#I feel like it's one of the French New Wave films most likely to be in a random US video store? I mean it's got Gene Kelly in it

[laundrybiscuits]

(purify our misfit ways tag | AO3)

Technically speaking, Eddie’s not actually allowed to know any of the stuff he knows about what went down at Starcourt. Robin isn’t even totally sure how much he does know at this point; both she and Steve have completely and without discussion disregarded all the NDAs they’d been strong-armed into signing, when it comes to Eddie, but it’s not like they’ve sat him down and walked him through the night beat-by-beat. 

She hasn’t told Eddie that Steve knows about her, now. She’s not sure why. There’s no one reason that she can point to, she just doesn’t feel ready to have a real conversation about it.

It’s not like Robin to avoid conversations. She’s usually the kind of person who’ll march right up and confront anyone about anything, as soon as she gets the idea in her head. She’s never really understood why other people don’t do that more, honestly—it normally drives her up the wall when people talk around issues and dodge questions.

This is different. It’s not because she’s scared. It just feels too big, like something she can’t see the edge of, looming all the way up to the sky. Every time she starts to think about it, her mind kind of skitters away. She has to think around it, which is getting pretty annoying, actually.

Lately, a lot of things have been feeling really big. She’s so tired of feeling like she’s got all these massive secrets inside her, Russians and monsters and sketchy government agencies and—and the Tammy Thompson thing. It’s gotten so that she doesn’t even feel like she can breathe unless she’s with Steve or Eddie.

She’d thought it was impossible to talk to her parents before, but now she just stares at them across the dinner table and feels like a completely different species. She’s pretty sure kids aren’t supposed to know huge complicated things about the world that their parents don’t, because how would anyone deal with it? How is anyone supposed to live under the roof of people who can walk around not knowing about what’s out there in the dark?

It’s not that she’s scared, she just can’t get herself to believe they know what’s best for her anymore. This isn’t some stupid teenage rebellion, she’s signed official government documents that prove she knows more than they do about what goes on in Hawkins.

So it makes sense, how she only really feels okay when she’s around the two people who know all the things she has to remember not to let slip around everyone else. There’s a line around their little three-person pack, an us-and-them kind of line, and now she finally understands why all the high schoolers she knows are so obsessed with being in cliques: being part of an incontrovertible us means it doesn’t matter how many other groups you’re not in, because you know who your people are. You’ve got a steady place to stand in the world, when you’re part of an us.

She’d briefly considered feeling bad about dragging Eddie into all of this, but it’s not like they’d really had any other option. She swears Eddie can read minds sometimes, with the way he just looks at her and knows what she’s feeling. There’s no way she’d have been able to keep something like this from him for long, and if it just so happened that telling him would give her another safe harbor in Hawkins, so much the better.

Robin lies to her parents all the time now. She never used to, but she never had a good reason to before. But she knows that no matter how much they like to talk about their wild times in the sixties, they would never in a million years let her sleep in Eddie’s bed like she’s been doing lately. She just sneaks out as soon as she hears their bedroom door click shut and bikes over; by now, Eddie knows to expect her. He’s usually up anyway, and when he’s not, he’ll leave the door unlocked so she can come right in and shove at his shoulder until he wakes up enough to move over so she can get under the blanket with him.

She doesn’t go to Steve. For one thing, his parents are around a lot more than Eddie’s uncle is; for another, Steve’s house is much farther than Forest Hills, and Robin doesn’t love the idea of biking for like an hour in the middle of the night. Not now that she knows about what’s out there. She’s not scared, she’s just being practical.

Steve finds out about it when Eddie swings by to visit them at Family Video for the first time. It’s their third shift there ever, and Robin’s already bored out of her mind. It’s not like it takes an abundance of intellect or effort to shelve returns and dust the shelves.

Not that she’s complaining, at all, because this job is a pretty big step up from Scoops—no uniform, just a vest, and no food safety protocols to follow. Plus, they get to put a movie on in the background, even if Steve’s taste is totally pedestrian. She’s working on getting him to appreciate more of her favorites, but it’s been an uphill climb. To be fair, most of her efforts have revolved around pointing out how hot the actresses are. It’s not very subtle.

Robin’s contemplating whether she can sell him on Les Demoiselles de Rochefort when the bell above the door jangles, and Eddie saunters in.

“M’lord, m’lady,” he says, bowing deeply. The one other customer in the store, some little old lady, gives him a withering side-eye. Eddie’s so embarrassing sometimes. She doesn’t bother hiding her fond grin as she leans her elbows on the counter.

“Welcome to Family Video,” she sings out. “Can we interest you in some of our very finest John Hughes films?”

Eddie clutches at his chest, faking a swoon. “You always know the way to my heart, Buckley. But, uh, I just wanted to swing by and let you know that Wayne’ll be in tonight. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Steve butts in, looking confused.

Eddie looks a little panicked, and Robin really needs to find a way to tell him that Steve already knows about her.

“Um,” says Eddie. “In case…there’s…”

Robin sighs and rescues him. It feels wrong to lie to Steve anyway; it feels like violating the sanctity of their little circle. “Sometimes I spend the night at Eddie’s. It’s just easier than being around my parents, with all the…” She waves her hand, meaning all the nightmares come to life in Hawkins.

“Oh,” says Steve. He’s still frowning. “Wait, doesn’t Eddie live in the trailer park? Is that safe?”

Robin shrugs. “Safe as anywhere, I guess.”

“Okay, but…” Steve glances at Robin. “Is that…the best idea?”

She stares at him, confused. He stares back.

Eddie hauls himself up to sit cross-legged on the counter, glancing between them.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Steve says, but Robin’s pretty sure he’s just saying it on autopilot. They’re both intimately familiar with how Eddie will scale pretty much any available structure whenever he gets even a little bit bored.

Eddie tilts his head, regarding Steve. “You know it’s not like…she’s not spending the night, spending the night, you know? It’s just trauma stuff, Harrington.” He pauses. “You’re welcome anytime, too,” he says. His voice is quiet, not teasing. Honest and unadorned, in a way Robin’s only ever heard him get with the two of them.

Eddie’s been treating both of them a little gingerly ever since Starcourt. Robin doesn’t mind it as much as she’d have guessed; she has to pretend like nothing reality-shattering ever happened to her at Starcourt Mall with everyone else, but Eddie knows better. If that means he acts like they’re skittish baby bunnies sometimes, she doesn’t mind too much.

Steve never seems to know what to do with himself whenever it happens, though. Like now: he looks at Eddie and then looks away immediately, crossing his arms and uncrossing them again.

Steve never seems to know what to do with himself whenever it happens, though. Like now: he looks at Eddie and then looks away immediately, crossing his arms and uncrossing them again.

“I’m good,” Steve says. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

“Okay. Offer stands.” Eddie hops down from the counter. “Probably not tonight, though. Like I said, Wayne’s home, and I doubt you’re as good at wriggling through windows as Robin is.”

“Uh, are we talking about the same Robin Buckley here? The one who can’t walk halfway across the store without knocking over at least two display racks?” Steve snorts.

“Excuse you, I am not the one who dumped the entire contents of the cash register on the floor yesterday!” Robin says, offended.

“That’s not—I just pushed the wrong button! The latch must’ve been broken! Anyway, that’s different. I’m saying, I could totally get through any window way better than you can, because I’m, like, athletic and stuff. I’ve got moves.”

“Sure you do, Steve.” Eddie smirks, glancing over at Robin. “A thousand pardons; I stand corrected. Long as you can make it through the window, you’re welcome to come by my humble abode any day you like.”

[nohoney]

watched the lost boys recently and all i could think abt was 80s goth vampire dabi

if we're talking 80s goth vampire dabi, this song just sets the vibe for me. creature au isn’t a big strong suit of mine but this was fun!

♪ i think i want you / i think you’re bad ♪

you and your boyfriend are new to the town you've moved into, making a new home after deciding that dealing with your family's toxic dynamics was not worth anymore of your time. you needed a new start, a better home, and a different life. a cute two bedroom house is all yours, a little garden in the back along with a pristine picket fence that you adore.

the neighbors are quite nice but give you and your boyfriend a jarring piece of advice: stay away from dabi and do not invite him into your house under any circumstances.

upon asking who dabi is, your neighbors hush up and tell you that it's best to not ask any questions. just listen and obey it if you want to live peacefully, it's best since you're the new folks in town. to you, it feels like the people are probably bullying whoever this dabi person is if they can't provide a valid reason why he's not to be interacted with.

five weeks since you've settled into your new home, you walk at night to the video store to rent a few tapes to watch for the weekend. you debate between some french film and a clint eastwood movie, wondering if maybe a foreign film would be a nice change of pace or if maybe sticking to a famed movie star would be a guarantee for a good movie. someone happens to be in the same aisle as you and just to make small talk, you ask them to pick between the two. the french film is chosen but you also decide that clint eastwood could also be a good back up just in case.

"if my movie night stinks, i'm gonna go around town looking for you to blame." you crack a small joke.

"well if i'm gonna get my ass kicked by you, it'll be easier to find me by name: i'm dabi."

you shake his hand, your touch lingering for just a few seconds longer than you should be doing when you withdraw. his hands are a little cold but then again, so are yours since the night is fairly chilly. so the infamous dabi is right there with you, and he’s not quite what you thought he would look like. he dresses the part of a punk, his heavy boots and the dark jacket he wears a little bit of a cliché and he’s got dyed black tips that contrast against the white of his hair, but the charming smile he’s sent your way is a foil to the stereotype you had in your head. he’s pretty even, you can’t help but be drawn to his eyes that are a lovely shade of blue. it’s almost hypnotizing how gorgeous he is—

“gonna make me shy sweetheart if you keep on staring like that.”

jolted awake, you sputter out an apology. dabi is gracious enough to wave off the moment, reaching a hand out to gently pinch your cheek. his fingers are cold along your skin, a tingle running up your spine and a nervous laugh leaves your mouth. butterflies flutter in your tummy as you clutch the video tapes to your chest, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. the dingy lights of the video store must make you look unflattering, especially in comparison to the handsome man in front of you.

it's wrong to think but you hope that you look pretty in his eyes.

“hey uh, if you don’t mind me asking… people around town said that you can’t be invited over. why is that? are you, like, a terrible houseguest or something?” you take a chance on uncovering the mystery of your neighbor’s advice. he seems polite enough and you like to believe that you had good judgement as well when it comes to people. dabi didn’t set off any alarm bells in your head.

dabi chuckles, like he’s amused by your question, unsurprised even. “i happen to be a lovely houseguest, the best even. i never enter a house without being invited in.”

“that’s a given, isn’t it?”

“oh doll, it’s the most important rule for me.”

you smile at him, feeling a little excited as he sends a wink your way and turns to leave the store. he says he'll see you around, his boots heavy on the carpeted floor until he's out of the premises. rooted to your spot, it takes you a few seconds to collect yourself. how could one conversation make you so flustered? how could one guy make you feel so giddy?

deciding it was just nerves, you chalk it up to being surprised of meeting this infamous dabi.

walking out into the brisk night, you make your way home with the rented video tapes. since the move, you’ve already taken a few walks at night on your in your own neighborhood. it was safe since the other residents were just families with little kids. there wasn’t any danger you had felt before when you walked past the houses with the neatly maintained lawns. it’s not necessarily danger you feel as you walk home, but something makes you feel as if you should look over your shoulder.

no one around, not a car moved out of place or even any of the tree branches rustling.

completely still, and yet you feel the need to hurry home.

dinner is eaten first along with washing the dishes, the movie night can begin then. you wash at the sink and your boyfriend does the drying. “i met dabi, the one the neighbors told us to never invite over. he was at the video store,” you tell him as you run a glass cup under the warm water from the faucet, “he actually helped in choosing our movies tonight.”

"oh? how kind. was he scary like the neighbors insinuate he is?"

you go over your impression of dabi in the video store, speaking on his demeanor and how he seemed polite enough. nothing from the brief interaction with him really warranted for you to be on alert. if anything, it made you curious. the last dish is washed clean by you and it's held out for your boyfriend to take, but you're left hanging onto it for a few seconds longer than it should take.

when you look over to your boyfriend, he's got this strange look on his face that has you confused on why he's giving you a look. "what is it?"

"nothing, just... why were you talking about dabi like that?"

like what? there wasn't anything you were saying that was special about the encounter itself. it was brief and polite, save for the little flirty actions that you chose to omit so that your boyfriend didn't get the wrong idea of what the meeting was like.

"sorry it's just... you seemed really dazzled by him. almost like you're hypnotized."

had you actually gushed about him that much? embarrassed doesn't even begin to describe how you feel. you sputter an apology to your boyfriend, reassuring him that meeting dabi was really nothing of note and that there was nothing to worry about. there had never been any instances of jealousy between the two of you during the relationship so it was a first for you to give reassurance that another man hadn't swept you off your feet.

an uneasy smile is given to you, like he's trying to be okay with it and you feel guilty. you hadn't really spoken like you were gushing over dabi, right? you could have sworn you were being very normal about him.

it sits on your mind as you curl up on the couch, your boyfriend's warm fingers idly massaging the back of your neck as clint eastwood stars as "the man with no name" and delivers his lines smoothly, "shoot to kill, you better hit the heart. aim for the heart or you'll never stop me."

the movie hardly gets your attention, still feeling your mind drift off to dabi. his fingers were cold against your cheek when he had playfully pinched your earlier at the video store. normally the little neck massage that your boyfriend gives you is a comfort, so it's another first when you politely tell him that he can stop. like all of a sudden his touch is making you uncomfortably warm.

"did i do something wrong?"

"no, no, you didn't. i swear it, i'm just..." you search your mind for an excuse to give, "fussy today i guess."

you can't shake off the bit of guilt in your stomach even as you lay in bed later that evening. an extra apology was given to soothe your own conscience and it was accepted before being given a good night kiss. turning over to lay on your side, you hope that you'll feel better tomorrow. but you don't have an easy sleep either, waking up only just two hours after putting yourself to bed.

careful to leave the bed so that you don't wake your boyfriend, you quietly press your feet onto the floor and leave the warm blankets. the curtains are drawn over the windows, the sheer fabric of it not really keeping out the moonlight that's pouring in. the curtain is pulled aside slightly so that you can peer through the window and glance into the street. street lights illuminate the sidewalks of the neighborhood, the artificial glow a comfort in a way to you as you gaze out the window.

you blink and dabi appears under the light.

he gazes at you first before giving you a little wave, which you reluctantly returned.

next thing you know, you're opening the front door and stepping out into the night to join him. you sense no danger or harm as you approach dabi, the usual cautiousness that you practice completely absent in the moment. in fact, you don't even register that you're meeting him in the street in your little nightie. the only thought you had cross your mind was to meet him where he was. there may be a chill in the air but it doesn't deter you from standing a respectable distance away from him.

"it's late, shouldn't you be in bed?" you ask dabi, the gravel of the street digging into your feet since you hadn't bothered to even put on house slippers when you left your bed.

in fact, you don't even question how he knows where you live.

"could say the same to you. don't want a pretty doll like you to feel all fatigued in the morning. just go back to sleep, okay?" dabi gestures back to your home with the front door left wide open.

the glow of the porch light looks inviting, the warmth of your home does call to you. but you would be remiss to not offer dabi to come in, that it would be rude to leave him behind in this chilly night and perhaps offer him some tea. "do you want to-"

dabi holds up his hand to interrupt you, "not yet, but believe me, i really do."

"so why not?" there's something in you that's making you antsy, that's making you eager to pull dabi into your home. you can't explain it, only that his presence in your house would fulfill this weird void that you didn't even know that you had.

he chuckles at you, making you feel like you're missing out on something that you should be aware of. "well for one thing, i didn't even bring you a housewarming gift. plus, i'd like to meet the man of the house."

"do you want me to wake him too?" you offer, once again not thinking of the unusual nature of this meeting.

dabi sucks air between his teeth, gazing at you once more as he steps towards you. just like at the video store, he pinches your cheek playfully. blue eyes peer at you and then he moves his hand to gently pet your hair. "god, you are the easiest little target i've had the pleasure of meeting. you're making this too easy, you know?" he tells you with what sounds like is supposed to be disappointment but instead feels like amused disbelief.

making what too easy?

"you were so quick to fall for me, i've never worked this fast before."

suddenly the edges of your vision begin to blur and your mind feels fuzzy. your legs weaken and dabi catches you as you fall towards him, his body cold against yours but his hand comfortingly massaging the back of your neck. goosebumps rise along your skin but you bury your nose into his chest, smelling the rich leather of his jacket and letting out a dreamy sigh. "dabi?" you call out softly, your eyes fluttering as you try to clutch onto him, "what's going on?"

he presses you tightly against him, leaning down to breathe deeply along where your neck and shoulder meet. the strap to your nightie falls off your shoulder and you don't know how that invites him even more to keep you longer with him.

"go back to sleep, doll. i'm sure you're all tuckered out from your movie night."

movie? oh yeah, he made the choices for you in the video store...

"shame that you looked so bored though, i wanted to go in there and rescue you."

you wake to sunlight pouring in the bedroom, taking a few seconds to orient yourself to your own space. the blankets feel cozy like they usually do and the light coming through curtains is pretty, just like you knew they would be. still, you can’t help but feel a little strange after the dream you had last night.

did you really go out to meet dabi last night? the dream felt very real but there’s no way you’d do something so silly like that. he’s a stranger, someone you’d only met for a few short seconds and didn’t exchange any personal info with. so there’s no reason for you to have had a dream about him. maybe you were just enthralled from meeting someone new and that’s why.

yeah, that should be it.

after all, you were restless the first two weeks moving into town and had dreams about the neighbors delivering bug casseroles or throwing flaming newspapers through the windows.

the bed is made up, the pillows fluffed, and you neatly tuck the blankets exactly how you like them. glancing at the window, you approach to pull aside the curtain. the crisp night air from last night comes to mind as well as dabi standing right underneath the street light. the gravel underneath your feet, the smell of his leather jacket, and his fingers pinching your cheek last night…

wow, you really must have had a really vivid dream. usually most of them you forget within a few minutes of waking up.

your stomach rumbles and you hope that your boyfriend has started making breakfast. but as you reach the corner of the hallway, you hear him speaking to someone at the front door. you hide around the corner and do your best to listen in.

“he walked her to the gate of your home, i swear it! i was almost scared that she had invited him in!” it sounds like the elderly lady that lives with her eldest son who is a widower, she was a kind little thing that gave you a basket of oranges, “we told you! stay away from him! he’s evil!”

so you had walked out last night? it wasn’t just a dream?

“ma’am, i’m sure you thought you saw (name) but i would know if my own girlfriend left our bed in the middle of the night. i happen to be a very light sleeper.” your boyfriend speaks lightly and seems as if he’s trying to find an out to the conversation, “and for your information, she did meet dabi and she said that he was quite kind to her.”

the reveal of this information sends the elderly woman into some type of tizzy, “no, no! she should have stayed away like you were warned to! dabi could have already put his spell on her. if he chose her then she’ll speak like she’s in love with him already! and she’ll talk of dreams with him!”

at the sign of her agitation, your boyfriend decides to shut the door on her coupled with an attempt to politely disengage. her shouts are still heard through the wood and even from where you stand hidden.

“you need to protect her! dabi took away my daughter-in-law! don’t let her out of your sigh—especially at night!”

your boyfriend heaves a heavy sigh, “christ, this lady… get her some meds!”

his footsteps start to march towards the kitchen but you retreat back into the hallway so that you’re out of sight when he passes by. the familiar sounds of pots and pans clang against one another but now you have no appetite to eat. instead you go back to the bedroom to stand in the spot at the window.

standing behind the sheer curtain, you’re able to make out your elderly neighbor walk past the gate. her widowed son is meeting her and offering his arm for assistance, but she points a hand to the house. when the son does look to the house, you pull back the curtain and attempt to give a friendly wave.

it’s met with a grim look instead, leaving you awkwardly lowering your hand. the elderly woman and her son make their way back to their house, and you stand in your spot for just a little longer. you can still visualize dabi standing under the street lamp.

“you're making this too easy, you know?"

making what too easy? what did dabi mean by that? why are you even questioning words from a dream anyway?

chalking it up to just a strange morning, you decide that it’s best to freshen up before presenting yourself to your boyfriend for breakfast. in the bathroom, you cup your palms under the running water and then splash it on your face. you repeat a few more times until you feel clean, reaching for the nearby face towel to dry you off.

“doll… i wanna see you.”

you freeze for a few seconds, dabi’s voice so clear and crisp in your mind it was as if he were with you right now.

“… dabi?” you speak quietly but you’re unsure why you’re even calling for him in the first place.

you sit at the breakfast nook, looking over the newspaper s you stir your spoon around in the coffee mug aimlessly. the pan is sizzling loudly as it cooks eggs and bacon on the oiled surface.

“so hon… any dreams last night?” your boyfriend makes conversation, which you’re quick to say that you didn’t remember which was a common answer from you. and you didn’t want to worry him if you talked of dreaming about dabi; you still felt bad from the conversation last night.

“wanna see you… come see me at the beach tonight.”

“hey, you’re not going anywhere tonight are you?” you ask and your boyfriend tells you that he’s not. “could i take the truck out tonight and drive by the beach? i’ve always wanted to sit on the sand and watch the waves when it’s nighttime.”

he says it’s fine but to not be out too long, and to bring a beach blanket too. he trusts that you’ll be fine on your own because you’d never given him any reason too. giddiness rises up in your chest, bringing a smile onto your face as breakfast is set in front of you.

“i’m so excited for the beach tonight! i can’t wait!”

dabi’s voice croons in your head, “good girl.”

[samanthahirr]

Kingsman & Robin Hood AU (Hartwin)

Inspired by a Writer Bingo card meme called “Why I Didn’t Write It,” here’s my most-beloved story idea I never wrote:

Picture if you will a mashup of Taron Egerton’s films Kingsman (2014) & Robin Hood (2018), in which younger-son-of-an-earl Eggsy meets King Harry on the Third Crusade (round about 1190 A.D.). Obliged to keep this brash young lordling from getting killed, Harry tolerates Eggsy’s presence in his council meetings and gives Eggsy much-needed advice to listen and learn before weighing in on matters of war and politics. Eggsy quickly comes to worship Harry, and as Eggsy matures into a noble and intelligent young man, Harry becomes enamored with him. The two begin a passionate affair, which Harry’s chief advisor Merlin disapproves of (Harry can’t afford to show such partiality for one earl’s family over the other earls’ without unbalancing the carefully calibrated politics of his court).

Eggsy falls in battle and is captured, and while the war front moves on, Harry arranges to covertly pay Eggsy’s ransom. Fearing Harry’s inevitable distraction should Eggsy turn out physically or psychologically damaged by his time in captivity, Merlin insists Eggsy be sent straight home to England with no reunion. Harry dispatches Merlin to deliver the ransom and escort Eggsy to England, where Merlin must wrangle the growing dissent over this war among Harry’s court. Harry gives Merlin a love letter to deliver to Eggsy on their voyage back to England. Eggsy arrives home brokenhearted over his separation from Harry, and is surprised by news that his older brother has died in the intervening two years, making Eggsy the new heir. Eggsy resents his father’s overprotective control and efforts to keep his sole remaining heir home on the family estate. After a few months, Eggsy convinces the earl to let him go attend the court, as his older brother had done.

At court, Eggsy falls in with his dead brother’s friend group of other young lords, and he quickly realizes that they are French sympathizers and potential traitors to the crown. Eggsy tries to take this information to Merlin, but Merlin won’t grant him an audience, paranoid that rumors of Harry’s partiality for Eggsy may yet follow them home from the war. So Eggsy resolves to spy on these men himself in order to protect Harry’s interests. Using the intel he overhears, Eggsy poses as a bandit to rob couriers carrying messages between the upstart English lords and the French prince, and he intercepts a shipment of French gold intended to hire mercenary assassins. Eggsy’s bandit persona gains notoriety and becomes known as Robin Hood. Meanwhile, Merlin sees Eggsy badmouthing Harry’s policies right along with that group of dissenting lordlings at the court and thinks worse and worse of Eggsy.

After a year of separation, news comes that the King is returning to England, and Eggsy learns of a plan to ambush and assassinate Harry on his way to court. Eggsy rushes to warn Harry in the guise of his bandit persona. “Robin Hood” waylays Harry in a rainstorm at night, Harry tries to get the upper hand before recognizing his Eggsy, and the reunited lovers kiss desperately in the rain….

And the remaining plot becomes a confused mess of action, passion, mistrust, feigned betrayals, assassins, and (hand wave) a happily ever after.

As much as I adore this sprawling epic of a story, I can’t properly define it…because it feels like three separate genres, and the tones and pacing don’t match up. It’s a sweeping war-time romance in the first half, and then it’s a political intrigue plot in the second half, not to mention the whole vigilante action story that has to live up to the myth of Robin Hood! I’ve imagined multiple different endings for this epic, and none of them feel right…and I think that’s because I don’t know which genre’s conventions to use to determine a satisfying ending.

This confusion plus the daunting amount of historical research I would have to do to tell this tale believably (ugh, noooo) means I’m never going to write this story. But it sure is fun to imagine the love, the battles, the pining, the spying, and the grand passion of it all!

[birdfriender]

Hello. Sorry to bother you, but given the content of the coaster from canmom's post, if you don't mind answering a stupid question: so, on ARTE's website there's a bunch of Varda's films currently (there were more of them, but some expired), so what would be a good start where it comes to watching her filmography?

Hi!

I tried to have a look on the ARTE website but the selection available for her in the UK is just 1 film and I'm not sure what's available in other regions so I will just give my general recommendations.

Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962) is probably her most well known and most critically acclaimed film and, being one of her earlier films, is also probably a good starting place. It follows a singer in Paris through two hours of her life while awaiting the results of an important medical test. I think it's a great example both of Varda's influences as part of the early French New Wave as well as the seeds of her unique style of blending documentary and narrative film-making techniques.

The Gleaners and I (2000) is, I think, as good an introduction as any to her pure documentary films. It discusses the practice of 'gleaning', or going to pick over fields after the harvest to find any edible produce that has been left behind, but ultimately discusses a wide range of issues around consumption and waste. I think it is a great showcase of not just her stream-of-consciousness documentary style (in a similar vein to documentary filmmakers like Werner Herzog or Patricio Guzman) but also of her deep curiosity and passion for humanity in all its expressions. I think Gleaners also gives more of a picture of her playful and sometimes subtle sense of humour, which I think is very important in appreciating some of her other films (Le Bonheur, for example, I think is very easy to misinterpret as an entirely sincere depiction of its subject matter if you're not familiar with her).

Vagabond (1985) is my personal favourite film of hers (and also just one of my favourite films of all time in general). It follows the last few weeks of the life of a homeless women, depicted entirely through the eyes of the various people who saw her last. Being made nearer to the midpoint of her career I think it shows her style in a more matured form than in Cleo, blending documentary style film-making with narrative segments in a way that feels very hard to classify (it's not a 'mockumentary', a narrative film made in a documentary style maybe?) and really unlike almost any other film I've seen.

I also want to shout out Tribute to Zgougou the Cat which is a very short film she made about her cat, that is available free on youtube and is delightful.

I hope this helps! I think Agnes Varda is a really wonderful film-maker with a very wide range of films across different styles and genres, so I think wherever you go from this starting point will be rewarding. I think her strengths across all of them are her ability to find the human stories in any subject matter, and to know just the right amount of her own authorship to inject into them.

[world-cinema-research]

The 400 Blows/Les Cuatre Cents Coups (1959)

By Cris Nyne

The directorial debut of pioneering French filmmaker, François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, left a lasting imprint on the timeline of international cinema. To know Truffaut’s history before becoming director makes the film even more of a remarkable achievement. His life began as a troubled youth, engaging in petty crimes and was well on his way to a path of self-destruction. It was in his late teenage years when recognized film critic André Bazin would take Truffaut under his wing and give him a job as critic for the film magazine Cahiers du cinéma. During this time, Truffaut would become recognized as a brutal critic of French films. His infamy stretched to Festival de Cannes, where he would be denied accreditation in 1958. The following year in 1959, Truffaut would get his revenge by being crowned Best Director for The 400 Blows at Cannes. This all by the age of 27. Truffaut would continue to turn the film industry on its head and help pave the way for what today is known as French New Wave.

“If the New Wave marks the dividing point between classic and modern cinema (and many think it does), then Truffaut is likely the most beloved of modern directors -- the one whose films resonated with the deepest, richest love of moviemaking.” -Roger Ebert August 8, 1999

The 400 Blows is a semi-autobiographical tale that follows the young star Jean-Pierre Léaud as the mischievous Antoine Doinel. Antoine is humiliated by his teacher, skips school, steals, and smokes cigarettes while contemplating a better life A life away from his father’s failures and his mother’s affairs. Both parents find themselves exhausted of all options for their son (or the lack of attention they care to provide) and send him off to a school for troubled children. From the beginning of the film, his parents seem to have other priorities in filling the hole in their marriage, and Antoine is essentially a victim of having too much unsupervised time on his hands. By the end of the film, Antoine is contemplating his life outside of the observation center for delinquent youth. He makes a dash for it.

Source: Blu-ray.com

“The movie is full of actual incidents from Truffaut’s childhood, including his fabricating his mother’s death as an excuse for truancy. Few movies have been so personal.” -J.Hoberman, The New York Times September 21, 2022

The movie was well received by audiences and critics alike. He won Best Director at Cannes in 1959, as well as a nominee for the Palme d’Or, the highest prize awarded at Cannes. The French regional newspaper Nice-Matin claimed The 400 Blows to be “A Masterpiece”. The chemistry between Léaud and Truffaut was strong. They would go on to make three more feature films with Léaud revising his role as Antoine Doinel, Stolen Kisses (1968), Bed and Board (1970), and Love on the Run (1979). Currently, Rotten Tomatoes lists The 400 Blows with a rating of 94%.

Original Movie Release Poster

The film is in black and white and is shot in a very personal manner. There are lots of close-space encounters that make you feel as if you are squeezing into the room with them. The house that Antoine lives with his mother and father is very small. During one scene as Antoine is sleeping, his mother, Gilberte Doinel (played by Claire Maurier), comes home after a long night and cannot open the door all the way as it is stopped by the mattress that Antoine sleeps on. There are many fun street scenes shot from different angles- subterranean, street-level, and roof tops, that portray Antoine and his friends plotting and scheming around the streets of Paris. There are a few scenes that follow the main character along a stretch of blocks, and I found myself thinking about how smooth the camerawork was.

During its filming and release date, The 400 Blows took the idea of conventional filmmaking and shredded the blueprint. The director was only known as a stubborn critic and the main star of the film was completely unknown. The script was a unique story, one that, for the most part, Truffaut had lived and had made it through to tell the tale of a rebellious and delinquent child on a bad path. A child that by today’s standards would probably be diagnosed with an attention deficit disorder and prescribed medication. What was once an extremely unconventional approach to filmmaking has now become a standard in delivering a storyline. Truffaut’s confidence in leaping from critic to auteur has left a rippling effect that you can still see over 7 decades later.   

[endofradio]

QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR ABIGAIL OC — SYLVIE/AVA!

what kind of music does she like? what are her habits? does she have any flaws/insecurities? is she an early bird or night owl? what was her childhood like? what is her favorite color? what does she do in her free time/what are her hobbies? what is her favorite movie/film genre?

—you don't have to answer all of them if you don't want to. i know it's kind of a lot but i'm just curious! 💕💕

oh my god these questions are PERFECT!!!

answered this one in a previous ask but i’ll answer it again in more detail! she primarily listens to punk, goth, and 80s indie, but she also likes classical music and some 60s music (particularly the velvet underground). she loves music with poetic lyrics.

she’s prone to pacing around and fidgeting with her hands a lot when anxious. when she was younger she used to pick at her skin a lot too.

oooo this is a great one. sylvie’s quite anxious and depressed and doesn’t trust many people (but when she does place her trust in someone like frank, she can be too trusting). probably her biggest insecurity is how she perceives herself. she’s insecure about whether or not she’s worthy of love, because all she knew most of her life was just rejection and hurt. that’s kinda contributed to her relationship with frank and why she’s drawn to him — he’s insensitive, tough, and cold compared to her, and sylvie believes that her life would be easier if she was like that. she’s insecure about how emotional she is and how attached she gets. another flaw of sylvie’s is how she is easily prone to blaming herself for things. even if something isn’t her fault, she finds a way to believe it is. for example, she often believes that it’s her own fault she’s never received real love — she’s convinced she’s unlovable, and believes that her adoptive parents were right for treating her cruelly (i’d say that’s where her self esteem problems started). in her words, “they would’ve loved me if there wasn’t something wrong with me.”

definitely a night owl… especially when she became a vampire

her childhood was… not great and is one of the key reasons why she’s the way she is. at a young age, sylvie was given up and spent a lot of her early childhood hopping to and from different foster homes, with most of them being poor experiences. eventually, she was finally adopted. at first, she had hope that she would finally have a family, but the older she got, the less kind her parents became, with her mother being the worst to her in particular. she was also a bit of an outcast in school, which didn’t help her feel any less isolated.

she has a handful of favorite colors, but her top three are black, red, and purple.

sylvie is super creative. in her free time, she enjoys listening to music, drawing, painting, and writing. at some point in her life, she picked up playing guitar and can also play bass!

sylvie loves horror movies as well as 60s french new wave films. she’s also a big sucker for beautiful and depressing movies.

[macbethz]

I really enjoy your taste in media, recs for movies that will leave me in the floor sobbing?

Thank you sm!! i am what we call a film enjoyer so it means a lot

Kinda a normie picks in that you've probably already seen them but i legally have to say Brokeback Mountain and Moonlight like come on

Also kinda normie but Carrie makes me cry like a little baby. One of the most tragic mother/daughter relationships ever put to screen.

Speaking of mother daughter trauma Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy is a short film about an aboriginal woman taking care of her elderly white mother. Tracey Moffatt the director said it was about "loving and hating your mother" which yeah. it sure is!

Goodbye Lenin! is one of my faves of all time. It's a German dramady about a guy trying to keep his ill avid communist mother from realizing the iron curtain has fallen so that she doesn't have another heart attack. Just a deeply human film to me. will make you laugh and cry

MANDATORY FRENCH NEW WAVE DROP!!! Cleo from 5 to 7 is about a woman wandering the city while she waits for her cancer test results.

If you are ACTUALLY 100% SERIOUS about being on the floor sobbing. You must be mentally prepared for this one I'm serious. Silverlake Life: the view from here is a documentary about a film teacher documenting his lover dying of aids. One of the most important movies ever made IMO and I recommend everyone see it at some point in their lives but one I have only been able to watch once because it is so deeply affecting. Everyone who has seen this film has had a similar experience to me where for a long period after it feels impossible move on or even speak to people who haven't seen it because it really does make you feel like you're grieving yourself.

[witchybiitchy]

c’est ça l’amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 8

Lando hated to admit it, but he was definitely the jealous type, although he tried to keep it on the down-low. He knew it wasn't some masculine territorial thing, or stemming from a deep rooted insecurity. He knew that his jealousy had come from always getting everything he wanted, and always wanting to be the best.

In karting he would beg his father for new helmets, new suits, better wheels, and he would win because of it. Yes he was talented, because you had to be, but the deep, deep jealousy he would feel when he would even come second was so intense that, over the years, he had forced himself to smile and clap and say congratulations, because otherwise he would live in a constant state of envy.

That’s why, on the morning of the French GP, the hot rush of jealousy that raced through him when he saw Sydney talking to Timothée Chalamet was terrifying, if not shameful.

Usually, celebrities would be a common sight in the US or England, but the Cannes film festival being less than a month away meant that a few famous faces were floating around the paddock, including that French bastard. “His movie’s called The French Dispatch, could you be any more pretentious?” Lando whispered to Carlos, leaning against the wall of the Ferrari garage.

“Tranquillo Lando.” Carlos chuckled. “She is not your girlfriend yet, no?”

Lando rolled his eyes. Carlos had been trying to convince him to just rip off the bandaid, but there was some fear within him that refused to do so. It was mainly the fear that, despite her denial, there really was something between Sydney and Pierre, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself.

Plus, watching her converse in French, laughing and smiling and creasing her eyes up at the corners, hair shining in the French summer sun, her shoulder leaning ever so slightly in towards the actor, he realised that she was so far out of his league it wasn't even funny. Who was he to believe himself so above every other driver, mechanic and engineer to deserve to go out with the only female driver who also happened to be pretty and funny and French.

“Maybe you should talk to Pierre about your little green friend. I think he could relate.” Carlos said before being beckoned off somewhere to do a bit more work than stare through red eyes at a man who seemed to actually be quite nice.

Lando managed to pull his eyes away from the pair, and it didn't take him long to find Pierre, chatting half-heartedly with Max a few metres away at the Redbull garage. His eyes were half-trained on Sydney and half trying to look as if he was paying attention, although it seemed as if Max was giving up on trying to keep his focus. Max gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking off, and Pierre smiled before looking around for a moment to find something else to occupy him with. His eyes met Lando's, and although he didn't really know what possessed him to do so, he beckoned for him with his head.

“Hey mate.” Pierre said, seeming to be less cold towards Lando now that he wasn't the object of Sydney's attention. Being of the same upbringing, Lando assumed he probably had the same jealousy issues and didn't want to judge him too hard for how he acted in Baku. To be fair, Pierre was much closer with Sydney than he was.

“Hey, you think that guy's gonna make a move?” Lando said, trying to sound nonchalant and also as if ‘that guy’ wasn't one of the most famous and sought after actors in the world.

“Probably, but I hope not for our sake.” Pierre laughed, sounding slightly forced.

“Oh, I’m not, if you're, like, she's yours, I mean, I don't-” Lando stammered, uncomfortable with anyone other than Carlos knowing his feelings.

“Mate, chill, you have the wrong idea.” The way that Pierre skipped over his ‘h’ reminded Lando of Sydney, and made him feel excluded from some weird French club he never felt like existed until now.

“But, in Baku you were all, you know.” Lando said, waving his hands around.

“Yeah, I know, it was,” Pierre sucked in a breath, “embarrassing.” They both chuckled, the tension easing.

“So you're not, interested?” Lando asked, hesitating around the topic as a whole.

“I was, at first, because look at her mate. Who wouldn't be?” Lando nodded in agreement. “But then, I don't know. I thought about it a bit more, and I realised I would never do anything, you know? I don’t see her that way.” Lando continued nodding, but a lack of explanation for Baku left a confused expression on his face.

“That day, it was just a bad day. I just felt shitty, the last time I raced at Baku I was in Redbull, and I retired so that fucking sucked, and it just felt like she was the only thing I had over everyone else.” Lando made a face and Pierre scrambled to explain. “It's-I don’t see her as mine or anything fucked like that. But you can't deny that she’s not, you know, special. I like being her friend because it makes me feel special too. And she doesn't have many other friends here, so it just sort of, shocked me, I don't know man, I was acting like an idiot.” Something consoling Lando was that Pierre at least looked embarrassed and a bit ashamed.

“It's okay mate, that could've been me with that guy over there, but you've come in to save the day.” Lando smiled, and he felt so hopeful for about a millisecond until he looked forward again, met with the reality of Sydney getting majorly hit on by a celebrity, and it sent his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. “But you should really stop looking at her like the way you were just then.” Lando added on, and Pierre tilted his head in confusion. “You really looked jealous.”

“Does he not look like a sleazy little rat though?” Pierre said, and Lando just laughed.

“You have a point there.”

“Good luck with her Lando, I promise to be less of a dickhead next time you make your moves around me.” Pierre smiled, clapping him on the shoulder before walking back over to the Redbull garage. While now he'd at least eliminated Pierre out of the equation, he was still stuck staring between Sydney and Chalamet, not being able to ignore the way her eyes shone up at him.

----

“ No, seriously I look up to you. I don’t know much about Formula 1 but you're definitely making an impact. ” Timothée Chalamet said to her, the smile on his face nearly having the same effect on her as Lando's did. Nearly, but not quite. The fact that an actor as famous and good looking as Timothée Chalamet was giving her his undivided attention and the feeling in her body was less than half of what it was when Lando put his arm around her was a problem. Because in the 2 weeks since Baku, in between their texting conversations and small interactions in the paddock, she'd all but convinced herself that he was interested in someone else, despite her minimal evidence and zero desire to believe it. At least she could enjoy Rebull’s pull in the celebrity department for the next half an hour.

“ You should get into it, there are a couple of Canadians you could root for. ” Sydney said, squinting up into the sun.

“ I’m not Canadian. ” He laughed, and she closed her eyes fully in embarrassment.

“ Sorry, you just seem too nice for an American. Oh fuck, sorry. ” She replied, and he just laughed again.

“ It's okay, if I was fully European I’d probably say the same thing. ”

“ You basically are, Timothée. ” Sydney said, emphasising the ‘thée’.

“ You remind me of my dad when you say my name like that. ”

“ Mm, sexy. ” The two of them laughed once again, and Sydney relished in how good it felt to talk to someone outside of the Formula 1 world.

“ Where will you watch the race from? ” Sydney asked.

“ I think in there. ” he said, pointing to the Red Bull garage. “ I know it's not your team, but I’ll be going for you. ”

“ Thank you, Timothée. I feel honoured to be picked over your Canadians brothers. ”

“ What can I say, I have more loyalty to my French brothers. Or, sister. ”

“Sydney!” The invisible bubble surrounding her and the incredibly attractive man in front of her was broken, and she was brought back to the track, her race engineer beckoning her over to the garage.

“ I’ve got to go, but it was lovely talking to you. My friends will be so jealous. ” By friends she meant Daisy, who would probably meet him later on anyway.

“ Before you go, do you have any more time in France after today? I’d like to see you again. ” Timothée said, the faint blush on his cheeks nearly indistinguishable from the pre-existing heat flush.

“ I would love to, but we fly to Austria tomorrow. Unless you would like to come.” They both laughed, but there was a certain finality about it. They were both busy, they understood this kind of disappointment and Sydney wouldn't let it get her down. After all, the one boy she really wanted was always where she was, no matter what.

“ Well then, I’ll say goodbye and good luck. ” Timothée said, leaning in to give her a farewell kiss on the cheek, allowing her to turn and walk back to her race engineer who had become engrossed in one of the many number-filled screens. She felt her face stay red even after she entered the shade, and tried to stop thinking about the kiss so that she could calm down a bit.

“Made a new friend, have we?” Her engineer, Mattia said, not looking away from the screens in front of them.

“You sound unapproving.”

“Disapproving.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

“I’m not disapproving, just focused. Look, I was running this sim, and if we want to maximise speed through turn 1…” Sydney fell into a zone she loved to be in as soon as Mattia started discussing some things to change for the race. All outside noise was shut off, as if she was wearing noise cancelling headphones, and she didn't need to pause to translate what Mattia was saying in her head, because she could picture it as if she was in the car then and there.

As Mattia paused to get up a different set of stats, Sydney felt her eyes wander briefly over to the side, only to be met with a sight that sent her heart into her throat.

“ Maman, papa, I was worried you weren't going to make it. ” She gave them both a hug, before leaning back to match their gaze.

“ As if we’d miss our baby winning her first grand prix. ” Her dad said, grinning from ear to ear.

“ Papa, you can't say stuff like that before every race, it's bad luck. ” She replied, smiling anyway.

“ You look busy darling, we’ll see you again before the race to say good luck. You just focus now. ” Her mum said, giving Sydney another hug before walking back into the garage, getting given a pair of headphones and a seat. She noticed them talking to Pierre's parents, northern and southern accents clashing slightly but not doing anything to dampen their collective enthusiasm. Pierre's parents were pointing things out and leaning in close to whisper gossip, and it made her heart fill to bursting. She hadn't seen them since New Years, and she immediately felt more like herself.

“I think that will help.” Mattia said. Sydney had nearly forgotten he was there.

“What?”

“Your parents. You are just a little kid after all.” He grinned, and she gave him a pinch on the arm before going back to their screens. It was 2 hours until lights out, and she felt the type of certainty in herself that she hadn't felt since winning the final race of formula 2, the one that secured her a podium position in the championship.

----

It had been a lucky race, an incredibly lucky race. With an incident between Valterri and Lando taking them both out of the race, and with Sydney moving from 10th to 5th before turn one after an unusually good start, she now found herself in the final lap, within DRS range of Sergio but just too far behind to make her move. Mattia had stopped talking to her over the radio to let her concentrate, and all heard was the blood rushing in her ears and the revs of the car. She knew that, with Pierre behind Sergio at the last check in, the French crowd must have been going insane, but she couldn't see anything besides the Red Bull in front of her, tunnel vision searching for a gap to lunge for.

Turn 12, she nearly slipped through but had to back out in order to not get pushed off the track. Turn 13 was a long curve, and she noticed that she'd accelerated out of the previous turn better than Sergio, her front wing peaking out in front of his. Turn 14, around the outside. The was a moment where it seemed as if everything slowed, the body of her car speeding up past his, and then, like someone had pressed the play button, she shot past him to take the apex of turn 15. The checkered flag was in sight, and she could see the team hanging off the fence, waving their fists and yelling.

It took a moment for it to process, and when it did she couldn't help the grin that split across her face. “Sydney, P3! Fucking podium place! Podium Sydney!”

“COME ON! FUCK YES! FUCK YES BOYS, FUCK!” She screamed, and she realised that there were tears streaming down her face. She pulled into the podium place, barely securing the car before she was running towards the massive crowd of navy and white, jumping onto them the way she'd always wanted to, the rough pats on the back still not enough to let her fully appreciate what was happening. It felt like two seconds before she'd been in 10th, hoping to at least stay in the points, and here she was, a podium in her rookie season and at her home race.

As she made her way through the AlphaTauri members, hugging and shaking hands with all of them, tears still streaming within her helmet, she felt a presence behind her. She spun around to be met with Pierre's helmet, and lept up to hug him tightly, their joint elation at such a good performance in their home country causing them to grip each other so tightly. Sydney noticed her feet were off the ground, and she didn't even care. She'd never felt so consumed by happiness in her entire life. It filled up her chest and flowed down to the tips of her fingers.

“ Fucking good job Sydney. I’m so proud of you. ” Pierre said, having to yell a bit to get through two layers of helmet.

“ I couldn't have done it without you. ” She said, gripping his shoulders even tighter, and she didn't think she'd ever said anything more true in her whole life. Except for their one off day, Pierre had never faltered at her side. If Daisy was like the sister she never had, then Pierre was like the brother.

They left each other's embrace, Sydney having to walk over to the interview area. She could feel a camera following her as she removed her helmet and balaclava, and as her plaits fell out behind her she lifted her hands up to try and fix her hair a bit. Someone handed her a cap and she put it on hurriedly. It was only then that she noticed how wet her face was from a mixture of tears and sweat, and tried to wipe as much of it off with her equally sweaty hands. The crowd in front of her was yelling their enthusiasm and in a moment of pure confidence, she lifted her hand up in a fist, the yelling only intensifying.

“Sydney, I don't really have any words, do you?” The presenter laughed as she stepped up to the microphone, cheering getting louder once again.

“Not really, I think my body is still in shock.” She laughed, and then realised he wanted a real answer too. “I seriously never thought that I would get this far. It was probably a mix of a lot of luck, and being home, and having my parents here, but damn, I might cry again if I think too much about it.”

“Obviously there was a bit of luck there with Norris and Bottas out of the running, but you did some exceptional racing there.”

“I think my start was what really set me up, I shot through the group straight away, and then it was just about maintaining that position. I think my overtake on Daniel did a lot of the work for my overtake on Checo, at that point I was just pushing to get podium, I didn't have to worry about tyres anymore. I guess it worked, no?” The crowd cheered once again, and, although it felt impossible, her smile got even wider.

“Well, you should be immensely proud of yourself, first female podium in Formula 1 history, hopefully we can see some more of this for the rest of 2021.” Sydney smiled and nodded thank you as she walked back into the building behind the pit lane, immediately greeted by Daisy, Pierre, her parents and Franz.

“ Well done my love. ” Her mum said, hugging her tightly.

“ I’m so proud. ” Her dad said, and she noticed that he had been crying.

“ I didn't quite get the win .” Sydney laughed thickly.

“ You could've retired and I would've been proud. ” He joked, and then she was being shepherded up to the podium.

“You're a legend, I’m so fucking happy for you.” Daisy said as they walked, and Sydney was momentarily shocked by her swearing.

“Daisy, make sure I save you some champagne.” Sydney grinned. It felt like her skin was buzzing under her race suit, and the inside of her body was tied up in knots with excitement.

“ In third place, Sydney Laurent. ” Even though she was receiving third, it could’ve been first from the way the crowd was screaming. She barely registered the feeling of the trophy in her hands, nor the actions that somehow took her from standing on the podium to standing in her hotel room that night. Her body felt like a shell filled to the brim with joy, and yet that shell seemed to just be floating through the night, nothing going in and sticking in her brain. She popped the champagne, knowing in the back of her mind that it was dripping down her neck and drying to her skin. She shook lots of hands, hugged Pierre again, smiled her way through many interviews, genuinely this time, and semi-relaxed in the presence of her parents for a short interval which she could remember slightly more vividly than everything else.

Sydney knew this was supposed to be the best day of her life, and honestly by the next day that was probably how she’d remember it, but here, still drunk from the team party, struggling to get her legs into a pair of track shorts, she couldn’t help but feel as if the unquantifiable happiness she’d felt just a few hours before had leaked out onto the bar floor and now she was left with just the shell. She wasn’t sad, just exhausted, and she didn’t know how Lewis could have won seven whole world championships and recover enough to keep going, when she was already dreading having to wake up the next morning.

Her drunk brain suddenly informed her that she was too hot, and, finding no ice in the mini fridge, she flopped back on her bed and briefly entertained the idea of going on a walk to find some. Well, that’s what her sober brain rationalised it as, her drunk brain was flashing back to the few encounters with Lando in hotel elevators and hallways and was hoping to recreate the experience, but that was so embarrassingly childish that she couldn’t really admit it to herself. Plus, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him yet that day (or yesterday, it was now 3am).

One of the few things she could pinpoint and remember sharply from the day was his congratulations to her. It was after all her interviews and her much needed shower, and she was on the hunt for something to eat before going to a meeting about something on her car that, at the time, seemed far less important than food. She had that warm feeling of a shower still lingering on her skin, and the bustling paddock had quietened to a gentle hum. A vending machine had been erected in between the Red Bull and McLaren buildings, and Sydney felt her feet move her towards it, her brain soaking into the walls of her skull, unable to process much.

As she was fishing around in her wallet for the 3 euros she needed for a coke and a bag of chips, she heard footsteps pass the small alcove, then stop and head towards her. Turning around, she was met with Lando’s smiling face and open arms. Without really thinking, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned up on her toes to push her face into his neck. It was far too intimate for what her small, weak heart in that moment could deal with, and not to mention for the level of their relationship, but she was too tired and emotionally exhausted to care.

“Well done.” Lando mumbled to her. His previous excitement had seemed to have mellowed in her embrace as they rocked slightly back and forth, Sydney, trying to take in every point where her skin met his before it was over.

“Thank you.” She mumbled in return, loosening her grip at the thought of someone seeing them so closely entwined. “Did you feel like this after your podium?” She asked, squinting up at him as the setting sun angled itself into her eyes. The orange light back lit Lando and made him look like a golden glowing figure. Her heart felt like it was about to burst.

“Feel like what?” He asked in return. They were both still speaking quietly, not wanting to burst the insulated bubble that their conversations seemed to always be taking place in.

“I am so, so happy, like, the most happy I have ever been in my entire life. But also, I feel very strange. Like I feel every emotion but also none at all. You know?” She smiled, yet as she was saying those words she knew she was lying. Because the overpowering, all consuming sense of joy mixed with adrenaline had felt like a shot of tequila on an empty stomach that went straight to her head, and she knew that wasn’t how she felt now. She felt real joy, right in the pit of her stomach. That little seed that blossomed whenever Lando was around. It didn’t make her feel this emptiness, but it also didn’t fill her to bursting. It seemed to grow into a space within her that she didn’t even know existed.

“I do know. That’s why you go out and get pissed. Which,” He looked at his watch, “you appear to be overdue for.”

“I have a meeting first.” Sydney sighed while still smiling, and Lando rolled his eyes and pretended to gag. She giggled softly, and hated that such a girlish act felt so natural.

“That’s disgusting. You should ditch. Hang out with me.” He grinned, the gap between his teeth beaming proudly.

“I am afraid I cannot. Oh, look, I am being beckoned.” She laughed, showing her phone screen with ‘Mattia’ glowing over the call screen. “See you later?” She posed as a question.

“I hope so.” Lando smiled, and she could’ve sworn his eyes flickered downwards to her lips for a millisecond. And as soon as she turned her head, it was as if she sunk back into the whirlwind dreamscape of her evening, leaving Lando and his grounding eyes behind next to the vending machine.

And that’s what she couldn’t stop replaying over and over again as she lay on her bed, too hot and too alone. Well, not too alone, just missing the one person she wanted, his glowing face looking at her from her own mind, sun setting behind him and smile burrowing a hole through her heart. God she was in deep. She didn’t know how she’d ever be able to sleep again.

[declanowo]

31 Days of Horror - Day 12 - Martyrs

12/10/23 

I begin most mornings at the moment by spinning the wheel to see which film I will watch - I like to know when I should start the film, for example, if I land on a three hour long movie, I won’t start it at midnight. Today when I first landed on Martyrs, I respun the wheel. After everything I had heard about this film, I felt that it wasn’t the best day to watch it, as before I had a family dinner out which I knew would leave me exhausted, therefore, something easier and lighter would be far nicer. 

After landing on another film I wanted to watch, Blood Rage, which was exactly the type of movie I was hoping for, I thought about the free time I had today as a result of looking after my friend's cat, who is bound to my bedroom, and therefore, I am too. After sitting on it for a while, I decided to watch both! And I am glad I did :) 

Martyrs is a French film directed by Pascal Laugier. The plot is ever changing as it unfolds, and has been hailed as one of the scariest horror movies ever. I see that perspective, although it feels like a weird and impossible thing to award a film. I believe I have also seen Sinister called the scariest movie ever during a long survey, which I bring up because of how different these films are! I’m curious whether people find Sinister scary solely for the jumpscares, which are amazing, or also the plot too? I think it is primarily the jumpscares, which mirrors Martyrs, which I think people find so scary because of how visceral and gross the gore is. It paired nicely with Blood Rage, which has super fun and bloody kills, whereas this film has very bloody and disgusting kills. I find the way a film can frame kills super interesting, based on how the effects are done, how long it lingers etc… Usually, slashers have creative deaths where you don’t linger on the action, they aren’t drawn out or too gross to imagine, but they’re fun to watch, and can still make you wince. There is not a single death in Martyrs that is fun.

I want to start by discussing the way the films acts work - they are incredibly divisive amongst the reviews I have read, and weirdly enough that is the most common criticism, as opposed to the fiendish gore that Saw is often criticised for! Anyway, the film's acts feel unpredictable as far as where the story goes, but I would argue the film never loses its tone, nor its purpose! The first act is a home invasion style film, where we follow a family that appears sweet and innocent as their house is broken into, and they are subsequently killed. For starters, this is such a fun juxtaposition to the grim cold open, showing our protagonist as a child, escaping from the abusive group we learn more about later in the movie. We go from that gritty exposition, to a timeskip which shows us a happy family, to a sudden series of murders. Watching the parents die, you begin to understand their innocence may not be whole, yet as we watch Lucie kill the families two children, the sequence is long, uncomfortable and deeply dark, yet unlike a film such as Cannibal Holocaust, which I will say I haven’t seen, this doesn’t feel like gore for gores sake. It was born in the New Extremity era of filmmaking, which was especially popular in France, and that shines through. My bottom line is that the gore doesn’t feel unnecessary here, it’s uncomfortable, but it is purposeful. 

Quickly, I will mention that while many people liken this film to being a part of the New Extremity Wave of films, it lacks many key features of these films. The most glaring, is the absence of any sexual violence or messaging, the former I was relieved to find out, and only watched the film after researching if there was any. Ultimately, the film does retain some features from this wave, such as having a female lead, as well as centering around women as a whole, alongside the theme of spectatorship. Okay so after writing all this, I read an article that says the director in fact denounces the likening of the film to the wave of filmmaking, but I will leave it in as a result of the constant comparisons. He instead discussed this film being about a world that rotted a long time ago, which I think is a perfect explanation of the film. 

Returning to the first act, we also are introduced to our protagonist, Anna, played by Morjana Alaoui. Both our leads (for this act) are excellent, showing a contrasting conflict as they deal with revenge, and who they want to be. Their relationship is also deeply interesting to me, given how little we see of it. As of yet, I haven’t been able to decide whether they are friends or lovers, Lucie is dismissive of their kiss early on, while a later phone call from Anna’s mother indicates that they are together. Either Way, I think they work well off of eachother, and have very interesting differing views. 

My final thoughts on this act are left with the visions Lucie has, which are grotesque and excellent, some real fun imagery of the corpse that follows her around, attempting to kill her, and I didn’t find Anna’s dismissal of this lifelong plague Lucie has had to live with to be too bad, although thinking about it more kind of bugs me - like why not just believe she is seeing this?! 

In the second act, we follow the two as they inhabit the house over night, and as Lucie deals with the vision returning. I really enjoy this section of the film, just watching them live while disputing what is best to do. Sure, it feels somewhat strange as to how lax they are about not leaving the house, but I don’t mind too much! The attempted clean up and realisation that the matriarch of the family is still alive is terrifying, as she sees a glimmer of hope, before Lucie snuffs out her life. Truly, it is dark, and the film offers no more signs of hope for anyone, as Lucie wrestles with her demon, until eventually, we watch her slit her own throat.

Despite how dark this film is, I never felt bad while watching it, which a film like Human Centipede did make me feel. Once again, intent is the key point for me! Martyrs is exposing you to a dark and twisted world, and while we don’t yet understand quite what the meaning of all this is, it does have one. In contrast, The Human Centipede seeks only to shock you, it is designed to make you feel uncomfortable, and nothing more, which isn’t my kind of film at all!

The third act follows the reveal of the torturous group, but not before one of the most spine curdling sequences! Inside the house, we find a basement, where a person is being kept. Their body is withered, but the more frightening aspect is that she has a metal clasp nailed into her eyes. Gross. After this, the group’s goal is revealed, their scale is vast and all the more terrifying! Having the film open up more works nicely in its favour, the horror is amplified when we understand that they are attempting to create a Martyr, a person who can see beyond death through torture. Knowing that they started over fifteen years ago, makes this even more chilling as we are left imagining how many people have been placed into this system. 

For me, the three act structure works perfectly, each one offers us something new and different, yet they all flow together perfectly. I think of it similarly to 28 Days Later, where we switch locations and tones three distinct times, which aids in the character's development, and the scale of the scenario.

Before moving onto a more general overview, I want to mention the ending, which delivers on everything I had hoped it would. The montage of Anna growing stronger, repeating the words of Lucie in her head is deeply moving and powerful; the eventual conclusion to the film is hideously dark, and I love it.

Martyrs is a weird film, it’s one that isn’t created to make you happy or fulfil you - some of the time I was clueless as to what I was being told, yet it was sharing something, and I like it for that. 

After watching the film I went to my family dinner, the tables surrounding us were filled to the brim with old people! All I could think about while I was there was the ending to the movie, as all the elderly people await their martyr that will never deliver her vision. I already know this one will latch onto me, in the short time since watching it, I can already feel its effects shiver down my spine. 

7/10

[pridewon]

@tvrningout​ said:  is there a movie genre or trope agnes dislikes and why? does that change as she grows older? what film or kind of film do you think would’ve made the biggest impact on her artistically?

teenage agnès in all her “too cool 4 school” young artist glory would probably express how profoundly she dislikes romcoms, because of how uninventive they are - both on story and on cinematic technique. more broadly, she doesn’t like films that feel like recorded theatre, where the camera just follows the characters, and most of the artistry and storytelling is done through dialogues. 

adult agnès still stands by that statement - but doesn’t restrict it to romcoms only, and acknowledges that some romcoms do better than this. adult agnès is a bit of an omnivore, who has learnt that there is something cool to learn or steal from every genre and almost any film - even the less ostentiously remarkable ones. hell, speed (1994) is a ridiculous movie, but is it her guilty pleasure because the action sequences are epic and nail-biting? hell yes!

agnès always says that her version of a midlife crisis will be that she will interrupt her career as an independent documentary and art filmmaker to make an action flick. something with tight-knit stunt sequences as crisp and over-the-top as jackie chan’s best, for the beauty of the choreography and movement. or maybe a horror film, with the same low-budget, stitched-together vibe as the very first saw or the original blair witch project.

as for inspirations for her own style and career -- she got into agnès varda’s films when her parents told her she was named after her, and varda naturally became one such inspiration, along with experimental filmmaker chris marker from the same french new wave movement. she hasn’t done much fiction, but if she were to name one inspiration that informed the way she films the subjects of her documentaries? it would probably be 12 angry men. 

bonus: bby goshiki making a cameo at the 1963 olympics in that film i linked from chris marker??

[bellmo15-blog]

Why I Don't Enjoy Going To The Cinemas Anymore

HEAR ME OUT! Please just HEAR ME OUT ON THIS! I swear I have a good reason for thinking this. After all, why would you say something like this and not have a good reason for it or are only saying it to piss people off and get attention. Thank God there’s no one like that in real life ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. HA HA HA HA HA HA….

I really haven’t been enjoying the idea of going to the cinema lately. I have slowly been coming to this realisation more and more recently. Not because there’s nothing on at the cinemas, that’s not true. We are still getting some great movies that are coming out in the theatres. Nor is it even because video games tend to be my preferred form of entertainment. I mean yeah, they are, but I have been in recent years making more of an effort to actually watch new movies and shows… Usually while having Wii Fit running in the background and doing something like Free Jogging. Hey I gotta keep myself in shape SOMEHOW!

No, my reasons for not enjoying going to the cinema lately have been born from a result of bad personal experiences. Not with movies themselves (although granted I have sadly seen bad movies in cinemas like The 5th Wave) but rather the experiences themselves. Some major, some minor, both contribute either way.

Forced 3D Showings

Remember when 3D was like this big new thing movies were trying to implement in almost every movie? You also probably remember that when going to a 3D showing of certain movies they forced you watch those movies with those glasses with the red and blue lenses in them. I actually first remembered this being a thing with Spy Kids 3 where it was advertised as a big part of the movie and they were really in your face with it in the advertising. And it wasn’t long before I started seeing more movies having this. And I hated that! And this isn’t even some “Oh, I loved this as a child” thing either, no! Even as a kid I hated the 3D showings of movies! Because none of them really felt 3D to me.

In fact, anytime I’ve ever seen a movie in 3D it’s felt less like stuff was literally popping out of the screen and more like I was just watching a movie with a red and blue filter on it. I don’t know if this was just a me thing or whatever, but I never experienced any form of true 3D at 3D screenings. And that’s not even taking into account how they make you wear those glasses that you have no idea who’s used them before and might be carrying diseases on them. The only time I ever truly felt real 3D was when I went to Movie World in Queensland as a child and they had a showing of Shrek 4D. THAT actually did feel like real 3D. Or 4D as they were calling it there.

The one movie I remember hating that it was a forced 3D showing the most though was when I went to see The Walk. Some of you might not remember this movie but it’s a film based on a true story about a French high-wire artist who wanted to tightrope across the Twin Towers. At the time this movie came out, late 2015, I had been going to the cinema on my own a fair bit thanks to me having my licence (kinda. I mean I COULD drive without any supervision, but I had a limit to how many passengers I could have in my car and had to have a red P Plate on my window) and was also 18 meaning I could see pretty much everything without needing supervision… And the one show time it was running that was available for me to see was a 3D showing. *Sigh.* I mean, I still liked the movie anyway but the fact that I had to wear one of those stupid glasses for an effect that barley works just got to me hurt the experience for me. And considering I was still in High School at this time meaning I didn’t have a very open schedule to begin with it was either this or not at all!

Getting Sick at Inconvenient Times

Speaking of inconveniences, how about the number of times I’ve had to step out to go to the bathroom? Because it’s sadly happened a fair bit. And sometimes at the most inconvenient times two! How To Train Your Dragon; had to step out right as the climax was starting. Shreak 2; I don’t remember what point I had to step out specifically but I hated that I had to given how much I love this movie. Ferrari; Had to step out not once but TWICE to go to the bathroom. Worst part is that the movie Ferrari was something we took my step farther out to see for his birthday so that fact I couldn’t be present for at least like 20% of the movie sucked.

This is granted a pretty minor issue I know but not being able to pause a movie to go to the bathroom meaning you could miss important plot points or details doesn’t help at all.

The Super Mario Bros Movie

Okay, now we are getting into more specific examples and when I said earlier that my reasons for not enjoying going to the cinema recently came less from the movies themselves and more from the people at those theatres this and one other movie are the major reasons. Because I loved the Super Mario Bros Movie! It was a great movie that had some really fun moments, actually felt like the games it was based on unlike the live action one from the 90’s and the fact that I enjoyed this movie as much as I did is even more amazing considering this film was made by an animation studio that’s notorious for having some of the worst or most bland movies in the industry.

Yeah, I liked this movie. I did not like my experience going to see this movie however! You see, I saw this movie day one when it came out in theatres, even managed to get off work 30 minutes early so I could go home, get changed and make it in time. And all though out this movie there was one loud and obnoxious guy in the theatre who was shouting out at every single reference he saw. “OH MY GOD, KID ICARUS! OOH, PALUNE! YO YOSHIS!” and he even made a reference to the “And then there’s Chunky, he’s dead…” meme at one point. And I hated it. Like he wasn’t even sitting next to me or anything, he was a few rows down and I could still hear him. It’s like dude, I know! I’ve played these games two! Most of us watching this movie have! Now can you please let up enjoy the movie in peace?

You know those react channels on YouTube that love to point the most minor things or easter egg or get all loud and screamy over certain things? Yeah, this was like that but I had to put up with it personally happening a few feet away from me. When this movie came out on Blu Ray a few months later I brought it, got home and was so happy I could watch this movie in peace without having to deal with anyone disturbing that peace.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

And then, we get to my experience going to see Across the Spider-Verse. Bit of context for this one. When I went to see this movie my little cousins had come over. They are extremely young, like 10 at most, and usually when they come over my mother usually takes them to see a movie at the theatres offering to take me with them as well since what else am I going to do that afternoon? And they don’t always make the best judgment calls on what to see since while we have taken them to see stuff like the Sonic 2 movie, the last time before this particular visit Puss in Boots The Last Wish was showing at the cinema and what did we go and see? The Mummies! A mediocre movie about ancient mummies ending up in London and the whole thing was basically “Lol, look at these old ass undead beings struggling to adapt to modern society.”

So when they booked tickets to take the kids to go see Across the Spider-Verse of course I’d be excited to see this. Especially as someone who loved the original Into the Spider-Verse and had finally gotten to the play the one Spider-Man game I had always wanted to for over a decade the year prior Shattered Dimensions. You all know where I’m going with this, I loved the movie but the experience going was painful.

-Neither my mother or Step Farther knew it was an animated film until AFTER we got to the cinema despite the fact that they booked these tickets online meaning they HAD to know this beforehand -One of them complained about how the movie was “two long” which is REALLY rich considering they saw Avatar the Way of Water in cinema which was even longer than Across the Spider-Verse at 3 hours and 16 minutes. -One of them admitted they only came for the popcorn. -Another complained the movie was “two confusing” which was their own fault for thinking that considering they fell asleep half way though. -Oh and the cherry on top, they wrote the whole thing of as nothing more than a “kids movie” just because it was animated. Even though the whole plot of this movie is pretty dark and mature since Spider-Man 2099 is basically saying in this movie “Oh yeah and umm, you have to let certain key characters in certain universe die otherwise that universe it wiped out!”

Yeah, there attitude after this movie was finished didn’t exactly put me in a good mood for the rest of the night. And let me just say if THIS is how they act over this movie then I pray to God they never find out about shows like The Owl House or Amphibia, shows that are aimed towards children but also have very mature themes and morals in them! (I mean the final episode of season 2 of Amphibia even opens with a disclaimer it might be disturbing to some viewers.)

So yeah, those are pretty much all the big reasons why I have grown such a sour taste in wanting to go to the cinema willingly. I don’t want to have to run the risk of being forced to watch it in 3D, I don’t want to miss out on key plot points all just because natures call and don’t want to have my experience of a movie I’m otherwise enjoying be soured by the people around me. Compare that to watching movies in the comfort of my own home where I don’t have to put up with other people potentially running my experience, can watch those movies whenever I want, can pause at any time to go to the bathroom or just to simply do something else important for a few minutes. Which actually brings me to one finally point.

I’ve Always Enjoyed Watching Movies at Home A LOT More Than At The Cinemas Anyway

Yeah, I’ve just always preferred this over having to clear out my schedule just to drive to a cinema for an experience I probably could have had a better time with at home. Not just because of the reasons I’ve brought up already but also because it’s a lot more accessible to me in general. Both because of DVD’s/Blu Rays and Streaming services. DVD’s I can literally just buy at my local JB Hi-Fi and that’s it! The movie is mine to keep forever and watch whenever I want. All I have to do is just pop it into my PlayStation 5, PlayStation 3 or PlayStation 2 and just hit play movie! I mean watching movies though physical media like DVD’s or Blu Ray’s aren’t perfect either and do have their own issues. Aside from the fact that not every movie or show is available at my local places not every show or movie is also lucky enough to get a physical release. Some shows that originate on streaming services do, I have a copy of the The Last of Us series to prove it, but for others it’s either get a streaming service or go fuck yourself! And that’s not even bringing up how disks can get scratched or might not work anymore if you don’t take good care of them or some of them have unskipable adds. I mean at the end of the day they are still really minor issues anyway.

Then there is streaming services. For the price of literally a movie ticket, or hell maybe even less if we are comparing the entry fee for most streaming sites to the cinema I’ve had to frequent in the last decade and a half *Screams in Australian money* you get access to a whole host of movies new and old depending on the service to watch on whatever compatible device you have as well as access to a bunch of other great original stuff like The Mandalorian, Inside Job, Invinsable and Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio. I mean Disney + alone has every episode of Futurama on it while Prime Video has The Matrix on it! It’s worth becoming a subscriber for those alone! Oh but don’t think I’m letting Streaming Services off the hook either because they aren’t perfect either. For some services, Netflix in particular, they can actually remove certain movies or shows from there site. And I REALLY don’t get why. Like, it is a legal issue or something? Did there licence for those movies or shows run out? They will give you a warning most of the time when something from your watchlist is about to be taken off but I still wish this wasn’t the case. Oh, and there’s also the fact that you have to constantly be connected to the internet at all times while watching so sorry if yours goes out for whatever reason. Thankfully those services let you download certain movies and shows… on the mobile apps only. Seriously, why it that limited to only the mobile apps and not something I can do on my PS5?

But honestly, given the option I’d rather take watching movies at home though either of these methods than run the risk of having another awful experience at the cinema. So yeah, that’s pretty much why I haven’t had any motivation to actually go to the cinema lately. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything stupid like boycotting a movie I have no real interest in seeing anyway (I seriously can not express how stupid I think the concept of boycotting is to begin with) or me being some wired edge lord who thinks he’s cool because he’s a rebel who doesn’t do what everyone else is doing or anything like that. In fact, I think people should still go to the cinema if they want to so that they can support a movie they are interested in. As for me, I think I’m fine with supporting that movie a few months later when it comes out on physical media or streaming.

There, I ended this with a positive conclusion. Now no one who’s new to this page will ever accuse me of having a controversial take!

Genie Bellmo: This coming from the same guy who un-ironically likes Heavy Rain and Detroit Become Human?

……… Shut up!

[lesralizes]

my energy-revisiting my first post

i feel like a mess, i dont know myself anymore

when i wrote about "my energy" everything flowed so naturally, now i'm just stuck

but i'll force myself to write about all the things that make me, me, just so i can find myself in between all this mess my mind has been through lately. here i go, i present to you, again, my energy (revisited and modified)

a little cup of coffee with oat milk from the coffee shop i now work at, orange juice on free days and matcha latte at home before class. early mornings reading books and feeling the cold wind, listening to the birds chirping as my reading soundtrack and seeing the sun arise through the window. late night readings before sleeping, when everything is quiet and i feel like the only person alive. struggling to see the words cause there's almost no light or cause i'm too sleepy. mixing silver and gold jewelry. baggy low waist dark trousers with any type of basic top that fits me right (maybe a little longer on my sleeves) and comfortable flat shoes as my go to outfit. i dont care anymore. i dont wear platforms to appear taller and slimmer, i seek comfort. keeping my hair long and messy. no make up make up look (now for real), wearing lipstick instead of eyeliner. wearing you by glossier or another 13 by le labo instead of santal 33. i still love french cinema and dream everyday of being percieved by others as the protagonist of any rohmer's movie. i dont own a moleskin anymore but i write in every piece of paper i can find, preferably in black ink. i still feel the need to document everything i go through. i still keep a diary, i still film my days. jonas mekas films always in mind, annie ernaux books all highlighted and noted. vintage leather bags with lip balm, lip liner, a sweet treat and my current read. reading almost exclusively books written by woman,, they just get me. making playlist for every emotion i feel, one for anger, one for tranquility and one (the most special) for the best feeling in the world: leaving the cinema, after you've sat for a few hours in a room full of strangers, all there to do the same thing as you, and you've lived another life for those few hours. for when you open the exit door and take the first breath of fresh air and feel renewed, like a new person. everything you do becomes cinematic, your life feels like a movie, and of course you need a playlist by your side.

im still daydreaming all the time. still missing a boy, still thinking about the way he used to call me or how every part of his body used to feel. still wondering what would've happened, how things would've been. still biting my lips and eating cookies every time im anxious.

still wearing my silk dresses and my grandma's nightgowns to sleep in the summer and matching blue pijamas when it's cold. i own a new phone now, but i still have a clear phone case with movie tickets (still collect them). going to the cinema at least twice a month, now that i can afford it. visiting art exhibitions alone with my wired headphones and lots of curiosity. now i seek the sun and long for the summer time, even though i'm still a cold weather enjoyer at heart. still a paris lover and romanticist-more than ever since i lived my before sunrise fantasy when i spent a whole day in the city of love with the boy from another country i'd met fifteen days before. i cried admiring the sunset in montmartre (like delphine on le rayon vert) and kissed him under the stars to mr brightside by the killers haha.

i still think of him, of all the people i've met throughout my life, of all the people who have seen me grow and evolve. i'm forever changing and learning, and after almost three years of my first post i still preserve most of "my energy", and i can say that that version of myself is still here. a lot of things are still the same.

sometimes the girl i used to be visits me and greets me from a far. i look at myself and see all the other versions i've ever been, and i wave them back with a smile. but also with a sense of grief because i know i can never go back, i will never be six or eighteen again.

even though im never satisfied with my present self i try to focus on what i do like about who i am. i focus on what i love and work towards it. this is a little piece i wrote to reflect on how i've changed while feeling lost and melancholic in my daily life. the result of it feels bittersweet, but i feel much lighter. i encourage you to try it.

if you've read all of this, just know you have a very special place in my little heart.

[theharpermovieblog]

#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2024

www.tumblr.com/theharpermovieblog

I watched The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg (1964)

A French New Wave musical, recommended by Director Greta Gerwig.

A young couple in love must face life without each other when the young man goes to war and the young woman discovers she is pregnant.

Director Jacques Demy's "The Umbrella's of Cherbourg" is more than your typical musical. Each line of dialogue is sung, every moment is musical. At one point, at the very beginning, Demy has one of his characters complain about Opera, stating his dislike comes from too much singing. Then, the character mentions that he much prefers movies. At this moment Demy is stating, with some on-the-nose humor, that he has blended an Opera with a Film. And, he's done so with amazing success.

The music and tone of the film are peppy, even when melancholy and dramatic. The lyrical conversations are always full of life and energy. Consistently engaging, each scene draws you in. The look of the film follows suit. The colors are vibrant and varied and dazzling. Everything in this film, including lead actress Catherine Deneuve, are the height of what it is to be pretty. Looking away from the screen, even for a moment, feels almost like an insult.

Juxtaposed with it's energy, the film presents a story that is deep, and human. A story of a war-torn couple who are bound by circumstance.

The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg isn't a war film exactly, but it is a film that sees war from the other side. It's shows a woman forced to be alone and forced to make life changing choices while her lover is away at war, and it shows what it's like for a young man to go to war and return to a life that has changed without him. The film does so in the most romantic way possible.

Romance, as a genre, is not just a story of two characters being in love. A mood has to be set, a tone and a style. "The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg" does this to perfection by using everything at its disposal. Character, story, color and sound.

[world-cinema-research]

The 400 Blows - Critical Quotations and Visual Evidence

By Cris Nyne

"If the New Wave marks the dividing point between classic and modern cinema (and many think it does), then Truffaut is likely the most beloved of modern directors -- the one whose films resonated with the deepest, richest love of moviemaking."

-Roger Ebert Excerpt from Review of The 400 Blows. August 8, 1999

This quote from Roger Ebert heaps a lot of praise on Truffaut. I feel anyone who has a love for cinema would want to see this movie after reading his review of The 400 Blows. This paints Truffaut as one of the most prominent and influential directors of modern film making.

Image source, Blu-Ray.com

This image signifies the rebelliousness that Jean-Pierre Léaud's character, Antoine Doinel, embodies throughout the film.

"As a critic, Truffaut was particularly harsh on French “quality” films — so much so that Cannes denied him accreditation in 1958. Revenge was swift when he returned the following year and won the award for best director."

-J. Hoberman, film review of The 400 Blows for The New York Times September 21, 2022

The confidence you need to have to be such a tough film critic, that you feel like you can make a better movie than the movies that you review- and you do. This is testimony to Truffaut's brilliance as a director and visionary.

The original French trailer for The 400 Blows. I love how the narration talks about Truffaut and gives quotes from other reviews at the time of release. It's a great little time capsule of how things were.

[glenngaylord]

Three’s Company - Film Review: Passages ★★★★

Ira Sachs’ films tend to examine the complexities of adult relationships using a quiet, dry naturalistic tone which have often reminded me of the style of French New Wave cinema. So it feels fitting that his latest, Passages, his fifth collaboration with writing partner Mauricio Zacharias, would have Paris as its background. Featuring three stellar lead performances, this prickly, difficult film challenged me in ways his other films have not, raising his game as a visual storyteller, and joining the ranks as one of the finest films of 2023.

When we first encounter Tomas (Franz Rogowski), a wiry, short-fused filmmaker, he’s finishing directing his latest movie, obsessing over how a character enters the set. His attention to detail and need for control clearly annoys those around him, but his stature allows him that privilege. Later, at the wrap party, he can’t get his husband Martin (Ben Wishaw), a graphic designer, to dance with him, but a gorgeous young school teacher, Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos from Blue Is The Warmest Colour) overhears their conversation and dances with Tomas instead. They have an instant connection, with Tomas following her home, spending the night and surprisingly finding himself falling in love with her. When Tomas returns to Martin the following day to discuss his feelings, the complications set in motion a story of sexual fluidity, relationship boundaries, and how the ever-shifting needs of an individual can impact the lives of those closest to them.

On the surface, one could easily dismiss Tomas as a pleasure-seeking narcissist who, like a tornado, has the added potential to destroy anything and everyone in his path. This, however, would feel overly simplistic since Tomas so openly communicates with both Martin and Agathe, that his shifting loyalties shouldn’t come as a surprise to either. Sure, his character has his mercurial tendencies and takes being self-involved to new levels, but for most of the film, you always know where he stands. Rogowski, who has given such standout performances in films such as Great Freedom and Transit, is a sexy knockout here. His body language when dancing speaks volumes about his character, and his fearless approach, refusing to be likable, yet who possesses an arrogant charm nonetheless, proves mesmerizing. Audiences may want to boo and hiss at him as the story progresses, and perhaps rightly so, but he’s merely doing what any validation-seeking control freak would do. Love or hate the character, I predict international stardom for Rogowski after this breakout performance.

The film’s Costume Designer, Khadija Zeggaï really puts her stamp on this film, putting Rogowski in bold colored sweaters, fishnets and crop-tops, truly making him the memorable object of desire. Exarchopoulos also sports some sexy colors, but in one great, truly uncomfortable scene, in which her character introduces Tomas to her parents, his outfit nearly walks away with the whole movie. When was the last time you talked about a man’s costume in a film? Beetlejuice?

Although Rogowski gives the flashiest performance, Wishaw, who has steadily impressed with roles in so many indies and big budget studio films alike, has the quieter role here, putting up with Tomas’ mood swings with a patience many wouldn’t abide. For much of the film, he appears coiled, a bit uncertain. Exarchopoulos, on the other hand, exudes a confident sexuality throughout, certain that she can navigate a relationship with a queer man. Both actors hold their own wonderfully opposite Rogowski, providing us with those crucial reasons he’d feel so obsessed with both partners. Moreover, this depiction of polyamory chooses to eschew secrets for the most part and have its characters lay everything out there for each other.

One secret, however, does manage to come out late in the film in a truly wrenching scene between Martin and Agathe. Stunningly played by Wishaw and Exarchopoulos, this moment speaks volumes about the burden of toxic relationships. The compositions, the sound of the traffic in the background, all of it seems so simple, but this basic coverage comes together to create a powerful moment. Sachs’ filmmaking as a whole, aided immeasurably by Cinematographer Josée Deshaies, has grown in leaps and bounds with Passages. The camera moves only when necessary, yet when it does, such as that final push-in on a main character’s face, it feels inevitable and perfect. Sachs stages scenes so effortlessly that you feel like you’re eavesdropping on real conversations. Often the framing subtly makes you feel slightly ill at ease, as if you have to lean in or crane your neck slightly to see around another character. Sachs, like his protagonist seems in control of his viewers, giving us a provocative, slightly off-putting, yet richly rewarding experience.

Passages is now playing in Limited Release in US theaters. Look for it on MUBI later this year.

[sarambcreates]

Through a Lens: Research

1: All the world's a sage lecture

We had a lecture where we were given a lot of theoretical and historical context on media in general. A highlight of it was Mcluhan and his ideas on media, regarding how the medium and the way a thing is made can impact the message communicated to the audience, sometimes that the medium itself is the message. It makes us reflect on animation medium as a whole and how using moving image instead of still image changes the way we communicate things and what is communicated. There was also a highlight on movements such as the French New Wave that counteracted Hollywood, where impress is the most important, and this wave put expression over it. We were made to reflect where we want our animation to lie on a scale from impress and express. I feel like mine might be focused on express, the story and theme eing what carries. I concluded that consideirng our time constraints, and the fact I am not very experienced with animation, an animation which's purpose is to impress is not a very realistic expectation.

2: COLA animation -https://colaanimation.com/about/

After a lot of theoretical knowledge gained from the lecture, I then decided to look into specific animations. I came across COLA , an international production cooperative focused on handmade film content. However, a good part of their team has Portuguese ties. Their work ranges from many moving image types, from stop motion using handmade work and digital 2D animation, which is what I focused on considering that is the medium I am going for.

Um Dia no Coreto

This animation is the music video for a song called Um dia no Coreto ("A day in the bandstand" in english), which takes a central part in telling the narrative as the song says how the people are feeling and what they say even in conversation. This makes a direct link to this project as this animation was made in reaction to the audio which was already there, and we are being guided in choosing the sound, then making an animation that supports that, but for us it is slightly more flexible. I found it very interesting how in this animation they decided to make the music be the literal dialog beteween characters, making sound and animation contribute just as much to one another. Also, in the song by itself I would have imagined that the dialogs are happening between the same couple, however in the animations they make parts of the song belong to different couple's love stories that happen around this bandstand. This was a great choice to me as it adds to the romance in the air vibes that this whole animation and song has, and by there being multiple copuples it emphasises the contagious love. It also makes the bandstand look magical and to have some sort of love magic on the people who are around it. In a more visual aspect I like the art style, which is simple but cute, which is reflective of the song's vibes. The colour palette chosen adds to the romance due to the choices of pinks and purples, with the greens emphasising the band stand and the area around it. The choice of making everything beige except the characters, and the nature around the bandstand draws the focus to the stories and actions going on. The character's bodies do not do a lot of dynamic movement, but this is not necessary as here the emotions are the most important, and they are very obvious in the characters' expressions, as well asserted by the overall colour scheme and vibe of the song.

Os Diretos das Mulheres sao direitos humanos ("Women rights are human rights"in English)

This animation is another that works in response to an audio, this time about women's rights in portugal and talking about the inequality between men and women. The animation has very smooth transitions that change from each subject to the next. I particularly like the part where the narrator is stating the areas where women suffer inequality, and as each area is listed, it is added to the screen, but not removed. The panels become more and more and it shows very visually that it is not just an area. By keeping each issue on the screen while they go onto the next it shows the work that is still to be done, as well as give importance to each matter equally. Even without the audio, the imagery is so clear that the animation still communicates the ideas of the narration. While audio can really enhance animation, if an animation communicates an idea well without sound it can be reflective of how well it is visually communicating ideas. Maybe check my animation without sound a few times, or even do it all without sound before adding it might be a good technique to check throughout the project if the communication is happening effectively.