Jesus Camp, 2006, dir. Rachel Grady & Heidi Ewing
Watched this with Ian. Fascinating. Well-made. Pretty even-handed. I enjoyed it quite a lot.

Ides of March, 2011, dir. George Clooney
Saw this with Blake. I keep forgetting what this is called, but I remember the film pretty well—George Clooney and Ryan Gosling do a very good job adapting Farragut North, a play, into a film. At least, it’s appropriately demoralizing and fascinating. I liked it. Great acting, a good script. A bit confusing in terms of motivations, but I felt pretty much like they knew what they were doing.

También la Lluvia (Even the Rain), 2010, dir. Icíar Bollaín
I’m glad I finally saw this. Gael García Bernal is awesome (as usual, I suppose). The plot is really well-crafted. There’s perhaps a mite too much melodrama, but in general I think the acting is good, the ideas moving, and the result well worth watching. Also it’s nice to watch movies in Spanish.

El Bulli: Cooking in Progress, 2011, dir. Gereon Wetzel
Not in Spanish, despite being about a Spanish restaurant—but it’s (a) made by German filmmakers/documentarians and (b) about a Catalan restaurant more explicitly, which is to say predominately in Catalan. I like food; I liked this movie about food. It is strictly documenting a year in the “life” of this restaurant and its chef, Ferran Adrià. I enjoyed it, although it was pretty slow. Worth seeing if you like food/cooking/molecular gastronomy/creativity. Saw this with Justin and his friend Galen.

Jane Eyre, 2011, dir. Cary Joji Fukunaga
Jamie Bell is in this. Isn’t that weird? Jason tried to convince me to go see it months ago when it came out, and I was interested from then on; I finally watched it. I’d never seen any adaptation, or read the book, which was nice. This was a good introduction. I’m curious about the book now. A dark, brooding, gothic interpretation of the story.

La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In), 2011, dir. Pedro Almodóvar
Saw this in theatres in D.C., with Ian. I like Almodóvar films. I liked this one. It was a bit less silly than his older movies (although I guess the same could be said for Volver). It’s about a plastic surgeon (Antonio Banderas, back with Almodóvar) who’s created a burn-resistant skin and is testing it on a captive. That’s all I’ll say. Watch the trailer. I think it’s worthwhile. Creepy. Very creepy. Predictable, but predictably good and intense.

We Need to Talk About Kevin, 2011, dir. Lynne Ramsay
I just saw this one yesterday with Jason and his friend Sean. (Thanks, J.) Tilda Swinton is one of my favorite actresses, and she’s amazing in this, as usual. She’s on-screen most of the time, as we weave through time to learn about the events preceding, during, and after a violent act by her son that leads to his imprisonment and her, well, downfall. It was well-shot, although sometimes a bit confusing in a way that I didn’t think was useful. Still, a really moving film.

Melancholia, 2011, dir. Lars von Trier
And this one I saw today, with my parents. It wasn’t as depressing as I was expecting, or as the above film. Still sad, though. Beautifully, beautifully-shot. Great acting from Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg, and everyone else actually. I had some problems with it (what was the point of the kid?!), but I liked the movie in general. It’s a bit slow (since it’s Dunst, I thought of Marie Antoinette a few times), but there is some action, and I kind of liked the way it was split into two fairly distinct stories. I interpreted it loosely as an “internal” depression and an “external” one, although I don’t mean that as a reading of the film. I think it’s one to think about.

Books.

I’ve been reading some, although nothing that I meant to. I finally read The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Stieg Larsson), and I suppose I’ll read the sequels, too, since I got through it so quickly. It was fun, although there were plenty of things that pissed me off / bored me / didn’t make sense stylistically. I thought once or twice of this piece in the New Yorker.

I also read Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One, in just one night actually. (I’ve been reading Infinite Jest for over a year, Los Detectives Salvajes for four months, and The Magic Toyshop for two weeks, and I pick up this book and plow through it in a night? Dammit.) It’s not quite YA, but it almost qualifies, at least by virtue of its character’s age. It’s sort of a mix of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians, Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, and maybe a few similar books. Mostly it’s the Stephenson, although I’ll grant him that Stephenson (and, probably, Gibson’s Neuromancer, probably; I never managed to start that, although I know I should) is more the starting point than the plot he follows. The plot is relatively distinct, and pretty clever/silly/both.

I was thinking this—including the bit about Grossman—and then I was at the Miami Book Fair and saw Grossman speak, which was fun (I like the guy). I need to get The Magicians and The Magician King from the library and re-read the first and read the second. I shall be on that!

The Book Fair was nice, but I’m done writing and going to publish this. Yep.

Beginners, 2010, dir. Mike Mills
I really enjoyed this, when I saw it at the Coral Gables Cinemateque¹. Christopher Plummer plays Ewan McGregor’s father, who comes out as gay as an older man after his wife passes away, dates a much younger man, and then passes away; we watch McGregor’s character deal with the death of his father and interact with the really stupendous Mélanie Laurent², with whom he begins a relationship. It wasn’t a perfect movie, but it was very amusing, and sweet, and dealt with many difficult subjects well. Recommended.

Gasland, 2010, dir. Josh Fox
A documentary about hydraulic fracturing (“fracking”) and the US natural gas industry. Really depressing because on the one hand, natural gas is a great resource, while on the other hand, the means we’re using to get it out are damaging the earth and people’s lives. This is where those videos of people lighting their tap water on fire are from. It is one of the only reasons I am glad that I have an electric range at home. Worth watching if you don’t know much about fracking.

Los Amantes del Círculo Polar (Lovers of the Arctice Circle), 1998, dir. Julio Médem
One of my favorite movies ever. Watched it this time without subtitles, which was fun. (Although I watched this and the movie below while I was sick, which was not fun.) Médem also directed Lucía y el Sexo (Sex and Lucia), which is also a good film. This movie is sweet and sad and technically very clever; it’s also sexy and has a good plot. Otto and Ana become interested in each other as children; their parents, divorced from other spouses, end up marrying each other. And I think I’ll leave the description there. The film is mostly just a drama, but it’s intriguing, I think. I first watched this movie in a class, where we watched a number of really good international films. This one wins out, though. Oh yeah.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, 1971, dir. Mel Stuart
A classic! Although I like the newer version as well, this one’s the best. Another movie I own; another fun watch while I was sick.

Freakonomics, 2010, dir. Ewing, Gibney, Gordon, Grady, Jarecki, & Spurlock
A documentary based in part on the book. I never really wanted to read the book, but I find the ideas interesting. My mother and I were looking for something streaming to watch and happened upon this one. I had fun watching it, but don’t really remember much of it.

L’Illusionniste (The Illusionist), 2010, dir. Sylvain Chomet
I talked about wanting to see this on Halloween, almost a year ago; I didn’t like it quite as much as I hoped I would. It was, as I text-messaged a friend in Philadelphia while watching it, quite dispiriting: “Damn the French make sad animated films,” I sent him. It’s made by the same people who made The Triplets of Belleville, which I quite liked; it’s quiet and sad and not very uplifting at all. I don’t know if I recommend it, but I also didn’t dislike it. I just think there are other things I’d rather see.

Persona, 1966, dir. Ingmar Bergman
I saw this with my sister, on a rainy Sunday while visiting her in New York. She convinced me to see this over several other options. I think I’d only seen one other Bergman film³, and I was glad to see another. I like him, when I’m willing to invest some time and patience in a film. This is considered a classic, and one of his best films. It was haunting and kind of bizarre, and manages to be weird without being particularly silly. It didn’t hold my attention perfectly, but at the same time it’s the sort of film I’d like to watch again, and think about some more. One that requires a bit of work, but might be worth it. I don’t watch that kind of film often, but it’s nice on occasion.

Balada triste de trompeta (The Last Circus), 2010, dir. Álex de la Iglesia
This movie was pretty ridiculous. I saw it last Sunday, and spent the entire drive home from the theatre (the awesome O Cinema) trying to decide if I liked it. My friend Justin, with whom I saw it, concluded that he did; I guess I have to as well. It’s about, errr, a clown in a circus who goes insane? I guess. It’s really bizarre, and you have to spend a lot of time suspending your disbelief—but they do a good job of stretching the conceit (clowns gone mad; violent men dressed as clowns) a lot further than you’d imagine. I don’t know that I’d recommend it, exactly. It’s a bunch of g’s: gruesome and graphic and grotesque. But if you watch the trailer and think, “oh man!, this looks ridiculous and fun!,” which is what I thought, then maybe you’ll like it as well.

1. They insist on misspelling the word “cinematheque,” although I don’t know why. Otherwise, they’re great; Miami has been lucky in the past year to suddenly gain two new art cinemas—this and O Cinema, in Wynwood—and have the Miami Beach Cinematheque re-open.
2. She played the awesomely mad French woman in Inglourious Basterds.
3. The Seventh Seal

Never Let Me Go, 2010, dir. Mark Romanek
I really liked this movie, although it’s a bit slow. Really good, creepy sci-fi-ish plot (cloned Brits are raised in boarding schools and then sacrificed for their organs), with a strong main character, good emotional development, excellent acting. Beautifully shot. I saw this over two months ago, so I can’t say much more than that, but I’d definitely watch it again.

Hanna, 2011, dir. Joe Wright
Hanna was not a thought-provoking movie, but it was a well-done action movie. The character is cool and smart. The violence is well-organized and not the point. I really liked it.

Heartbeats (Les Amours Imaginaires), 2010, dir. Xavier Dolan
Okay, so I might think that Xavier Dolan is ridiculously cool, and I might have liked this movie in part because of that. And maybe it could’ve been better as a short film rather than a full-length film that felt like a shorter film interspersed with little story-telling vignettes. But I liked the vignettes, and the shorter film. I thought it was a simple story told well. The acting is pretty good and pretty believable. Some people raved about this movie. I see why.

Beaches, 1988, dir. Garry Marshall
I was told that I had to see this. I did. It was fine. I wasn’t bored. But it was ultimately pretty forgettable.

Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, 2009, dir. John Krasinski
I really liked this. I haven’t read the David Foster Wallace short story (stories?) on which it’s based, which is totally fine. I liked the story, I liked how weird it was. I liked the confusion about which story was real. Apparently lots of people didn’t like it, but so what.

The Cove, 2009, dir. Louie Psihoyos
This documentary (about the killing of dolphins in Japan) was fucking intense. Really good. Very scary. A thriller despite being documentary-style. Upsetting. I was really impressed.

Little Shop of Horrors, 1986, dir. Frank Oz
I’m glad I finally saw this. I saw some friends / fellow students put on the musical a few years ago, and liked it well enough. I think I also saw the original non-musical movie, long ago. But the musical was fun. I like musicals, sometimes, sort-of.

TiMER, 2009, dir. Jac Schaeffer
This was cute. I’m not the biggest romantic comedy man, but this was fun and distracting, and it was relatively clever. I definitely enjoyed it while I watched it, but I’m not sure I have anything to say now.

Exit Through the Gift Shop, 2010, dir. Banksy
Not sure that I liked this movie, but I think that was partially the intention. I like Banksy. I didn’t like the person who became the primary character of the film, Thierry Guetta / Mr. Brainwash. Don’t like his art, either. But I certainly wasn’t bored. I just.

The Cave of Forgotten Dreams, 2011, dir. Werner Herzog
I’m really glad I got to see this in 3-D, even though I’m not sure how I feel about 3-D movies. (It hurt my head.) Getting to see the cave paintings he filmed in “three dimensions” was pretty amazing. Herzog’s narration is actually relatively fun. Not the fastest-paced documentary I’ve ever seen, but I liked it a lot.

Down by Law, 1986, dir. jim Jarmusch
My sister bought this for my father for his birthday. I like Jarmusch (Coffee and Cigarettes, Dead Man, Broken Flowers). I like Tom Waits! Not the fastest-moving film I’ve seen. But seeing shots of an older New Orleans was really cool. A young Roberto Benigni was interesting. I enjoyed this.

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, 2010, dir. Apichatpong Weerasethakul
I liked this about as much as I expected to. I tried to see it last weekend, but the screening was canceled, and so O Cinema organized a free screening mid-week. It was a slow film, but honestly I enjoyed something about it. Thailand is beautiful. The title gave more description than the movie itself did, maybe. I might’ve felt differently had I seen it alone. But with friends, it was an interesting experience.

Paprika, 2007, dir. Satoshi Kon
People really admire this director, but I didn’t much like Tokyo Godfathers, the other movie of his I saw. I liked this. I saw in in 2007, I think, with my friends Jacob and Sophie and Rachel. After I watched Inception, I’d been wanting to watch this again, to confirm my suspicion (confirmed indeed) that Paprika was so much better. It’s not a perfect movie by any means, but the animation is great, it does a wonderful job of treating dreams and confusing reality/dream, and the music is awesome. (It’s anime, in case that’s not clear.)

I should probably add in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks television program, but I haven’t finished the series yet, so I’ll write about it when I do.

1. Around that same time, I went to New York City with my family. There were a bunch of things I was originally going to write about—and some pictures I was going to post—but instead I’ll just mention that we had the good fortune of seeing Tom Stoppard’s play Arcadia, which was wonderful. You can read the wikipedia article for a detailed description of the convoluted plot, but suffice to say that the acting was not-quite-but-almost-unilaterally great, the stage design clear, and the play itself, well, is just really fucking cool.

2. I really like the poet Anne Carson, who wrote the really bloody cool book Autobiography of Red, and more recently wrote a book called Nox. She’s a classics professor, and blends ancient and modern in her poetry/not-quite-poetry. Also in April, I had the good fortune of seeing a live performance—a collaboration between two dancers and Carson. It was in the Moore building in the Design District of Miami, and was all of these things: an interesting dance piece, a lovely “reading,” a good time. (I took my mother for her birthday.) Here are three photographs.

3. There have been other things going on—this week in particular has been tumultuous—but I think perhaps I’ll leave them up in the air. I haven’t done much reading recently. I guess in general things have been kind of a mad dash towards nothing so much.

I’m going away this week—I leave ridiculously early tomorrow morning. The day before I travel always seems like a great time to write about my life. Set things aside for a moment so we can relax. And so it is. I imagine I’ll be posting pictures on here when I get back. I’d like to. I’ve missed updating my blog, in some sense.

In any event:

The City of Lost Children (La Cité des enfants perdus), dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro, 1995
This was a weird film—but then again, it’s Jeunet, who’s the director who also did Amelie and, before this, Delicatessen. There were some things I really liked about it. I loved some of the Rube Goldberg machine style events. I liked the set design. The plot itself is very weird, and intentionally so… but I enjoyed it, as a whole.

127 Hours, dir. Danny Boyle, 2010
James Franco plays Aron Ralston, who was trapped under a boulder in Utah when he went solo exploring, and ended up cutting off his own arm to escape. I remember reading about Ralston when this happened; I really enjoyed watching this movie, although I think it could have had about thirty minutes cut (it was already only an hour-and-a-half; I understand why they didn’t cut). Franco is great; the cinematography is wonderful. It made me want to go to Utah.

Enter the Void, dir. Gaspar Noé, 2009/2010
(See my review/thoughts)
I think in the end I would say I am really glad I saw this movie, but it definitely inspired mixed feelings.

El Secreto de Sus Ojos (The Secret of Their Eyes), dir. Juan José Campanella, 2009
This movie won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film last year; I’d been meaning to see it but hadn’t gotten around to it. I really liked it, but I guess there were some things I disliked about it. Still, a pretty cool movie; I definitely recommend it.

Black Swan, dir. Darren Aronofsky, 2010
Really amazing. I know some people hated this movie (starring Natalie Portman as a dancer in the Tchaikovsky ballet), but I really liked it. It may have had something to do with the excellent company, but I think most of me liking this film had to do with it being an excellent film. There was one scene (the hospital scene near the end) that I think was wholly unnecessary, but the movie struck just the right cord of creepy with me (especially the feathers stuff—gah, but that was effective). I think of all the movies on this list, this one’s up there as the best. Although many of them were great, actually.

Wit, dir. Mike Nichols, 2001
This was an HBO movie (co-written by Nichols and Emma Thompson, who starred in it) that I watched the day after I saw Black Swan, with the same company. It’s about a woman (Thompson) dying of ovarian cancer, and struggling with her own death. It was really intense, and certainly sad. Like 127 Hours, it’s essentially a one-character film, and that’s great—Thompson is wonderful and funny and sad. Definitely recommend.

True Grit, dir. Joel & Ethan Coen, 2010
I liked this film, but I didn’t quite see why people raved about it. I liked the acting; I loved the oddly stilted English (although it reminded me a bit of Diablo Cody’s writing in Juno in a weird way). I never quite felt like I cared, though, and I’m not sure why not.

The Fighter, dir. David O. Russell, 2010
I really liked Russell’s I &heart; Huckabees, but this was better. I guess I might’ve liked it more than Black Swan, actually; it’s the first fight movie I’ve seen in years that was this good. All of the acting is amazing—woah, but Christian Bale is wonderful here—and the story is damn-good as well. The movie’s about Mark Wahlberg as a boxer; his older brother (Bale) was once reasonably successful, but now has a drug problem. Wahlberg is struggling to figure out what he wants as a man and as a boxer. There were plenty of things to love in the movie—the fact that boxing was more the vehicle than the story helped a lot, if that distinction makes sense.

The Virgin Suicides, dir. Sofia Coppola, 1999
This was Coppola’s first film, and I had never seen it. I loved the novel (by Jeffrey Eugenides, who also wrote the amazing Middlesex) when I read Emily Alves’ copy in high school. So I figured it was finally time to watch it. The movie’s really beautiful, and very Sofia Coppola. Seeing a young Josh Hartnett is pretty awesome. On the whole, I didn’t feel like my attention was entirely held. I guess it’s sort of the same reaction I had to Marie Antoinette.

I’ve been watching the David Lynch-directed TV show Twin Peaks, slowly, with my folks; it’s good fun. I also went through the entire first season of Veronica Mars, which is considerably lower brow, but also fun.

This past week was the Miami International Film Festival (MIFF), and I only went to two films this year, primarily because I was busy.

Black Field (Mavro livadi), dir. Vardis Marinakis, 2009/2011
I saw this movie last weekend with two high school friends. It was kind of ridiculous. Definitely my least favorite of the movies in this post. It’s about a convent in Greece in the 1600s, where a wounded Janissary who has desserted is nursed back to health by the sisters, and about the young nun who becomes fascinated by him. The general story was, sure, interesting. But the plot was somewhat convoluted and didn’t really follow; the ending left me thinking, “Wait, what?”

Incendies, dir. Denis Villeneuve, 2010
This French-Canadian film was pretty wonderful, if occasionally a wee bit over-the-top; I just watched it last night. It was nominated for an Academy Award, although it was beat out by another film that was at MIFF (last weekend), which I didn’t make it to. It did, however, win a bunch of Genie Awards, Canada’s highest film prize. Understandably so. It’s about twins whose mother dies and, in her will, leaves them a mystery which they unravel during the film. It’s based on a play (whose title is translated to English as Scorched, although the word incendies means fires/blazes; the movie is presented without a translation for the title). I have several criticisms beyond that “occasionally a wee bit over-the-top,” but I was definitely perfectly engaged throughout the film, and I really liked the acting, the setting, and the Radiohead soundtrack (although I’m sure some people will dislike this). I have mixed feelings about the fact that they chose to set the film in an unnamed, imaginary Arabic country; more than anything, the mixed feelings have to do with my being confused most of the film about where they were. (Some of the movie took place in Canada, but much of it did not.) I thought it could be Lebanon, but they intentionally used names that could be real but were not. (Obviously, this was intentional; I think it was probably a good move, but it is mildly confusing.) In any case, a really excellent movie, and a moving one (hah!).

Okay, that’s the present.

I saw Into the Void tonight, Gaspar Noé’s newest film. Here, read about it. I found it: fascinating, brutal, graphic, direct, beautiful, haunting, upsetting, boring, stupid, interesting, worrisome. Ostensibly, it’s about a young man and his sister, living in Tokyo. The young man is dealing drugs. But there’s a lot more going on. I hesitate to recommend a film by Gaspar Noé—his Irreversible is one of the most-walked-out-of films I know of. But there was something really interesting at least in the way this movie was made. I loved the way the camera worked; I really liked watching Oscar (the protagonist) stand silently in so many scenes, [like] a ghost. And yet.

I’m not going to get into a discussion of the pornography of violence, or talk about New French Extremism, which is the “genre” Noé is often grouped into. I’ll just say that if you’re interested, you should talk to me about this. (And I liked the review from the Miami Herald.)

In any case, my life is moving along its own course. As I keep on telling people, I’m gaining a lot by living at home, but also losing something about my 23rd year that I may or may not regret losing. I keep on changing my mind about whether or not I want to move out.

I’d like to start updating more regularly. Perhaps I shall.

releasing Dec. 25: L’Illusionniste (The Illusionist), dir. Sylvain Chomet. I read about this movie a few months ago; Chomet is the guy who made The Triplets of Belleville, and this movie looks wonderful. It’s animated, which is obvious if you’ve seen Triplets. The story behind the film is that Jacques Tati, this famous French comedian/director, wrote an unfinished screenplay; his daughter conceived of animating it and passed it on to Chomet, who finally made the film. The plot is about a magician and his relationship with a young girl who thinks he does real magic. I don’t really know more, but I’m excited nonetheless.

releasing Dec. 10: The Tempest, dir. Julie Taymor. She’s the one who did Across the Universe and, more importantly, 1999′s amazing Titus (Andronicus). She makes Prospero into a woman (played by Helen Mirren), but I’m excited. Like: Shakespeare. Like: Taymor.

releasing Dec. 3: Black Swan, dir. Darren Aronofsky (of Requiem for a Dream and Pi fame). Natalie Portman is a ballerina who goes crazy while training for dancing the lead in Swan Lake. Everything I’ve heard sounds good.

releasing Nov. 5: 127 Hours, dir. Danny Boyle. (See: Trainspotting, 28 Days Later.) Strangely, I often think of Boyle and Aronofsky as similar, because Trainspotting and Requiem are such strangely parallel films. Anyway, this movie is about Aron Ralston, the real-life hiker who cut off his arm to free himself from being trapped under a boulder. James Franco plays him. It will be awesome.

The rest of these I’ve seen:

Howl (2010), dir. Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman. Starring: James Franco as Allen Ginsberg. Another movie carried primarily by Franco, this is more or less an art film, about Ginsberg’s marvelous poem and also about Allen Ginsberg. The movie has six layers, interspersed (I should note from the first that Franco plays Ginsberg in all of these; there is no documentary footage): (1) an interview with Ginsberg, quoting directly from a real interview, and delving into (2) scenes from Ginsberg’s recent past, re-enacted; (3) Ginsberg’s writing of “Howl,” at a type-writer, illustrated by (4) animated sequences showing interpretations of the poem as it is read; (5) Ginsberg’s first live reading of the poem in 1955, in front of an audience in San Francisco; (6) segments (drawn from court records) of the obscenity trial of Lawrence Ferlinghetti, for publishing the book.

Obviously, only the last and first segments are really narrative (spoiler: they win the trial); 3, 4, & 5 are all just the poem. Which is awesome, and beautiful — but really only interesting if you like the poem. Which I do — so I say, go see the film. But maybe read the poem first.

They finish with him reading “Footnote to Howl,” which is one of my favorite poems. I kind of like the part where it shows up in The Best of Youth (see: youtube: scene from The Best of Youth, skip to 3:00), too. But it’s a great poem.

Paranormal Activity (2007), dir. Oren Peli. I watched this Friday night with my friend Briana and her boyfriend. I liked it all right, I guess — I like the way they play with the narrative by having it be in the documentary style — but it’s not particularly novel, and the movie didn’t really scare me at all. Maybe it would have more if I had any sort of belief in these things.

The Secret of Kells (2009/2010), dir. Tomm Moore and Nora Twomey. This is an animated movie; it was nominated for an Oscar this year, and with good reason (although it lost to Up; stiff competition this year). It’s absolutely gorgeous; they took a lot of time in the art, and it shows. It’s much more art-based than a Pixar film, which is nice but a bit un-modern in a way that feels almost strange after so much art that’s not actually hand-drawn. It’s about a young boy living in a monastery during the 9th century; he helps to illuminate a biblical text. I really don’t think you need to know more, but suffice to say that there are threats to the art, to the place they live, and to the boy’s world-view. Also a really cool girl living in the forest. I watched this with my mother a few weeks ago, on Netflix Instant; we both really enjoyed it.

Outrage (2009), dir. Kirby Dick. This was a documentary about anti-gay rhetoric, as practiced and promoted by politicians, especially closeted gay politicians. It had some really good interviews, and focused on hypocrisy. I thought it was reasonably well-made, and I thought they at the very least did a good job of trying to find evidence for what they were claiming. I’d also say I learned some stuff I didn’t know, although perhaps not all that much.

Banlieue 13 (2004; District 13 / District B13), dir. Pierre Morel. This is a ridiculous action movie, which I primarily liked because I think parkour (freerunning) is awesome. It’s French, the action is good and done without wires, the acting is fine, the plot is interesting. Ain’t that enough?

Nowhere Boy (2009, released 2010), dir. Sam Taylor-Wood. This film is about John Lennon when he was a teenager. It’s pretty good; I read the review in Slate and thought it sounded good which it was. She makes some good points in the review, including the weirdness of seeing Aaron Johnson (from Kick-Ass) play John Lennon, but you get used to that. All in all, I really enjoyed this movie. As with other Beatles movies (Across the Universe comes to mind), if you love the Beatles (I like them, but love isn’t the word I’d use) you might hate it, but you also might like it. Otherwise, it’s a movie with a great soundtrack, a good story, and some quite good acting.

Tokyo Godfathers (2003), dir. Satoshi Kon. I watched this primarily because the director just passed away. I’d seen his film Paprika, which I thought was really cool and insane (it’s the film that I most connect to Inception because of the way it treats dreams); this was not as good. It’s anime, which I am willing to like when it’s done well, and the art is actually quite good, but the characters weren’t particularly likable and the plot was odd. It’s about three homeless people — a runaway girl, an older bum, and a drag queen — and the baby they discover on Christmas eve, and try to return to its mother. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t terribly exciting either.

Planet Terror (2007, dir. Robert Rodriguez) and Death Proof (2007, dir. Quentin Tarantino) — together, these were released as Grindhouse. I didn’t end up seeing these back-to-back as I was supposed to. Then again, they weren’t released with the ridiculous previews, so I couldn’t've re-created the theatrical experience anyway. I wasn’t a big fan. I know what they were getting at, but Planet Terror was a bit too dumb, and Death Proof a bit too overtly misogynistic. I liked parts of both of them, but was overall kind of bored.

Yossi and Jagger (2002), dir. Eytan Fox. I liked this Israeli film about two gay soldiers on the border with Lebanon, and their relationship. It’s cheaply made, and it shows. But I found the story interesting enough. I wouldn’t recommend it highly, but I also wouldn’t knock it down.

Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), dir. Wes Anderson. This animated film, based on the Roald Dahl book, was a lot of fun. I’m assuming most people have seen it, which is probably inaccurate but whatever. It’s quite good. Definitely worth seeing, if not just for the fact that it’s stop-motion animation, and that’s impressively done.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010), dir. Edgar Wright. I like Michael Cera; I like comic books. Having said that: I also liked this film. I thought the directing very cleverly evoked comics (in general), and played well with the comic book it’s based on (I’m on the fourth volume now). The plot is that Scott Pilgrim, a 22-year-old Canadian dating a 17-year-old, suddenly meets the (literal) girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers, and falls for her — but in order to date her, he has to defeat her seven evil ex-es (in battle). In the movie, Jason Schwartzman plays the head of the evil ex-es. There’s been some criticism of the way the film dropped female characters, but as a romance and as a comedy and even as an action-film (sort of) it does quite well. I enjoyed it, and some parts were really excellent.

Marie Antoinette (2006), dir. Sofia Coppola. I’d never seen this, and I’m glad I finally did, although the point that it was kind of boring was not lost on me. I liked the filming, the art direction, the a-historical stance, and so forth. I enjoyed the not-quite-vapidness of Kirsten Dunst’s character. Jason Schwartzman is in this one, too, as her husband; he does quite well. But all in all, I kind of wished it were shorter.

The Prestige (2006), dir. Christopher Nolan. I’ve liked Nolan since I saw Memento (I own it on VHS!). I actually have seen all of his movies but his first, now that I take a look. I’ll have to see that one, too. Anyway — I had never gotten around to seeing this one, for whatever reason. I’ve associated it with the similarly-themed film released around the same time, Neil Burger’s The Illusionist (not to be confused with The Illusionist at the top of this entry), starring Edward Norton, but never saw this one, which was often compared favorably to that film. The Prestige stars Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale; they’re both excellent as rival stage magicians. Essentially, the story is that they both keep on one-upping the other. Bale’s character has a trick that Jackman’s cannot replicate, so he tries to figure it out, and does him one better. I liked a lot about the film, although had some reservations at the ending.

At some point, I watched Little Ashes (dir. Paul Morrison, 2008) and An Education (dir. Lone Scherfig, 2009); I don’t think I ever wrote about them. The former was kind of crap, about Lorca and Dalí but with Robert Pattinson and a kind of weird imagined story. The latter was actually really good, and a lot better than the title might suggest. I probably saw it in April, though.

Anyway, a bunch of good movies, right?

However, I do today. Just a photo or two. They involve me and two friends as (not very-well-done) zombies.

Tuesday, 06 July. Dresden.
Near the Elbe is a museum called the Albertinum. It’s part of the Staatsliche Kunstammlungen Dresden (Dresden State Art Collections; Kunst = art). The museum was badly flooded in 2002, but rebuilt; it’s quite nice (if sort of expensive). There was supposed to be an audio guide that came with the ticket, which would’ve made it less so, but although they advertise it in English, it’s only currently available in German. For the most part, it’s a modern art museum, although they go back into the early 1900s. To be fair, I like modern art.

The lower floor has a sculpture museum, including this cool piece by Birgit Dieker, “Captor of Souls,” a ball made up of life saver rings (as in, the kind you use on a boat) and mooring roaps, reminding me of that Japanese video game where the objective is to roll everything in the world into a big ball, Katamari Damacy (you can see her piece here). Upstairs there were these amazing giant sculptures of the kind I really like, “Giants” (2007), by Martin Honert — literally giant human-like figures, quite realistic. (Reminds me of Ron Mueck) Two men, dressed in normal clothing, but towering a good meter or two above me. There were also a few really cool Otto Dix pieces, on the floor above, including “War” and the super-cool “Family Portrait (The Family of Dr. Fritz Glaser, Lawyer” (1925). Also some paintings by Paul Klee, some cool upside-down portraits by George Baselitz, and this piece, “9 Upright Standing Panes (879-3)” by Gerhard Richter which did surprisingly intriguing things with repeating reflections in glass.

After, I sat outside by the Elbe for a bit. Windy and actually vaguely cool. It had been raining all morning, but stopped to be nice to me.

I finished reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being today. It’s a 1984 novel by Milan Kundera, a Czech writer; it’s one of those books you know about before you really know anything about it. I had it in school on Monday, and one of the teachers who I like a lot, Eva, asked me what I was reading. I tried to translate the title. “La insoportable… ligereza… de ser?” I knew ligereza didn’t feel right, but she figured out what I was talking about. The title in Spanish is La insoportable levedad de ser; I’m not entirely sure what the difference is between the two words, to be honest.

Anyway, “Isn’t that really depressing?” she asked me. But it’s not, at all. I knew before I started reading it that it was a “philosophical” book, and it is. But it’s not heavy in the way it could be; it doesn’t feel like I’m working at anything. I finished the last fifty pages in an hour today, reading while waiting at the doctor’s office. Not the sort of thing you can do with every book. But it’s philosophical without being difficult. It’s about love, and sex, and death. It’s graphic and straightforward. That’s why it’s interesting; that’s why it’s fun.

I’m glad I got around to reading it.

Below are some quotes I liked. I blocked off paragraphs all through the book; these are some shorter ones. There are lots of wonderful passages.

Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love. (Kundera, 11)

This symmetrical composition–the same motif appears at the beginning and at the end–may seem quite “novelistic” to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on the condition that you refrain from reading such notions as “fictive,” “fabricated,” and “untrue to life” into the word “novelistic.” Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion. (Kundera, 52)

Now, perhaps, we are in a better position to understand the abyss separating Sabina and Franz: he listened eagerly to the story of her life and she was equally eager to hear the story of his, but although they had a clear understanding of the logical meaning of the words they exchanged, they failed to hear the semantic susurrus of the river flowing between them. (Kundera, 88, oh god that last line is wonderful)

   He knew that instead of waking her he should lull her back to sleep, so he tried to come up with an answer that would plant the image of a new dream in her mind.
   ”I’m looking at the stars,” he said.
   ”Don’t say you’re looking at the stars. That’s a lie. You’re looking down.”
   ”That’s because we’re in an airplane. The stars are below us.”
   ”Oh, in an airplane,” said Tereza, squeezing his hand even tighter and falling asleep again. And Tomas knew that Tereza was looking out of the round window of an airplane flying high above the stars. (Kundera, 240)

Hoy, acabé de leer La insoportable levedad de ser. Es un libro del año 1984, del escritor checo Milan Kundera. Es uno de los libros que conoces, por lo menos en inglés, aunque probablamente no sabes mucho de él. Lo tenía conmigo en el colegio el lunes, y uno de las profesores con quien me lleva bien, Eva, me preguntó que leía. Intenté a traducir el titulo — “Es la Insoportable … ligereza … de ser?” Supe que ligereza no era la palabra, pero ella me entendió. No entiendo completamente la diferencia entre ligereza y levedad, todavía.

De todos modos, me preguntó, “No es muy pesado?” Pero no, no es, en ninguna manera. Sabía antes de empezarme que era un libro filosófico, y lo es. Pero no es pesado, no es deprimido, no me da el sentimiento que estoy trabajando. Terminé con las ultimas 50 paginas en una hora, hoy, esperando el la oficina del medico. Esto no es el tipo de cosa que puedes hacer con todos los libros. Es filosófico sin ser difícil. Se trata del amor, y el sexo, y el muerto. Es gráfico, y franco. Por eso es interesante; por eso es divertido.

Estoy contento que finalmente lo leí.

Abajo son unas citas que me gustó. Marqué párrafos en todo el libro; estos son los más cortos. Hay muchos pasajes maravillosos. Aquí hago unas traducciones para divertirme — obviamente, ya traduzco de una traducción de checo. Las traducciones en inglés están arriba.

Tomás no se dió cuenta en este momento que las metáforas son peligrosas. No debe jugar con las metáforas. Una metáfora sola puede engendrar el amor. (Kundera, 11)

Esta composición simétrica–la misma tema aparece al principio y al final–puede parecer bastante novelistica a sí, y estoy dispuesto a aceptar, pero solo si Ud. se abstene de presumir las ideas de “ficcional,” “fabricado,” y “inreal en aspecto a la vida” en la palabra “novelistica.” Porque las vidas humanas son compuestos en exactamente esta manera. (Kundera, 52)

Ahora, quizás, estamos en una posición mejor a entender el abismo que separa Sabina y Franz: él escuchó con entusiasmo a la historia de su vida, y ella con entusiasmo igual escuchó a la suya, pero aunque los dos entendieron con claridad los sentidos logicos de las palabras que intercambiaron, ellos fracasaron a escuchar el susurro semántico del río fluyendo entre sus mismos. (Kundera, 88, joder pero la ultima linea es maravillosa)

   Sabía que en vez de despertarla, debe calmarla a dormir otra vez, y así intentó a inventar una respuesta que plantaría la imagen de un sueño nuevo en su mente.
   ”Miro a las estrellas,” dijo.
   ”No digas que mires a las estrellas. Es una mentira. Tú miras abajo.”
   ”Eso es porque estamos en un avión. Las estrellas están abajos.”
   ”O, en un avión,” dijo Tereza, apretando la mano de Tomás aun más, y se dormió otra vez. Y Tomás sabía que Tereza miraba fuera de la ventana redonda de un avión, volando muy arriba de las estrellas. (Kundera, 240)

I had started it back a year ago or so, and I finally finished it yesterday, on the train coming back from San Sebastian. (Which merits its own post. The train, as well, but I’ll post on San Sebastian.) I ended up reasonably well-pleased with the book. I don’t think it was ground-breaking, and I have a few places where I wrote something akin to “fuck you, Danielewski” in the margins, but all-in-all I’d say that I found this to be a fascinating book, and I am unlikely to forget it any time soon.

To re-cap: the book is ostensibly about a film called The Navidson Record, a quasi-horror film in which Will Navidson, his wife, and their two kids move into a house in Virginia that has a basement that is more than a basement — it is a creature, an almost-living malevolent being. The innermost heart of the novel is a book that is essentially a descriptive critique of the film, heavy on external sources except for where these sources are rebutted. This part of the novel is excellent — replete with sections where the design of the page reflects what’s going in the text. This text then, is being compiled by Johnny Truant, a bum/tattoo-parlor-worker/genuine-crazy who intersperses his eclectic experiences with comments on the text. I found myself interested less in him — his story, as Julien pointed out to me, is really fairly unoriginal — and more in how he interacts with the text. There’s a scene, for example, wherein his own dream replaces one Navidson should have; Truant intertwines his own story with Navidson’s.

In some way, the book is very traditional — certainly in the way it resolves it is pleasantly straightforward. Despite its play with traditional modes of criticism and its intended subversion, I think it’s still trying to be enjoyable. It’s work, but it wants to be fun work.

I’d like to re-read it some day. But at the same time, I’m not sure that I ever will.

I also got to stay with Marta, who’s amazing. Also an excellent hostess. It was fun to get to see her!

The festival was here, which is to say here. Which was an excellent venue for a music festival.

It’s a huge place; there were four main large stages, several smaller ones, and a gigantic auditorium. According to one place I looked, there were over one hundred thousand people. Definitely there were at least 75,000. Which is actually pretty ridiculous, when you think about it. I can’t really understand that number of people.

In any case, if you’re curious, here are the bands I saw. The ones who had enjoyable shows, or something worth noting, have a picture or a comment, or both. I have pictures of all of the shows I saw, except for Owen Pallett’s show and the one show I can’t really count. All in all, I saw 31 shows over the weekend, although of course most of them I didn’t see all of. I’d hazard that very few of the shows were longer than an hour.

Day 1. Show 1.
The Wave Pictures
Went with this kid I met in Bilbao, Fernando, and his friends. Shrug.

Day 1. Show 2.
Monotonix
Tagged along here. Only saw the last song, but their show was ridiculous. Mostly-sans-clothes. Running through the audience with the microphone and drum. Yeah.

Day 1. Show 3.
Titus Andronicus
A bit of a large stage for them, in my opinion. Fun.

Day 1. Show 4.
The xx

I really like this band’s album. You’ve probably heard “Crystalised” or “VCR” — if not, try ‘em out. They’ve gotten a bad rap for their live shows, but — and I acknowledge that this may come from the fact that I was expecting worse — I rather enjoyed seeing them. They weren’t amazing, and they were mostly just rather calm, but they put on an enjoyable show. It rained slightly during it, which was too bad, but honestly it was barely a sprinkle. I stayed for the whole show.

Day 1. Show 5.
Broken Social Scene
These guys put on a great show. I’d seen them before, at Brandeis I think (with my sister). I really like their new album, besides. I’m fairly sure I stayed for their whole show, although to be honest I don’t really remember.

Day 1. Show 6.
The Books

I love The Books. They’re one of my favorite bands. They do… I dunno, curious music. And for their live shows, they compile these amazing videos. Here’s a junction between good video and good song: “Smells Like Content“. “Tokyo” is another great song, although this video isn’t as great (and is fan-made). I got to see them do the former; not the latter. At this show, I met two American guys from D.C. while we were all waiting for the show to start. They were quite nice. I stayed for this entire show. I was really impressed by how well they did playing out of doors. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it totally did. And I’m glad; this marks the second time I’ve loved them live.

Day 1. No show.
Pavement
With Rob and Tom, the guys from above, I walked over to the Pavement show. But we didn’t stay. It was nearing the end, none of us really knew the music, and it was PACKED. Instead, we went to…

Day 1. Show 7.
Sleigh Bells
This was enjoyable, despite this being essentially hard rock with some woman screaming.

Day 1. Show 8.
Apse
I took off after a while at Sleigh Bells, and went to see Apse. I like their music (thanks, Ali), but I couldn’t get into the show.

Day 1. Show 9. Last show of the day (for me) — 02:30 AM.
Fuck Buttons
I don’t know their music very well. They’ve got some songs I like, though. They’re kind of a noise DJ pair? I don’t know. See what wiki has to say.

Well.

I took the night bus to the Plaza de Catalunya, and then walked to Marta’s place.

Day 2. Show 1.
Owen Pallett (used to go by Final Fantasy)
I really like Owen Pallett, and honestly this was one of the best shows of the festival. Unfortunately, I arrived late — the show started at 16:00 — so I only caught the second half and didn’t take any photographs. Pallett is a really good musician; his live show is really cool to watch. He plays the violin — very well — and loops it on itself, live, to create his songs. Also he had accompaniment. I encourage you to give him a try, but honestly I’m not sure what song to recommend. This song (with its ridiculous video) is excellent. So’s this one (the names are the couple who form The Arcade Fire; Pallett toured with them but I don’t know the origins of the song). Anyway, really fun. Also, this show and several others I went to this day were in the auditorium, which was super-nice.

Day 2. Show 2.
Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions
Hope Sandoval is apparently rather strange; she and her band played their show in almost-complete darkness, and she (above and beyond the theatre’s prohibition) asked that we not take photographs. I don’t know her music very well. I do like it, though. I stayed for the whole show, although I dazed off for some of it. I had gotten up to the second row, so it’s too bad these two shows weren’t reversed.

As I left, I saw this enormous line to get into the auditorium, for a band called Low. I think maybe Europeans know this band better than Americans, because I’m pretty sure I don’t know them at all. Although apparently they’re American, and worthy of huge queues.

Day 2. Show 3.
The New Pornographers
I’m not the hugest fan of this band, although I do like them. I didn’t stay for much of their show, since a friend from Madrid, Javi, gave me a call. So I joined him for a band he really liked:

Day 2. Show 4.
Nueva Vulcano
Javi and his friends really like this band, and knew all the words. It was pretty good, so I stayed for the whole show. It was my first not-in-English-show. Then I followed Javi and his friends back to the auditorium.

Day 2. Show 5.
Junip
I’d never heard of this band, and no wonder, since they’ve never released an album. It’s a group project featuring José González, the Swedish singer probably best known for his covers. (“Heartbeats“, originally by The Knife. “Teardrop“, originally by Massive Attack.) It was a nice show, although weird since I knew none of the music.

Day 2. Show 6.
CocoRosie
I have mixed feelings about them. Their live show is supposed to be fun, but I decided not to stay for longer than a few songs. They seemed to be having fun.

Day 2. Show 7.
Beach House
I like Beach House better anyway, and I’m glad I got to see a good part of this show. It was completely packed, so I didn’t get as close as I would’ve liked. But they’re excellent musicians, and I was pleased that they were good live. Around this time, I managed to miss two bands I would’ve liked to have seen: Here We Go Magic, and (more importantly) Wilco. I’ll have to see Wilco some other time to make up for it.

Day 2. Show 8.
Standstill

I saw this band a few weeks ago in Madrid. They weren’t as good in the auditorium, but they’re excellent musicians, and this time they played with this cool video behind them. I liked parts of the video quite a lot.

Day 2. Show 9.
Panda Bear
I left Standstill to go see Panda Bear, which was honestly a waste of time. He played a lot of new stuff, I think. I wandered off and got food after a while. Disappointing. I love Animal Collective, of which he’s a part. And I like his solo work — I just need to listen to it more. Also maybe he’d be more fun in a smaller space.

Day 2. Show 10.
Marc Almond
Do you know who this guy is? I didn’t. He’s apparently a member of Soft Cell, which means he played “Tainted Love.” His wiki article makes him seem like an interesting guy, but other than “Tainted Love” I was kind of bored. I just sat and watched because there wasn’t much else going on right at this point.

Day 2. Show 11.
Major Lazer

And then I went to Major Lazer. Which was a-mazing. They’re a collaboration between DJs Diplo (Philadelphia) and Switch (London) and a bunch of singers crossing a bunch of genres… See the wiki page. I actually first heard of them from, of all places, The New Yorker. See here. Actually, I believe I first read this blurb in the print edition when it came out. Anyway, Major Lazer shows are ridiculous affairs, including a type of dance known as Daggering I’ll leave you to look up yourself. Also, errr, watch this video. Before the show started, I met this Swedish guy who was on his own at the show, and these two girls who had been studying in France. I stuck with the Swedish guy for the whole show — his name was Leo, or perhaps Lio. We walked up to the next show, but then he ran off — and we oddly ran into each other again at Diplo’s solo DJ set later that night. He was possibly on something… here’s him with a mask on:

Sometime around now I missed seeing the Pixies. Yeah, I know.

Day 2. Show 12.
Yeasayer
I saw Yeasayer and wrote extensively about the show in these pages a short while ago. But I’m glad I went to see them again. Their show wasn’t quite as good, but it was very nearly so. I saw next to me this kid who had also been at the Books show, I’m almost sure. I recognized him because he was one of the only people dancing to The Books. He and I grinned and danced together for the duration of the show, and talked briefly. Nice guy. I always like when people aren’t afraid to dance during shows.

Day 2. Show 13.
The Bloody Beetroots
If you’re counting, you’ve noticed that it’s probably getting late at this point. It is. Yeasayer’s show was at 02:30. I stopped off to watch a bit of the Bloody Beetroots, who are apparently famous, while I waited for 04:30 to come — when Diplo came on. Shrug.

Day 2. Show 14.
Joker feat. Nomad
I don’t think this really counts. I can’t remember it, and I only saw like five minutes, max.

Day 2. Show 15.
Diplo
Dipo is a really good DJ. I sometimes wonder what a DJ does on the stage, but Diplo, regardless of anything else, makes it all work. Excellent show. Lots of dancing.

Got home on one of the early trams. Very easy.

Day 3. Show 1.
Dr. Dog
I like Dr. Dog quite a lot. I wish I had gotten here in time for the whole of their set, but as it was I only really saw the second half.

Day 3. Show 2.
Nana Grizol

I met up with Fernando and his friends Leire and Ignacio. We sat in the bleachers and watched this show. It was actually pretty good, considering I’d never heard of this band before. They were already kind of drunk.

Day 3. Show 3.
Florence + the Machine

Florence Welch has attracted a lot of attention, won a few awards, and so forth — and with good reason, seeing as how she’s excellent. This song is one of the more well-liked, as is “Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)“. She reminded me of Kate Bush, sort of, in what she was wearing and how she performed, although her voice is gorgeous and amazing. It was a truly excellent show; I saw the entire thing.

Day 3. Show 4.
Grizzly Bear
I really like Grizzly Bear. I don’t know their music as well as I would have thought, because I was somewhat lost at their concert, but I disagree with what some people have said — I think they played a really excellent show, and really liked the songs of theirs that I knew well. (Including a beautiful rendition of “Knife” and one of “Ready, Able“. They also, of course, played “Two Weeks.”) I stayed for the whole show.

Day 3. Show 5.
Matt and Kim

This show had the sad honor of being more or less the last one I really wanted to see. On the bright side, it was pretty wonderful. They played a short set — ten minutes less than an hour, at least — but I managed to dance up a sweat, get knocked over by Kim crowd-surfing, get drizzled on by someone’s thrown beer, get to the front lines, and so forth. They did some brief covers (“The Final Countdown”; Alice Deejay’s “Better Off Alone”), and jumped about, yelled, and never stopped smiling. I saw them at Haverford a while back, and they were amazing then; they were also amazing now. This video (for “Lessons Learned”) has gotten them some attention; their song “Daylight” is pretty well-known for a small song. And those are both more recent. The crowd had a surprising number of Spaniards; I asked one of them how he knew of M&K and he told me he’d found them on youtube. So hurrah.

Day 3. Show 6.
Sunny Day Real Estate
Apparently these guys are famous. I kind of knew this. They sing that song “Song About an Angel“. They were fun, although mostly I just know that song.

Day 3. Show 7.
Pet Shop Boys
End of the night for me. I’d never even heard of these guys, a British group. They put on a really good show, apparently, but I didn’t know the music and wasn’t so into it, so I didn’t stay. Sad, I know, but such is the case.

And then I went back to Marta’s, slept, and caught a plane home.

Anyway, not sure if this counts.

I went to a concert last night, with one of the women I work with (Ade), her boyfriend (Javi), and their friends (David, Álvaro, María, Pedro/Peter). The concert was for this Catalunyan band called Standstill (pronounced, if you’re a Spaniard with the typical problem with s-consonant pairs*, as eh-Stand-eh-Still), which Ade introduced me to months and months ago. She and her friends have seen the band quite a few times — for example, Javi has seen them more than ten times. They sound a bit like the American band Murder by Death, I guess. That’s what I thought the first time I heard them. Wikipedia articles say they’re post-hardcore, but frankly that seems misplaced; they’re pretty much just alt-rock. (Maybe their English albums were harder? I’ve only ever heard their more recent, Spanish-language stuff.)

The concert was pretty awesome. I like this band quite a lot, and I know their music fairly well (although not the lyrics — it’s even harder to make out foreign-language lyrics), so it was fun. But here’s where we get to the possibly-a-pet-peeve thing: in recent years, I’ve found it more and more likely for the light-operators at concerts to flash floodlights at the crowd. It seems completely fucking bizarre and unnecessary, and they did it more than often last night. It seems to me that if you want the band to see the crowd, you turn on the house lights. But blinding the crowd with floodlights to punctuate the music? Bizarre. I know I’ve got sensitive eyes, but I just don’t get it.

In any case, it was a lot of fun.

Earlier yesterday, I went hiking in La Pedriza, also in the Guadarrama, with this German guy named Max and his Czech friend Luci. It was a lot of fun. We drove up to Manzanares el Real, the town to the north of Madrid that has a castle, and into the park. It was a wet day, so there were very few people around — unlike the last time I was up here. (I never actually finished that post — like a month ago, this kid Tim and I tried to go climbing, but ended up mostly just hiking around, which was okay since it’s gorgeous.) It didn’t rain until we’d pretty much reached the peaks, four hours in, so we had four beautiful hours of hiking up to the ridges, and then four hours of hiking back through sparse rain, mist, and (holy shit, what!? it’s May!) some snow. The misty valleys were quite gorgeous as well, and as always in the wilderness, it’s kind of fun to climb without seeing a soul.

We ended up going slightly off-course for a bit, and doing something that was more climbing than hiking. Which I liked a lot, as always, although I’m glad we did it before it started raining. All in all, we ended up without mishap.

It’s always interesting hiking by map versus hiking by guidebook. There are benefits to both, and they’re best used in unison I would say. But Max had a map, and we were just following the guide-lines and trail blazes (and cairns†). The difference in this approach is that you can get off-track and still be fine, but it’s easier to get off-track. I kind of like both — I don’t know that I’m up for going with the newer way of hiking, using GPS.

In any case, yes, a good day.

† A cairn is a pile of rocks used to signal a trail, these days. It’s what I’ve called them for a long while. I guess I picked up the word from someone at a camp?, because my father doesn’t use it. It’s an awesome word. Max used the word “stone man,” which I immediately intuited to mean cairn, but now I see was probably his direct translation from German.

I really liked the train station in Bilbao. Something about it in the off-light of Friday afternoon… I took a few pictures. (See?) This is really what it looked like — a grey, but still bright, day.

That same day, I walked to the Guggenheim. This is one of the main tourism draws of Bilbao, and I really enjoyed it, both inside and out. Photography wasn’t permitted inside, but there was an amazing temporary exhibition of (sculpture) work by Indian-British artist Anish Kapoor. He’s the guy who made The Bean in Chicago.

I also took a photo of myself in the glass.

The next day, I took the metro out to the beach at Sopelana, maybe forty minutes from the center. It was gorgeous.

My last day, I went to the Fine Art Museum before I left. Outside, was this:

Nonetheless, I quite like this poem.

It’s called “Big Box Encounter,” and it’s by a woman named Erika Meitner. I’m assuming you’ll follow that link on your own, but let me sum up the poem by saying that it’s about confusing feelings of desire for a (past?) student of the speaker’s.

I’m partially fascinated by this poem because I feel like there’s this continual move toward poetry that embraces a very specific space between the taboo and the mundane. Poetry that is exciting to read often plays with this, and I think Meitner’s poem does so quite well. For example: “I tried not to look at his beautiful terrible chest, / the V-shaped wings of his chiseled hip-bones.” I like her detail, I like her drawing our focus to where her attention is. And I like the way she reads it, as well. (Slate always posts the author reading his or her poem; I like this.)

The line I quote, and the poem itself, is just the sort of thing that James Wood critiques in last month’s New Yorker, in his sort-of-review “Keeping It Real: Conflict, convention, and Chang-Rae Lee’s ‘The Surrendered.’” I don’t really think Wood’s article reaches any conclusions, and I’m frustrated by his simplification of the Barthes piece (although I acknowledge that I’ve never fully understood Barthes myself). Still, it’s certainly the case that many writers fall for “the cinematic sweep, followed by the selection of small, telling details.” And perhaps Meitner is doing this. And so what?

I have written down, somewhere, a note to myself: “write more poetry that is daring.” I think I mean by this: poems that hint at something, that are exciting and make us think. There’s a good comparison, at least according to google (by which I mean — I’m reporting what other websites say, and not something I feel is decidedly true; all I’m sure of is that he wrote these poems). Allen Ginsberg has two poems, both written about Neal Cassidy. One is called “On Neal’s Ashes,” and is moving but slightly vulgar. The other is called “Please Master” and is primarily just vulgar and explicit. (It’s also probably NSFW.) I imagine you’ll see what I mean? I think the first one has got something there. I think the second is interesting, but not particularly so. And I love Ginsberg — “Footnote to Howl” is one of my favourite poems. That fits this bill, as well.

I’m curious to hear what anyone bothering to read this thinks. Does something vaguely taboo engage your interest in poetry? Where can it go wrong? What do you think of the poems I link to, here?

Meitner’s poem accesses the daring on two levels — it addresses female sexuality, which we so rarely do in normal publications; and it considers the question of a teacher’s (professor’s) lust for her student, which is one of the ultimate taboos of academics. In the poem, at least, her narrator does nothing wrong — she simply agonizes over her desire for this much-younger man. (She does imply something more, since she’s corresponding with this student.) But why does it feel transgressive to me? It’s not the line-breaks, although I like some of them quite a lot (“He is both more / and less striking without a shirt on”). I’m always fascinated by the use of curse-words in poetry or literature, when it’s not wholly warranted. (Here: “I was fucking a guy who…”) Sometimes, as here I think, the words jar the reader to attention. They remind us that the speaker is lusting, not falling for, her student. We never get a description of him except this detailed continuing articulation of how he looks shirtless.

There’s definitely still power in curse words, and power in the unexpected. I don’t think this poem would be as good were it called “A Desire Uncalled For,” or something implying its contents. The subtlety. the side-stepping while being up-front, these are important. (This is also why I have trouble with “Please Master.”) Obviously, this power in the unexpected is the case in all manner of ways — don’t think that I mean to suggest that the only way to write an interesting poem is to be lewd or lean towards the taboo.

I think I’ll be more conscious of this current in poetry in the future. As always, I’m not really reaching a conclusion. But this is a blog, and I’m not a good essayist.

I do think we can draw a parallel between this play in poetry, and its play in visual arts. In both mediums, we have to pick somewhere to draw our lines — but you can show non-sexualized nudity in art more easily than you can in writing. (See, for example, this (NSFW?) art collective. Hat tip to Ben for linking me.) But really there’s lots of not particularly sexualized nudity in art. Maybe we’ve become accustomed to it, but for whatever reason nudity isn’t as titillating as it once was. You have to play with something else.

I’ve been in an odd place for the past couple of weeks. On the one hand, my life’s going quite well; I’ve been really enjoying myself here in Madrid and I’ve done some really exciting things (we’ll get to one of them in a moment). On the other hand, my life has become more unsure than I was hoping it would be, in the sense that my plans for next year fell through and I don’t know where I’ll be three months from now, nor what I’ll be doing.

This is by no means the worst that could be, but it’s harder when this sort of feeling follows a state of expectation. In any event, I’ve been having some very mixed feelings — really happy a lot of the time, but kind of disenchanted with the things that aren’t as pleasant. (I’ve become somewhat more frustrated with teaching when my students aren’t trying; I’m less into the work I’m doing at the university.) It’s frustrating to feel disconnected, yes? It’s not pleasant to transition between highs and lows. In many ways I’m much less stressed than I have been in past years, what with the whole not-being-in-school, so it’s a lot easier to deal with this. And yet.

Be that as it may.

Tonight, after talking about it for a while, I went and saw a circus group perform at the Price Theatre (well, El Teatro Circo Price), called Les 7 Doigts de la Main. You may’ve noticed something — that’s not Spanish. It’s French, which makes sense, seeing as how they’re a French Canadian group, affiliated with other French Canadian circus groups like Cirque du Soleil only in the sense that they were founded by people who had worked in that circus and in similar companies before. (You can read about them on French wikipedia, or at their very outdated website.) The act was called “Psy,” and was loosely themed about mental problems, in the sense that each actor (performer, I guess, is better) espoused a certain mental problem that was portrayed to a greater or lesser degree during the show. Here’s the website advertising the show, although it’ll probably disappear shortly. I encourage you to watch the video. The song is called “Frontier Psychiatrist.” I like it a lot. (And here’s a good review. It also has pictures.)

The show was really fun — somehow I keep end up seeing great French Canadian stuff here in Madrid. (Ref: the last time I talked about such a thing.) I went with Mateo and Ashley, who both seemed to enjoy it, and ran into Pier, Alexis, and Alexis’ friend Raquel. All of them liked it, too — Pier gave it five stars. It’s sort of a cross between the more traditional circus — juggling, tumbling, trapeze, handstands; the more ridiculous things of Cirque du Soleil (disclaimer: I saw a CdS show once, but I must’ve been like 11) — crazy leaps, a wheel-thing, a climb-able house set-piece, a set of stairs that flipped over, a see-saw catapult (apparently called a teeterboard); and a more acting, clowning sort of atmosphere. The show had been translated into Spanish, primarily, but there was also some in English, and some in French. (The only bad translation I could see was the fact that for whatever reason they had translated “sleep disorder” or “narcolepsy” as “insomnia.” Which it just wasn’t.) It also helped that almost all of the performers were young (really young), it just made it feel like, “Oh man, I could be doing this!” And boy would I love to give some of it a try — that’s part of the enjoyment for me with circuses and gymnastics. Not to say that I would want to try all of these things (I’ll pass on the swinging trapeze, I think), but some of them I’ve always wanted to try.

For example, I think corde lisse is really cool — it’s essentially a hanging rope from which you do acrobatics. (Here’s a video of someone doing something similar, but with silk.) Similarly, the [German] wheel (google tells me it’s sometimes known as Rhoenrad — it seems like the sort of thing Germans would invent) is amazing. Here’s a video from this production, although it was slightly different when I saw it. (I guess it’s always slightly different.) Some of the stuff I like is primarily based in strength and agility, but there’s an acrobatic grace to it also, when it’s done well, as it was here.

I guess my overall feeling about this circus was that the performers were good, but not mind-blowing in and of themselves. They weren’t doing anything shocking. But the show itself was really well-choreographed, and the scenes were fit together to tell a sort of story about mental illness, even if it never had any plot.

A description of the performers (in Spanish) is here. Some of them have websites, although it only seems to be the men, that I could find — the trapezist, the tumbler, the guy who did hand-stands on chinese poles, and the juggler. (I recommend checking out the first and the last of those websites, if you’re curious — they’re better websites, and have more to offer. Actually, all of them but the tumbler guy’s are good; his needs a bit of work. The trapeze one has his video from this show, which is really great. (Although Mateo didn’t like it.)

But yes, I think this makes me want to do something exciting, and new. Or just meet some acrobats.

Okay so I may have mentioned before this artist I really like these days, Sophie Blackall, an Australian who’s now based in New York City. Her blog first caught my eye; it’s been covered by the New York Times, and is really just pretty awesome — this is the link you should click on in this post, if you click anywhere. In it, she takes Missed Connections ads from the NY craigslist and NY locals, and illustrates them. They’re almost always amazing, although to be honest her most most recent one wasn’t my favourite. (The above image is hers.) She also sells prints of her work.

But her not-in-that-project illustrations are great, too; I like her style quite a lot, and just find myself pleased with her work in general. There’s a pretty short list of current artists who I (a) know about and (b) really like, and she’s definitely on it. I’m not sure who else is on there, these days. Anthony Goicolea, for sure. Hmmm. There are more, if I could only think of names. Still, I wish I knew more about the current art world. Rachel, oh my sister, educate me.

Anyway, what this may make you think of, if you ever saw it, is Patrick Moberg’s missed connection sensation, NY Girl of My Dreams.com, where he very carefully described some girl he met, and wanted to see again. Which worked. The story as I understand it is that they did meet, and actually dated for a time, but things didn’t work out. (Google corroborates this.) I also really like Moberg’s work. A lot of the artists I like fall between art and cartoon (see, for example, my friend Blake Suárez‘s work), which is perhaps an unnecessary distinction.

For example, I think of the following as comics — and maybe they are. But I’d say the art’s great, too:

• Recombinant Records (Stuart McMillen)
• Dustin Harbin’s work
• Anders Loves Maria is definitely a comic, and the art improved over the years (I’m linking to the first one), and I didn’t always love it, but I think Rene Engström is a fantastic artist.
• A Lesson is Learned But the Damage is Irreversible has long been on hiatus, but it’s fantastic and worth reading through all of the archives
• A similar thing could be said for the Perry Bible Fellowship, a hilarious comic. This one’s also the only one of these I’ve listed for which I own a book.
• Rebecca Clements’ KinokoFry is hard to spell, but beautiful.
• I love the art of Johnny Wander. It’s a diary comic, and they’re not good at doing complete stories, but it’s a lot of fun every time they put one out.

There’s a list at the left of comics that I read. These are all on it.

Here’s a quote to give you a feeling of how weird Lynch can be, taken from the wiki page to give it context:

In an NPR “Weekend Edition” interview, Laura Dern recounted a conversation she had with one of the movie’s new producers. He asked if Lynch was joking when he requested a one-legged woman, a monkey and a lumberjack by 3:15. “Yeah, you’re on a David Lynch movie, dude,” Dern replied. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.” Dern reported that by 4 p.m. they were shooting with the requested individuals.

Now here’s the thing about this film: it doesn’t have a plot, but that doesn’t mean it’s not about anything. In some sense, it’s about this woman’s inner life; I definitely see connections between this and Mulholland Drive, although I liked that film a lot more. But I doubt even Lynch would say that the film makes complete sense. It is an art film, as much as it is a film about Hollywood, or a film about violation and the hole to oneself. I don’t know. I guess I’m curious about it because of the mystery, because I want to make sense of it. And that’s not so easy to do.

The part I liked best at first thought is the part from roughly 15 minutes in ’till maybe the end of the first hour, where the lead actress (Laura Dern, playing an actress named Nikki) is cast in a film called On High in Blue Tomorrows and we see her life beginning to blur with her character’s life. I thought this part was really cool.

When Joe was visiting (Joe visited!), we tried watching Synecdoche, NY (dir. Charlie Kaufman, 2008), which we didn’t get all the way through. It just seemed too weird, too unrelated. I wonder if I would’ve sat through Inland Empire in the same circumstances — probably not. But I nonetheless sort of feel like I liked it more than Synecdoche; I felt like Kaufman was just pushing a bit too hard, and Lynch somehow has his crazy ideas linked in a way I prefer. Synecdoche is also about the links between theater and real life, but more heavy-handed about it somehow. And maybe I disliked it because unlike Inland Empire, the characters did feel real and then they disappeared, while Dern’s character always felt like a caricature, a stick figure.

I also have in recent days watched:
Matilda (dir. Danny DeVito, 1996)
Joe had never seen this, so we watched it. On youtube. Still good every time.

On the plane, coming back and forth from the US, I had some shitty-as-hell movie options. As such, I watched:
* Dragonball Evolution (dir. James Wong, 2009). Honestly wasn’t that bad. It was silly and ridiculous, but it was kind of fun.
* Eragon (dir. Stefen Fangmeier, 2006). I read the book and thought it kind of fun but also hilariously bad. The movie more or less had me feeling the same way.
* Whip It (dir. Drew Barrymore, 2009). I kind of liked this film. They played it on my flight from LA to Chicago, I think, for everyone to watch. It was embarrassing but also kind of cute, and I do like Ellen Page. I know. Still. It was fun, and kind of silly. I like Drew Barrymore. Shrug.

Here in Madrid, with some friends, I went and saw Up in the Air (dir. Jason Reitman, 2009), which was actually a lot better than I thought it would be. Amusingly, two of my friends thought we were going to see Up, which was amazing but was not by any means the same film. This one stars George Clooney as a business man who is constantly traveling, firing people for companies. It’s surprisingly touching, and quite interesting; I really rather liked it. I don’t think it should win a Best Picture award, but I did enjoy it.

Anyway, quite a few movies in the past while, considering how rarely I’d watched films in the months before. Good fun.

Joe’s visit was really nice, too; we hung out around here, made awesome Alfajores, and I got to show him around Madrid, and take him to El Escorial. Overall, a good time.