We tell ourselves stories in order to live.
I picked up Joan Didion's White Album, read the first line and was hooked. I don't like everything I read, but there's an energy that carries me. And I keep coming back to that first line, which grabbed hold of me without my asking, without my permission almost. And so, when I should be reading some big fat monster of a Russian novel (my students call them monsters, and I find that touching, somehow...they are monsters, isn't that part of the attraction? the indescribably beauty of the novelistic universes?), I'm flipping through Didion's essays instead. Transported back to 1969-early 70s California. it makes me realize that it's healthy to travel between worlds: between the 19th century realist novel universe, the hopelessly unhappy families I have plunged my poor students into, and the equally strangely uncomfortable California universe. Bizarre, this juxtaposition.
Saw a stunning documentary: 51 Birch Street, by Doug Block. It was astonishing: Block's investigation of his parents' 54 year marriage which, as he learns, was less than picture perfect. The movie was shot with tremendous compassion, honesty. It was touching to watch him develop a relationship with his father, after all these years, and we were just as surprised as Block was to see the thing unfurl. The movie's pacing was perfect: things unfolded before your very eyes, seamlessly. And I could recognize my own family in his, bits of my own past, conversations rung so true. And like in the greatest of all novelistic universes, you felt sympathy for every single character. Look out for Doug Block. total genius. My favorite moment in the movie was a non-moment: he's at home filming his wife, asking her a question and points the camera at her face. Her response is an acerbic glance from under her glasses and she mumbles "ugh, this again?" That moment was so real, so true, so unescapably prosaic. And that's just what this movie was: real life. Unadorned, raw, and yet perfectly cadenced. Since moving to Hamleto, I've been thinking more seriously about documentary, but it took Doug Block's film to make it feel like true art.
Life in Hamletissimo is about to get mega-exciting! Documentary film festival hits town on Thursday! I'm volunteering, which means I get in for free! woohoo! The line-up is stellar, so mega-blogging will ensue. Stay Tuned!! you too will become a Doc-fan by the end of next week!
In other news, I watched Divorzio all'Italiana the other night, and Marcello Mastroianni was delicious. Might have to test out some Fellini movies next! I laughed pretty hard the whole way through. I remember watching an amazing documentary about Mastroianni's life Mi ricordo, si, io mi ricordo back when i lived on the west coast, and what struck me in the film was how much FUN he had while acting! I thought of that watching Divorzio, cause it shows. He said acting was a game for him, an endless passionate game. Everything comes naturally to him, nothing is forced, it's like Stiva Oblonsky's smile in Anna Karenina, which Tolstoy tells, is as smooth as almond butter. When I read that with my students, and forced them to analyze that image to death, I realized Tolstoy is a true genius.
It's pouring rain in Hamleto. I started reading Mann's Buddenbrooks, but wonder how far into it I'll actually get. Soundtrack today (Maroussia, you'll like this one): DDT. Anybody looking for good Russian 80s pop, check out DDT. nothing quite like it!
Saw a stunning documentary: 51 Birch Street, by Doug Block. It was astonishing: Block's investigation of his parents' 54 year marriage which, as he learns, was less than picture perfect. The movie was shot with tremendous compassion, honesty. It was touching to watch him develop a relationship with his father, after all these years, and we were just as surprised as Block was to see the thing unfurl. The movie's pacing was perfect: things unfolded before your very eyes, seamlessly. And I could recognize my own family in his, bits of my own past, conversations rung so true. And like in the greatest of all novelistic universes, you felt sympathy for every single character. Look out for Doug Block. total genius. My favorite moment in the movie was a non-moment: he's at home filming his wife, asking her a question and points the camera at her face. Her response is an acerbic glance from under her glasses and she mumbles "ugh, this again?" That moment was so real, so true, so unescapably prosaic. And that's just what this movie was: real life. Unadorned, raw, and yet perfectly cadenced. Since moving to Hamleto, I've been thinking more seriously about documentary, but it took Doug Block's film to make it feel like true art.
Life in Hamletissimo is about to get mega-exciting! Documentary film festival hits town on Thursday! I'm volunteering, which means I get in for free! woohoo! The line-up is stellar, so mega-blogging will ensue. Stay Tuned!! you too will become a Doc-fan by the end of next week!
In other news, I watched Divorzio all'Italiana the other night, and Marcello Mastroianni was delicious. Might have to test out some Fellini movies next! I laughed pretty hard the whole way through. I remember watching an amazing documentary about Mastroianni's life Mi ricordo, si, io mi ricordo back when i lived on the west coast, and what struck me in the film was how much FUN he had while acting! I thought of that watching Divorzio, cause it shows. He said acting was a game for him, an endless passionate game. Everything comes naturally to him, nothing is forced, it's like Stiva Oblonsky's smile in Anna Karenina, which Tolstoy tells, is as smooth as almond butter. When I read that with my students, and forced them to analyze that image to death, I realized Tolstoy is a true genius.
It's pouring rain in Hamleto. I started reading Mann's Buddenbrooks, but wonder how far into it I'll actually get. Soundtrack today (Maroussia, you'll like this one): DDT. Anybody looking for good Russian 80s pop, check out DDT. nothing quite like it!