I miss my dignity...
Yesterday was a very dignified day for me at school. In the midst of a discussion about the roots of Islamic terrorism, I attempted to turn my head and yawn quietly to myself – I was up too late the night before reading about things I no longer remember. Would that it had ended there.
In the middle of the yawn, without warning or choice, a great wrenching burp tore loose from somewhere deep inside my lungs, and forced itself out my throat. I had no option in the matter – my muscles were otherwise occupied with the yawn. I had a split second to think “Perhaps that only sounded loud in my head. Perhaps no one else in the class is even vaguely aware of my crudeness.
Then the student next to me slumped quietly in his seat, hiding his head. The lecture stopped, and all eyes latched onto me. The teacher, mid-word, swiveled to face me, asking “Was that what I think it was” while the rest of the class detonated into awkward laughter. I pleaded for clemency, tried to explain to everyone that this was a biological glitch, no more an act of rudeness or will than a heartbeat. Then I simply suggested that, as everyone had had their laughs, it was time to move on and salvage what we could from the smoking wreckage of the class.
Two hours later, some of my classmates were still laughing so hard they had to periodically flee the room and cackle in the hallway. This morning, my professor made three separate references to the incident in the first eight minutes of class. I’m fairly certain someone will make a speech about my burp at graduation.
Movies, part number ?
As you may have inferred, there's not a lot to do in the tiny farm town I currently call home, so the movie theatre a few miles away and the video store down the street get an awful lot of my attention. So, without further ado, here's my next installment in my ever-fascinating blather about the movies I've seen!
Walk the Line: Sad, sweet, and occasionally melodramatic but a generally good time with romping great music. Reese Witherspoon and Joaquin Phoenix both vanish completely into their roles, showing far more depth than I knew they were capable of. While it certainly affirms the apparently universal rule that all blockbuster movie musicians must be drug-addled philandering idiots, I found it rather less grating than Ray. Perhaps that’s because it accomplished the previously unthinkable feat of making me enjoy 2 hours of country music. Three and a half stars out of five.
Brokeback Mountain: Stunningly photographed, smartly written, and possibly the saddest film I’ve ever seen. Heath Ledger, in particular, gives one of the finest performances of recent years, ably supported by Jake Gyllenhaal and Michelle Williams. Weirdly enough, it wasn’t even all that gay – just a very well-made, very moving flick. Five stars.
Good Night, and Good Luck: Small, smart film about resisting the subtle tyrannies that undermine everyday democracy. Like Munich, this is a fine examination of today’s problem through the lens of history. David Strathairn is phenomenal as Edward R. Murrow, fighting the good fight against Joseph McCarthy, who is here largely a metaphor for the specter of totalitarianism that crops up from time to time in American political life. This otherwise excellent film is overburdened by unnecessary supporting characters, and suffers from occasionally lumpy pacing, but still delivers a potent message in a simple package. Four out of five.
A History of Violence: There’s a lot I didn’t get about this movie, but I could dimly perceive that there were brilliant iceberg-like layers of meaning under the surface. The violence is appropriately awful in this examination of redemption and deception, and Viggo Mortensen is surprisingly apt as a man attempting to bury a cruel past. This already-excellent movie will, I’m sure, improve markedly once I can watch the commentary track and have David Cronenberg spell out all his arcane symbolism for me. Four and a half out of five stars
Ice Age 2: What can I say about a movie that features the immortal, incomparable, indefatigable Scrat? It didn’t have as many layers as a Wallace and Gromit adventure or a Pixar film, and it was perhaps a little more targeted at the kiddies than the first Ice Age, but so what? If the dancing mini-sloths, musical quips like “if your species will continue, clap your hands”, and (of course) the Scrat himself don’t win you over, then you’re beyond hope already. Suppress your higher brain function and giggle happily through the whole thing.
Four stars out of five.
Jarhead: I guess it can’t be easy making a movie about how boring war is without making the movie itself dull as dishwater. This exploration of the dehumanization of military training is buoyed by uniformly excellent acting (especially from Peter Sarsgaard, and the visuals of the Gulf War are hideously, unmistakably authentic. But after starting well, Jarhead begins to flounder halfway through, and stretches on at least a half-hour past its bedtime without any substantial resolution. I know that’s the whole point, but it still brought me down. Three (generous) stars.
Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid: Not even so bad it’s good. This is the kind of crap I find on TV when I’m cooking for two hours and need something to occupy my eyes as I chop garlic. There aren’t enough hours in the day to discuss the ways this movie sucked. One star.
Well, that’s it for now, ladies and gentlemen. My viewing itinerary for the coming days includes: Downfall, V for Vendetta, Inside Man, Hustle and Flow, and perhaps even The Chronicles of Narnia. I’ve nearly drained the pool of fine movies available at the video store.
