When I watch a movie I really enjoy, in the theatres or at home, I always end up sitting there while the credits roll. I get pretty caught up in a good movie, and I need some time to ease back into the everyday world. Walking out into the bright lights and crowd in such a state gives me a feeling of wariness, and unease, so I would rather wait it out a bit.
I once had a film teacher tell me that she sits and watches all the credits of a movie she enjoyed in order to show appreciation for the hundreds of people it takes to make a movie. Although there is no logic to her statement I do see where she is coming from. I even tried to do this for a while, letting my eye pass over every name, from the 'man with umbrella' to the assistant to the caterer. Generally this ends up with me noticing 'funny sounding' names more than anything else. (Maxwell Wang, for example)
No, it's not to appreciate the gaffers and location scouts that I sit there, it really is that I need some time to reestablish myself in the waking world. I tend to get absorbed in a good movie. Take the new Cohen brothers movie, it's no spoiler to say that it ends suddenly, and a little bit disorientingly, location and storytelling wise.
Yet when I mention my surprise at seeing people leave a movie at the first note of the closing credits theme my pals express dismay with me. Mark going as far as to call me an "asshole". "I need some time to think about it" I say, "no good idea ever comes when not walking" Mark more or less responds... (I don't point out that he is firmly planted in seat at the moment). "I can't multitask" I continue, jokingly, Mark, of course, is always multitasking, and I'm sure my comment only furthers his belief that he is friends with an idiot.
Furthermore I might add that my feeling probably comes about from a sense of isolation that the theatrical experience brings out in me. It is true, I must admit, that I see most movies alone, but even when I was in the closest relationship I've ever been in, sitting on my girlfriend of 3 years's couch, watching something good, I would feel myself lifted off of the couch, and into the televison, separated from her, from the room itself. The isolation needs time to deestablish itself, time that I take while the credits roll.
I don't talk during a good movie, I certainly don't talk to myself. When with friends clowning a bad movie, cracking wise or pontificating on subtext is a different thing, more akin to analyzing any old thing, a jerk in our party or a fool on the bus. I'll do it, but doing so wholly changes the viewing experience.
It's not that I need time to think about it, it's that I need time to buffer myself for a less illuminated world, for more possibility and less sound effects. I daydream a lot when I'm not in the company of others, and an engrossing movie is like being strapped into a such a daydream, the edges lose focus and my pupils dilate. Eyes moisten a bit more easily and emotions get dragged to and fro by story and sound. Only when that black screen appears and the closing theme plays does it relent, and it seems to me that relishing that transition is a necessary thing. Perhaps this speaks to a simpler mind, certainly to one tipped to the emotional side of thinking.
This is also the reason I hate sitting near people in a movie theatre, they all too aften make noises and movements that break the spell. I would say that a good mindless comedy is fun to watch with a crowd, in a similar way that cheering in the stands of a sports arena works. Of course watching a funny movie also makes you notice what people find to be laugh worthy, and then rating their poor sense of humor against your own. This is one of the reasons I loved watching Stella or Mr.Show with Peru and Mark, and not with some other friends. It's nice to feel some kind of common sensibility in a group experience.
Still, most of those assholes making a break for the door weren't really watching, were they? They were probably paying attention to where there boyfriend's hand was, or what jokes she was laughing at, and looking forward to the payoff at the end that often suprises me, but of course, I'm always alone.
**************
I should add that thinking of this reminded me how nice it was to start making out with my girlfriend during a crappy movie, passionate love conquers a 40 million dollar budget and months of focus group testing, amen.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Romantically inclined aka. the ingrown fingernail annoyance.
I have this really sore finger right now, my right hand pointer, the nail is kina ingrown and the cuticle on that side is kinda peeling off so all in all it's made typing slightly more annoying than it should be. "Now, I told you that story to tell you this one." -Bill Cosby.
I recall as a kid that I never really had any ambition at all, when faced with the question "what would you like to be when you grow up?" I never had a real answer. My go-to response was to mention that everyone saying they wanted to be a doctor or lawyer were fooling themselves, that they just were thinking of the money and there was no way that that many kids could become doctors and lawyers anyway. I guessed those who said hockey player or actress were doing the same kind of thing as the doctors but had less domineering parents.
I do remember seeing homeless people and thinking that it was possible to end up like them, not that I would, but just that it was as possible as any of the other careers out there. I recall the weird old guy with a huge red growth on his nose who walked around my neighborhood all the time, he was creepy, but I did like his style. I never was into construction or firetrucks. I liked the "magic truck" that was stone and sat over a garage entrance on ndg avenue. My dad used to tell me that the magic truck came alive at night and drove around the neighborhood.
I wanted to be a magician for a while, and I learned a bunch of card tricks, around this time I started liking video games too, they were just as wonderful but the feeling was much more easy to implement. Imagine I had followed the magicians route, not the magician of my childhood imaginings, but the real whiskey stained tuxedo magician, the second rate standup comic with a deck of cards magician, the working at the local wal-mart magician? I aint built to excel at any one thing, neither are 95+% of you.
I think the best kind of magician is the grandfather magician. I liked David Blaine for a minute, and respect the fact that he does what he does. I recognize the thrill of the unexplained, and I once paid a guy 2 bucks to show me how to do a vanishing cigarette trick at copa cabana (he was hustling for cabfare by breaking the magicians code, kudos). I think that a good mysterious piece of art is magical. A still life is an illusion. Sculpture is crafty. Performance art is third rate stand-up comedy.
I'd like to cast a spell on a worthy dame someday. More and more I see myself amazing children with through hitherto unknown facts, baking soda and vinegar volcanos and rubber pencils gripped between index fingers and thumbs.
Sometimes I'm amazed that I crawl out of bed. I live in a world of wonders where absentmindedness and superficial interpersonal relationships keep me off the ball. I can talk about nothing with noone for a good 15-20 minutes before my tank starts to run out. When I do talk from the gut I start to sweat, it rarely happens, most often when I'm alone and don't have to put a finger on it.
Slight of hand depends on two things, misderection and the ability to be misdirected, one you have to practice, the other is assumed.
I recall as a kid that I never really had any ambition at all, when faced with the question "what would you like to be when you grow up?" I never had a real answer. My go-to response was to mention that everyone saying they wanted to be a doctor or lawyer were fooling themselves, that they just were thinking of the money and there was no way that that many kids could become doctors and lawyers anyway. I guessed those who said hockey player or actress were doing the same kind of thing as the doctors but had less domineering parents.
I do remember seeing homeless people and thinking that it was possible to end up like them, not that I would, but just that it was as possible as any of the other careers out there. I recall the weird old guy with a huge red growth on his nose who walked around my neighborhood all the time, he was creepy, but I did like his style. I never was into construction or firetrucks. I liked the "magic truck" that was stone and sat over a garage entrance on ndg avenue. My dad used to tell me that the magic truck came alive at night and drove around the neighborhood.
I wanted to be a magician for a while, and I learned a bunch of card tricks, around this time I started liking video games too, they were just as wonderful but the feeling was much more easy to implement. Imagine I had followed the magicians route, not the magician of my childhood imaginings, but the real whiskey stained tuxedo magician, the second rate standup comic with a deck of cards magician, the working at the local wal-mart magician? I aint built to excel at any one thing, neither are 95+% of you.
I think the best kind of magician is the grandfather magician. I liked David Blaine for a minute, and respect the fact that he does what he does. I recognize the thrill of the unexplained, and I once paid a guy 2 bucks to show me how to do a vanishing cigarette trick at copa cabana (he was hustling for cabfare by breaking the magicians code, kudos). I think that a good mysterious piece of art is magical. A still life is an illusion. Sculpture is crafty. Performance art is third rate stand-up comedy.
I'd like to cast a spell on a worthy dame someday. More and more I see myself amazing children with through hitherto unknown facts, baking soda and vinegar volcanos and rubber pencils gripped between index fingers and thumbs.
Sometimes I'm amazed that I crawl out of bed. I live in a world of wonders where absentmindedness and superficial interpersonal relationships keep me off the ball. I can talk about nothing with noone for a good 15-20 minutes before my tank starts to run out. When I do talk from the gut I start to sweat, it rarely happens, most often when I'm alone and don't have to put a finger on it.
Slight of hand depends on two things, misderection and the ability to be misdirected, one you have to practice, the other is assumed.
I got tore up at work today
nothing more unimpressive than a boss riding you and your co-workers when you've already quit and just haven't told him yet. Such a nice feeling.
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