There's a great article in Slate today about one of my favorite movies of all time, "Night of the Hunter." If you've seen it, you remember it. Robert Mitchum as "Preacher." HATE tattooed on the knuckles of one hand, LOVE tattooed on the knuckes of the other. He's come to town hunting for $10,000 in stolen loot.
The only movie Charles Laughton ever directed. Pauline Kael called it "one of the most frightening films ever made." I love the scene below; if the Preacher sees the world as a battle between good and evil, then think of this scene as a duet between the dueling natures of Christianity.
That's Lillian Gish in the chair, holding the shotgun. Make sure and watch the end, with the owl and the bunny, and that killer last line.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Community
The lil hucky and I, deciding it is obscene to waste precious water on a regular lawn out here in the high desert, decided to plow under the back yard and plant drought-resistant buffalo grass. To that end I rented a roto-tiller and went at it. Tiring, bone-shaking work, but fun. The most interesting bit was ripping out the extensive root system under the soil and discovering all manner of weird looking roots. The predatory, weed-like paradise trees trees in our area form these bulbous, misshapen nodes for new trees to grow out of. So alien looking, but those curving, fractal lines kept reminding me of fetuses, all day long. Odd image, I know. In a sense, though, I guess they are fetuses. For baby trees.
Afterward we went to the drive in. Longtime readers of these posts know of my abiding love for drive in movies. Packed up the kids and the lawn chairs and the twizzlers and the sleeping bags and showed up before the gates were even open. Played catch til the movie started. We saw Alice In Wonderland (better than I expected, but still way too much emphasis on art direction, not enough attention on story and character and narrative coherence). The movie is secondary. The trippy experience of being able to watch a movie in a lawn chair with stars and clouds overhead is the thing. The community of it all: teenagers flirting and necking, people walking back and forth from the concession stand with corn dogs and popcorn, whole families spilling out of the backs of vans and pick-ups. People talk. Babies cry.
The best part was that the car next to us was a gaggle of four sisters, aged 8 to 12. They set blankets on the ground next to the car to watch the movie together. Our eldest, who does not make friends easily, joined them, snuggling with them under the blanket as the night got colder. Not only did she make friends, she got to hang out with Big Girls! She came back to the car beaming.
That kind of thing doesn't happen in a regular theater, sitting in the dark and silence.
It certainly doesn't happen when you rent a movie to watch at home, doors and windows closed to your neighbors, the magic of the night sky unseen and forgotten.
It happens at the drive in.
Afterward we went to the drive in. Longtime readers of these posts know of my abiding love for drive in movies. Packed up the kids and the lawn chairs and the twizzlers and the sleeping bags and showed up before the gates were even open. Played catch til the movie started. We saw Alice In Wonderland (better than I expected, but still way too much emphasis on art direction, not enough attention on story and character and narrative coherence). The movie is secondary. The trippy experience of being able to watch a movie in a lawn chair with stars and clouds overhead is the thing. The community of it all: teenagers flirting and necking, people walking back and forth from the concession stand with corn dogs and popcorn, whole families spilling out of the backs of vans and pick-ups. People talk. Babies cry.The best part was that the car next to us was a gaggle of four sisters, aged 8 to 12. They set blankets on the ground next to the car to watch the movie together. Our eldest, who does not make friends easily, joined them, snuggling with them under the blanket as the night got colder. Not only did she make friends, she got to hang out with Big Girls! She came back to the car beaming.
That kind of thing doesn't happen in a regular theater, sitting in the dark and silence.
It certainly doesn't happen when you rent a movie to watch at home, doors and windows closed to your neighbors, the magic of the night sky unseen and forgotten.
It happens at the drive in.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
What a world! What a world!*
The clowncar clan were all atwitter last week upon learning that The Wizard of Oz was going to be in the movie theater, lil hux in particular. Then we learned that tickets were a criminal $10 each. And that's before popcorn!
Screw that.
So. We went to Amazon and ordered the DVD instead (and since the theater showing was meant to promote the release of the DVD, we were playing right into their greedy hands, but that's a horse of a different color). I haven't seen the movie in two decades or so. I had forgotten how good it was.
I think a reason, beyond plot, beyond character, that movie has stayed popular for as long as it has is that the imagery is so arresting. The tornado. The poppy field. The first wicked witch's legs curling up when she loses the slippers. The second wicked witch melting. The red sand running through the hourglass. And those deeply disturbing flying monkeys, which still seem like something straight out of a nightmare.
They scared me to death as a kid. My girls just thought they were cool.
* It's what the witch says as she is melting.
Screw that.
So. We went to Amazon and ordered the DVD instead (and since the theater showing was meant to promote the release of the DVD, we were playing right into their greedy hands, but that's a horse of a different color). I haven't seen the movie in two decades or so. I had forgotten how good it was.
I think a reason, beyond plot, beyond character, that movie has stayed popular for as long as it has is that the imagery is so arresting. The tornado. The poppy field. The first wicked witch's legs curling up when she loses the slippers. The second wicked witch melting. The red sand running through the hourglass. And those deeply disturbing flying monkeys, which still seem like something straight out of a nightmare.
They scared me to death as a kid. My girls just thought they were cool.
* It's what the witch says as she is melting.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sermon
From the nearly perfect Synecdoche, New York, which I finally saw last night:
"Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you'll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I'm so angry and the truth is I'm so fucking sad, and the truth is I've been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine. Well, fuck everybody. Amen."
Amen.
"Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you'll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I'm so angry and the truth is I'm so fucking sad, and the truth is I've been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine. Well, fuck everybody. Amen."
Amen.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Delivering Us Into Evil
Not much time for posts this week. A graduation from pre-school, a graduation from kindergarten, a trip to the zoo, a web design workshop to teach, and a stomach flu thing that made me feel like my stomach was being raked and prodded by the hellish, rusty prongs of a twisted metal spork (I overstate in order to work the word "prong" into the mix, the Word o' the Week c/o Mona and Irr). Now I mostly am over the stomach thing, but little S has it. Sigh.
Pedro's back! He pitched 6 uninspired but gutsy innings on Tuesday, and led the Metros to a 9-6 win. He got a standing ovation in the other team's stadium when he walked off the mound. Unfortunately, at the same time Barak Obama was giving a riveting acceptance speech, (and Hillary was giving the most ungracious un-concession speech in recent memory*), so I didn't watch much of Pedro. Hope he's not mad.
I'm leaving you with a clip from 25th Hour. I'm hit and miss with Spike Lee, but when he's on his game (Do the Right Thing, 25th Hour, Inside Man, When the Levees Broke) he's untouchable. This is one of my favorite monologues of all time. The set-up is simple: it's the last night in a guy's life before he goes to jail for dealing drugs. He's a tad angry about how things turned out. Watch the whole thing if you can; it starts out raw and hate-filled but ends up as a very moving homage to NYC. Be forewarned, Ed Norton says "f*ck" in this like a million times.
*Nixon remains number 1 with his "You won't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore" speech. But that's not exactly recent memory, is it?
Pedro's back! He pitched 6 uninspired but gutsy innings on Tuesday, and led the Metros to a 9-6 win. He got a standing ovation in the other team's stadium when he walked off the mound. Unfortunately, at the same time Barak Obama was giving a riveting acceptance speech, (and Hillary was giving the most ungracious un-concession speech in recent memory*), so I didn't watch much of Pedro. Hope he's not mad.
I'm leaving you with a clip from 25th Hour. I'm hit and miss with Spike Lee, but when he's on his game (Do the Right Thing, 25th Hour, Inside Man, When the Levees Broke) he's untouchable. This is one of my favorite monologues of all time. The set-up is simple: it's the last night in a guy's life before he goes to jail for dealing drugs. He's a tad angry about how things turned out. Watch the whole thing if you can; it starts out raw and hate-filled but ends up as a very moving homage to NYC. Be forewarned, Ed Norton says "f*ck" in this like a million times.
*Nixon remains number 1 with his "You won't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore" speech. But that's not exactly recent memory, is it?
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