14 posts tagged “flics”
Today was the last day of SIFF. I ushered at the Cinerama this time. I'd only been in this theater a couple of times: before its renovation, to see Shakes the Clown, and last July 4, shortly after the theater reopened, to see the Transformers movie on the huge wrap-around screen. (Note: neither of these are my kind of movie, but I'll see almost anything with my brother and sister-in-law, or within the early days of courtship.) During today's shift, I got to see two films (except the first 15 minutes of both, being on late seating detail).
Cherry Blossoms - Hanami won the overall festival audience favorite award and was also my favorite. I usually avoid movies about difficult family relationships and grieving, but am so very glad to have seen this one. I found it surprising, touching, lovely, and at times spine-tinglingly magical. A preview is available here.
Military thrillers are also not really my kind of movie. However, aside from several eye-averting and plug-your-ears sickening torture scenes, I enjoyed Les Femmes de l'Ombre (Female Agents) very much. It tells the story of five French women, working for the British Special Operations Executive (I'm probably saying this wrong) during WWII, on a mission to assassinate a Nazi officer who had been the lover of one of the five.
From earlier this week ... for any readers out there who are fans of Prairie Home Companion or rhubarb, I'd also like to give two enthusiastic thumbs up for Garrison Keillor: The Man on the Radio in the Red Tennis Shoes.
Those with an appreciation for gorgeous fair-haired people (sometimes nude), drug-smuggling thrillers, and/or beautiful islands in the Wadden Sea would probably enjoy Summer Heat. (Warning: it contains a gruesome attack on a birdwatcher by an owl.)
And finally, I found Jack Black much more appealing as a kung fu-fightin' panda than as a wielder of a guitar pick.
I loveloveloved Man on Wire. Philippe Petit is now among my art heroes, alongside Christo and Jeanne-Claude. [Common elements of these artists include careful engineering and rigging, temporary installations on famous structures, and doing it for the sheer beauty of it. Christo and Jeanne-Claude did (and are still doing) their thing legally, going through years and sometimes decades to obtain the appropriate permissions, resulting in large-scale works installed for a few weeks.] Philippe Petit approached his "installations" as capers, resulting in arrest after risking his life on the high wire. The documentary was a wonderful telling of his story by those who assisted him in his most famous wire-walk, between the top of the two towers of the former World Trade Center, as well as the man himself, still evidently spry and full of joie de vivre.
For those who don't want to wait for the movie, there is at least one book.
I do not like:
- Getting up at 5:30 a.m. to make a 7:00 physical therapy appointment.
- Wet shoes from the pouring rain.
- Having to interview intercity bus operators (nothing against them, only out of fear of talking to strangers on the phone).
- Most of the selections in the two short film packages I saw on Sunday. This year’s shorts curators at SIFF have tastes very unlike mine. Often disturbing tastes. [The ones I did like were the lushly animated Far from Ural, Night Vision (though I did not “get” it, it has such beautiful imagery), the hilarious The Tourists, and the surprise-ending un certain regard.] Dear SIFF marketers: please do not describe a shorts package using the words “road to happily-ever-after” and include stories about children in Ecuador becoming guerilla soldiers who shoot other children, a pedophile violating a little girl while she is feeding calves, or a seal-hunter coming upon a bloody neighbor-on-neighbor murder in the tundra. I feel scarred from seeing these two days later.
- The absence of crowd in the sculpture park on rainy Saturday, which I believe made small metal objects less effective than it would have been seeing it within a busy train station.
- Feeling so negative about the films and performance I saw this weekend.
I do like:
- My physical therapist, who has started me on the path the pain-free shoulderism and Audrey Hepburn posture.
- Finding a lucky breakfast of the stale peanut butter sandwich I failed to give away yesterday. (I did give one away, but packed two).
- Remembering to pack a fresh peanut butter sandwich for today (which might not find any takers in all this rain, but there is always breakfast tomorrow).
- Italo Calvino’s If on a winter’s night a traveler and Jonathan Carroll’s From the Teeth of Angels, both of which I finished this weekend. I started the Carroll book a couple of weeks ago, interrupted it to read the Calvino book, then resumed the Carroll book at a point where there was a coincidental parallel with the Calvino book – a woman exploring the book and music library of a man she loves in his absence. Both books also contain stories within stories (though they are actually related in the Carroll book).
- The documentary American Teen, which I was fortunate to see during my Saturday SIFF ushering shift.
- Buying some wonderful photos.
- The songs of Juana Molina.
Saturday I started SIFFing, at the Egyptian. I love this theater, set in a former Masonic temple.
I’m ushering a few times again this year. I ushered at last year’s festival hoping to meet like-minded people while lurking in darkened theaters. It’s not really a make-friends kind of activity, especially for one inclined to shyness, but I actually love the whole being part-of-the-crew-with-flashlight thing. Plus, in addition to earning vouchers for free films, you usually get to see most of the films going on during your shift. This means being exposed to films to which one might not otherwise be drawn.
Saturday’s shift started with A Man’s Job. I’ll just say that a sad Finnish film about a reluctant male prostitute is not exactly my cup of tea. After about 25 minutes I decided to sit this one out, found a cozy spot in the dim inner lobby, and started plotting out my film choices for the next three weeks.
In addition to words like “an unlikely career as a male prostitute opens up for Juha when he is laid off from the job he needed to support three young children and a depressed wife,” here are some words and phrases that are likely to scare me away from a film: stern family, horrific, seeks answers in drugs, nasty homicide, devastating consequences, suicide shatters the stasis... I know those kinds of films are going to be disturbing, and I am an unapologetic escapist when it comes to my movie choices.
On the other hand, I am attracted to these kinds of phrases:
- Beautifully photographed fable
- Gentle coming of age comedy
- Camp epic
- Oddball new girl
- Genre-busting fantasy-romance-horror
- Meditative, cartoonesque sketch
- A small village gets its panties in a twist when an elderly widow opens a lingerie boutique
- Preceded by the short film
- A magical blend of “Monsters Inc.” and Hayao Miyazaki
- Mountain bike ballet
- Sepia-toned homage to 1950s space operas
- The Russian Amèlie
This last phrase was in the description of Mermaid, which was the second film to overlap my first ushering shift. Mermaid was not Amèlie. It was a beautiful film, however. The similarities included lonely, introverted, highly imaginative young woman with an atypical socialization, a goldfish, a community of characters (though I found those in Mermaid to be less likeable than those in Amèlie), romantic awakening, walking and subway journeys around her city (Moscow). Mermaid’s Alisa has actual magical powers (if she wishes for something hard enough, it will happen) which are used destructively as a child, protectively as a young woman. She reads the signs within signs and finds and renders moments of whimsical joy into an otherwise depressing existence. There are many magical moments in the film, but overall it was quite sad. I actually missed the ending because another usher decided we needed to rally for ballot collection right at that moment, but I think it might have been tragic. In any case, I highly recommend Mermaid for anyone who might also be attracted by the words “fanciful urban fairy tale,” but go without the expectations of Amèlie’s feel-goodedness and the beauty of Paris, and prepare to be saddened.
Emerging from the theater into a glorious blue-sky day, I decided to head on over to Folklife after hitting the SIFF box office downtown. At the Seattle Center, I made the mistake of trying to cut across (instead of going around the outskirts of) Folklife to meet my brother and sister-in-law. It was so crowded, I couldn’t enjoy being there to hear music.
Here is a photo of the trash can need the roasted corn vendor, which is right next to the aloo chole vendor from whom I bought lunch/dinner.
After about an hour of wading through the oppressive crowds in search of a comfortable spot for listening, I decided to head on over to Ballard for the evening, first popping into Easy Street Records. Before leaving the festival, I watched the sessioning bluegrass musicians outside of the opera house on the edge of the Seattle Center grounds. The crowd here was thin and the impromptu music was wonderful. Then, after spending about 20 minutes and two hours wages in Easy Street, I hopped on the bus for Ballard, where I next hit Sonic Boom. While there, my brother called to make sure I wasn't involved in the shooting at Folklife. Yikes! I had been in the vicinity about half an hour before the incident occurred. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen in Seattle. I was glad to be off in Ballard.
My officemate's band, the Morning Glories, were quite good, and it was their first gig ever. I recognized the fiddle player as the banjo player busking at the U District farmers’ market early last month (though he played banjo for only one tune this evening). Mr. Spot's Chai House was as yummy as the music.
Sunday
- I awoke to find a cryptic voicemail from someone with an androgynous voice asking when his or her baby would be showing up. At 4:40 a.m. Wrong number, lady/dude.
- One-armed dance class was strange. I fear further imbalances doing only one side full-out.
- After class, walked with classmate/Wake dancer Jenny to the farmers’ market. She is so nice! I hope we will become better friends.
- Back home, while icing the right shoulder, I was able to navigate a bowl of arugula with a fork in the left hand. Awkwardly, but adequately.
- Planted basil: large-leaf Italian, opal (purple-leaf) and cinnamon basil (such fragrance!). My P-patch is booming now.
Speaking of Amèlie, I think I might need a gnome, like this one in a neighbor's patch:
- Strolled up one of the prettiest, quietest streets in my neighborhood, the one I wanted to I lived on. Heard the wind in the trees.
- Dinner of fettucine with fresh young garlic, tomato, and basil lightly sauteed in olive oil, topped with maple-smoked cheddar (not proper pasta cheese but that’s all I had on hand) and another salad of baby greens including dandelion leaves weeded from my own garden (eaten with the right hand this time). Two glasses of rosé and a quiet song and good sleep set in.
Monday
Girl cat plucks at sheet
Feed me now! she beckons, so
Sleep is put to rest.
Oh happy discovery: It is possible to read while moving on a machine in the fitness room. This will do wonders for my reading habit. Slim hardcovers seem to work best per print size and ability to lay flat on the reading ledge. Speaking of Amèlie, for soundtrack, Yann Tiersen works well with Jonathan Carroll.
This afternoon I made a half-hearted attempt to tidy up, singing (very badly) along with The Virginian and drinking a Moose Drool, feeling like a lush since I’ll also be having a beer with Karen tonight after the movies (including Dust, for which I am about to be late -- I will have a dust-related activity after all! followed by Milky Way). And then I get to write the work paper I will have successfully procrastinated all weekend. Ugg.
Postscript from the final throes of procrastination:
Dust was not as interesting as I had hoped. Milky Way was, and also a little unsettling. If I write more, I'll never get to my homework, so I'll leave it at that.
I do not like:
- Rescheduled appointment for shoulder pain (must wait extra week and resist urge to do added damage during that time), but it’s still good to know it’s gonna be looked at eventually.
- Muki’s breath.
- PMS. I think I’m ready for menopause. Bring it on.
- Feeling generally imbalanced.
I do like:
- The new Masterpiece Theatre production of A Room with a View.* The 1985 Merchant-Ivory film is one of my all-time favorite movies ever, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying this production very much. In mine humble opine, the young lead actors in the new production have a better chemistry than those in earlier film, though the film trumps with many more elements including Maggie Smith, the glorious shots of the Tuscan countryside (especially the one just before the storm), and Julian Sands’s tush in the “come and have a bathe” scene.
- The sidewalk across the street has finally been repaired.
- Gentle reality checks.
- Divine-brand 70% dark chocolate (most divine in the 1.5 oz size bar).
- Kale-pepperjack enchilada.
- SIFF starts next week. Yay!
*Forster is another writer whose stories I’ve tended to enjoy more on the screen than in reading, though now I’m in the mood to re-read this one.
Speaking of fiddlers, this evening I enjoyed learning a bit about some old timey music heroes at a presentation called Roots and Branches. The film clips shown included Jimmie Rogers, Jack Johnson, Dock Boggs, Rev. Gary Davis, Woodie Guthrie, Sam McGee, Doc Watson, Clarence Tom Ashley, and Bob Wills, with history and stories about the film clips from three very knowledgeable fellows (and musicians who I am quite ashamed to say I didn't stick around to listen to, but I am very sleepy tonight).
Ah, April, a month during which I wallow in romance for a place I've never even been. This involves bingeing on certain movies and their soundtracks, especially songs featuring accordions.
I watched Amélie something like six times on the big screen (as I recall that was during a December, but I still think of it as an aprily movie). Yann Tiersen's music is a major reason I love this film so much.
If there had been a convenient youtube clip with the blind accordion guy in Diva, he would have appeared here, too.
Cure for Friday evening wistfulness: see a very fine documentary about an incredibly complex handcrafted instrument.
I hope I dream tonight of mountains in mist, firefly spirits, and calligraphic characters flowing from my fingers. But not of the scary evil inky bug. I hope I dream of dense rain on pine, a moonlight rainbow, and a beautiful travelling bug master/healer guy. (impressions from Mushihi)
I hope I dream of fluttering pink petals and floating swirling gossamer goldfish. But not the mean ladies out for vengeance. (Sakuran)
I hope I dream tonight of moving through a frozen moment in time, finding beauty in the mundane. (Cashback)
It has been such a long time since I remembered a dream, good or bad.
