Man in the Movie Review Tell Me What Happens?

Oh blog, what do I do with you? So many conflicting ideas confronted by a writing that feels more like a lead boot than a hawk. Until I figure it out, here’s a movie review of a movie that should be seen by you. It’s still playing at the gorgeous Harvard Exit theatre if you are in Seattle. This movie comes as a cool lake in vast dry summer of blockbuster sequel mania. While you read it, you can play this song from the film to enhance your experience.

Paw Paw, a talking cat recovering from a broken paw waiting to begin the life it has always wanted fueled by a month of hopeful dreaming and expectation is the narrator of Miranda July’s new film. Interstingly enough it works as one part of an attempted idea prompted by the question of how we confront time and confront ourselves as people who are seen as reflections of our past seeking redemption in the future.

Miranda July, writer, actress, director, performance and conceptual artist, after her much acclaimed, “Me You and Everyone We Know” has recently launched her second film “The Future.” July graced the cover of The New York Times Magazine several weeks ago in which an article tackled critics of July, writing her films off as twee (which may have started with The Village Voice’s review of her films). Reader’s comments on the article ran the gamut between love, hate and those who question the media hype surrounding what is “only” her second film, but what most critics may not take into account is the way MJ uses her creation in a broad range of artistic disciplines to lend depth to subsequent projects where concepts, questions and themes bleed from performance to page to screen to blog. All of this also makes way for July’s unique vision that combines whimsy, vulnerability and an underlying desire to connect, sincerely, with her audiences.

Miranda July

With that, “The Future” is centered on the break up between Jason and Sophie who have decided to adopt a cat four years into their relationship. The cat is also the narrator of their story and is part of a magical world where the moon talks, shirts walk, and coincidences merge into fate. This magic, though, are points or snapshots like miracles among a modern American world in bathetic July style. Both Sophie and Jason work jobs where, nicely put in July’s words, there is no need for them to let others see their soul. She is an apathetic children’s dance teacher while he a generic call center technolgy troubleshooter who works from their apartment. The plot is set in motion after deciding to adopt a cat whose foot is broken and must heal giving the couple an entire month of ‘freedom’ before taking on the responsiblilites of joint cat custody. In the interim, Sophie, who decides to create 30 dances in 30 days, is chronically distracted from her task by watching other personal dance videos of random people on youtube and Jason by coincidence (or is it fate?) goes door to door selling trees to fight climate change. From there the film moves forward toward an idea of an unexpected future when Sophie decides to begin a sexual relationship with an older middle aged banner salesman in their upper middle class suburban home fueled by an unyielding desperation which takes the Jason and Sophie’s relationship off the rails into unchartered, unexpected territory where temporality simultaneously halts and continues independent of our protagonists’ agendas.

Okay, here’s my endorsement: Go see this movie. Check out the blog for this movie. http://thefuturethefuture.com/ Whether the story or characters sound intriguing there are definite cinematic jewels to appreciate. The colors and tone throughout the film are lovely, and the details are superb where the camera moves from peculiar or random object to object. The camera will also freeze on a frame so perfectly arranged that as an audience member, you can appreciate the still as a photograph in a gallery. What else? MJ has a wonderful physicality that she uses throughout whether it be the choreography of a very artful masturbation scene or a prolonged ‘dance’ within an oversized shirt, the physicality gives an interesting interpretation of character psychology, ah maybe that’s not entirely true, but more importantly these moments let an audience move into another sphere where linear intepretation can rest and where the vulnerability of the character becomes poignant through a perspective that never becomes trite and never alienates the viewer but subsequently draws our imaginations and senses closer to the action. Fans of Miranda July continue to be moved by her work because of her fierce determination to produce art that takes risks, creates a sense of community mindedness of our connection with and toward others and offers new perspectives in filmaking and artmaking in an industry that rewards box office cash (as most of us have witnessed all summer long).

If anyone’s out there, what life among movies have you seen during the summer months. What makes it important to you?

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August

is my favorite month.

Big changes always seem to happen within the frame of August. Growing up in Texas, August was all about falling in love, breaking up, receiving vistis from ghosts of the past all amidst hurrican season’s torrential rain where lightning strikes large oak trees in half among the tyranny of that August sun.

Speaking of big change, I suppose I must echo the big ‘ol grand news of the S&P’s slash in the U.S credit rating. This news seems to have just exposed America’s sickness to none other than America itself despite persistent symptoms all pointing to its decline. The only other thing that I’ll say about this is that a rating reduction like any numerical evaluation is cosmetic, though we will soon know what expense we must pay, but we can only hope that through this symbol, this disspearance of a letter, this loss of face and its fininacial toll that it can be used to address and awaken our government towards the work that needs to get done. I can only hope that through this diagnosis, we are more likely or even forced to address our legislature’s problems that impede the common good and that as citizens we feel empowered to speak through our votes.

Sidenote: One quick announcement is that Smoke Farm’s summer arts festival “Not to Scale” is happening on Saturday August 13th and Jenna Veatch, Naomi Russel and myself with many others will be performing under trees and in water and in all the glorious beauty which is Smoke Farm: http://smokefarm.org/

Yes, so August is confrontational and in many parts of the country it truly is too hot to even be outside. The cure: meditation or a book or if you want both choose William Faulkner.

In honor of the month, I picked up William Faulkner’s “August Light” and reading it is like going into a meditation. Exact and pure , the book is both cerebral and full of feeling, so that after reading one of his famous twenty line sentences, I come out taking a breath and exhaling ‘holy fuck’. It consumes you on all levels: character, dialogue, place, language, strucure I’m surprised I never read any of his novels until now; I’m surprised Faulkner was never required reading in grade schools.

I will try to post a little more consistently this coming month; ideas are swarming. What are other people reading, watching, studying up on this summer. I would like to know. Let’s end with a little of “August Light”:

Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders. Knows remembers believes a corridor in a big long garbled cold echoing building of dark red brick sootbleakened by more chimney’s than its own, set in a grassless cinderstrewnpacked compound surrounded by smoking factory purlieus and enclosed by a ten foot steel–and-wire fence like a penitentiary or a zoo, where in random erratic surges, with sparrowlike childtrembling, orphans in identical and uniform blue denim in and out of remembering but in knowing constant as the bleak walls, the bleak windows where in rain soot from the yearly adjacenting chimney’s streaked like black tears. (119, William Faulkner, Light in August)

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Istanbul Merhaba

It’s an official holiday! We arrived in Turkey on Wednesday and there is all this space to simply see the delightful and the beautiful.

Finding enjoyment in sun worship, in around-the clock-street sounds–the yells of bread sellers, garbage trucks and car alarms, bird sounds, people talking, construction sounds, blaring music, calls for prayer.

I’ve been thinking about this interview of George Sanders by Patrick Dacey in the current issue of Harper’s Magazine titled “Death by Icicle.” The author muses,

Sometimes when I read new fiction I feel that the writers of it, myself included, have a somewhat dysfunctional relationship with our own culture… If your palette of possible modes of representation has been habitually narrowed and restricted (to the edge, the snarky, the hip, etc.”, if that palette has been shorn of, say, the spiritual, the ineffable, the earnest, the mysterious–of awe, wonder, humility the truly unanswerable questions–then there isn’t much hope of any real newness there. Are the very real pleasures of being an American in 2011 underrepresented in our fiction…Beyond that, are we taking as much pleasure in the sensual as we should be… (25, July 2011)

Walking through ancient mosques and Ottoman palaces and hearing the sad hooks of qur’an recitations throughout the day has made me curious for the spiritual and the ineffable whereas spending hours with family and friends eating, chatting and laughing has made me more aware of that flush of warmth that comes with familiarity–a comfortable joy that can often be the punctuation amongst the bored, the irritated and the awkward times but which seems to supersede it all at the end of the day.

What I really wanted to share though is the most famous song in Turkey (as of one source) written by a blind musician Asik Veysel (born 1894) “Uzun Inci Bir Yoldayim” translated as “I’m on a Long and Narrow Road.” The version below is a longer version featuring many of Turkey’s established musicians. Enjoy.

Alas I can’t help myself. Here is the man himself performing the song. The music starts 1 minute and 10 seconds in.

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II. Spring and sensual violence

The Rite of Spring is a score and performance composed by Stravinsky who worked with choreographer Diagaheliv for the Ballet Russes in 1912. It met to shock and disgust in Europe and shortly discontinued its tour.

From what I can gather, the piece was inspired by an old pagan story or tradition where a virgin girl is sacrificed at the start of spring. She literally dances to her death. The huge premium of the girl’s youth and fertility is sacrificed in order to have and increase in fruitfulness for the season and year for all the community

We can’t get enough of it once we’ve opened ourselves up to the passion of it. Revered, artists/choreographers are consistently restaging The Rite of Spring year after year. The score itself is potent enough on its own, but staging, movement and the human body connect another world of sensual depth to its viewers.

Below, are two, first section parts of The Rite of Spring, the first by Angelica Prejolic and the second by Pina Bausch.

Prejolic’s version is clean, controlled, and modern. The costumes are casual and familiar; they could have come from the gap. Whether you like the use of the underwear or not, it is memorable and provocative. If you continue to watch the rest of her version via youtube, you will see the use of the grassy knoll that pieces together and apart like a puzzle. Also, you will see that she chooses to render the sacrificial girl completely nude in her death scene.

An older version by Bausch is has a very different set of aesthetics.
It is my favorite.

The stage is covered in soil. The nude slips, the red gown that symbolizes something that every girl fears, the shirtless males, the way the action builds, dissipates and builds, the very articulate movement vocabulary that conveys surrender and abandon all contribute and lift the details and narrative of this piece to the status of myth.

I would love to hear any thoughts and comments on these pieces from your perspective.

Awkwardly, I want to connect how we view art from the ideas of evolutionary psychology. Again, Geoffrey Miller in The Mating Mind How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature:

The beauty of a work of art reveals the artist’s virtuosity. This is a very old-fashioned view of aesthetics, but that does not make it wrong. Throughout most of human history, the perceived beauty of an object has depended very much on its cost. That cost could be measured in time, energy, skill, or money. Objects that were cheap and easy to produce were almost never considered beautiful…Our sense of beauty was shaped by evolution to embody an awareness of what is difficult as opposed to easy, rare as opposed to cheap, skillful as opposed to talentless, and fit as opposed to unfit. (281)

Artistically, we talk about the feeling conjured by the season of spring. In the next post, I want to introduce the way poets and writers use their words to describe the sensual, the violent, the fecund, and the transitional spirit of spring.

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Switch On Your Senses

push play.

Hazy summer nostalgia conjured by Seattle’s Seapony sounds so so perfect as springtime starts and stops with heavy doses of rain. They have that fuzzy cassette static from the 80′s and 90′s.
(I’m looking forward to catching them play around Seattle this April.)

It brings on the desire to make mix tapes. Possible tracks to accompany Seapony’s “Dreaming”:
Joy Division/New Order,
Secret Cities (formerly White Foliage),
Beat Happening,
Pixies,
The Strokes,
Mazurka piano recording downloaded from Napster a decade ago,
old poet’s reading their old work,
The Radio Dept.,
lots of blues
childhood tape recordings from talkboy and talkgirl (remember these?)
what else….

Remember all the time it took to record on tape, all the starts and stops, rewinding, fast forwarding?
A possible activity: Mix tape exchange

Instructions: Choose a theme or season or adjective or idea or memory and make a tape with not just songs that express this theme, but recordings from people, yourself, sounds that you make and find: a collage of sounds.
I suppose it could also be done with newer technological sound recording devices, but there’s nothing like paying homage to the cassette tape.

Cassette
origin 1955-60 French, casse or box (says dictionary.com)

Give a tape and get a tape. Or it can be a sound letter. Record a sound inspired by something specific and have someone respond with their own sound. Have a sound conversation. Begin from a definite starting point for example the song from Seapony “Dreaming” and start dreaming and listening from there.

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I. The Rite of Spring (in 4 parts)

I.

Spring—a good time to get down, get married, break it off—is essentially a time for decisions. Sweep under the rug, wash the walls and take stock of what is needed and what is not. Oh, look the sun, oh, warmth, oh, smiling faces, look my knee, a shoulder, pairs of shorts and dresses with colors, legs, heads and necks uncovered. Marriage is very haute right now with the upcoming wedding of Prince William of Wales and Kate Middleton at Westminster Abbey on April 29, 2011, but then so is breaking up along with the contestants on “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette”.

Television and the Internet have given viewers so much visual experience of things that many people have yet to experience first hand–with marriage, with breakups, with falling in love and out. How many marriages have we watched on television this year both real and written? It goes for everything: what expectations do we place on our relationships because of what we think our experiences should be?

“Evolution is heartless” (199, The Mating Mind)

Recently, I read Geoffrey Miller’s book on evolutionary psychology “Spent” and “The Mating Mind,” and his ideas have been braiding themselves into my existing opinions on relationships and consumerism.

Exciting enough, humans are hot choosers; we seek the highest amount of pleasure, and this pleasure becomes the best indicator for evolutionary success. Turns out Epicureanism lauded pleasure with simplicity but an epicurean would look like an ascetic by most modern standards. Excluding nothing, pleasure is not simple.

So if evolution favors pleasure it favors youth, specifically fertility. Fecundity and springtime have been used by artists as whetstones to sharpen an underlying force of violence that accompanies this season of transitions. The first works of art that come to mind are “The Rite of Spring” both the score and the dance.

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Houses and rooms are full of perfumes…. the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume…. it has no taste of the distillation…. it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever…. I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Walt Whitman

It is spring.  Here it comes—a bloom of words preceded by an anchoring “I”, always and unavoidable.  I am revisiting this here blog that was forgotten after the two deaths of Pina Bausch and Merce Cunningham.  I deleted Merce’s because I do not and have not ever loved him.  Since then, a year and 8 months have passed and I have danced some.  Collaborating and dancing with and for Aiko Kinoshita, Zoe Scofield, Jenna Bean Veatch, and myself, I’ve learned much about people and myself.  Dance is mostly working closely with other people; it is anchored by a deadline or the showing of the piece, but lives and breathes its process.  And there you have it.  Within process, you have heavy bitching, moments of beauty and communication that kisses you back squarely, opportunities to feel highly highly alive, but a lot of ill feelings and disappointment  and blissful relief in talking with others who harbor the same dissatisfactions.  

Dance, if you are of the majority, won’t turn your money green, pay your rent, fund vacations, bring you comfort, ease your worries, love you back unconditionally, satiate your life’s expectations, make your parent’s proud, keep you warm, keep your belly full, shelter you, restore your soul, put a ring on your finger, give better orgasms, pay electricity, sewage, heat, taxes, keep you from selling out artistically, make you famous, save you from dying, aging, making mistakes, getting sick, hospital bills, cold feet, mood swings, 1000 prescriptions for depression, television commercials, reality t.v., guilt, addiction, bad decisions, neediness, silence, anger, religious cults, tabloids, fast food, grunt work, jobs that pay nothing and cost hours of mind-numbing motions, oh wait that is grunt work…. keep adding.

On another track of thought, I love everyone I’ve worked with.  Dance adds texture and flavor, it’s just that I expected it to be bread and water and for most dancers, it cannot be the latter.  Flavor is important though.

Before this post is over, a few personal points  of interest.

Evolutionary psychology:  ”Spent” and “The Mating Mind” by Geoffrey F. Miller.  Reality t.v. show “The Bachelor”

Grammar

Literary Theory:  ”Reading for the Plot” by Peter Brooks, “A Rhetoric of Irony” and “The Rhetoric of Fiction” by Wayne C. Booth, Yale lectures on youtube

Book club books:  ”White Teeth” by Zadie Smith, “War Dances” by Sherman Alexie, “The End of the Jews” by Adam Mansbach, “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut

Performance:  Ralph Lemon, tEEth, Miguel Gutierrez

Movies: Romantic relationships  in  ”Jane Eyre” by Cary Joji Fukunaga, “Blue Valentine” by Derek Cianfrance.  Using heroins in literature to give depth to a current story in  ”An Education” by Lone Scherfig, “Little Children” by Todd Field.

Idea: Meaning is context.

This is messy but it’s here.

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