My excellent friend Willow and I went to see Jane Campion's new film, Bright Star. I noticed that it was playing at the Arclight in Hollywood on the midnight of its opening day, and thought it would be fun to see a late movie, for it's been ever so long since I've done anything like that. Well, you know, at least since Star Wars III. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I also knew that people who are in films often see their film or their "friends" in films at midnight showings at the Arclight in Hollywood, so I quietly hoped we might catch a glimpse of Paul Schneider, Abbie Cornish, or Ben Wishaw. I'm not afraid to admit that it would have been exciting, anyway. But, no matter, there were just four of us in the theater.
I have to admit, it's been a long time since I've seen any of Campion's films. There are even a few I haven't seen, like Holy Smoke, In the Cut, An Angel at my Table, or A Girl's Own Story. I didn't even really like Portrait of a Lady, except I thought it was beautiful. In spite of my lack of experience with Campion, I was very excited for Bright Star. I'm not really a huge fan of really long poems, but I love Keats's sonnets and shorter poems. I'd read a few of his letters included in the Longman Anthology of British Literature, but was unaware that he wrote love letters to anyone. Therefore, the subject matter intrigued me.
The film focuses mostly on Cornish's character Fanny Brawne. I love the way Campion does this. We identify with her as she becomes aware of her self as a creature who loves the beauty of words and human hearts, and not just fashion, and we also get to fall in love with her as Keats does, entering the world of romance alongside the utmost Romantic. Brilliant. As an interpretation of British literature that includes biographical material, I think this film is on par with The Hours. I am in awe of Campion; she investigates the idea of their affair exploring how it must have felt to be the being with whom the greatest, youngest Romantic poet is madly in love. What is that creature like? What is their relationship like? Campion makes it so simple; they are, it is, like us -- only imagined, so, more beautiful, and more accessible. The film rides the perilous line of fantasy and reality at exhilarating speed, and with unending amounts of grace.
The acting is so generous. Perhaps that is due to Campion's script, which is perfect, but I really felt that the silent bits were played with such vulnerability that I felt the players were truly opening up to us, and allowing themselves to let us witness the purity of the most intimate moments of our lives. I know it is going to sound awfully silly and selfish, but I often wish I could see myself at different moments in my life. The moment I first knew I was in love with a man, and he me. The moment I first felt my heart crack. I can remember these moments, but I wonder what they looked like. I know not half as beautiful as a Campion film set in the English countryside, but those moments are just as beautiful, and that is what this film does. It reminds you through utterly romantic artifice that those moments in your life were ideal. And she helps you not burst into a thousand pieces by only showing you a story about first love, and first loss. And maybe those are the most beautiful. This movie can convince you of that.
I think I'll see it again this week, by myself. Perhaps, as it so often occurs with love, the second time around will be different.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
What's so Great about it?
I suppose the title of this blog is still relevant; I am still in college. I am enrolled at Cypress for fall, and I am currently registered in a one unit P.E. class. We played ultimate Frisbee today. My team lost, which means we had to do 50 jumping jacks, 30 lunges, and 25 body builders, which are some sort of torturous things where you jump back and forth between a crouch and a plank position. Our team was made up of a lot of small people who tended to shy away from the Frisbee instead of catch it, plus the other team had a defender who is 6'3. I hate losing.
I should be working very hard to get into graduate school, but for some reason I keep letting things get in the way. The New Not-So-Great Depression is actually depressing. I feel really uncreative and unmotivated. I'm being really...I don't know. Whiny. Pathetic. Weenieish. Grouchy. Lazy. Scared. I feel so tired. I know that I go through waves of depression, especially when I don't have any imposed structure in my life. I've been thinking about returning to hair for the mean time, but I would hate to have to leave it again if I got accepted into a program. Not that I would overly miss the work, it's just that I would hate letting people down. People get very attached to their hairdressers, and it's a pain having to say goodbye. But money is money. It's so obscene.
Depression is, among other things, frightening. The psychological kind, I mean. There are so many things that I feel so very passionate about, but when I'm depressed it's as if they all lose their meaning and vibrancy. I get scared to return to an essay I've been working on when I'm depressed. What if I edit it according to my terrible mood? What if I decide to change direction on a whim? I have to hope that the evidence supporting my original ideas is strong enough to override my emotional flights of fancy. Maybe I just need to read something new. Sometimes that does the trick.
I did watch Chinatown and Easy Rider recently. Not exactly pick me ups, but so good. Chinatown is the finer film, if you ask me, but Easy Rider has its charms. I think I like Jack Nicholson's acting better in Easy Rider. I don't think Nicholson has a great range, and I don't know if I believe that he truly inhabits a character as much as takes you on thrill ride through that character's possibility, but he is glorious onscreen. I wish I had more to say about either film, but, if you couldn't tell, I'm kind of short on words these days. I loved seeing John Huston in Chinatown, and was reminded that I love film noir set in Los Angeles, like in Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity, and L.A. Confidential. With Easy Rider, well, I guess I had a harder time enjoying the film, as it is kind of a sad commentary on America. I suppose I enjoyed Peter Fonda the most, and his ridiculous but charming character, Captain America. His crying scene on the lap of that giant Madonna is pretty intense, made even more so when I watched the DVD's documentary and found out that Denis Hopper made him do that scene, even though Fonda had lost his own mother to suicide at the age of ten.
Powerful.
As I was watching the opening to Easy Rider, Todd wandered into the living room and said, over the now familiar Steppenwolf biker song, "Born to be Wild": Well. That's really all you need to see.
Looks like unhealthy cynicism is catching.
I should be working very hard to get into graduate school, but for some reason I keep letting things get in the way. The New Not-So-Great Depression is actually depressing. I feel really uncreative and unmotivated. I'm being really...I don't know. Whiny. Pathetic. Weenieish. Grouchy. Lazy. Scared. I feel so tired. I know that I go through waves of depression, especially when I don't have any imposed structure in my life. I've been thinking about returning to hair for the mean time, but I would hate to have to leave it again if I got accepted into a program. Not that I would overly miss the work, it's just that I would hate letting people down. People get very attached to their hairdressers, and it's a pain having to say goodbye. But money is money. It's so obscene.
Depression is, among other things, frightening. The psychological kind, I mean. There are so many things that I feel so very passionate about, but when I'm depressed it's as if they all lose their meaning and vibrancy. I get scared to return to an essay I've been working on when I'm depressed. What if I edit it according to my terrible mood? What if I decide to change direction on a whim? I have to hope that the evidence supporting my original ideas is strong enough to override my emotional flights of fancy. Maybe I just need to read something new. Sometimes that does the trick.
I did watch Chinatown and Easy Rider recently. Not exactly pick me ups, but so good. Chinatown is the finer film, if you ask me, but Easy Rider has its charms. I think I like Jack Nicholson's acting better in Easy Rider. I don't think Nicholson has a great range, and I don't know if I believe that he truly inhabits a character as much as takes you on thrill ride through that character's possibility, but he is glorious onscreen. I wish I had more to say about either film, but, if you couldn't tell, I'm kind of short on words these days. I loved seeing John Huston in Chinatown, and was reminded that I love film noir set in Los Angeles, like in Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity, and L.A. Confidential. With Easy Rider, well, I guess I had a harder time enjoying the film, as it is kind of a sad commentary on America. I suppose I enjoyed Peter Fonda the most, and his ridiculous but charming character, Captain America. His crying scene on the lap of that giant Madonna is pretty intense, made even more so when I watched the DVD's documentary and found out that Denis Hopper made him do that scene, even though Fonda had lost his own mother to suicide at the age of ten.
Powerful.
As I was watching the opening to Easy Rider, Todd wandered into the living room and said, over the now familiar Steppenwolf biker song, "Born to be Wild": Well. That's really all you need to see.
Looks like unhealthy cynicism is catching.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)