In the film [V for Vendetta], the anarchist revolutionary V incites the population of Britain to don his mask and rise up against the government, because nothing captures the spirit of anarchy better than a mob of people in identical uniforms unquestioningly obeying one man.
I have no idea how it wound up in my netflix queue — either I was drunk, or it was something leftover from my ex-girlfriend, but somehow I would up with this movie What the #$*! Do We (K)now!?. I am not going to bother to review it, except to say that it is by far the stupidest movie I have ever, ever seen. I spent the first 10 minutes confused, the second 10 minutes laughing, and then I turned it off. I don’t use a word like “stupidest” lightly. I’ve seen a lot of stupid movies. This is the worst. I’m tempted to say that it’s so bad that it transcends bad and becomes that sort of cultishly good movie that’s worth watching for how bad it is. But it’s not. It’s worse than that. This movie should be destroyed for the good of mankind.
My dallying with film continues unabated. The above shot was the only worthwhile result from 2 rolls of Kodak Portra 400UC that I ran through a Holga 120S that I borrowed from a friend. The Holga didn’t have the framing bracket on the first roll, but I shot on the 16 exposure setting, resulting in the overlap from frame to frame. When I had it developed, I had them scan it, and they made a pass at scanning frames from that roll, resulting in this, which was nice. But, I cut the film original and re-scanned it and got a nicer scan with more artsy overlap goodness. I like the result a lot, although I have mixed feelings about its conception. I don’t consider it to be indicative of any particular skills that I have. Holgas really are the original point-n-shoot, after all, having no manual controls … whatsoever. But hey, I’ll take it. I’m still getting the hang of using my scanner — I am gonna try my hand at scanning some more once I finish plowing through a roll of cheap Kodak color film in my Yashica, and some B&W Ilford 120 125 film in my Seagull. All in all, it’s been fun playing with film, but I’m still not convinced it’s worth it, much less making the leap to developing at home.
Speaking of my scanner, I went a little nuts this weekend and scanned some stuff.
I just finished watching Robert Altman’s Nashville. Finally. Holy fuck, what a boring movie. That’s two hours of my life I’m never going to get back. What was the point of it? What did I even just watch? It was like a movie about Nashville, filmed in Nashville, written and directed by people that knew nothing about Nashville. And nothing happens. So yeah, I didn’t like it.
It was cool to see some old shots of Nashville, though. Got to see my neighborhood in 1975. There was a giant billboard on 1st & Broadway where the flags are now.
Watched Midnight Cowboy for the first time last night. What an awesome, fucking depressing movie. Great review, huh?
Through a chance confluence of events, it happened that I had a few Nazi-related history lessons this weekend..
I read This Way for Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen over the weekend, by the pool and on the plane. It’s a collection of Tadeusz Borowski’s stories from his experiences in Auschwitz. I first became interested in Borowski via the portrait of him in Milosz’s Captive Mind. Borowski was a holocaust survivor and poet, who later joined ranks with the communists in Poland, only to commit suicide at the age of 28. Although the motivation for someone’s suicide can never be known for sure, there’s little doubt in my mind that his disillusionment with the Communist regime played a large part. Shortly before his suicide, a close friend was locked up and tortured by the Communists.. After surviving the horrors of the Nazis, his one hope for a “new and better order” (as Milosz put it) ended up a mirage.
Anyways, his melancholy spirit is evident in his stories from Auschwitz.. A sortof detached, sad commentary on the brutal reality of an environment where humanity has basically lost all meaning. Milosz called Borowski “The Disappointed Lover”, and in reading these tales, you start to understand the depth of that statement. He also had a keen eye for the surreal.. Here’s a bit from a story describing a soccer match they had orchestrated on a newly constructed soccer field:
The procession moved along slowly, growing in size as more and more people poured from the freight cars. And then it stopped. The people sat down on the grass and gazed in our direction. I returned with the ball and kicked it back inside the field. It traveled from one foot to another and, in a wide arc, returned to the goal. I kicked it towards a corner. Again it rolled out into the grass. Once more I ran to retrieve it. But as I reached down, I stopped in amazement - the ramp was empty. Out of the whole colorful summer procession, not one person remained. The train too was gone …
Between two throw-ins in a soccer game, right behind my back, three thousand people had been put to death.
This sort of thing makes for good airplane reading, because it’s really hard to complain about being cramped on a plane while you’re reading about millions being herded naked onto cattlecars to their deaths. Not the most uplifting book, though, no. I’d offer to let you borrow it (I think I even promised it to Aaron), but alas, I left it on the plane home from Wisconsin, so some flight attendant or passenger gets a crack at it.
Last night, then, I checked my mail and saw I had gotten Sophie Scholl - Die letzten Tage in from Netflix. I had read a bit about White Rose and the Scholls a bit in the past, and so I thought I’d check out this movie. It was pretty good — a straightforward account of what happened. The performances were all excellent. What I enjoyed even more than the movie, though, were interviews with the original witnesses and friends in the special features. There’s also a clip of Roland Freisler that is nothing short of amazing. Freisler was the eccentric (to say the least) judge who ordered the execution of Christopher Probst, Sophie and Hans Scholl. I thought in the movie that the actor playing Freisler laid on the “crazy nazi” a little bit too thick. Wow, was I ever wrong — if anything he underplayed it. The same clip — from some trial where Freisler preside — is on youtube, check it out.
One thing I find interesting is the extent to which Sophie Scholl is heralded as the prime actor and hero — both historically and in fictional portrayals, whereas Hans is relegated to the background, comparatively. Given the story of how things played out, and their respective involvement with White Rose, I can’t quite figure it out.. I suppose it could be as simple as the fact that she was a girl, and a relatively pretty one, making it even more exceptional or surprising that she’d be this ballsy underground revolutionary. And so we have sortof this projection of romanticism in it because of that — some sort of Joan of Arc syndrome. I don’t know. She was clearly a remarkable woman, arguably more interesting in several aspects, perhaps, than her cohorts. But I find myself wondering if the focus on her alone diminishes the contributions of Probst, her brother Hans, and others who were involved in White Rose. Anyway, if you’re not familiar with the story, check out the movie, it’s interesting.
I need something a little more uplifting, now, though, sheesh.
Last weekend I watched the The Quiet Man, and I enjoyed it tremendously.. It’s a pretty charming movie, and holy crap, Maureen O’Hara was incredibly, astoundingly hot. So hot. Uhm. What was I saying again? Oh yeah, good movie. One thing that was difficult for me, though: a lot of the humor in this movie revolves around a sortof tongue-in-cheek take on man/woman relationships in marriage. The problem is that, well, it was filmed in 1952. So, I had a hard time figuring out what was a joke and what was real. You know, they’d say something about the “woman’s place” and I’d laugh, and then realize that wasn’t a joke. Demonstrates pretty well how the thin margin of social commentary is a moving target. The Irish players were pretty awesome, too, though it took me a while to get the hang of their thick brogue.
Last night, I watched Inherit the Wind — what a fantastic movie.. The story itself is interesting enough, but in this film it serves mostly as a pretext for some interesting relationship dynamics. What I really loved about this movie was the acting.. The chemistry between Spencer Tracy and Gene Kelly is pretty great, and between Frederic March as well — in particular the rocking-chair scene. Gene Kelly does a great job in general, playing Mencken Hornbeck, the Cynical, Witty Reporter with a Heart of Gold ™.
Had a few documentaries queued up in netflix, which arrived this weekend:
So, I saw 300 this weekend. I have no time or energy for a comprehensive review. It was entertaining, as far as movies about one big battle with no real plot to speak of go. It was pornography for everyone: war porn, gay porn, porn for the ladies, porn for the dudes. Mostly it just made me want to go watch Braveheart (which I did, this weekend). A few thoughts, though:
.
Brittney asks:
Will you go see this? (Rocky VI)
Answer: hell yes!
Rocky goes the distance! So do I!! A brief question/answer session:
Look, Sylvester Stallone is old. He can’t fight. Antonio Tarver would make meat pie out of Stallone’s face. It’s completely and totally ludicrous. It’s also a movie. It’s also a Rocky movie. Rocky represents the perpetual American underdog. (To be fair, the idea of Americans as the bootstrap-pulling underdog is a cultural subcurrent that should have expired, oh, about 200 years ago, and has been responsible for centuries of hubris since, but I digress.) Nonetheless, it also makes for some pretty entertaining movies. There’s nothing any more ludicrous about a geriatric Rocky pulling himself out of retirement to fight one last time than there is about a small-time nobody going the distance with champion Apollo Creed. He doesn’t have to win, he just has to go the distance.
Of course I’ll go see it. Why wouldn’t I?
