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Tuesday, November 25, 2008

A Great Movie You Most Likely Haven't Seen


Sometimes, late at night when I'm bored, I like to play this free associative game on the internet which is basically just comprised of me looking up something then jumping from a link on that page to something else and then seeing how far I can go and where I end up. it's not really a game, more just a way to waste time but it's fun anyways. So, I was doing this the other day when I came upon this movie i had never heard of before, "Starting out in the Evening." I was intrigued as I normally know of most major movies that have come out, and this one starred Frank Langella, who is a pretty big name. Well, one thing led to another and I started reading reviews for the movie on imdb, metacritic, nytimes.com, and eventually found a trailer for it on movies.msn.com and just knew I had to see it. So I went to the Vassar libraries website to see if they had (so I could watch it for free) and they didn't. Then I thought of going to Hollywood Video when I got home, so I checked their website and they didn't have it either. Finally, in a late night moment of weakness, I just bought the movie from Amazon and waited the three days for it to come.

Now, I am not the easiest critic to please, especially when it comes to movies. In fact, I'm kind of an asshole. But I have to say that this movie, for all of its problems and flaws, was truly remarkable. First off, it was just so refreshing to see a movie that was not made for big execs in Hollywood, but for the director himself. I warn you now, not spoiling anything, but this movie does not have an easy, climactic Hollywood ending. If you were pissed off with the ending of the Coen's Brothers "No Country for Old Men," you probably won't be much happier with this film's ending, but then again you are also a dumbass so it doesn't really matter.

One thing to remember when watching "Starting out in the Evening" is that it is a small movie. Not just financially, but artistically as well. It doesn't really try to make a grand statement, and the biggest flops in the movie are when specific characters try to make statements that are just too big for them. No, this movie is about the failed ambitions of an aging writer and it is literally trapped within his apartment and his mind, in much the same way as the writer himself is trapped. The subplots are intriguing and complex and they do not offer any moments to walk away with. But the thing that really elevates this film from a decent independent picture based on a book to a true piece of art is the acting. Not a single actor or actress in this movie, not even the bit players, give anything less than their finest performance. In many cases, you will often find yourself wondering who these actors are, for although you have probably seen them before, at least Langella, they seem very different in this movie. It is almost as though for the two hours of "Starting out inn the Evening" they are not the actors you know playing these roles but actually the characters of the film. Langella in particular provides an understated but unbelievably powerful performance, if you can even call it that, as a man who is fallen and sees no way to get up but by continuing to do what he always has.

Don't take my word for it, though, go see this movie yourself. I'll warn you, they are moments that don't work, some cheap looking footage and some odd twists that don't always add up, but overall this movie leaves you with a sense that you have seen something worth your while. At least for me, spending fifteen bucks to buy this movie was a better deal than going to see a crappy movie in theaters with a few snacks.

Monday, November 24, 2008

What is your blog about? Dead babies.


So my friend Ryan was asking me just now what my blog was about? And I wasn't actually sure how to respond. I guess since I've never really read many blogs before, so i wasn't too sure what mine should be about. So, here is my mission statement: This blog will be purely about the random assortment of ideas that one would find inside my head, most of which fall somewhere in the range of musings on Western culture.
So today's musing is about dead babies. What is with dead babies? Are they really that interesting? I've encountered dead babies in at least three of my classes. It seems that according to my readings, every woman in the world who is depressed has just had their baby die. In Joan Didion's Play It As It Lays, this bitchy west coast woman named Maria essentially gets absolved of her bitchiness by her loss of her baby. Then I read this book called Good Morning, Midnight for Modern Brit Lit. and essentially its just the story of a crazy bitch who is trying to drink herself to death in Paris and is depressed because her baby died. And on top of that I don't think she can speak French. Now, I have to say I totally understand the seriousness of fetal deaths, but really at a certain point authors must admit that not every baby dies. There are just too many dead babies in literature. maybe its just what I'm reading, but these dead babies are getting out of hand. And to end this post I thought I'd leave you all with a single dead baby joke: Why did the dead baby cross the road?
Because he was stapled to the back of the chicken.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Will there be dancing?


Will there be dancing? My hall-mate Nate asked upon hearing that I started a blog. I must admit I was confounded by this question, if only for a moment. Will there be dancing? Really Nate? Come on. I had just said that this blog was going to epitomize all that was me: good movies, good books, good music, and many ridiculous rants generously interspersed between. But dancing, I guess I never thought of that. I did go to that VRDT performance and it was pretty good. So check out this link for some dancing, specifically for you Nate, but also for everyone to enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMH0bHeiRNg

Introduction

Hey, well I've been noticing that everyone has a blog these days, so I thought it was about time that I get one. Here we go I guess. I have no clue who will be reading this, but it should be somewhat interesting if you think like me at all. Or just like to hear me rant. I expect that their will be lots of reading lists and book/music/movie reviews up here periodically as well as the occasional old-fashioned Adam P. Newman rant about something or other. You can always count on those. By the way, the title of this blog is taken from the poem [At last the secret is out] by W.H. Auden. If you don't know it, I will reproduce it for you at the end of the post. I have to say, on Auden, whether you like him or not, you have to admit that he has quite a deft lyrical touch. At least I think so.

[At last the secret is out]


At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
the delicious story is ripe to tell to tell to the intimate friend;
over the tea-cups and into the square the tongues has its desire;
still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
under the look of fatigue the attack of migraine and the sigh
there is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
the scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
the croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
there is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

-W.H. Auden