the film, let me know in the comments below.
Subject: The Graduate
------------------------
From: JW
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 12:25 AM
To: TS, DS
Just watched The Graduate for the first time and I was curious whether
the scenes with Ben pursuing Elaine were meant to be creepy or
romantic or neither? Obviously to modern sensibilities he's quite the
stalker but perhaps in the 60s following a girl around was seen as
romantic? Certainly she does end up reciprocating...
J
----------the scenes with Ben pursuing Elaine were meant to be creepy or
romantic or neither? Obviously to modern sensibilities he's quite the
stalker but perhaps in the 60s following a girl around was seen as
romantic? Certainly she does end up reciprocating...
J
From: DS
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:04 PM
To: JW
Cc: TS
The way I read it was as a subltey creepy and perhaps solipsistic pursuit and ending. The very last shot is the most damning one of the film, they're on the bus, grinning, not talking, consigned to spending the rest of each others lives together in relative alienation. I don't remember exactly, but aren't they surrounded by old, decrepit couples on the bus?
To me that's the central concern of Dustin Hoffman's character, the fear of the alienation of being an adult and entering the modern world of wage labor and shallow relationships, (like the oedipal one he has with Mrs. Robinson.) Hello darkness my old friend indeed.
From: TS [Me]
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2011 at 4:55 PM
To: DS
Cc: JW
I haven't seen the movie in a while, but I'd always read the end as a testament to his persistent immaturity and as a damning realistic take on romance. Ben spends most of the movie in over his head without doing much about it: he doesn't know what he's doing with his life after school; he falls into an affair, more out of curiosity and laziness than anything else, while not making any career moves; and then he finally finds something in his life to latch after he connects with Elaine, but he finds he doesn't know how to go about it. His relationship with Elaine is the first thing he has been forced to fight for, and he goes about it with no grace whatsoever. I don't think they were meant to be romantic as much as clumsy and embarrassing. He's lucky Elaine likes him at all, because he played all the wrong cards. By the time they leave the wedding and get on the bus, I think they're both faced with those facts: wow, this tactic worked...what now? He's over his head again, and she's stuck with the guy who acted the way he did, on all counts (banged his mom, took her to a strip club to turn her off of himself, pursued her to Berkeley, etc.). Lots of movies have their characters do these ridiculous things, and they're rewarded for it without stepping back to think, hm, what does it really mean to be the person who does that kind of thing? Though the rom com in its current form didn't exist back then, the grand "romantic" gestures sure did, and I saw this movie as a contrasting reality check to those gestures. We're supposed to feel a bit creeped out, I think. Also, keep in mind that this is Dustin Hoffman here: the original beta male, he became known for playing complicated, yet somehow likeable underdog characters. He wasn't Robert Redford or Warren Beatty, and I think this peculiar star status lends itself to the role.
These are just impressions I remember from my last viewing. I also like [DS]'s reading of the film.
******************************
If you guys have other readings of the film, let me know in the comments below.
Monday, January 17, 2011
A Post for JK: The List Issue
Some people hate lists. Admittedly, as I peruse my Google Reader every morning, the Top 5s or Top 10s give off a faint waft of desperation, a thinly-veiled call for more traffic on a website before they go all out and post a video. We all have to admit, though, that the ploy works. People are interested in spite of themselves.
Of course there are others who thrive on lists. This is my camp. There is so much information one can gather about yourself and others from a list-making session with friends. My favorite lists are those that smack of sharply personal preference, the ones that hint at an involved back-story or require an impassioned defense. I also enjoy the time capsule dimension of list-making; like Rob in High Fidelity (also, Rob's creator, Nick Hornby), I recognize the value of grooming one's lists and keeping them updated with one's current state of mind. They are always cumulative of your experiences until that point -- what you choose to remember and what you have since forgotten -- which is so interesting to think about: is the new roster a complete overhaul from the last? When did this element become a mainstay for nostalgia's sake as opposed to an earnest addition? Sometimes I like looking back on them to see what my limits were at the time or where I'd been. Sometimes it's a more tangible manifestation of my interests. I've encapsulated my current views below. There is no order to these rankings, and they are all subject to change, of course.
My top 5 books thus far (no order)
In the Heart of the Sea
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
East of Eden
The Once and Future King
Lord of the Flies
HM: A Farewell to Arms
Top 5 favorite authors
John Steinbeck
Jack Kerouac
Michael Chabon
J.D. Salinger
Doris Kearns Goodwin
My favorite movies of all time thus far (no order)
Pather Panchali (India, dir. Satyajit Ray, 1955)
The Passenger (Italy, dir. Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1975)
Apocalypse Now (USA, dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Les Enfants du Paradis (France, dir. Marcel Carné, 1945)
Bringing Up Baby (USA, dir. Howard Hawks, 1938)
Breaking Away (USA, dir. Peter Yates, 1979)
Top 5 favorite cinematographers
Vittorio Storaro
Ellen Kuras
Haskell Wexler
Robert Elswit
Ernest Dickerson
HM: Subatra Mitra, Roger Deakins
Top 5 favorite bands of the 1990s (no order)
Alice in Chains
Soundgarden
Built to Spill
Beck
Radiohead
HM: The Sea and Cake, Stone Temple Pilots
Top 5 favorite contemporary bands
The National
OK Go
Vampire Weekend
The Black Keys
Spoon
HM: Animal Collective (but they haven't put out anything new since 2009, and I didn't like MPP nearly as much as anything they'd put out previously) and Wolf Parade
Top 5 favorite contemporary artists that aren't bands
Santigold
LCD Soundsystem
Jill Scott
Erykah Badu
Mayer Hawthorne
Top 10 favorite albums of all time
Graceland - Paul Simon
Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
A Love Supreme - John Coltrane
Kid A - Radiohead
The Band - The Band
Brothers and Sisters - Allman Brothers Band
Feels - Animal Collective
Rumours - Fleetwood Mac
Billy Breathes - Phish
Weezer (Blue) - Weezer
Note: there's no Beatles album here for fear that the debate would turn into a completely separate post. There's a Beatles album for whatever mood I'm in: looking for all killer, no filler pop? Rubber Soul. A crazy awesome wannabe concept album? Sgt. Pepper. A great transitional album into the world of weird? Revolver. The problem with these judging and ranking these albums for me is the trade off between albums of all 4-star songs, like Rubber Soul, or an album full of plenty of 5-star songs among a glut of 3-star songs. It's a long debate, and I don't want to get into it...yet.
Favorite opening tracks
All I Want - Joni Mitchell - Blue
The Boy in the Bubble - Paul Simon - Graceland
Airbag - Radiohead - OK Computer
Everything in Its Right Place - Radiohead - Kid A
The Song Remains the Same - Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy
The King of Carrot Flowers Pt 1. - Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Poppies - Marcy Playground - Marcy Playground
Angel - Massive Attack - Mezzanine
Taxman - Beatles - Revolver
Pt. 1: Acknowledgment - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Favorite closing tracks
Turn Into Something - Animal Collective - Feels
A Day in the Life - The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper
Sweet Lil Gal - Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Pt. 3: Pursuance/Pt. 4: Psalm - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Tomorrow Never Knows - The Beatles - Revolver
Top 5 favorite Beatles songs
Rain
Paperback Writer
It's All Too Much
Dear Prudence
Don't Let Me Down
Feel free to challenge me on any of these. What's on your favorites lists?
Of course there are others who thrive on lists. This is my camp. There is so much information one can gather about yourself and others from a list-making session with friends. My favorite lists are those that smack of sharply personal preference, the ones that hint at an involved back-story or require an impassioned defense. I also enjoy the time capsule dimension of list-making; like Rob in High Fidelity (also, Rob's creator, Nick Hornby), I recognize the value of grooming one's lists and keeping them updated with one's current state of mind. They are always cumulative of your experiences until that point -- what you choose to remember and what you have since forgotten -- which is so interesting to think about: is the new roster a complete overhaul from the last? When did this element become a mainstay for nostalgia's sake as opposed to an earnest addition? Sometimes I like looking back on them to see what my limits were at the time or where I'd been. Sometimes it's a more tangible manifestation of my interests. I've encapsulated my current views below. There is no order to these rankings, and they are all subject to change, of course.
My top 5 books thus far (no order)
In the Heart of the Sea
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
East of Eden
The Once and Future King
Lord of the Flies
HM: A Farewell to Arms
Top 5 favorite authors
John Steinbeck
Jack Kerouac
Michael Chabon
J.D. Salinger
Doris Kearns Goodwin
My favorite movies of all time thus far (no order)
Pather Panchali (India, dir. Satyajit Ray, 1955)
The Passenger (Italy, dir. Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1975)
Apocalypse Now (USA, dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Les Enfants du Paradis (France, dir. Marcel Carné, 1945)
Bringing Up Baby (USA, dir. Howard Hawks, 1938)
Breaking Away (USA, dir. Peter Yates, 1979)
Top 5 favorite cinematographers
Vittorio Storaro
Ellen Kuras
Haskell Wexler
Robert Elswit
Ernest Dickerson
HM: Subatra Mitra, Roger Deakins
Top 5 favorite bands of the 1990s (no order)
Alice in Chains
Soundgarden
Built to Spill
Beck
Radiohead
HM: The Sea and Cake, Stone Temple Pilots
Top 5 favorite contemporary bands
The National
OK Go
Vampire Weekend
The Black Keys
Spoon
HM: Animal Collective (but they haven't put out anything new since 2009, and I didn't like MPP nearly as much as anything they'd put out previously) and Wolf Parade
Top 5 favorite contemporary artists that aren't bands
Santigold
LCD Soundsystem
Jill Scott
Erykah Badu
Mayer Hawthorne
Top 10 favorite albums of all time
Graceland - Paul Simon
Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
A Love Supreme - John Coltrane
Kid A - Radiohead
The Band - The Band
Brothers and Sisters - Allman Brothers Band
Feels - Animal Collective
Rumours - Fleetwood Mac
Billy Breathes - Phish
Weezer (Blue) - Weezer
Note: there's no Beatles album here for fear that the debate would turn into a completely separate post. There's a Beatles album for whatever mood I'm in: looking for all killer, no filler pop? Rubber Soul. A crazy awesome wannabe concept album? Sgt. Pepper. A great transitional album into the world of weird? Revolver. The problem with these judging and ranking these albums for me is the trade off between albums of all 4-star songs, like Rubber Soul, or an album full of plenty of 5-star songs among a glut of 3-star songs. It's a long debate, and I don't want to get into it...yet.
Favorite opening tracks
All I Want - Joni Mitchell - Blue
The Boy in the Bubble - Paul Simon - Graceland
Airbag - Radiohead - OK Computer
Everything in Its Right Place - Radiohead - Kid A
The Song Remains the Same - Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy
The King of Carrot Flowers Pt 1. - Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Poppies - Marcy Playground - Marcy Playground
Angel - Massive Attack - Mezzanine
Taxman - Beatles - Revolver
Pt. 1: Acknowledgment - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Favorite closing tracks
Turn Into Something - Animal Collective - Feels
A Day in the Life - The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper
Sweet Lil Gal - Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Pt. 3: Pursuance/Pt. 4: Psalm - John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
Tomorrow Never Knows - The Beatles - Revolver
Top 5 favorite Beatles songs
Rain
Paperback Writer
It's All Too Much
Dear Prudence
Don't Let Me Down
Feel free to challenge me on any of these. What's on your favorites lists?
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Another Year, Another Imminent Thanksgiving
This weekend I went to two different birthday parties where two of my friends were turning 27. You know what's weird? I remember my mom's 27th birthday party. I was 5.
My parents got married at 21 and 20 years old. They're not terrible people by any means (well...), but there are some things that don't need repeating, so in some respects I want to take their model and set it on its head. When I turned 21, I said to my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get married. Should be pretty simple. It was. Check. My mom had me when she was 22. Out of the question. On my 22nd birthday, I told my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get preggers. A little bit riskier, a tad harder than last year's goal, but certainly doable. I passed with flying colors. With those two hurdles cleared, each subsequent birthday diverges more and more from the model. In a month I turn 25. I was 3 years old, reading, and almost off to preschool by this point in my mom's life. At 25, my mom had 2 kids and was on her way to the third, so as long as I don't have twins or triplets in the next year, I'll be golden.
But seriously, though, I'm getting to an age where I not only existed but actually remember existing when my parents were at the very same point. So many things are becoming clearer, so many of their choices demystified, so much of our financial woes justified. As much as I joke about not wanting to follow in my parents' footsteps, I have to give them mad kudos for raising me and my siblings, maintaining a home for us, sending us to private schools, etc. I certainly couldn't have done it. Imagining me sending a kid off to school every morning in the next year of my life seems beyond belief.
When I was younger, I always wanted to be the young mom who had a lot of energy for her kids and was still very much in touch with her younger years, like my mom was for me. As I grew older I realized how ridiculous that was, how different my circumstances had to be, and how insane it was for my parents to have found each other ready and willing to go forward with such a life, fully believing that they would succeed. (Together they lovingly dreamed of having 10 kids! WTF. Imagining having a similar conversation with SM is laughable on many levels.) And succeed they did (for the most part). They raised 6 great, smart, mostly obedient kids with very little money, many hard times, but always high expectations. They both had guts and determination and instinct that I will be lucky to ever possess. As Thanksgiving approaches, I am so grateful that they did so well for all of us. And I'm grateful I don't have kids.
My parents got married at 21 and 20 years old. They're not terrible people by any means (well...), but there are some things that don't need repeating, so in some respects I want to take their model and set it on its head. When I turned 21, I said to my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get married. Should be pretty simple. It was. Check. My mom had me when she was 22. Out of the question. On my 22nd birthday, I told my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get preggers. A little bit riskier, a tad harder than last year's goal, but certainly doable. I passed with flying colors. With those two hurdles cleared, each subsequent birthday diverges more and more from the model. In a month I turn 25. I was 3 years old, reading, and almost off to preschool by this point in my mom's life. At 25, my mom had 2 kids and was on her way to the third, so as long as I don't have twins or triplets in the next year, I'll be golden.
But seriously, though, I'm getting to an age where I not only existed but actually remember existing when my parents were at the very same point. So many things are becoming clearer, so many of their choices demystified, so much of our financial woes justified. As much as I joke about not wanting to follow in my parents' footsteps, I have to give them mad kudos for raising me and my siblings, maintaining a home for us, sending us to private schools, etc. I certainly couldn't have done it. Imagining me sending a kid off to school every morning in the next year of my life seems beyond belief.
When I was younger, I always wanted to be the young mom who had a lot of energy for her kids and was still very much in touch with her younger years, like my mom was for me. As I grew older I realized how ridiculous that was, how different my circumstances had to be, and how insane it was for my parents to have found each other ready and willing to go forward with such a life, fully believing that they would succeed. (Together they lovingly dreamed of having 10 kids! WTF. Imagining having a similar conversation with SM is laughable on many levels.) And succeed they did (for the most part). They raised 6 great, smart, mostly obedient kids with very little money, many hard times, but always high expectations. They both had guts and determination and instinct that I will be lucky to ever possess. As Thanksgiving approaches, I am so grateful that they did so well for all of us. And I'm grateful I don't have kids.
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