miércoles, 16 de mayo de 2012

Almas Gemelas (Parte 1)

Las películas favoritas de esta bloggera son tan de mi gusto que no lo puedo creer...

Interzone Junk
It is probably pretty evident how disorganized I am; my thoughts get up and wander around the recesses of my brain arranging themselves without permission. I wax and wane, I change, I abandon without warning. I am not an impulsive person or a particularly re-evolving person, just a chaotic person. It takes its toll however, because eventually a schism occurs between my Self and my thoughts. I can't control the latter and I can't always feel the former. Anyway, what I was meaning to say is that it's been a while since my last movie post. Seeing as I am cooped indoors tonight, I might as well make one. I have the time, and that is certain. I am lazy though, so don't expect any Sistine Chapels.

"Film is Like a Dinosaur in a tar pit" 
A collection of my favorite films that no one ever wants to see with me.

The first time I saw Inland Empire I was about 15 years-old. It was, at the time, revolutionary. David Lynch  supplied me with the stepping stones to the world of surrealism. Inland Empire was the film that took the drudgery of cinema and made it exciting again. I felt like a voyeur in another person's nightmares. At the time I was dabbling in film-making, and a switch flipped in my head upon seeing this movie. It began to dawn on me how similar the camera can be to the brush. It was creatively liberating because I was introduced to an entirely new side of a familiar medium. I took my mom to see Inland Empire. The appreciation was not mutual. She does not let me chose the movie anymore.

I have made the mistake of overestimating this movie's accessibility. A co-worker that I may or may not have had a crush on once asked what my favorite movie was. I told her Blue Velvet. She went to the video store, rented a copy of it, and a week later gave up. "I tried watching it five times", she said, "I had to watch it in chunks, but I just couldn't do it." I think that was the turning point, in which I considered her magical vagina not nearly enough to compensate for the fact that we had little in common other than a penchant for flannels and skinny jeans. This woman was a gorgeous idiot with nice hair, a women's studies degree, and a bumper sticker of Hillary Clinton. I like to imagine her curled up in her WeHo apartment with her yappy lap-dog and her "This is What a Feminist Looks Like" tee shirt on, while Isabella Rossalini parades across the screen gloriously degraded. Golden.

The first time you see Cannibal Holocaust and you're stoned and still in high school, it's an experience sorta like having God part the clouds to take a piss on you. At the time, we all agreed that this was a movie that would be best left somewhere and forgotten about. We did exactly that for several years. Then, one day, I decided to have a movie night at my house and invite a few good friends. They were intent on seeing Cannibal Holocaust for some reason, so I obliged them. That night though, a few unexpected guests showed up. Cute, innocent, naive, sweet guests. Guests that had no idea what they were in for and were about to have their first impressions of me pissed on. One of said guests had been in a terrible accident in Iraq and had a pretty extreme case of PTSD that may or may not be catastrophically triggered by a movie with far more gore than plot. Somewhere between turtles being ripped open and native women being raped and impaled, the population dwindled. "I....have to get up early" some said, "I'm getting tired, gotta go". By the end of the movie, a crowd of about ten had become three. The survivors ended up being some of my best friends, proving that the best relationships are created with blood and guts.

I love Gozu because it is the perfect melding of genres. Part crime, part body horror, part Freudian fairy tale of outsiders and reincarnation. This was another movie-night at my house and I needed to recover myself from the Cannibal Holocaust fiasco. Predictably enough, the movie nights to follow were much smaller and no more war veterans showed up.

Intimacy is an uncomfortable film, but a really powerful film. It's sparsely shot and delves beautifully into the dynamic between two men, two very different relationships, and the same woman. The film is dwells as long on the naked body as it does on obsession, infidelity, and loneliness. It's amazing how empty and distant two people can be when physically engulfed in one another, and it's terrifying to see what can be created in that emptiness. It is so startling and so painful that they actually manage to make the act of sex seem almost asexual.

I don't know why I like this movie. I don't know why I like any movie. I am no authority on what is and is not "good". I think this is a good movie though. I think this is an exceptionally good movie, even if only because it managed to work its way under my skin and stay there. Maybe I am something of a pervert, but this is my favorite Romantic movie. Is this not romance? I don't know. I don't really know.

This movie is phenomenal. A very kind person in internet land suggested it to me, and I have not been able to stop talking about it ever since. It may not be a conventionally enjoyable film, but what an amazing piece of work it manages to be! It contains some of the most original and inventive camera techniques that I have ever seen. Even more impressive, is the director's ability to put you into the mind of a serial killer. You feel his detachment, you feel his blood-lust, you feel his excitement and his fear. It's a surreal experience but perhaps not the kind of movie that I would recommend to the uninitiated.

This movie is the one good thing that came out of my being single. Last summer an old friend from high school and I decided to start hanging out. We had zero chemistry, but he was a 22 year-old faced with what he interpreted as the possibility of sex. So, we started hanging out. I think our lack of chemistry was obvious so by "hang out" I mean sitting on opposite ends of the couch in his basement lair watching movies. What began as an awkward, bleak, dystopian nightmare turned out to be a very funny and charming movie. Maybe it was the wine speaking, but Bubby managed to make the evening alright.

Nine minute anal rape scene with no music and a completely stationary camera. Sound like a good time yet? I know I have met the love of my life because "You bleeding or you wet?" has become our punchline of choice.  
I would like to know what it is in Gaspar Noe's head that allows him to create movies that are simultaneously exhilarating and bleak. This movie is powerful in its minimalism. It is cathartic because it revels not in the bowels of France, but of the psyche. However, some might be deterred by the recurrent themes of alienation, nihilism, misogyny, and incest. It ends and it leaves you completely polarized. Was this a happy ending or not? Is our protagonist a hero or not? Is he right or not? Does "right" exist? Is it our duty to search for it?


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