A Mini Medley of Fabulous Films

Hello all,

You may have noticed that I've recently denoted (and will be denoting) some much-enjoyed recently-viewed movies with not just a rating of 5, but of 5!. 

That's because I've been lucky enough to see some movies in the last few weeks that are really, extra-special exciting, each for their own special reasons.  Since I've happily been in the midst of a movie-watching rampage for the last month or so, I've come to the conclusion that if I'm going to write about a decent selection of my recent viewing, I'm going to need to consolidate.

In that spirit, I present to you: A trio of exclamation point-earning films from the months of June and July.

1. 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007)

Much to my delight, this movie is currently available to view instantly on Netflix.  As a result, this is the first film I watched during my post-surgery recovery last month.

The film depicts a woman's struggle to secure an abortion for her friend in Communist-era Romania.  Its stark, crisp realism is completely intoxicating and immersive, providing a clear view of the suffocation of Communism. 

During one sequence, Gabita, the main character, attempts to rent a hotel room in which her friend's procedure can take place.  The concierge interrogates her extensively, and after learning that Gabita is a student, asks why she can't just stay in the dorm at her university.  As a lucky and apparently spoiled inhabitant of a Capitalist nation, I entitledly grumbled at the screen, "Jesus, lady, let her rent the room!  Don't you want the money??"  The notion that a hotel employee would all but bar someone from patronizing their place of employment out of--what? paranoia? simple malicious obstructionism? what??--was almost beyond belief for me.

In this manner, every single step of the process Gabita goes through trying to help her friend is difficult to an almost absurd degree, revealing that in some cases desperation and deprivation drives people to a stubborn refusal to yield even an inch for their fellow man.

However, what most impressed me about the film is its refusal to browbeat its audience over the issue of abortion rights--and the lack thereof.  I've seen other films on the topic that felt somewhat ham-fisted, such as "Vera Drake" (2004).  Quite to the contrary, "4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days" simply presents the reality of the risks women without the right to choose have had to endure in order to control what happens to their bodies.  No hand wringing or moralizing, in either direction.  When dealing with what continues to be such a contentious issue, that is a considerable accomplishment.

Watch the trailer here:

2. Waste Land (2010)

This breathtaking and incredibly moving documentary features a collaborative artistic effort by Vik Muniz, Brazilian-born and Brooklyn-residing artist, and a group of people working to recover recyclable materials from Rio de Janeiro's largest landfill, known as catadores. 

Muniz returns to his homeland in search of people in need of attention and help, and beelines for the community of catadores at the Jardim Gramacho landfill.  Having recently organized into a union, the catadores report that, in spite of the lack of glamor in their profession, they feel their work grants them dignity and a life free from the depravity typically befalling the deeply poor in Brazil.  Many of the women proudly state that being a catador means they've never had to prostitute themselves to survive. 

Nevertheless, the community lacks many key resources and a broadly audible voice in Rio and throughout Brazil.  Muniz joins with many of the catadores he befriends in an ambitious project in which he photographs them, then works with them to recreate those portraits on a huge scale, working with the recyclable materials with which the catadores earn their living.  The resulting photographs of these huge, vibrant, and stunning collages were then sold at auction, with all of the proceeds returning to the community of workers at the Jardim Gramacho.

There are so many emotional high points in this film I lost count.  Since I'd rather not spoil them, take it from me--this is, like the other movies in this post, an absolute must-see.

You can watch the trailer here:

And lucky you!  It's ALSO available to view instantly on Netflix!

PS: I saw one of Muniz's self portraits during a recent museum visit, and it was pretty awesome. 

Note the shading achieved in his face even though he worked only in circles punched out of magazines. 

He's a really freaking cool guy.

Enfin: 3. Tabloid (2011)

I know I've gushed interminably about one of my new very most favorite museums, but SERIOUSLY.  This place is AMAZING.

Why do I protest so much?

I'm glad you asked.

BECAUSE I got to see Errol Morris's brand new documentary, "Tabloid", in advance of its nationwide release on the 22nd. 

AND. 

ERROL MORRIS WAS THERE.

I shook his hand.

It was awesome.

Star-struckedness aside: GUYS.  You *have* to see this movie.  I have not been so insanely entertained in a long time.  It's hysterical.  It's fascinating.  The woman at the center of the film, Joyce McKinney, is all at once completely insane, charismatic, romantic, naive, whip-smart, and hilarious, rendering her endearing in the most bizarre way possible.  Transcending the ridiculous details of the scandals in which McKinney has been embroiled throughout her life, this film is about love, loneliness, and the stories we create and recreate for ourselves and which guide our lives, for better or worse.

By far one of the most fascinating questions pondered with Morris after the screening was whether two people are necessary for an experience of love, or just one.  McKinney's life seems to stand as a testament that love can be an inherently, monolithically lonely experience, while simultaneously granting the most enduring purpose a life can possess.

Hunt this shit down like a a hungry crazed monkey as soon as it's in a theater near you.  You won't be sorry.

Trailer:

Needless to say, each of these films has a huge and exuberant PsychoCinematic Seal of Approval.  They are each incredibly remarkable in their own right, and make for very exciting viewing.  They remind me of why I love movies, and of how engrossing they can be.  I guarantee you'll be happy if you see any of them, and I highly recommend watching all three.

With that: Happy Harry Potter/Bastille Day!!

<3

PS: To the friend who recently told me that she's read every post I've written, thereby making my day: Hi! :)

Jealy?

Darlings,

A brief post.

Reason #438,523,879 why Boyfriend is awesome:

#438,523,879: Highly coveted movie ticket procurement.

 That's right.  Opening night.  We are that hardcore.

We are also, apparently, that concerned about avoiding spoilers pre-final chapter of boy wizard saga viewing.

Should be exciting!

<3

Happy July!

Hallooooooooooooooooo!

I am excited to unveil the list of movies I watched in June.  Because it's SO LONG.

Without further delay:
23. Shorts: The Pottery Maker (5) and Cheese (4)
24. Los Muertos (5)
25. Super 8 (2)
26. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (4)
27. Buck (5)
28. 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (5!)
29. The Social Network (3.5)
30. The House of Yes (4)
31. Wallace and Gromit: A Matter of Loaf and Death (4)

I hope to be writing little reviews of many of these films over the coming weeks, because so many of them were interesting and provocative.  June was a good movie month.

However, I'll get to that later.  It's been a while since I've focused on grad school-related updates, so let's do that.

I'm really pleased to have been making respectable progress on my thesis over the last few weeks.  I've performed even more fancy data analyses (with some super cool findings emerging) and had some really productive meetings with my mentor, with whom I am increasingly in love because she's AMAZING.  I've turned in and gotten back the second draft of my proposal, which is really exciting because JESUS I hate writing that shit but I actually did it anyway!

We're also ramping up planning of my dissertation, which is fun but also terrifying.  I am very lucky to be working on it with a fellow classmate, because otherwise it would be much too much work for one person.  We're doing some hardcore planning next week, which should be awesome.  The more real this project gets, the more exciting it feels.  It's great that we're being allowed to do something so ambitious, because in spite of being intimidating, at least it's not boring.

All of this has, of course, stalled during this past week of surgery recovery, since in spite of having continued anxiety about maintaining forward progress, it just feels somewhat irresponsible to continue playing with data and reading scientific literature while all foggy-headed.  Hopefully I'll be able to resume actual work sometime this weekend, because holy shit it's already July.

I'm also starting a summer class in neuropsychological assessment next week (i.e., something bad happened to your brain, so we should figure out what it can still do), which will please my dad.  He is privy to how much money people make doing that kind of work, and has emphasized repeatedly the (monetary) value of acquiring such skills.  Since clinical psychology is not a field where people typically make bazillions (definitely more of a "virtue is its own reward" kind of profession), it would be nice to have the option to do a little work on the side that would actually pay the rent eventually.  And like... help send eventual babies to college.  If I'm lucky.

After class, Boyfriend and I have got a trip or two planned in August, which will be very welcome breaks but also speedbumps in my research progress.  So this whole "maintaining forward progress" thing is pretty critical at this juncture.  Hopefully my body will start cooperating sometime in the (very) near future.

Further updates to come!

<3

PS: As always, following my blog is very much appreciated for the vote of confidence/small ego boost it obviously is.  I'd love it if you would!

No Matter How Bad It Gets, At Least You're Not One of "Los Muertos"

Greetings compatriots,

June has turned me into a movie-watching MACHINE.  I've watched twice my monthly goal and I still have two days left to go.

...That's right.  I think I'm going to watch even more than EIGHT movies in one month.

I am THAT awesome.

There are many reasons for my sudden onset in film consumption success.  An inexhaustive list:

--A super-awesome event at what is quickly becoming one of my favorite museums ever;
--Multiple completed movie dates with Boyfriend;
--And (currently) a brief period of convalescence post-minor surgery, which limits my activity to napping, eating, and watching Netflix (tragically).

As an aside, another fringe benefit of invalidity is that your family sends you flowers.  Moderate physical discomfort and minor associated indignities aside, it's a pretty sweet deal.

Anyway.  As previously mentioned, I'm excited to talk about many of the movies I've watched during the past month, so without further ado, let's do that.

One of the films I saw after aforementioned event at aforementioned fabulous museum was "Los Muertos" (2004), by Argentinian director Lisandro Alonso.  It's one of the most riveting movies I've seen in a while, and as such, I gave it a 5.

The movie follows Vargas (played by Argentino Vargas), a vital but weathered-looking man, through the last two days of a long incarceration and his subsequent first two days of freedom.  Much of the film is comprised of his journey out of the prison and ultimately to his adult daughter's encampment deep in the jungle.  He is ferried to a nearby town in the back of a beat-up pick-up truck where he gathers meager supplies, then embarks on a solo canoe voyage down a long, lonely river in search of his final destination.

In terms of dialogue, this is an incredibly minimalist film.  However, for what it withholds in language, "Los Muertos" pays out tenfold in breathtaking imagery.  The film is so deliciously immersive it feels as if you've experienced more of rural Argentinian life than any typical travelogue could hope to impart.  And so, with the aim of stoking interest in what seems to be a rarely-viewed movie in the States, I'll share some of the most striking impressions made upon me by this remarkable film.

Vargas enjoys the support of his fellow man over and over throughout "Los Muertos".  He is offered refreshments and food, often shared directly out of the same bottle from which a stranger just drank.  In what appears to be a resource-limited environment, people in the film tacitly acknowledge that interdependence is necessary for survival.  Sharing of resources is therefore engaged in as a matter of course, giving the sense that even after years of jail time, Vargas is a welcomed brother to all he encounters.

With very few exceptions, no objects featured in the film seem new.  From the pick-up that deposits him in town and the canoe he rows to his daughter's home, to the clothes people wear and the suitcase Vargas carries, everything seems as if it's seen decades of use.  While this further emphasizes the poverty people endure in many other parts of the world, it also (for me, at least) shined an uncomfortable light upon the worship of novelty in my own culture.  While life is by no means easy in the part of the world portrayed in "Los Muertos", the film nevertheless made it uncomfortably clear that the life to which I am accustomed as a relatively lucky American is painless and indulged in a way that feels, while being confronted with the destitution in which countless people all over the world live, pretty shameful.

The film does not, however, portray its characters as defenseless against circumstance.  Quite to the contrary.  In fact, the most radically entrancing chapters of the movie are those in which Vargas (and later, his grandson) exhibits finely-honed, extremely effective skills for survival.  At one point, he lands his canoe on the side of the river.  Walking a short distance into the jungle, in one continuous shot, he locates a tree with an active bee colony, lights a small fire, blows the smoke into the hive, and pulls out massive chunks of honeycomb for a meal.  The following shot shows him popping a chunk of wax and honey into his mouth, chewing on it, and spitting it out seconds later to replace it with a new chunk as he continues down the river in his canoe.  In another example, shortly before Vargas finds his daughter's home, we watch his grandson as he pokes through the jungle, hacking at underbrush with a machete to maintain a path to the river.  Wanting a snack, he deftly climbs a tree, alights upon a stable branch, selects a ripe hanging fruit, pries is open, and commences what looks like a delicious meal with ease rivaling his grandfather's.
 
Finally, in what is at once a shocking but also riveting sequence, Vargas spots a goat on the riverbank.  Again, in an uncut shot, he wrangles the goat into his canoe, slashes its throat with a large knife, bleeds it out, skins it, and removes its innards, saving it to bring to his daughter's encampment as a gift.  Normally I wouldn't be able to tolerate such a frank portrayal of "where dinner comes from", but when I started to avert my eyes during this sequence, I stopped myself.  Vargas is so dispassionate in his survivalism that it roots the viewer in the present with equal dispassion.  I found myself so engrossed in what I was watching that there wasn't really room in my brain to get into an "ew gross" and "poor goatie" tizzy.  After all, the man has to eat, and it's clear that not a shred of that animal was going to waste.

Part of what makes the imagery of "Los Muertos" so effective is the incredible skill with which the camera was utilized in its making.  Early in his canoe travels, a long shot shows Vargas as he slowly makes his way down the river.  He is held in the center of the screen, floating along for what seems like an eternity, as the loneliness and length of the trip ahead of him sinks in.  The sequence in which Vargas's grandson scales the fruit tree is even more remarkable in that it is, like so many others, continuous.  In a beautiful and yet self-effacing feat of cinema, the camera scales the height of the tree as readily as the boy.  These shots appear captured with such ease that the camera melts into the farthest reaches of your consciousness.  Without this unimpeachable competency in filmmaking, "Los Muertos" would be nowhere near as powerful.

Mirroring the beautiful camerawork, there is an effortlessness and fluidity to the acts of survival in this movie that is simply breathtaking.  The characters executing them show a mastery of and comfort with their environment and the activities necessary to gather sustenance that is, honestly, completely foreign to me.  Again, the film forced me to consider how sanitized and disconnected from nature my daily life is.

I'm not sure exactly where these reflections lead me.  You may be disappointed to learn that I don't have any impending plans to give up grad school, move to the jungle, and learn how to slaughter goats with nothing but a knife and my bare hands.  But it nevertheless feels important to be reminded of the myriad other ways people inhabit this planet.  In some small but hopefully enduring way, I feel that "Los Muertos" helped free me of the materialism that is so entrenched in American culture.  It jarred me enough to make me just the tiniest bit more mindful of what I really do need, and perhaps the tiniest bit more grateful for the many luxuries I regularly enjoy, often without even noticing them.

Any movie that can accomplish that is pretty spectacular.

With that... bedtime.

<3

Happy Father's Day, and In Memoriam

Hi guys,

Today I have something a little different than our usual PsychoCinematic fare.

Starting in high school (a bit belatedly, if you ask me), my dad started getting me Albums of Great Importance, typically for Christmas.  He started with Abbey Road and Revolver, but soon followed up with what continues to be one of my very, very most favorite albums of all time: Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run.

Trust me, there's some serious Beatles representation on my list of favorite records.  This is not to snub the Fab Four.  In fact, yesterday was Paul McCartney's birthday, reminding me how lucky we are to have some true living legends still among us. 

However, on the same day, we lost a literal and figurative musical giant: brilliant E Street Band saxophonist Clarence Clemons.

Dad and I were fortunate enough to see Bruce and his band play together shortly after I fell in love with Born to Run.  Among so many other things, I was struck by the much-heralded exuberance with which the Boss plowed through his set, clearly still very much in love with his music and the people who love it too, bandmates and fans alike.  He was and is ageless in his full-hearted showmanship.  I was so exhilarated merely for the chance to let the music wash over me and be in the same space--however massive--with this fabulous group of musicians, and most importantly, to share it with the person who first shared this music with me.  It's a shining memory for me.

So today, I'm grateful for my father.  I'm grateful for so many of the memories we have together, and the many gifts (material and otherwise) he's given me.  I'm grateful for music that moves me and the people who make it, and I'm grieved to see one of them go.  But I suppose I'm also grateful for the reminder that life is beautiful and precious, largely because of the people with whom we share it.

As soon as I heard the news about Clarence, my mind was shot through with his mournful, beautiful, powerful solo on the last track of Born to Run.  It's one of my favorite tracts of music.  It made me emotional on a normal day, but of course, it's particularly heartrending today.

Fast forward to the 4 minute-ish mark and enjoy.

Play on, Big Man.

Happy Father's Day!

<3