The cinema I work at recently screened a bunch of films as part of the World Cinema Showcase. I was lucky enough to watch a few - here are my thoughts on what I saw:
The White Ribbon - this was great. A really involving, slow moving story set in a small pre-WWI German village. Thought provoking and wonderfully filmed. 8/10
Fish Tank - this was an impulsive watch, and turned out to be very good. A very slow first half had me thinking I had it all worked out, but the second half was a cracker, and took me by surprise. Outstanding acting. 8/10
Wild Grass - I went to this one on a whim, and it was awful. The first film I've ever walked out. The characters were unbelievably frustrating and unlikable; I hoped it would get better - it didn't. 1/10
Gentlemen Broncos - Simon warned me not watch this one, and unfortunately, I ignored him. So terrible, the characters were very one-dimensional, and the film, as a whole, left me grimacing. 2/10
Goemon - Awesome. Let me say that again - AWESOME. This movie was great, a super-OTT, eye-exploding story about ninjas and their hijinks. Awesome. 9/10
Herb & Dorothy - this was a documentary about an old NY couple who collect minimal/conceptual art, and house it in their apartment. Very sweet, and a well made, rather inspiring, doco. 7/10
The Box - a really good Twilight Zone story: a couple push a mysterious button, they receive a million dollars, and a strangers dies. Gripping and tense, and a little kooky. 8/10
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sometimes, I mourn for my past.
To hold my baby in my arms.
To have another cup of tea with him.
To be terrified by the prospect of (not) paying bills.
To be with her, to live with her, to be a part of her whanau.
When you can pinpoint those moments in your life, where your mind goes blank thinking about how different things could be.
Last night, I made a card for my friend Alana. Tomorrow is her birthday, the cover said simply, 'yours is a melodious life', with a clipping of sheet music beneath it. She often amazes me - she makes the world a more amazing place.
I told her about something I was considering doing, and she asked me what it meant. I didn't know. I don't know. "Look after this," she said, touching my chest, "because it's so precious."
I also had Drive today. The show went well, but I was quite hungry. Eamonn showed up, and bought me dinner. It was nice spending time with him. He is such a great friend, and one day I know he'll realise that. He suggested I play 'Needle in the Hay' by Elliott Smith, which is one of my favourite songs. It was perfect, and went with a nice string of sad songs. A listener text in to ask if I was okay, noting that they were good, but sad songs. He wished me a good evening. It made me feel happy.
I cycled home, and leaves were blowing everywhere. I went through Hagley Park, and stopped to look at the moon, flirting behind drifting clouds. The cars travelling on Harper Ave sounded like waves on the shore.
At the last set of lights before my house, I stopped behind a lady on her bike, and told her that her rear light was hard to see. She seemed really pleased that I'd told her.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Do you know what I mean when I say that sometimes the things that you feel are inside you, dormant, and that when you articulate those things that you feel, they become real?
Like, opening a proverbial can of worms. You can feel something, though unsaid, the can is closed. Once you tell someone (or write about it on the internet), it becomes real - able to be perceived clearly by yourself. And others. Those feelings become something literal.
Some things are best left unsaid
Monday, April 19, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
I had tea yesterday with my friend Kim. She's the kind of person who I was happy talking to about anything, but it felt like I didn't really know her that well.
We met in the square. I'd walked in to town, and it was hot and windy. A hot wind. I watched the leaves chase each other in chaotic spirals. We made our way through Ballantyne's to the tremendous Dilmah t-house - oh my, oh my. The last time I'd been here (with Fran), I had a cold, so was unable to taste the wonderful teas.
Kim was pleased that they had her favourite tea Udah Watte (no longer available at the supermarket). We talked about dreams, music, writing and siblings. Tea is the perfect accompaniment to such discussions.
We also went to an opshop. I found some great blue trousers for $3 - they fit perfectly. She bought some pillowcases to make a tote bag.
When we farewelled, our hug felt a lot more meaningful than when we had greeted.
If you don't know what this is, prepare to learn, and love. Night smells are the smells that you experience at night, not surprisingly. They seem to have a special, rich quality - the air itself is alive, clean and crisp.
I went for a walk last night and smelt lavender, fried food, and a smelly bush, among others.
Try and experience it tonight - it's best when the air is cool and calm.
Posted by David Regarding: Things I Love Friday
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I finished reading Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close today. I was at uni, and hadn't taken it with me, so as not to be distracted, but I found a copy in the uni library, and read the last 40 pages in a binge.
I had that feeling, when you finish reading a book. I just sat there, feeling empty, and sad. I'd needed to pee for probably the entire time I was reading, but I just sat there for about five minutes.
When I went to the bathroom, the feeling was great.
I'd put on my automatic watch, which I'd gotten from my sister but had not worn for a few weeks. The time had stopped at 5:02pm, April 4th, which was approximately eight days after I'd last worn it. I tried to think what I was doing at that time, but couldn't remember. It seemed quite significant how my watch had stopped at an exact instant in my life, yet I was unaware.
I also had my radio show, which went well. For a split second in the studio, it felt like I stayed still, and everything around me shifted forward 10cm. I spoke with Nick and Sarah from EMJ, and played a bunch of music. The song I found the most affecting was probably Rococo Zephyr by Bill Callahan.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
I went for a walk to the library, and around town today. I'm currently reading Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. I'm enjoying it immensely.
To me, it seems like I have too much to say, rather than nothing at all, yet there hasn't been much written to document my life lately. It feels like everything inside me is bigger than the outside that everyone can see. I know I've written about this before; it's really hard to explain. This feeling comes along from time to time, unexpectedly, though never unwelcomly.
Most of the time it feels like I'm moments away from tears, like things could swing any way. Like I could shout out 'yes' euphorically, like the whole world could break apart and crush me in an instant. Like I don't want to be near anyone, like I'm the greatest person who ever lived. I walk down the street, and it feels like the 'me' is floating, and I perceive every beautiful thing around me.
I'd rather feel something than nothing.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
This is the blog that I write. And this is the one hundredth post.
I hope you have enjoyed reading what I've written so far. The title and concept of all this was a flash of inspiration one morning, getting out of bed - though realistically, it's a reflection of everything inside me. I try and write honestly about things, and try and focus on the good.
Life can be really overwhelming. Often, it can go in circles, or be really misleading. I think the secret to so much is to focus on the little things, on the beautiful things. Because in spite of everything, they are always there.
Also, you are better than you think. It isn't meant to sound a cliche - it's the truth. The way people see you is different, in ways you wouldn't expect. Seeing the magic in yourself is a challenge.
Thanks for reading. With love,
Friday, April 2, 2010
I went to work tonight. It was Good Friday, and town was very quiet. Before I left home, I was feeling confused and overwhelmed about a bunch of things, and lonely. On the way there, I got a flat tire on my bike, which always feels like one of the worst things that can happen. I didn't feel like serving customers, but made some pretty good coffees.
It was strange, I guess I realised that in spite of myself, I really rely on human contact a lot. I probably didn't provide the chirpiest customer service tonight, but it was way better than just feeling glum about myself, alone.
I was looking forward to walking home - it would give me some nice time to think. I had been texting Rose about different things, and Beth gave me a call as I walked. She was sitting in a digger, in Wellington. I was walking through central Christchurch.
The most amazing fog descended as I walked. It seemed to add 'lens flares' to all the lights around me. It obscured the moon in a most sublime way. It smelt amazing. I've always been a big fan of night smells.
On the last part of my walk home, two women walked past me. They were heading to town, and were drunk. One of them gave me a hug, and said I looked nice.
Getting a flat tire wasn't so bad.