youtube/watch?v=9mJuBADEiKg MOVIE CLIP OF THE DAY (Him and Her/Them) The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby (2014) Independent Film vs. Hollywood (though often one in the same) can be thought of as a metaphor for lifes journey. Sure the beginning can be beautiful, bold, (sloppy even) and full of passion and optimism. It can be riddled with clichés doomed to failure but by god if it isnt OUR movie and damned if anyone will deny it! (Or not buy and sell it). Then reality sets in... Before we know it our naively nuanced performing (to the point of smug) went out the window in place of empty corporate nonsense without a soul. Soon youre signing your life away doing a popcorn movie you hate. With phoned-in, contrived acting, youll wonder what happened to all that love and passion when you first fell in love. Where does one go wrong? How you can we regain the beauty of who we are and begin again? In the words of Frodo: I cant go back! Maybe you never really knew yourself. Maybe this isnt you and youve quote: got it all figured out. These are but some of the (familiar) themes reverberating throughout Bensons impressive directorial debut. Which by its very nature represents the rebirth and death of the cinema as an art form. Hidden somewhere between (the very gray and slightly pretentious) lines of the admirable script is a brilliant monologue from Oscar-winner William Hurt (about the ocean and a baby), and Viola Davis priceless melancholic critique about education, children (and cheap coffee). However, look a bit closer (not better) just beyond the rims of the frame. Your senses try to percolate the film making conventions you learned in school: the cinema verite (before it became hip to reference it in class). With a little bit of luck, you will soon discover the simple craft of acting (as it was meant to be performed by talented people). On our journeys throughout life, we may find true love (or we may not). All the inherent truth we may acquire may just pass into the wind like Forrest Gumps feather. We may not all be perfect but we are (all) most certainly some versions of McCartneys Fool on the hill. Damned if anyone will listen to what we have to say (or how we say it). Humanity at once seems like an eternal search for loudness (when the rooms percussive quality is barren--as the gap between two people grows wider than the space between Jupiter and Mars). Such examples can be attributed to a film student trying to lecture children on the social significance of Lumets Dog Day Afternoon... Cutting my disjointed rant short, I will say that Viola Davis performance is an oasis in a beautiful desert (Perhaps that is the best way to describe this particular piece of film making). But deserts can be our homes if we treat them with dignity and respect. The right frame of reference can move mountains. The movies can often echo our lives (to the point of pain) but they can also betray the reality of what life really is; since so many folks out there mold their idea(s) of life, interaction, (and love) by what they see on the screen (both the figurative, the tangible, the intangible; the delusional)--The eternal void that thrives somewhere between ugly daydreams and beautiful nightmares. In the end, which one is the movie and which isnt? When you learn the answer to that question, get back to me. Ill be waiting for you, with open arms and a big hug.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 23:01:55 +0000