Crash Into Me

Tonight, I had a dialogue with my dad that lasted until 1:30am. We started by debating whether or not the part in "Crash" where the housekeeper saves the bitchy Sandra Bullock is essentially Christian (another way to say that is if it is a reflection of God). Then we went into everything, talking about movies and theology and humanity and God. It's funny how any topic brought up in a conversation like the one my dad and I had tonight seems worth discussing. Anyway. This was a good conversation. It was the first conversation that I can remember where we both logically discussed and argued our sides of a topic, agreed sometimes, and left in good spirits with one another. It was the first time I told my dad that the past 2 years had been rough because I was trying to find my identity, which I had previously placed in him and Mom. It was the first time I told him that I knew I could disagree with him and still be right.

At the end, I could tell my dad was tired and that he needed to get some sleep. We had been standing in the doorway between our den and the kitchen (its a large doorway). I crossed over and gave him a hug. He returned the hug then tried to let go after the typical hug-length had ended, but I didn't let go. I tucked my mouth into his right shoulder blade like you do in meaningful hugs, placing my nose millimeters above his gray Texas Tech t-shirt. I didn't want to let go of him, because for the first time that I can remember, I felt love for my dad. I truly, deeply, honestly loved him. I wanted to hold him for hours, to share the love that comes from physically embracing another human being. The only way I can describe my feeling is that I had a desire to hold my father for as long as I could. If that's God, thanks.

Uncle Jim's Camera

These are pictures that I took with my uncle's amazing camera.

Run Lola Run

"Run Lola Run" is the most creative film I have seen in quite some time. The film combines the use of live action and animation, utilizes unusual editing and cinematography, and dictates a creative story through a unique narrative, all brought together to create a fast paced, heart felt, feel good but also nerve racking story about love and determination and divinity.

The film is quite complex, especially in its main character. Lola, a realist with a savior complex and a crummy family, receives a call from her boyfriend Manni that sends her into a frantic chase for money. During this chase, we see what Lola is capable of doing in a time of crisis and the outcomes of the people she encounters along the way (shown through a creative technique that I found fresh and original).

I wonder how much screen time is Lola running. We see close shots of her running, crane shots, shots of her from basically every angle. One has to wonder, with all this running, what is she running for? She is running because she wants to save the man she loves. And yet, a flashback shows that she is unsure about her dedication to him, a point that seems extremely real to life. We don't usually know our feelings for those we love, and yet the majority of movies paints pictures of characters (supposedly imitating real life) as having this steadfast knowledge of their undying devotion to their lovers. In "Lola," the main character knows that she doesn't know how she feels. This is an admirable admittance about life for a film.

Nevertheless, she runs. She uses her mind to try to find a solution. Primarily, her solution is logical--ask her father (a high end banker) for money. This makes sense. And yet, both times (you have to watch the movie to understand), she not only does not receive the money but also discovers that her father is cheating on her mother. Only when Lola asks for some divine intervention does she receive the solution that works. It's strange that Lola could not get the money from a logical place like her father, but she could get the money from betting in a casino, a risky, illogical, and unlikely place to get 100,000 marks. Lola could not solve her problem on her own. A strange thing for a filmmaker to say.

I keep thinking about what I think makes great movies. My criteria used to be that the best movies said something. However, my friend Mihir said that wasn't a valid way to judge movies because every movies says something. The more I think about it, the more I think he's right. All movies say something. I know this. But when I said "say something," I meant that they have a significant message, something of value to say. While I will agree that the best movies must do something original or inventive, they must also say something significant about life and human nature. Roger Ebert said "the greatest films are meditations on why we are here." I think that's true.

The more I think about it, the more I consider this film a great film. It says that all our planning and thinking is inferior to chance or God or divine intervention, that we can do all we can and not succeed, yet we can do nothing and then succeed. It shows how much of our lives are not in our control. I approve.

Record Time

For a while, I have been into records. It's such an interesting ordeal, the process of putting a record on the record player. And that you have to stay in one place to listen to the music is something I value--it makes you slow down. It's an experience. My friend Drew gave Mihir and I a record player as a college gift, and we loved it for a while. Then the turntable got wobbly, and it made the music sound warped when it played. It became unbearable after a time, so we just stopped listening to records. However, I remember my dad saying that he had saved his record player from the 70s, and that it was just sitting in storage somewhere in our house. I asked my dad if I could have it, because I would get enjoyment out of it, rather than have it just sit in the closet. He said no, because he wants to save it and hopefully sell it one day, because it's in good condition, he says. That made me mad, but I guess he has the right to do what he wants with it. Nevertheless, I kept bugging him. So...

Today, my dad and I pulled out his old record player from the coat closet to see if it would work. We unpacked the equipment, checked the fuses in the receiver, adjusted the turntable, and prayed that it worked. For a moment, it wouldn't work. I had to physically spin the turntable to get it going. But then, we figured out that you had to move the needle in order to start it. Me and Dad high fived as Boston's "More Than A Feelin'" blasted in our kitchen. We started at 9pm and didn't finish listening to songs until 11pm. Then he went out to the garage and came back with a cardboard box, saying that I could set the record player on it in my room if I wanted to. I wanted to. I was so happy that I don't think I communicated my happiness to him, which sucks because I want him to know that I appreciate him trusting me with the player.

As I type, I'm listening to America's self titled album, and I really like it. I'm surprised that I would like a band this quickly, but I do. Here's to records and generous fathers.

August and Satellites

It's official- I love Counting Crows.

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand. Hey, mister, if you're going to walk on water, you know you're only gonna walk all over me. When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely. Help me stay awake, cuz I'm falling asleep in perfect blue buildings beside the green apple sea. And Anna begins to change her mind. I wanted to see you walking backwards, to get the sensation of you coming home. She's been dying, and I've been drinkin'. I'm almost drowning in her sea. Love is a ghost train, howlin' on the radio. 3500 miles away, but what would you change if you could? I dreamt I saw you walkin' up a hillside in the snow.


I want to be the last thing that you hear when you're falling asleep. I will not be an enemy of anything, I'll only stand here waiting for you. I want to say goodbye to you, goodbye to you, goodbye to all my friends, goodbye to everyone I know. Spent my nights in self-defense, cry about my innocence-well, I ain't all that innocent anymore. I will wait for you in Baton Rouge. I can't find my way home. Well I don't need you, believe me. Don't wake me-I was dreamin'. So she takes her pills, careful and round-one of these days she's gonna throw the whole bottle down. She sees shooting stars and comets tails. Got no where but home to go, got Ben Folds on my radio. Keep some sorrow in your heart and mind, for the things that die before their time. If you think you might come to California, I think you should. Someday, I'm gonna stay, but not today.

First Semester Ghost Train

Mihir will not be returning to ACU next semester. This means that he will not be my roommate anymore. Mihir is going to go to a community college in Austin, work at a Starbucks or a bookstore or a record store, and live in an apartment. I am going to miss him. Next semester is going to be difficult, yet exciting, because most of my time at ACU was spent with Mihir. Maybe that's not true. But what's true is that the majority of the time I spent hanging out, being social, not doing schoolwork, was with Mihir. We would go smoke at the rocks together, or more recently, on the drains outside of Barrett. We would smoke by that storage unit behind the old folks home, with the motion detecting light that would eradicate any hope of secrecy. We went to the Leaf a few times and smoked in downtown Abilene. We did a lot of smoking, now that I recall. We would go to Hastings, and he would look through the records, always buying some even though he was always low on cash. He would sleep with his laptop going, playing a movie, something that I assume helped him sleep. He would get up and leave without saying anything (I learned to adjust). I would get him bread from the Bean. We would stay up late talking. That's one thing I'm going to miss. Mihir had insomnia, so he would be up watching movies, and I loved having someone to talk to. I'm going to miss that guy sitting propped up in his bed, spitting into a water bottle, playing his nasty black guitar (playing isn't just-he was making noise). I'm going to miss him.

But what excites me is that I no longer have a safe-haven friend to go to whenever I feel lonely or want to hang out. I'm going to have to make friends. Everything will be new again. Because, honestly, I haven't made any really close friends so far. I know that takes time, but I'm still acknowledging the fact that I haven't. I'm going to get to see what type of person I really am.

I sent this to Mihir, this is for Mihir, but I'm putting it here so I will have a copy of it in the future so I will remember life with him.

Mihir, I'm going to miss you man. Let's face it- we got really close this semester. I'm sad to see you go, because I depended on you so much this semester as a friend. We did everything together. But I'd rather see you alive, happy, motivated, than dying, depressed, and lazy. I hope Austin is everything you hope it will be for you. I hope you find your purpose in life down there somewhere. In a way, this is a closing chapter in our relationship, because we won't see each other for months on end. But I want you to know that you became a brother this semester (a little brother, I guess, because I was often taking care of you). I will always care about you man, you will always mean something to me. If you get lonely or if you think of something you've never thought of before at 3 am, don't hesitate to call or text me. And you are always welcome where ever I am. Love you man.

The Girl Who Wasn't There

This is the second day that I can't go to sleep. I think I caught Mihir's insomnia. So what did I do with my extra time? I listened to Counting Crows.

I don't know why I want to know who Maria is. Maybe because she is mentioned in so many songs. She is a ghost to anyone who listens to the Crows. She is a phantom. And a piece of her is in every song, according to Duritz. So I guess I am justified in my interest in her. But tonight, she has become an obsession. Hopefully, just for tonight.

I had heard about an article in which a reporter from some 801 magazine goes in depth to try to find out who Maria is. He does everything he can from talking to the number one fan to tracking down Mr. Jones himself. All roads lead to nothing, and the reporter concludes with many theories and no answers.

One theory that I latched onto is that Maria committed suicide. It totally makes sense. In the "Round Here" music video, the Maria character is last seen falling into water and sinking. The lyrics say "she looks up at the building, says she's thinking of jumping," but it never says she actually jumps. The music video seems to confirm that she jumped. If she did jump, it would make sense that Duritz would mention the strange coincidence in "Mr. Jones." The real Mr. Jones said there was actually a Maria there the night the songs speaks of, but the Maria was a friend of Jones' father, not someone Duritz would have known for a while. Considering this, it makes sense that he writes about the Maria. If Adam's Maria had committed suicide, then anyone with the same name would cause him to remember the Maria he knew.

In "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby," Duritz says "there is a piece of Maria in every song that I sing." Two plausible reasons for this are that 1) Maria was a girl who broke his heart and he thinks about all the missed chances and everything all the time, or 2) Maria killed herself, Duritz thinks of her often, and he misses her. I think the latter supports my theory.

I take refuge in the idea that Maria killed herself, because it means that the matter is settled. If Maria is actually still out there, that means that Duritz is still haunted by the memory of this woman, and that sucks. Plus, if she's still out there, that means that Duritz has lied to all his fans (with great detail, no less), and that sucks too because Duritz feels like family.

I think I might be getting into troubled territory with Duritz becoming family. I feel like I can relate to Duritz so much, yet I have never met him or know anything about him. I just know that he sings about a lot of girls and is in pain. But I think I latch onto him because if I were to write songs, they would be like his in that I have a girl who haunts me and I am perpetually sad. I hope the next Counting Crows album talks about Duritz's happiness and how he found the love of his life who wasn't Maria, showing that he moved on. That would be nice. This obsession with Maria is ridiculous, seriously. Oh well.

Christmas of Actually Good Movies #4: Billy Elliot

After watching "Billy Elliot," I had to take 30 bags of leaves from my backyard to the curb out front, all in darkness. The entire time I was working, I tried to understand why I liked Billy Elliot so much. I knew that I liked it a lot. But I couldn't figure out why. After all the bags had been moved and my jeans had been thoroughly dampened, I came to some conclusions about why I like "Billy Elliot."

First, I like it because it is well made. Now I'm not quite sure what "well-made" actually means, but I understand it more than I did 6 months ago. For me, a movie is well made if it can repeatedly come up with interesting shots and stick with them. No cutting for close ups. If a movie can stay with a great shot, it is well made in my mind. As for "Elliot," I can remember several shots that were noteworthy: the ballet teacher standing in the gym smoking; Billy and his father checking in to the ballet school; Billy sitting in the car on the ferry with his ballet teacher in the reflection of the window. These are good shots. If a movie isn't well made, it can't go any further in my mind than "it was aight."

Second, I like it because the main actor Jamie Bell (who has since been in movies like "King Kong" and "Defiance") is likable and talented. He plays troubled well, and his crooked smile is amiable.

Third, I like the story. A boy rejects the social norms of what young boys are supposed to do and pursues ballet, even when his family is against him. A memorable scene is between Billy and his father right after his father found him in his ballet class. The father tells Billy that he will no longer dance because boys aren't supposed to do that. Boys are supposed to do "football, or boxing, or wrestling. Not friggin' ballet." But Billy doesn't believe it. Why not, Billy asks. Why can boys not dance? It is apparent that Billy's father is rooted in a society that has rigid gender stereotypes, and he doesn't want his boy dancing because that means he's gay. But Billy is not gay. He even has a friend who is gay (secretly), but Billy is not. And when Billy sees Michael as he is about to leave and kisses him on the cheek, I took this gesture to mean that Billy will always be his friend no matter what, that Billy supports him and can be trusted.

Billy studies secretly for a while, then is forced to tell his family that he wants to dance. At first, the family is horrified. They don't want a gay family member. He will be normal, you can almost read in between the lines of their anger. But Billy only wants to dance. Billy describes what it is like to dance to the board of the Royal Ballet School, and to be honest, I cried. I cried because how he feels about dancing is how I feel about movies.

"Don't know. Sorta feels good. Sorta stiff and that, but once I get going... then I like, forget everything. And... sorta disappear. Sorta disappear. Like I feel a change in my whole body. And I've got this fire in my body. I'm just there. Flyin' like a bird. Like electricity. Yeah, like electricity."

Dancing is everything to him, the thing that makes him happiest. Billy articulated how I feel about movies, and in doing so, validated my thoughts that films make me feel like nothing else. (Sidenote, you know a monologue is delivered perfectly when it doesn't have the same effect on you as it did when it was said in the movie. Just sayin)

I like this movie because I can actually see the joy Billy gets from dancing, and therefore, I get joy too. I get to watch someone doing what they love. Well, I know that Jamie Bell is acting, but he could have fooled me.

This is the second film where the main characters are told something untrue. In "Revolutionary Road," April is told that the American Dream is the only way to happiness; in "Billy Elliot," Billy is told that boys act a certain way. I wonder, in the movies to come, how many movies depict characters being told lies. I wonder.

Christmas of Actually Good Movies #3: Revolutionary Road

Today is day 3 of my Christmas of Actually Good Movies (the first day I watched "127 Hours" and the second day I watched "Identity." I don't know if I'll ever write about those movies. Not because I don't like them, just because I'm lazy). Today I watched "Revolutionary Road," a film that I liked very much from the first viewing. I think I may have watched the director's commentary on it, but I'm not sure.

The film is a story of April (you could say it's about her and her husband, but she is the real heart of the story), a wife and mother during the 50's, who knows that she has been lied to by society. She knows that the American Dream is a sham, a goal created by someone somewhere that now suffocates the life and dreams out of the oblivious masses. April is not oblivious. She knows that she was meant for a life of more than living in a house on a street where all the houses look the same, more than having and raising kids because that is what she is told to do, more than blindly accepting ideas about how life should be by the social influence of those surrounding her.

I'm not interested in retelling the film--it's good enough that you should go see it yourself. Twice. But anyway, what I'm really concerned with is two things: Michael Shannon's character John, and April's character in the last 20 minutes.

John reminds me of my friend Mihir--a sane man in a crazy world that tells him he's the crazy one. Sure, John doesn't have social skills and makes people uncomfortable. That's only because he knows the quaint, polite society is fake and uncaring. He will say what he thinks because he knows he is right and he wants other people to see it too. It's interesting to watch John, his parents, and the Wheelers interact. John's mother is horrified that she has a son who doesn't fit into the neat social stereotype that she does. When John speaks, his mother turns her head in both disgust and embarrassment; but the Wheelers listen. The three take a walk in the woods, and only now can John relax--he is with people who understand. The Wheelers see the madness in America, they see the madness in spotless houses and social etiquette and always being fine. In the woods, the three talk about how the Wheelers are leaving for Paris, getting out, finding freedom. John asks why they are leaving, and Frank (Lio DiCaprio) responds that they can't stand the hopeless emptiness. "Hopeless emptiness," John responds. "Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness." The three understand that America and its promises of happiness and fulfillment are lies.

The Wheelers and John seemed to connect on a deep level in the woods, which makes the next time the Wheelers, John, and his parents have lunch so interesting. Frank tells them that he and his family aren't going to Paris after all. The look on John's face shows his feeling of betrayal. John doesn't understand why this couple who seemed to get it would step backwards when they were one step from the door. But as he talks his way to reason, John confronts the Wheelers with the truth that at least Frank had failed to realize: it is more comfortable to stay than it would be to leave. It is easier for Frank to get promoted and work on some computer job than for the family to go to Paris and start over. The lure of comfort plants Frank on 115 Revolutionary Road, where he will have a well paying job and a nice front lawn, but his soul will die.

At this second lunch, April's soul begins to die. And after some time alone in the woods, April hatches a plan. This plan consists of partial surrender. She will become the woman that America wants her to be. The following morning, Frank comes downstairs to find April surprisingly making breakfast and most importantly, not angry. Her personality in this scene is the most interesting thing about the movie to me. April is cold. Yes, she says all the right things, she asks about his new job and sounds interested, she walks him to the door and straightens his tie; but under it all is a cold subversion, a woman who will play the part because she has a plan in mind. Because she knows that the only thing people want is not to be interrupted. "Hi, how are you?" "I'm good, how are you?" "I'm good." We don't want to know how anyone really is. We would rather assume that everyone is fine than to know that everyone is fucked up. So when Frank asks April if she hates him or anything, she calmly denies it because she knows Frank only needs to hear what he wants to hear. He doesn't care if he knows, deep down, that it isn't true. As long as she smiles at the right time and socializes with the friends and reads to the kids, she's fine.

This film makes me think about how Americans don't want anyone interfering in their machine lives, and yet we wonder why we all feel so alone. In one moment, John and the Wheelers are real people to each other, talking about real problems. But this moment is the only moment of genuine people interacting genuinely in the movie. The rest of the time, people talk to each other because they're supposed to, because it makes them forget that they feel alone. And in each scene, April dies a little more and more until there is nothing left.

I think I love this movie because I relate to April so much. I knew that if I didn't get out, I would die. I think I died a little bit. But despite it all, I found a way to escape. I'm running. And somewhere, April is running too.

Requiem for a Dream Poem

I watched the "Requiem for a Dream" commentary and was inspired to write this poem.

.......

Two people find themselves
in paradise.
Somehow, someway,
they have captured happiness.
Their smiles quickly radiate the warmth
of hope,
and they embrace while standing at the gates
of heaven.

But they do not make it through the gates.

We're so close, they say. So close to being happy.
But the dream that was so near slips from their grasps,
and happiness hurtles down the black pit of despair.
A compromise here, settling there,
until they weep in vein, their clothing is no longer white.
The dream is gone, leaving a place where contentment can no longer reside.
This is hell. This is hell.

This is hell.

Oh, let us never experience the sweet taste of happiness.
For then, we will never know what we have missed.
But now our tongues long for the honey of a fruit no longer in season.
We cry out to suck the juices of the apple that will make our problems dissolve away.
But, once again, we have done it. We ate again from the tree in the garden.
The apple was not pure, the deceiver did his job.
And now our bodies long for satisfaction from an evil food,
a desire we cannot reverse.
So we must walk throughout this earth with our ever hungry body,
waiting for the day after eternity when we will be satisfied once again.

Wedding Bells Too Early

I met a girl that I think is cute. The problem is, we have only spoken a few times. We had a class together, but the class ended today, and I'm not sure that I will ever have another chance to interact with her because we don't have mutual friends. I think I'm going to adopt the attitude of if we're supposed to meet again, it'll happen or whatever. It just sucks in the meantime.

Meanwhile, I have two good friends who are thinking about getting married to their respective girlfriends. Thinking like, I just need to save up enough money and then I'll propose. When one of them told me, I was taken aback, namely because they are my age and will be getting married. That's something adults do. I'm still a kid. He said he has to save around $10,000 and then he will propose. I told him he should just play the lottery. Then we started speculating about what we would do if we won a huge amount of money. Almost Married Friend #1 said he would buy a ring, a house, and then put the rest into savings. Almost Married Friend #2 said he would do the same sort of thing. I said I would get new speakers in my car.

I think getting married now, at 19, is a dumb idea. You haven't lived at all. You haven't lived on your own even, for that matter. You will be chained to your parents because $10,000 won't last you through college and through the first few years of marriage. I want to tell them to live a little on their own, experience life through your own eyes before you see it through married eyes.

They might respond that they are so in love that they can't imagine life without their girlfriends. I don't know if that is dangerous or not. What happens when this amazing feeling wears off, when it's not exciting to make out anymore or to hold her hand or to tell everyone "this is my girlfriend"? I think it's dumb to depend on someone that much. Then again, I'm not in that position, so I don't know what that's like. So for now, I'm going to continue living, and looking every now and then.

Garden State Revisited

After viewing "Garden State" a second time, I have realized that the message of the film is different than I originally thought. I used to think it was essentially an existential film, telling viewers that we only have one life, so make it good. But I now understand that while that is a theme, it is a tangent from the core message, an extension reaching from the root. The root of the film says that love is what makes life worthwhile and significance.

The film delves into death and is a well made movie with complex characters with problems. I like the crane shot at the funeral that shows all the people in rows from high above, then comes down and you can see the headstones in the same row composition, a subtle reminder that we are all going to die eventually. I like how Natalie Portman plays Sam with the subtle hints that she is a girl who has been hurt before and now she's jaded: "oh my god, you're like so freaked out right now." She is an individual who is assertive and unique, someone who used to be naive enough to let anyone love her but is now a girl who reveals her heart, then quickly corrects the mistake by separating herself from others with lies. She lies so she can feel like she has control over her life. I like Zach Braff's Andrew Largeman, an emotionless, numb guy who has experienced trauma and has been medicated enough that he can't feel anything.

The film shows people attempting to find value, but never getting it. Characters like Largman's cop friend and the inventor of the silent Velcro are people who have (more or less) gained worldly success. They have importance and wealth, respectively. And yet, the cop only became a cop because there was nothing else to do. He grew up, stopped taking drugs, but his life is still average. The Velcro guy has all the money he could ever want (and used it to buy a ridiculous mansion that feeds into his Medieval Time obsession), but he's not taking advantage of it. It doesn't make him happy.

The man at the bottom of the abyss has the wisdom for Largeman. He talks about having the important job of "guardian of the infinite abyss," but then he says that that's just ego stuff. What really matters, he says, what really makes life worth-while, is being with his wife and child. That makes everything meaningful.

Maybe that's why Largeman's mom wanted to die, because the whole family was so distant from each other that none of them ever experienced that love that makes life livable.

And so when Largeman tells his dad that all he has is his life, that that's it, he's not saying that he should go for every hedonistic experience, to squeeze every drop of pleasure out of life. He has found that trying to live a meaningful life void of love is impossible. Love is real.

After the second viewing, I realized that the film is not a carpe diem film, but rather a memento mori film. This made me feel good about liking it.