The main reason I don't write on here very often is the fact that I am a perfectionist. I feel this innate need to cover every aspect of whatever I am discussing, which often results in many asides, tangents and possibly even footnotes. Go to the bookstore and pick up a copy of House of Leaves, you'll see the kind of thing I'm talking about. Now, in order to make myself more productive I am hereby giving myself a pass. I'm sure that it would help you see where I'm coming from if I describe in detail my entire childhood, but it's not really needed and I am going to just have to accept that. At this point I actually want to ramble on and on about procrastination versus writers block and the article that I read that gave me this whole idea but, I won't. Thank you for listening.
I was going to try to sit down and write a nice, normal, academic review of Steven Soderburgh's new film "Bubble". However, I can't. Instead of a well thought out treatise on the nature of the cinematography and the effectiveness of the spare Elliot Smith-like score I just keep coming back to the fact that I know these people. Not "know" them in the sense that we hold hands and take windy walks together, but KNOW them from a shared history. Perhaps an example will help: about 10 minutes into the film there is a scene where two people sit in a dingy break room, eat fast food and talk about nothing. Their voices hold no emotion, their faces are slack and vacant. These are people beaten down by the fact they are not living but merely surviving. They, however, don't acknowledge or even understand this fact. The thing is I've sat in break rooms just like that one, in factories just like that one, heard conversations just like that one. There is no artifice in this art. The sad truth is in these places life is bleak, boring, and hard. There seems to be a consensus among the media that a life of manual labor breeds quiet, contemplative people who see beauty in the mundane and irony in their own situation. That they somehow understand their role in society and choose to continue filling it. Either that or they are full of passion and dreams that they hate their repressive lives and are going to use their talents to escape the cycle of poverty that everyone around them has accepted. Neither of these romantic views are true though, they are both condescending to an entire class of working poor.
Until 6 years ago that was my life, I had resigned myself to it and accepted it. Then when I least expected it (that's always the way it is right?)(but really it was when I LEAST expected it) I met the woman who changed everything for me.
I seem to be rambling further and further down the emotional road. Maybe I can go back and watch the movie again and come back to write a review that would actually support my stance that this is an challenging, insightful, and amazing movie. Something a little less gut-level-navel-gazey is in order I think.
I got Mari a Colorsplash Camera for Xmas this year and we've been having quite a bit of fun with it's quirky photo-goodness. It has different colored gels that you can dial up in front of the flash to create funky hued family photos. It also allows you to mess with exposure times and double exposing the film. All in a little point n' shoot body.
I was absolutely about coordinating beauty. Shot by shot had to be great.My weapon was that camera. I'll get what I wanted. If you're there with me great, if you're not there with me, too bad.-Ridley Scott