of films and, incidentally, the irish
ok, so, in america.
having served them up with some potatoes, i find my words to be quite tasty. let me elaborate.
i went to this movie mostly to spend time with my family, who i spend little time with since i'm usually busy doing, uh, other stuff. i donno. whatever the case, i was certianly not on the "edge of my seat," as it were, in anticipation, despite the fact that every review i'd heard ranged from spectacular to glowing. from what i'd gathered from previews, people talking, and plot summaries, i kind of assumed it was more or less a run-of-the-mill tear jerker. imagine my surprise when my mom cried at EVERYTHING. no, i'm just kidding. i wasn't watching mom cry over anything, because i was too busy watching the movie. much as it irks me to admit it, this was a very good movie. the cinematography wasn't much to shout about, but it was unquestionably at least a little able average, with a few scenes standing out. i speak specifically of the sequences wherein johnny and sarah rip of one another's clothes for a steamy evening of rumpy-pumpy, whilest tortured artiste mateo kind of, well, rips things, and bleeds (i think) on some canvas. although really, they're closer to "making love" than they are to rumpy-pumpy, but i get nervous when people talk about making love. it makes me think of romance novels which, while fun to read, make me feel kind of like i do when i've eaten two wendy's quater-pound deluze double-stack bugers in one sitting: fat, disgusting, and ashamed. back to the movie. this scene in particular stuck out to me, and not just because it featured people having sex. sex is cool and all, but what endeared this scene to me was how all the elements - sound fx, music, picture, sound, color - were woven together in a sare i say masterful way. unlike sex scenes in most movies, the director choose here not to make it your standard, steamy, my-pants-are-getting-tigher, these-actors-are-so-attractive-i-wish-it-was-like-this-when-i-had-sex-if-i-ever-had-sex. instead, the suddenly and choppy nature of the cuts, intersperesed with the violence of mateo slicing his paintings and the thunderous storm outside, as well as the music which, sadly, i can't quite remeber how to describe, imbued the sequence with a depth and complexity of feeling that many films seems to foregoe in the interest of making the audience cream their pants. i mentioned mateo's appartment a bit ago, in the context of that particular scene, but i'd like to return to it, becuase it represented something that, in respose, i recall about this film: an attention to color, especially in the interiors. when we first are intoduced to his character, and are given small glimpses into his life and, consequently, his appartment, it is a rich dark place, full of reds, blacks and earth tones; a sort of "dark continent," if you will, inside the appartment building. when the girls finally meet him, drawing him out of seclusion for trick or treat, the apartment opens up. it is not a mignola-esque abode shrouded in darkness, but relatively normal apartment, albeit strewn with the art supplies of a tourtured man. there is, in fact, light there, something we had previously not been privy to in this area of the world. you've probably already seen the connection here, but i'll spell it out, just cause i feel like it: the darkness and rich sense of color in his appartment before we are formaly introduced builds an image of mateo as mysterious, withdrawn, perhaps threatening, but certianly deep, with many layers; much like a parfait or onion. when light is forced into his life, and he opens up to the irish family living above him, the mysterious and threatening image is washed away, but some of it, along with the richness of character, linger, much like an afterimage when the lights are suddenly turned off. yes, i realize that's kind of opposite, but fuck you, it makes sense.
anyway, i'm going to talk more about this movie later on, but i think i'm going to let it stew for a while, and go out and paint the town purple (it was a joint descision) with kit. something to think about while i'm gone, if you happen to read this:
this morning the shower (ew), i realized something: y tu mama tambian is kind of like a mexican chasing amy. but while chasing amy has character and a radical concept called "characterization," your mama just has, well, fucking. anyway, think about it.
toodles.
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