Regaining "Control"
As i had mentioned last week, last night i got to see the new Anton Corbijn film, CONTROL. Before the film, i was met by Jamie/reslbear and Jeff/bearinslc for an amazingly good dinner at a very hip restaurant called Chino Latino. The cuisine can only be described as "equatorial fusion", informed by cultures that are connected by that ribbon from Asia to Latin America. When was the last time you had a dish that included a plantain and enjoyed it? If you're in the city, take some friends. i'll be back.
Afterwards, we met John/perkk a few doors down at the Uptown Theatre for the show. It was a classic art house meaning it was an cool, old theatre - it even has a balcony!! - with seats that were too small for - and about to collapse under - the weight of our fat, modern-day asses.
The story really held no surprises for anyone familiar with the backstory: disaffected teenager steals best friend's girl, gets married too soon, has baby too soon, joins band and loses 'dayjob', develops epilepsy, becomes successful, takes up with belgian tart while brave wife soldiers on at home raising said baby, gets busted in affair and hangs himself on the eve of international fame and fortune. You can tell it's based on Curtis' wife's memoir since she comes off as the dutiful, sainted madonna (played by Samantha Morton who you may remember as the empath in the Spielberg/Cruise thriller "Minority Report") who totally trusts and supports her man and even takes out the 400 quid (her life savings!) for studio time to record Joy Division's first EP. Miss Belgian Tart is reduced to a cupie doll who bats her eyes, smiles sweetly and doesn't speak more than 10 words the whole movie.
But no matter. You're not going for the story. You're going for Corbijn's trademark beautiful black-&-white photography and the music. soundbear69 was right. It's all about the music and they did a great job of portraying it. The joy of a teenager getting a new record, dropping the needle on the vinyl on your crap record player, clutching the cover and scanning it for clues and secret messages, holding out hope for escape. The performances...the band on a cramped stage, the jerky arm movements, clutching the mic stand like it was the only thing keeping you from drowning.
i didn't really get to talk to John much or get to know him better. As we approached the theatre, i was called by one of the guys on my last project who needed some help trying to get some data to load into the database. Yeah, yeah, i know...i'm not on that project anymore and they are not paying me for my time. But he's a good kid and, to be totally honest, i haven't really done anything productive in the past few weeks so it was good to be contributing something. By the time i was off the phone, the show was starting and it finished close to midnight, so i needed to get back to the hotel and to bed. But i will be around long enough to make it happen. Give me time.
Earlier in the day and, to a greater extent, over the past few weeks, i've noticed a few things. One, i don't much care for the drivers around here. They don't merge well - and there is a lot of merging required around here - and drive slow in the fast lane. Secondly, the cops are forever pulling people over. They've got more flashing blue lights around here than K-Mart. Do they have to stock up on tickets now so they don't have to get out of the patrol car in the freezing winter weather? This week i'm driving a Ford Explorer and don't like it much at all. It's big, lumbering and has sloppy steering and a touchy, rough accelerator. On the twisty ramps to get on the freeway leaving downtown, i swore it was going to scrape into the concrete barriers. There was only about a three mile stretch of freeway between there and my exit. i get to the top of the exit, stop at the light, turn left, go down the hill to the street where my hotel is and turn right onto that street past a local police car. Lights! Camera! Traffic stop! No, not by the townie cop, but by the Minnesota Highway Patrol. i love cops which, since i'm writing this ironically, means i hate them and having been one, know what i'm speaking of. We have a set of cliche's that, i suppose, are handed down from world-weary, seasoned goon to bright-eyed and enthusiastic newbie. "Where are you going in such a hurry? You were passing other traffic (i think i passed one van) like they were standing still! Do you think you have immunity in our state?" Bottom line, i got a warning and, when i asked him how fast, he said it was 75 in a 55, though, honestly, doing 75 on an empty freeway is just an excuse to go DUI-fishing and, with the way that damned Explorer handles, i would've pulled my ass over as well. He would like to draw my attention to a new law here where you must move out one lane when passing an emergency vehicle stopped on the side of the road which is a good idea and, as a public service, i am passing along here. Slow down. Drive safe. Don't get busted.