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arecomicsevengood · 4 years ago

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Quarantine Movie-Watching Journal, Continued

Throughout all this quarantine time I’ve been chronicling my watching movies, I’ve also been reading books, but have had assorted troubles on a level that seems close to basic comprehension, or just getting on their wavelength. Part of this is having a certain tendency towards the difficult or avant-garde in terms of what I think is “good,” but also wanting things to make sense or have a certain level of clarity: It’s maybe a difficult balance to strike but I don’t know, plenty of books pull it off, I have plenty of favorites. Nothing I’ve read recently has really been hitting, the only thing I’ve found compulsively readable is Virginie Despentes’ Vernon Subutex series, which I would hesitate to recommend as I also think they’re kind of bad. I want clarity on a certain level, and mystery on a deeper one; a lot of things essentially get the formula backwards, and feel incredibly obvious and free of ideas while employing obfuscatory language. (This isn’t to say I like “straightforward” prose, the “mystery” I’m referring to is basically created as an act of alchemy when language is functioning on its highest level, and insight, mood, imagery, and motion are all generated simultaneously. This isn’t “plain speech” I’m describing, but it doesn’t short-circuit the brain’s ability to make sense of it.)

In watching a lot of older movies I find that one of the things that help them maintain a level of interest is I possess a certain confusion about their cultural context. Even if something is a perfectly straightforward mainstream entertainment, there is still a sense of confusion or mystery about it, where you can follow it perfectly, but don’t necessarily know where it’s coming from, so it’s unclear where it’s going. In contrast, watching modern movies, especially more mainstream things but also, generally speaking, everything, I feel like not only do I know exactly where it’s coming from it’s also aggressively spelling everything out, as if to avoid moral confusion. This is also combined with a certain aggressiveness to the editing, so even as everything too fast-paced on certain level, it also ends up being too long, because it needs to fit in a certain level of redundancy. Older things tend to have a greater degree of storytelling clarity that’s also premised on a higher level of trust in the viewer’s ability to intuit things. Maybe there’s also a greater level of reliance on a set of semiotic devices that we’ve become more critical of over time, but what’s emerged in their absence feels more self-consciously insistent.

Little Women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

After watching this I looked up on IMDB to see what Gerwig is up to now and she’s slated to direct a Barbie movie? I hate this era, where success doesn’t lead to any actual clout to make important or interesting work, but instead forces artists into these traps of economic contract where they service a trademark. Also this movie is kind of weird because all these actresses are in their twenties but I think are meant to be playing teenagers for most of it? Or even younger? This movie basically feels like it is meant to be for children but is given this gloss over it to maybe seem appealing to young adult modern feminists but it doesn’t really seem like it would be except to the extent they’re indulging a youthful nostalgia.

Shirley (2020) dir. Josephine Decker

I’ve been wanting to watch Decker’s last movie Madeline’s Madeline because a lady I met and thought was cute has a small role in it. I guess all her movies are about artists and performers? I like that this one seems capable of depicting a fiction writer without just presenting their work as autobiographical but I guess that’s because it’s, you know, a real person whose story is being told. Elisabeth Moss is pretty good as Shirley Jackson. Jackson acts real weird and petulant and destructive and I sort of went in feeling like she would be depicted as a manipulative monster, but watching it I felt like it was probably well-researched and accurate to how she was but not in a way that makes me dislike Shirley Jackson — but also I do like destructive difficult personalities and I think that’s basically a fine and acceptable way for artists, or anyone, to behave. I still don’t think this is really a good movie, Shirley Jackson is not really the lead but more like the only interesting character: She’s got an obnoxious and self-satisfied husband, but the movie is more about this couple that moves in — a woman who’s pretty dull is the focal point, and her husband is boring, and manipulative too, albeit in a very commonplace way. Pretty average.

The Predator (2018) dir. Shane Black

A movie about how people with Asperger’s are the next step in human evolution that nonetheless uses the r-word slur to describe them, filled with some of the most generic actors imaginable. I like Shane Black movies as much as the next guy, but am indifferent to the Predator franchise. Maybe because, despite the R rating, they really do feel like they’re made to sell toys, like so many cartoons of the eighties? I hope the sequel the ending transparently sets up never gets made.

The Lighthouse (2019) dir. Robert Eggers

Wasn’t able to finish The Witch and I stopped and started this one a few times. Tries to avoid accusations that “all these modern horror movies are dumb as shit” by not being a horror movie but it also isn’t really anything else — Not funny enough to be a comedy nor evocative enough to be an art movie. Sort of like High Life in the sense that Robert Pattinson isn’t actually good in it but maybe it’s surprising that a mainstream actor would be in a “weird movie,” but he doesn’t really have to do anything in either, at least as far as building a character goes. It’s underwritten enough he might not even know how to read. Willem Dafoe is ok as a guy doing the sea captain voice from The Simpsons.

The Whistlers (2020) dir. Corneliu Poromboiu

Contemporary crime thing that vaguely reminded me of all the other post-Tarantino crime movies made in the past 25 years that I don’t really remember, particularly the ones in other languages. This one’s got characters learning a whistling language to communicate in a way cops will just thing is birds. Also a semi-complicated plot, told non-linearly. The female lead also pretends to be a prostitute and has sex with a criminal dude so the police watching him with hidden cameras don’t figure out what she’s up to, although, if I understand the plot, I’m pretty sure they work it out anyway.

Pain And Glory (2019) dir. Pedro Almodovar

This one stars Antonio Banderas, is pretty plainly autobiographical, being about a filmmaker approaching the end of his life -- Penelope Cruz plays the mother in flashbacks that are then shown to be a filmed recreation as an autobiographical work is begun, which is the sort of twist that could seem corny but isn’t. The film has a weird/interesting structure, the slow revelation of details from the character’s past forming a narrative a film can be made of eventually but before that there’s this totally separate story involving an actor, heroin use, and an ex-lover. That stuff’s good but also it sort of wraps up halfway through. Like, a bundle of narrative threads culminate, and then the film keeps going, to eventually tie up other bits that seem incidental. Maybe this would be fine in a theater but streamed at home I got a bit anxious. Penelope Cruz made me think “I could watch Vanilla Sky” but it turned out I can’t, it’s unwatchable.

High Heels (1991) dir. Pedro Almodovar

I love Almodovar, my stance has been that there’s a degree of diminishing returns the more of his work you see but it’s been years since I’ve seen one of his movies, and at this point I remember very little of any of them. This one’s on Criterion as part of a collection of films with scores by Ryuichi Sakamoto — Sakamoto’s not my favorite member of Yellow Magic Orchestra but he’s certainly an adept talent, and this one operates differently than I’d expect from him, most of the music feels saxophone-led, sort of in a jazz vein. Obviously you can compose for this instrumentation but yeah, not what I’d expect. The movie itself is pretty solid: bright colors, some melodrama, a ridiculous twist, a sense of humor which feels both over the top and somewhat deadpan. A woman’s mother returns to Spain after close to a lifetime away, she ends up sleeping with the daughter’s husband, he turns up dead, the daughter reveals he killed her stepfather as a child. The movie is primarily about the daughter’s yearning for the approval for an emotionally distant mother, at one point she summarizes the Bergman movie Autumn Sonata for her, but Almodovar is gayer and more sexually perverse than Bergman. so it’s less dour than I’m maybe making it sound. At one point the daughter is wearing a sweater with the pattern of the Maryland flag on it? But the credits reveal all her outfits are by Chanel.

The Handmaid’s Tale (1990) dir. Volker Schlondorff

The score is closer to what I would expect from Sakamoto here, in a martial/industrial vein, though not exclusively. Stars Natasha Richardson, and her performance feels related to what she did in Patty Hearst — a depiction of a woman shutting down parts of herself for the sake of her own survival, displaying inner reserves of strength through the appearance of submission. This seems a lot better than the current Hulu show, although I think it’s largely dismissed? It’s been a while since I read the book so I can’t remember how many liberties it takes. Obviously there remain traces of an exploitation bent in a weird way, through depiction of women in dehumanized sexual contexts but I feel like this movie is good at depicting competition between women in the context of a rigged patriarchal system.

Merry Christmas Mister Lawrence (1983) dir. Nagisa Oshima

Never seen any of Oshima’s films, despite the allure of explicit sex in an artsy context. This has Sakamoto in it opposite David Bowie. There’s a lot of English language being spoken in a thick Japanese accent. David Bowie plays a prisoner of war Sakamoto, as a military officer, falls in love with and tries to keep from harm, his score does the heavy lifting of highlighting these emotions. Was not super-into this movie but it’s always interesting to think about how popular YMO were, and if these are the type of faces you enjoy looking at you can do that. Sakamoto’s got a weird hairline. The movie is fine considered in the context of like, 1980s movies (not my fave decade) that are period military dramas (not my favorite genre) and exist in this Japanese film context that is neither super-insane and exuberant in its style nor is it super-austere and minimal.

A Farewell To Arms (1932) dir. Frank Borzage

Very well-shot piece of romance, starring Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes, in an adaptation of a Ernest Hemingway novel I don’t remember whether or not I read in high school. Hemingway didn’t like it, maybe because there were a lot of changes, which confuses the issue of whether or not I know the source material further. I don’t like this movie as much as I liked History Is Made At Night but it makes a lot more sense as a narrative, easily reduced to a bare-bones plot: He’s in the army, she’s a nurse, people don’t want them to be together during World War I, he ends up deserting to be with her. Feels lush, romantic, dreamy and swooning, but I feel like the strengths are more in the cinematography than the characters — the leads are fine enough, though not super deep, beyond the depths of their love, but the supporting cast is a bit dull.

War Of The Worlds (2005) dir. Steven Spielberg

Feel like I had heard this one was good? I appreciate Tom Cruise in the Mission: Impossible movies, and Spielberg some of the time I guess. This is a blockbuster that feels post-9/11 in a way where I wonder what a post-Corona thing would feel like — feel like it would shy away from away from a lot of spectacle or something but probably I’m wrong about that. So this one focuses on a parent and his children making their way across an increasingly demolished landscape to make it to the other parent, alien monsters are in the way, kinda just seems logistically weird or like the premise of the quest is unsound given the stakes should probably just be survival? But maybe this is post-covid thinking of how such a thing would operate — the disaster picture with a “human element” to focus the narrative on is a decades-old form and one I don’t really get down with nor do I think is generally considered to age well - i.e. I don’t remember growing up with The Towering Inferno being on TV.

My Twentieth Century (1989) dir. Ildiko Enyedi

Weird Hungarian movie where like… angels/stars observe? As two twins are born in the late eighteen-hundreds and go on to have separate lives? One as an anarchist, the other as like a party girl type who seduces rich men. The latter gets more attention than the former. Sort of a fairy tale atmosphere, which makes the explicit sex scenes awkward. There’s also a scene where a guy gives a sexist lecture about how women should be allowed to vote even though they have no sense of logic and are obsessed with sex. He draws a dick on the chalkboard and talks about how women can’t understand beauty since they are obsessed with erections which are disgusting. Not really sure what it adds to the movie as a whole since I’m not sure which one of the two characters played by the same actress is meant to be watching it, but it’s funny. A lot of things are confusing about this movie, but it’s still sort of interesting and therefore worthwhile I guess. Apparently the director has a new movie on Netflix — I don’t have Netflix at the moment but might get it for a month or two in the future to catch up on assorted things like Sion Sono’s The Forest Of Love and the David Lynch content.

His Girl Friday (1940) dir. Howard Hawks

not into this one. Rosalind Russell wears a cool suit at first though. Features the thing where a male romantic lead (Cary Grant) is openly manipulative but it’s sort of viewed as fine and funny because the woman in question is confident and modern, which kinda feels like a fascinating view into the gender dynamics of the time, although I don’t think it works as a comedy as far as me being able to figure out what the jokes are. The journalists getting caught up in crime intrigue plot is cool though, that kind of feels like something that always works.

Lured (1947) dir. Douglas Sirk

Kind of have no idea why I watched all the older Douglas Sirk movies on the Criterion Channel at this point, even the ones I liked I don’t think I liked that much? This one stars Lucille Ball, who I don’t love. Other movies I watched recently that were partly comedies and partly suspense things worked better than this. This one’s about attractive young women disappearing and Lucille Ball getting hired by the police to be an undercover detective. She ends up finding love, but then the man she gets engaged to is framed for murder by the actual killer. Features scenes where the police (led by Charles Coburn, who’s fine in this) talk about how crazy Baudelaire was. Wouldn’t recommend.

Far From Heaven (2002) dir. Todd Haynes

Not sure I have any strong feelings towards Todd Haynes, but it seems likely I might end up watching a bunch of his movies eventually. This came out in high school, and I had no interest in it, but I’m more charitable towards the whole fifties melodrama thing it’s paying homage to now. Julianne Moore stars as a woman whose husband (Dennis Quaid) is gay and repressing himself via alcoholism, who strikes up a friendship with her black gardener, (Dennis Haysbert) which scandalizes her neighbors. The moments Moore and Haysbert spend together are maybe the most interesting - particularly them going to an all-black restaurant - but the aspect of them being watched and judged feels more cliched. Similarly, the stuff about Dennis Quaid’s homosexuality is most interesting as a lived-in thing, and his drinking, hitting his wife, etc., is less so. The veins of sensuality running through the movie are richer than the plot structure that unites them. This might be one of the things that makes Carol a superior movie.

The Violent Men (1955) dir. Rudolph Mate

This stars a bunch of people I don’t like — Glenn Ford, Edward G Robinson, Barbara Stanwyck is fine in other stuff but boring here. Dianne Foster plays her daughter, and that’s the meatiest role basically- she gets to denounce violent men. This is a western about a guy being pressured to sell his land for cheap. Criterion Channel programmed this as part of a series called “western noir” and I don’t know about this stuff. Foster’s character is definitely the most interesting part — her parents are essentially these gangsters running the town, her teen angst feels like it stems from an inherent morality and disgust with them. Stanwyck is cheating on Foster’s father (Robinson) with a guy I think is his brother who also enforces the violence. The mom tries to kill the father, and then is herself killed by a woman in love with the person she’s sleeping with, so the daughter, you would think, would go through a gamut of emotions. But she’s a totally secondary to Glenn Ford’s male lead, who she ends up riding off into the sunset with — he initially was involved in a relationship with a woman who didn’t care about his inherent morality in favor of a materialism, but she just sort of gets dropped from the narrative at a certain point. The movie really tries to play it both ways with regards to the violence, but I feel like that’s pretty common actually: While I feel like today the title might primarily be intended as an indictment, it also feels like at the time it was very much the sales pitch to the audience.

Shane (1953) dir. George Stevens

Classic western, about homesteaders just trying to live who end up needing to get in gunfights with people who want their land. Jean Arthur plays the wife and mother, which is why I sought it out (especially sicne she had established rapport with Stevens) but she’s barely in it. The titular Shane is a good dude who wanders through and ends up helping them out. The kid’s infatuation of Shane is really annoying to me personally. I love how this has two big fist-fights though, the second of which is a They Live style thing, a conflict between friends that becomes incredibly drawn out. The first fight is also just incredibly brutal and well-choreographed, probably the high point of the movie.

Cast A Deadly Spell (1991) dir. Martin Campbell

TV movie made for HBO with very Vertigo Comics energy, I started off thinking “this is dumb” but very quickly got on its side. It’s a riff on HP Lovecraft mythology set in a 1940s Los Angeles where everyone uses magic except for one private detective, whose name is Harry Lovecraft. Pretty PG-rated, some practical effects (not the best kind, more like gargoyle demon creature costumes I assume are made of foam), and a pretty easily foreseeable “twist” ending where the apocalypse is averted because the virgin sacrifice just lost her virginity to a cop. Not actually that clever but clever enough to work and be consistently enjoyable. Julianne Moore plays a nightclub singer. My interest in this is brought about because there’s a sequel (where I guess the deal is the detective does use magic, and no one else does) called Witch Hunt starring Dennis Hopper and directed by Paul Schrader.

Jennifer’s Body (2009) dir. Karyn Kusama

The climax of Cast A Deadly Spell shares a plot point with this, which I think is being reevaluated as a “cult classic” to what I assume is the same audience that valued the Scott Pilgrim movie: People ten years younger than me who think it’s charming when things are completely obnoxious. A lot of musical cues, all mixed at too loud relative to the rest of the audio, bad jokes. This tone does help power the whole nihilistic, I-enjoy-seeing-these-superfluous-characters-die aspect of the plot but the sort of emotional core of the horror is less present. This movie is basically fine, by lowered modern movies standards, but it’s perfectly disposable and not really worth valuing in any way. I watched Kusama’s movie Destroyer starring Nicole Kidman a year ago and don’t remember anything about it now.

Dead Ringers (1988) dir. David Cronenberg

Rewatch. I think for a while I would’ve considered this my favorite Cronenberg but nowadays I might favor eXistenZ? Jeremy Irons in dual roles as twin brothers, with different personalities, but who routinely impersonate each other, and whose lives begin to deteriorate as a relationship with a woman leads to them individuate themselves from each other. They’re gynecologists, and the whole thing is suffused with an air of creepiness. There’s this sense of airlessness to the movie, a sense of panic, which is present incredibly early on and just sort of keeps going, getting weirder and more uncomfortable as you become accustomed to it, that feels like a sure sign of mastery. I’m fascinated to think about how watching it in a crowd, or on a date, would feel. Most movies don’t operate like this.

Imagine The Sound (1981) dir. Ron Mann

Mann is the director of Comic Book Confidential, which I saw as a middle schooler. This is a documentary about free jazz, featuring interviews and performance footage. Paul Bley and Cecil Taylor are both shown playing solo piano, which isn’t my favorite context to hear them in. Bill Dixon and Archie Shepp say some cool stuff, there is some nice trio footage of Shepp with a rhythm section.

Born In Flames (1983) dir. Lizzie Borden

Easily the best movie I watched for the first time in the time period I’m covering in this post. I heard about this years ago but only seeing it now, when it feels super-relevant. It is shot in New York in the eighties, features plenty of documentation of the city as it was, but in the context of the movie, there has been a socialist revolution ten years earlier, and this film then documents the struggle of the women, particularly black women, who are slipping through the cracks, and fighting for the ongoing quest to make a utopia, but exist in opposition to the party in power. While focusing on black women, there’s also plenty of white women, also opposed to and more progre.ssive than the people in power, but that are having their own conversations which are very different. There’s also montage sequences of women performing labor that cut between women wrapping up chicken to close-ups of a condom being rolled onto a erect penis. The title song is by the Red Krayola, circa the Kangaroo? era where Lora Logic provided vocals. So yeah, this movie rules! It would be a good double-feature with The Spook Who Sat By The Door, though in a film school context, or a sociology context, you would need to do a great deal of groundwork first. Could also work as a double-feature with The Falls for how what you are seeing is the aftermath of a great sociological reshaping realized on a low-budget. I think I put off this movie I think because I was skeptical of the director’s self-conscious “artist’s name” but it turns out they got it legally named as a young child.

State Of Siege (1972) dir. Costa-Gavras

Also really good! Better than Born In Flames when considered in terms of its level of craft. Would make for a fine double feature with my beloved Patty Hearst. Tightly structured over the course of a week, leftist terrorists kidnap an American and interrogate him about what exactly he’s doing in their Latin American country that’s being run by death squads. He denies wrong-doing, but basically everything he’s done is already known to them. This exists in parallel to police interrogations of leftists. Pretty large scale, tons of characters, some basically incidental. Screenplay’s written by the guy who wrote Battle Of Algiers.

Olivia (1951) dir. Jacqueline Audry

French movie sort of about lesbian love at an all-girl’s boarding school that’s weird because everyone seems like they’re feeling homosexual love, but just for one instructor who eggs everyone on. Everyone acts weird in this one, basically. There’s a lot of doting. The atmosphere is pretty unfathomable to me. Chaste-seeming in some ways, but also like everyone is being psychologically tortured by being subject to the whims of each other, but also just rolling with it in this deferential way. Seems like it could feel “emotionally true” to a lesbian experience but only in highly, highly specific circumstances?

Lucia (1968) dir. Humberto Solas

Good score in this one, which is not that much like I Am Cuba but I feel obligated to compare them anyway - both are from Cuba and use this three-story anthology structure. All the stories in this movie revolve around different women named Lucia, in three different, historically important, time periods. The first is about a woman who falls in love with a man from Spain, during the time of Cuba’s war of independence, he says he doesn’t think about politics, but this is one lie among several. This ends with brutal sequences of war. The second takes place under the dictatorship of Gerardo Machado. The third takes place post-revolution, and is about a literacy coach teaching a woman to read and write under the eye of a domineering chauvinistic husband. As with I Am Cuba, it is the very act of considering these three stories together that brings out their propagandistic aspect, and makes them feel less like individual stories. They’re all beautifully shot, although it’s less in less of a show-offy way than I Am Cuba.

Mr. Klein (1976) dir. Joseph Losey

This one’s got a cool premise- About an art dealer, played by Alain Delon, who is buying art from Jews at low prices as they leave occupied France quickly, but who then starts getting confused for another person with the same name as him, who is Jewish. Gets sort of Kakfa-esque but also remains grounded in this world where there are rational explanations for things. (at least as far as the holocaust is rational) So the line gets walked between bits that feel vaguely verging on nightmare but also sort of maintain the plausible deniability of belonging to the waking world, of a paranoia for something the exact scope of which remains unnamed. Ends with Klein as one of many in a trainyard full of people being sent off to concentration camps, which to me felt sort of tasteless, as a large-scale recreation, but that feels deliberate, as a way of offsetting the scope of the film being primarily focused on one person, whose relationship to the larger horror, before it affected him, was parasitic.

Husbands (1970) dir. John Cassavetes

Not into this one. The semi-improvisatory nature of the dialogue never coalesces into characters that seem to have a real core to them, there’s always just this sort of drunken aggression mode. What even is there to these characters, besides the aggression they treat women with? What separates them from one another, makes them distinct entities, beyond the sense they egg each other on?

Casino (1995) dir. Martin Scorsese

Rewatch. Joe Pesci plays the violent Italian guy, Robert De Niro plays the level-headed Jew, Sharon Stone plays the blonde who gets strung out on drugs. Three hours long to contain everyone’s arcs, but also sort of feels like it neatly has act breaks at pretty close to the hour marks, while also telling this pretty big historical sweeping piece about how corporate control comes to Las Vegas, the notion that “the house always wins” but even the individual whose job it is to run the house is himself situated inside a larger house. Both here and in Raging Bull, De Niro plays a character whose third act involves trying to be an entertainer for reasons of ego, and it’s so weird. Yeah, a great movie, one of the few that the reductive view of Scorsese as “someone who just makes mob movies” applies to, I have no opinion on whether it’s better than Goodfella or not.

Blue Collar (1978) dir. Paul Schrader

Not great. Richard Pryor, Harvey Keitel, and Yaphet Kotto co-star. Sometimes feels like maybe it’s meant to function partly as a comedy but doesn’t. It’s also mostly a crime movie, about people working at an auto plant who decide to rob their union’s vault. They end up not making any money from that robbery, but the union can claim insurance funds, so they get to benefit while the working men continue to be shafted, worried about the consequences of what they’ve done. Kotto dies, and Pryor and Keitel are turned against each other by circumstance, which the film tries to play off as being about the divisions among people that keep the working class weak. I definitely feel like the Schrader oeuvre begins with Hardcore.

Mona Lisa (1986) dir. Neil Jordan

This ends up kind of feeling like a lesser version of Hardcore, with British accents. Bob Hoskins, out of jail, starts driving for a prostitute, they dislike each other at first, but become friendly. She asks him to track down a younger girl she was friends with, who a pimp has gotten strung out on drugs. (Hoskins is also a father to a daughter, though his relationship with the mother is strained from having gone to prison.) Hoskins’ character isn’t that interesting and the film revolves around him, the female lead is more interesting but deliberately removed from the larger narrative. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a good Neil Jordan movie.

The Untouchables (1987) dir. Brian De Palma

Rewatch. Great Ennio Morricone score in this one, a real reminder of a different era in terms of what constituted a blockbuster or a prestige picture. David Mamet provides the screenplay. De Palma is pretty reined-in, while Mission: Impossible is an insane procession of sequences of top-notch visual storytelling, the most De Palma trademark thing here is a first-person perspective of a home invasion scene, watching Sean Connery, that ends up being a deliberate choice of a limited perspective to surprise as he gets lured to his death. I feel like there’s a straight line between this movie and Warren Beatty’s Dick Tracy (1990), but obviously what that line runs through is the reality-rewriting effect of Tim Burton’s Batman.

Pulp Fiction (1994) dir. Quentin Tarantino

Rewatch. Can scarcely comprehend how it would’ve felt to see this in a theater when it came out. I watched it the first time in college on a laptop and headphones and it blew me away, even after years of a bunch of it being referenced on The Simpsons and everywhere else. I haven’t seen it since. Rewatching is this exercise in seeing what you don’t remember when everything’s been processed a million times. Feels like Tarantino’s best screenplay due to its construction, more so than any dialogue, which is obviously a little in love with itself. Samuel Jackson wears a Krazy Kat t-shirt after his suit gets covered in blood. Quentin Tarantino casts himself as the white guy who gets to say the n-word a bunch.

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bobbylovesalex · 6 years ago

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The Lighthouse

Robby is a good kid. He doesn’t talk much but he works hard and has yet to object to anything I’ve told him to do. Except for the horses. He still refuses to get on a horse. Kind of funny that the kid who was brave enough to stand up to Kreese and Dutch fears a horse.

I sip my coffee and watch him through the kitchen windows. He’s playing fetch with Lexie and Axel. I would say he and Lexie are playing fetch with Axel, but Lexie keeps forgetting the objective and running after the ball herself.

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, to tell Johnny about what Kreese had done to Robby. I’m pretty sure that when he finds out, he’ll never tell me anything again. Probably never tell anyone anything again. I just thought that maybe if Robby knew, if Johnny could tell him about what he’d suffered at Kreese’s hands, maybe it’d help him feel less emasculated and defeated by the whole thing. No wonder he fell for Dutch’s trap.

And, if I’m being honest, another part of me wants to scream at Johnny for letting it happen. How did he not see it? How could he not notice his kid being beaten and bruised for weeks? He had to know that Robby would have naturally been a target for Kreese and that was even without Robby offering himself up as a sacrifice for ‘the friend who wasn’t a friend’ he’s mentioned a few times.

That’s something else he refuses to talk about. That and Johnny. He clams up at the mere mention of either.

But, last night, he did start a joke with Johnny, teasing him about his out of date lifestyle, so maybe there’s hope yet. I finish my coffee and go outside.

“Hey, Lexie-girl,” I say, bending down to her level. “Can you take care of Axel for Robby while we work today?”

“Yes, Pop,” she answers, seriously.

I can’t help but smile. I may have never been a father, but being a grandfather is pretty damn great sometimes. “Grandpa is upstairs. I’ll see you later.”

“What are we doing today?” Robby asked.

“I thought we’d go out to the lighthouse.”

“I told you I wasn’t getting on a horse,” he laughs.

“You don’t have to,” I admit. “We use them for guest, but if you don’t mind getting a little wet, we can take the ATVs too. The channel’s not that deep.”

“What do we need to do out here?” He asks once we’re on the little island.

“Nothing really. I just like to come out here and make sure everything is okay,” I say. “And I knew you wanted to come out.”

Watching Robby explore the lighthouse reminds me of me the first time Alex brought me out here. It’s kind of amazing.

In the tower, he’s leaning against the rail, staring out at the waves crashing against the rocks below.

“He wasn’t there,” he says softly.

“What?” I have to step closer to hear him.

“Johnny. He didn’t know what Kreese was doing because he wasn’t there,” he says. “You can’t blame him for that. It was all my doing. I thought…, I thought I could save someone. He was being destroyed.”

“Your friend?”

“He was never my friend.”

“That’s Kreese talking.”

He shrugs. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day. It’s not Kreese talking, though he was right. It’s me finally seeing myself for the sucker I am. Anyway, like I said, I was on my own. Nobody even cared if I was alive. If Kreese had killed me, no one would have known until Mom needed me to get money out of Dad for her.”

That’s literally the first time he’s mentioned his mother in the week he’s been here. “Where was Johnny?”

“He was hurt, had a broken knee from some of Kreese’s goons. You’ll have to ask Dad for that story. I wasn’t exactly in his life right then. He was staying with the LaRusso’s, then Dr. Ali while he recovered. I was staying at his place by myself,” he said. “It was easy to hide. I just never went over. When I had to face others, I made up some bullshit story about falling off my skateboard. Everyone bought it but Mr. LaRusso…,”

“Why was Johnny staying with Daniel?” I ask.

“Another story you’ll have to get from him,” he says. “Anyway, Mr. LaRusso didn’t buy my story. He’d been training me in karate, but that all stopped when… when Dad got involved. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. People can’t help it. They’re just drawn to him and they’ll forget everything else. I’m used to it. My mom has done it my whole life. The only person who never threw me away for Johnny was Granpa. Maybe that’s why I liked him. I knew he was a fucking awful person to most everyone. Hell, he was probably only nice to me to be an ass to Dad. More of showing him what he could never have. Jason hasn’t. But then, he’s only ever had two conversations with Dad, so who knows what will happen with that.”

“Jason?”

“Jason Schwarber. My boyfriend.”

That does surprise me a little. “You’re dating Ali’s son?”

He nods. “For now. I’m sure that he’ll either go like everyone else. Or just realize what a fucked up person I am in general and leave,” he shrugs again. “Dad doesn’t mean to do that, or to be that way, but he can’t help it. It’s just like, when he’s around, he’s the center of the universe and everyone just gravitates to him. He can’t help it. And they can’t help it. It’s just the way it is. I can’t even get mad at him about it anymore.”

“I don’t think a truer statement has ever been made about Johnny,” I say. “Is that what happened with the guy you thought was your friend?”

He shakes his head. “He was already Johnny’s. Johnny’s better, smarter, less fucked up son. Or at least that’s what he wanted him to be. Miguel is…, well he’s a better person than me by every measure. No wonder Johnny wanted him over me.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “Johnny loves you more than anything. He’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah, he probably would,” he says. “If he knew what I needed. But he usually doesn’t. You don’t know him anymore. He has huge blind spots where he can only see one thing, and I’m usually standing smack in the middle of where his vision ends. Again, he doesn’t mean to. It’s just how it is. I’m used to it. I handle myself so that I don’t need to depend on him. That way I can’t get hurt and I can still love him.”

“What happened with Miguel?”

“I just realized that I was being used. Again. So, I split,” he says.

I sigh. Getting this kid to talk is like unraveling Christmas lights. Everything is tangled up in knots and just when you’re ready to give up, out will come another line, but there’s a new knot at the end of it too. “How was he using you?”

He turns red and looks out at the ocean again. “He…, I liked him…, he knew that…, he didn’t like me, not like that anyway…, but he…, I don’t know, he said he liked being chased. He liked the feeling that someone wanted him enough to go after him because that had never happened to him before. He fucking humiliated me time and again and I kept going back for more and that was before Kreese was even involved.”

“You loved him.”

He nods. “God, I’m so stupid. He was using me, and I knew that he was, and I still let him over and over. This is why I don’t get close enough to love anyone. It’s nothing but humiliation. Giving people the power to hurt you and happily smiling while they do it. I’ve watched my mom do it a hundred times. I should have known.”

“And I bet you didn’t make it easy for him, did you?”

“What?”

“To use you. You didn’t start trying to fix all his problems. You didn’t start trying to give him things he didn’t have. I’m sure you didn’t try to make him love you by trying to make his life perfect for him,” I say.

He glares daggers at me, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “What would you know about it?”

“Kid, I was in love with your Dad before I even knew what love was,” I say. “And I thought that I could make him love me if I could fix everything. I confused dependency for love. I made myself a doormat for him and he took advantage of it. I don’t think he even meant too. Just like I don’t think your friend meant to do that to you. It’s just human nature especially when you’re making it easy for them.”

“So, what happened?” He asks.

“I reached my breaking point. Like you did. I realized I could live like that, it was hurting me too bad,” I say.

“What was it?”

It’s my turn to be embarrassed for the boy I was. “I guarded the locker room door in the dojo so Ali could…, give him a surprise…, Yeah. I did that. Got my ass beat by Kreese for being there after hours because I was the one who stuck around to lock up. Johnny laughed and told me I should have ducked when he saw my black eye. I’m sure he didn’t even know that I was Ali’s decoy, or that her surprise was what I got in trouble over. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him. Anyway, that was the moment I broke. I went home, spent a few days hovering between anger and crying. Except for Cobra Kai, I didn’t speak to Johnny for a month or better. Then I realized I missed him. Not the him that I’d made practically into an idol, but the guy that had been my friend. The guy who had my back when Kreese was on me. The guy who sat beside me in the courtroom when my parents’ divorce turned nasty. I knew that if I wanted to keep him in my life, I had to let go of the pain, and accept what was.”

“How did you do that? How did you stop loving him?”

“I realized that I deserved love too. I wasn’t going to get it if I couldn’t love myself first and I wasn’t being very loving to myself,” I say. “I dropped him off the pedestal I had put him on and started being a real friend to him again.”

“I haven’t loved Miguel in months. If I ever did. I care about him, but it’s not the same way I feel about Jase. Maybe I never was in love with him. Maybe I just wanted to take someone from Dad so badly, I confused my feelings of friendship for love. If I loved him and he loved me, then he’d pick me over Dad. God, that’s more pathetic than just being rejected,” he rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He made it clear where I stand in his life and I’m through hurting myself too. He and his idiot friend were playing with an M-80 firecracker and blew up a mailbox. He got hurt. Broke his nose, chipped his tooth, probably had a concussion due to how out of it he was…, Hawk ran off. Miguel came to me at Granpa’s and I hid him. Tried to help him. Tried to convince him to call Dad or his mom. He knew I could get in trouble for that. And he knows that if I get in trouble again, it’ll be real trouble. I’m not getting community service. I’m going to jail. He knows that and he still came to me. He said I made him feel safe. Whatever. The next morning, I convinced him to let me call Dr. Ali. He told her what happened and I said Hawk was involved…, it wasn’t fair that he was going to get all the blame when that moron was just as guilty. He blew up at me. Then lied and said Hawk wasn’t involved. Hawk left him wandering around, drunk, hurt, and disoriented to save his own ass and he was protecting him. I hadn’t done anything but try to help him and he didn’t give a shit that I was risking juvie to do it. He’s never going to care as much about me as I do for him, so I’m done. I can’t be his friend anymore. No matter how much I may miss him. Because he was never that much of a friend to me.”

I nod and pull him into a hug. “Well. Only you can know that. But if you’re saying he’s not your friend because of that incident, I think you may be discounting your whole friendship. You should maybe try to see things from his side before you throw it all away.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Especially since it seems Dad is hitting on his mom pretty hot and heavy. Not speaking to my stepbrother might get a little weird and I’m running out of places to run.”

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” I say, hugging him again. “You’ll want to come to visit Axel anyway. Because I don’t think you’re going to be able to get her away from Lexie and Alex when you leave.”

He laughs again and we head back to the house.

I send Robby up to his room to change and go in the kitchen to talk to Alex.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Pretty good,” I admit. “I finally got him to talk. But damn. Everything that kid says makes me want to give him a hug and a cookie. Maybe I helped him though.”

Alex put the knife he was holding down and wiped his hands on a towel before coming over to hug me.

“Even if you didn’t help, you cared enough to ask, and he’ll remember that. And maybe he’ll come back to you before he goes off the rails again, and that is something.” He kisses me. “You can’t save the world, Bobby. But that you try is why I love you.”

I smile. “I love you too.”

@everyonesfavoritegoldenboy @chickskickasstoo @therunawaystudent @dr-ali-mills (Just so that you all see it because some of the Bobby posts aren’t showing up in the timeline.)

#cobra kai rp #finally talking #advice #hug and cookie at the ready

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violetsystems · 6 years ago

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#personal

I don’t think anybody expected me to go out last night. I’m not really connected enough anymore on social media to know what there was to do really. There were a full set of keys to my apartment and facilities. I started off the New Year three loads of laundry lighter. The laundry room is directly below the stairs to my apartment. I’ve been walking three blocks with a suitcase for months to do my wash. Back and forth. I got really good at rolling that suitcase around. Ironically I’m not bringing much of any baggage to New York next weekend. Metaphysically speaking or otherwise. I spent most of last night thinking about what I was going to wear. I bought a lot of nice clothes this year on the low mostly from resellers. The fact I have two options for a jacket is a focal point for me. I was wearing that Nike Puffa on a particularly warm day last week. I caught up with a friend who is a bike messenger on a leisurely long walk home from work. They commented how my jacket must have been warm on a day like this. It didn’t feel hostile but more a matter of fact. I looked at the weather yesterday. I look at it every day mostly from when I used to fixate on whether I could take the weather outside enough to run. It’ll be in the mid forties all next weekend. The last thing I want to do is walk around New York looking overheated and thirsty. The thirstiness at this point is inevitable. But these are the minutia I have the luxury of stressing about when it comes to a weekend getaway by myself at the turn of the year. My dad texted me at nine with one of those fireworks messages. That was about the only text I got. Everybody knows I only pay attention to my dash here when it comes to meaningful social engagement. I definitely didn’t wake up this morning regretting much of anything other than my choice of gym routine yesterday. I decided to take today off maybe much in the same thought process as that Puffa jacket. It’s kind of a tired look under the circumstances of today. My apartment is the cleanest and most organized it has ever been. I spent all yesterday filing vinyl from my collection. It sounds more pretentious than it was. But I was alone and it was peaceful. Imagine if you were away from someone you loved and it tore you apart every minute. Now imagine if it tore you apart for an entire six months. I’ve never heard of the opposite being true until it occurred to me. I’m the one sitting here six months later at a very different point of my life. At least all my DNA is present and accounted for as we start the new year. I am very much the same Tim with the same feelings on the Internet. Let’s give it up for consistency.

I have been watching a lot of movies over vacation. Mostly just purchasing stuff I’ve wanted to see. A lot of modern and contemporary science fiction lately has been favorite. I watched Annihilation last night. A larger mystery has been why I enjoy that specifically in my own home. How I got a couch in here in the first place? How I have a larger tv to watch them with? How I have time set aside to enjoy them without feeling like my life is spiraling out of control? I have a job. You would think people would understand that is how you afford all these things. That you actually have to put in work to receive the money to make those purchases. There’s probably other ways. But mine is fairly predictable with a fair amount of benefits. Particularly a whole week off and six more weeks of vacation to take before July. Last year around April I went to Asia probably for the last time in awhile by myself. I learned a lot from that trip. More than I particularly bargained for maybe back then. But knowing what I know now, maybe I learned how to better focus myself. I know now at least how many years I’ve been trying to get back to center. I know how much at peace I am when I close the door. Now that I have keys. All of them. How did I lose them in the first place? Why did it take so long to get them? Why did I get hustled out of my Christmas and Birthday money to get a copy? Was it worth it? All of this? Does anybody really know at the end of the day how much I sacrificed this year let alone the last two? The answer is yes. Many people do. One person in particular probably knows it much clearer than anybody else. I care about that person enough to know they understand the weight of that. Why I act like I do? Why I make these decisions and move quietly. Why people who think they understand me never have a clue. The heaviness that follows me everywhere I go these days. I haven’t really suffered all that much under the weight of it. Sometimes it’s like an invisible pressure around your shoulders nestled deep into your neck. You stretch with it. Stand up straighter against it and it coils around you tighter. You can’t escape your fate this much we’ve come to know from life. When something mirrors everything you do out of sight like a shadow. How much of it is planned and how much of it is magic and chaos? It depends on the environment. And home alone on New Year’s Day there’s a lot of things I can control without leaving my house. Particularly how positive I am about how hard I try and how disappointed I am nobody within a fifty mile radius has the capacity to care.

Maybe it isn’t all that unlike being trapped under a dome. There’s a lot of subtext to that movie I enjoy very much. The fact that the main character manages to hold it together literally and why. The echoes of relationships in the movie that are both human and inhuman at the same time. The blur between people’s acceptance of their fate being positive or negative. When Tessa Thompson’s character vanishes in such a nuanced way, you understand that fate and change is inevitable. At the end, who is facing who exactly. Who is the real enemy? What will we be remade into post Annihilation? I swear I’m not trying to make this post a parable for you to quit drinking or anything. What people turned into was largely based on the chaos of evolution through a prism. The scene where they are being hunted by something that has the power to throw their friend’s voice is particularly disturbing poetry. How we can’t be sure if that’s a memory, a part of their friend, or a manipulation to evoke a reaction from it’s prey. In the end, what holds us together in this nightmare world is our consistency. Our love for each other and our capacity to understand the subtext in this blur. In an era that flaunts the term post truth like it’s a revelation, we all know reality is subjective. People lie. People warp their own narratives of people, places and things. History vanishes and mutates. Scenes fade out and in like passing tides. What keeps pushing me forward has been my own account of events. My own narrative. One largely here that has been pretty open and transparent to a point. My own dreams and desires that I refract out into the world much like a prism and all the mutant and alien perspectives form therein. But there’s a wall of intimacy there nobody seems to be able to cross. It’s intentional. It’s how I express my love and intimacy. And it’s behind a physical door where I sleep and dream every night. One where the peace and quiet speaks volumes to me. My apartment is much like this blog sometimes. I’m trapped in an echo chamber. Being alone this year with my thoughts and dreams didn’t feel so far away at all. I spent a lot of time making coffee here in the kitchen every morning thinking about what it would take. To be good enough. Whether or not I was happy resigning myself to this fate that’s already been in motion nearly half of 2018. I’ve held it all together pretty well. I’ll keep holding it together here at the lighthouse. At least my DNA is all present and accounted for. That’s a really positive way to start 2019. It means my love for you is just the same as it was last year. And it’s locked behind these doors for the foreseeable future. And I have the keys. Only you have the keys to my heart. I’m going to keep my genomes in a safe place for the time being. Off the internet, out of public and safe here under the dome. If you can’t follow the light. Just be the lighthouse. I hear they have some crazy dance battles in there. <3 Tim

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chrisevansheaux-blog · 7 years ago

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Code Unturned

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