Matt Writes Words

thoughts about movies, writing, and whatever else is on my mind

Month: September, 2011

September 30, 2011

Solitude

There is no One Thing that I want. It’s normal to cycle through desires—necessary, even. As much as I fantasize about having one passion that I could dedicate my life to with an unshakable focus, the truth is that I can’t do that. It’s not due to external distractions so much as it is due to internal shifts in mood. In this post, I’ll write about what is currently seizing me: a desire for solitude.

There are those who seem to be afraid of solitude, at least for long periods of time. I’ve known people who need to constantly be around others. But I think that most people can understand the desire for solitude, and crave it from time to time. There is a romance attached to solitude: the lone wolf; the artist holed up in his or her studio; the writer holed up in a cabin in New England, taking long walks and chopping wood, drinking tea and reading books, looking out at the trees and taking in The Peaceful Quiet.

I’ve always craved solitude. Perhaps it stems from effectively being an only child (my siblings are much older than I am, and were all out of the house shortly after I was born). I’ve always spent a lot of time alone in my room. I’ve rarely invited friends over.  I like to watch movies alone. I like to travel alone. I mostly like to do things that I can do alone.

Generally, I’m a very “thinky” person, and I suppose I give myself a lot of time to just think about things. With that said, I’ve also always enjoyed to meditate, which involves deliberately not thinking for a period of time–typically 20 minutes or so. It’s quite challenging, because I have to fight against my natural “thinky” state, but I’ve found it to be beneficial when I do it regularly. I will either sit or lay down, and focus on relaxing my body. I try my best to become aware of all the muscles in my body, and concentrate on relaxing them. I breathe deeply and slowly. The goal is to take a break from being my typical “thinky” self, and simply be in the moment, quietly, by myself.

Any person’s day is filled with mental stimulation, and it’s essential to have some downtime in order to properly digest and internalize all that stimulation, not to mention just to keep yourself from burning out. Sleep is a big part of that, during which the brain works its voodoo magic behind the curtains (the brain is very active during sleep), but moments of wakeful contemplation are also incredibly important for mental and emotional growth, I’ve found. We need that cycle of stimulation and rest in all things. I’ve found that I want the majority of my time to be spent in that restful, contemplative state, and it’s a state that I only know how to reach in moments of solitude.

Recently, I’ve taken up running again. I think I mostly enjoy running because it’s something I can do in solitude. Often, I will run for a couple of miles and then have to walk a mile back home, which has been a great time to think. I’m not very good at avoiding the temptation to go online when I’m at home, so going out for a run or a walk is one of the few times during the week that I get an extended period of time to think without distractions. The repetitiveness of the activity lulls me into a meditative state, but instead of the relaxed body I have during regular meditation, my brain is excited by all the extra oxygen rushing through it. I find that I frequently have very interesting ideas during my runs, and especially during my long walks home. This is a big part of why I prefer solitary runs over other kinds of exercise or playing sports.

Finally, and most obviously, writing is a solitary activity. I think I write because it seems like a natural thing to do when spending so much time alone. Or, at least, I think that’s why I started to write in the first place. Maybe now I choose to write because it seems like a productive way to spend my alone time. It’s a way of sharing myself with others without actually having to be around them. I write this alone. You read this alone. This allows us to both be alone without feeling lonely. Sometimes when I leave my little private bubble, I’ll run into a person who will tell me that they like my writing, and I get to feel some gratification before retreating back into my solitude.

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September 25, 2011

Matt Writes Movie Reviews: WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN (2011)

I shall open this review with a love letter:

Dear Lynne Ramsay,

Sometime around 2003, I heard about your first two films, RATCATCHER and MORVERN CALLAR, and sought them out on DVD. This was during my formative years as a cinephile (I guess every year has been a formative year, now that I think about it), and I didn’t immediately know what to make of these two strange films.

Instead of blowing me away, both films dug themselves into my brain and planted themselves firmly inside. I have never stopped thinking about those films, and over time, they have become two of my favorites.

I’ve let cinema deep into my heart, and it has shaped so much of who I am today. Without exaggeration, I can say that your work has played a huge role in nurturing my very soul, shaping my thoughts and desires and dreams. I have absolutely no idea how you’ve done that, but you have done that.

I, along with many of the cinema-obsessed, have awaited your third film with bated breath. Watching the film was like seeing an old friend again, and I was deeply moved by the experience.

Lynne Ramsay, you are back with a film so bold that it was as if you never left. Thank you, for everything.

Love,

Matt

In 2007, when I first heard that Lynne Ramsay was attached to adapt WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN, I decided to read the book. I knew what it was about before reading it, and I can’t say for sure whether or not it makes much of a difference whether or not you know about the story’s biggest event, because it’s really a story about all the small events that come before and after the big event.

This is the story of Eva Khatchadourian (played by Tilda Swinton), formerly an adventurous, fiercely independent woman, and now a mother to a disturbed child, Kevin (played at different ages by Rock Duer, Jasper Newell, and Ezra Miller). “Mummy was happy before widdle Kevin came awong, you know that, don’t you?” Eva tells the mischievous toddler, “Now Mummy wakes up every day and wishes she were in France!”

Eva’s relationship with Kevin is deeply complex. He is every bit a part of her, making it difficult for Eva not to feel responsible for Kevin’s troubled nature. Yet, it is clear that, from birth, Kevin was not a normal child. How much of Kevin’s behavior was shaped by nature, and how much by nurture (or lack thereof)? Both of them understand each other like nobody else does, and both of them secretly share the same wish: that Kevin was never born.

It almost goes without saying that Tilda Swinton’s performance is absolutely perfect. She’s one of the most fearless and capable actresses out there today, playing one of the most complex characters in recent literature. There’s really nothing to say about it; just sit back and revel in this masterful performance.

I can’t quite say the same for the actors that play Kevin. My only criticism of the film is that Kevin, at all ages, is very on the nose. The complexity of his character is lessened by the one-note sinisterism on display. Because this movie is about Eva, Kevin does not actually appear on screen that much, so in order for his presence to be as looming as it needs to be, much of his dialogue is limited to succinct observations, delivered in the most sinister of tones. The torturedness of Kevin is presented a bit too broadly, with occasional moments of overacting.

But it’s really a very small criticism in the face of how magnificent the movie as a whole is. The visual and aural sophistication is unmatched–I was deeply inspired to see a filmmaker in such control of every detail. Every single shot, every scene, every link between scenes, every sound, every song choice, all so beautifully done and put together, achieving a quality nothing short of miraculous. I was nearly in tears at how beautiful this film is. Ramsay is clearly inspired by the Terrence Malick and David Lynch of yore, and in the film’s strongest moments, she surpasses these old masters, creating a whole new level of etherial cinematic beauty. A new bar has been set.

Ramsay also brings a particular kind of femininity that is sorely missing from cinema. It’s a bracing, unsentimental femininity, unafraid to show women as they are, in a way that male directors largely don’t seem able to do. The details that are lingered on are entirely different from most films, and much of them are body-oriented. Specifically, her films are aware of and interested in how the female characters feel in their own bodies.These are not the weightless, perfect creatures that we see in most cinema–Ramsay’s women have blood, organs, sweat, odor, body hair, periods, stomachs, gas, occasional bad breath, grease on their skin and in their hair. Sometimes they want to make themselves pretty, and sometimes they don’t give a shit. But they are always beautiful.

As someone who has seen a lot of movies and has made a few films, a lot of the magic of cinema has been lost for me, because I typically know what to expect and exactly how it’s done. There is no big mystery to it. But once in a while, there comes a filmmaker who can create something so strong, with such a clear vision that is unlike anybody else’s. From the first shot, I knew that I was watching A Lynne Ramsay Film–it was all there in the look, the sound, the mood, the themes. I felt like I was watching something that nobody else could have made. Something so distinct. And I have no idea how she does it! There’s some magical quality to her images that goes far beyond the basic building blocks of how to construct a scene. Every frame is infused with something extra, and I don’t know what it is. And I don’t want to know. I just want to revel in being able to experience mystery and magic in the cinema, where all of my savvy is good for nothing, and all that’s left to do is bask in the wonder.

[Grade: A]

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September 22, 2011

Why Is Writing So Hard Sometimes?

I have been pretty busy this past week. I’ve been assisting on a film shoot, so that, coupled with my day job, has left me with little time to write. During the little bit of time that I do have available, I’ve been mentally drained. BUT, those are just excuses.

With the exception of yesterday, I have been sitting down to write every day. Not much has come out of it, but at least I put the time in. Without the daily deadline to spur me on, though, it hasn’t seemed to matter how much actually got written. The daily deadline, in many ways, made it easier to write. The hardest part of writing seems to be deciding to do it, and staying with it until you’re finished. The actual writing part is only the second hardest part.

I started a blog post a couple of days ago, and as I was writing it, I could tell that it was gibberish. I really don’t know what to do in times like that. I guess… keep writing, and edit that gibberish later?

But that’s not what I’m doing. Instead of finishing that blog post, I’ve started this new one to just whine a bit about how foggy my mind is feeling right now, and how difficult writing can be sometimes.

But it’s important, right? A couple of days ago, while on a long walk (I had gone running, and ran out of steam earlier than I anticipated, and had to walk 1.75 miles back home), I had the thought that if I wrote and ran every day, then everything else would fall into place. I don’t know why, but that thought wouldn’t leave my mind. I thought, “Even if it’s just a quarter mile; even if it’s just writing for five minutes… make it happen every day.” I just might take myself up on that idea.

I don’t want the writing or the running to be a source of stress, though. I don’t want those two things to feel like another two things that I have to juggle along with all the other obligations in my life. What I want, ideally, is to enjoy those two things, and not worry about anything else. I wish my life could simply be a daily asking of two questions: Did I run today? Did I write today? If the answers are both yes, then I can feel like I’m doing just fine.

It’s a bit too ideal, probably, but I think it would be a good challenge–the running every day thing. I mean, maybe I’d take two days off a week and walk instead of run. I like walking, but I don’t do it much.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on in my mind right now. I also have a few other things running around in my mind that has been making it difficult to concentrate when I sit down to write. I’ve written this post without any real focus, but I hope that something in there was interesting to somebody.

Even though this is a scatterbrained chunk of writing, I’m going to post it anyway. I told myself that I’d write 10 posts a month and I have to stick to that. I think it’s when the writing is not going well that it’s most important to stick with it. I expect to get out of this funk fairly soon. I think I know what I need to do to get back on track a bit, but I’m at least happy that I’ve been sitting down and writing, even if only for a little bit, almost every day. I don’t want to let that habit die. I think that means that there will be some ramblings on here from time to time.

So yeah, this post is here as proof to myself that I did write something. Maybe someday someone will see it when they’re struggling through something and feel like they’re not alone.

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September 16, 2011

Why I’m Grateful for the Crappy Economy

I’ll start with a disclaimer that I understand that this poor economy has been devastating to a lot of people, so I hope that I don’t come off as being flippant about it. However, in this post, I will be writing about the silver lining that I see, as far as how the bad economy is affecting my life. I chose the word “grateful” for the title because I’m coming around to the idea that this weak economy is instilling me with habits that will be better for me in the long run than if money and jobs were more readily available.

What I’m going to write about pertains only to me. I realize that this economic “downturn” is affecting each person in a different way, so I’m not going to argue that YOU should be grateful for this tough economy.

Okay, with that said, I’ll give a little bit of my story. I moved to Austin, Texas last year, and was lucky enough to be able to stay with a relative, which reduced the pressure of needing to find a job immediately. The economy is relatively stable in Austin, but job availability has still been affected. I eventually found a job doing some data entry stuff, which is the job that I still hold right now. The pay is quite low for data entry work, and I came to find out that my company used to pay significantly more for the same position, supposedly because of the bad economy (but really because they were bought by another company that doesn’t like paying people a good wage).

The prevailing wisdom that has been given to me from almost everybody is that, in this economy, I should be grateful to have any job at all. It seems like most people, including myself, have been scared into learning to be happy with less.

And so I am happy with less, which I think is an attitude that will benefit me in the long run. I think that if the economy were strong, I’d expect myself to make more money and to want more things.

Like most people, I don’t really like working for others. It feels like a waste of my life. In this economy, working for others is offering less and less in return. For me, it’s gotten to a point where I’ve realized that the monetary difference between working full-time and working part-time is so minimal that, with minor adjustments in my lifestyle, I could afford to work part-time. This way, I can spend less of my time doing stuff that I don’t care about, and free myself up to write and make films. My salary will go from paltry to slightly paltrier.

Considering how easily I was sucked into this whole full-time work thing without even making very much money, I shudder to think how trapped I would feel if I ever got used to making more money. I don’t think I’d even be able to comprehend how to live without a decent amount of money coming in every month. Maybe I would have felt comfortable in buying a car that required monthly payments. Maybe I would have rented a place with higher rent. Maybe I would have bought a bunch of fancy things. In fact, I’m sure that all those things would have happened, and each of those things would have been another nail in the coffin, sealing me into an existence in which I’d never be able to do the things that are meaningful to me.

Another factor that has been brought forward by the terrible economy is that frugality has become more popular. Living within your means is COOL. There is absolutely no shame attached to having a very low cost of living. So many people are interested in learning how to consume less, and how to determine what is important to them. There is less of a sense of entitlement, and more of a sense of gratefulness. Okay, maybe not everybody is feeling that way, but at the very least, I find it easier to feel that way about my life in this economic climate.

I think I’d be an asshole if I had a lot of money. I think I’d hate my life. As I’m planning out my part-time work lifestyle, I’m getting excited! I can’t wait to make less money! I’ve even found myself giving more money away because I’d rather do that than buy myself a beer or go to a restaurant, and I think that that will be a continuing trend.

It’s weird to say, but I’ve gotten to a point where I’m glad that I don’t make much money, and whittling away unnecessary expenditures makes me happy. I suspect that that wouldn’t be the case if the economy were booming. I don’t think I would have given myself the chance to find out the joys of living with less. I’ve heard it said that in times of a struggling economy, there may be opportunities to be found. I feel like I’ve gotten the opportunity to learn how to be somebody that I like. I dream not of a big house and fancy things, but of time, which has, in some bizzaro way, become more affordable in times like these.

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September 12, 2011

Number Thirty

This is my 30th post, on the 30th day since this blog’s inception. I’ve written one post per day, which was the goal that I set in the first post. Success!

From this point on, I intend to write 10 posts per month—at least 2 posts every week—for as long as I can stand it. I aim to continue writing every day, as it’s a habit that I really like having, but now most of my writing effort will be concentrated on screenwriting.

I just wanted to use this post to meditate on the past 30 days, and how this daily blog project has helped me to sort some stuff out in my mind and in my life.

Firstly, this blog gave me something to concentrate on every day, which helped to lift me out of the slightly zombie-like state that I had been in for a while. It was enough to make every day not feel exactly the same as every other day. A blog is not a massive deal, but this was important to me. I needed to prove to myself that I could do this before I could take the idea of trying to become a writer seriously. Now I feel that if I say that I’m going to write, then I’m going to write. I didn’t have that before, and I still have a lot to prove to myself, but this has been a great start.

Secondly, I found myself writing about minimalism and things that are important to me. The act of writing made my ideal sense of priorities fall into place, and I started to think deeply about what I wanted to do with my life. It was as I was blogging every day that I was able to put my thoughts in front of me, and turn that into concrete changes in my life. Writing has helped me to pare away the things that are not that important to me, and I realized that I could, in a few months’ time, pare so much away that I could afford to work less, so that I can spend more time doing what matters to me. I feel a sense of control over the direction of my life that I didn’t feel before I started this blog.

Finally, what I’ve written in this blog has shown other people that I am thoughtful in my approach to the decisions I make, and they in turn have offered words of encouragement and support, which has been incredibly helpful for me. Sometimes I’d like to think that I will do what is right for me, regardless of what anybody else has to say about it, but the truth is that it helps so much to have others be enthusiastically supportive. Most significantly, my parents have offered their support for my plan to basically make as little money as I can get by with so that I can do what is important to me, and a large part of their enthusiasm for my plan is due to what they’ve read in this blog.

Looking back on the past 30 days, I really feel like this blog has been central to the positive shift in my life. I’ve changed my living situation, I’ve sold the things that I don’t need, I’ve started assisting on a feature film production, and I’ve gotten my cost of living down to something pretty low. I’m very happy about all of that, and I don’t think these things would have happened if I didn’t have to come up with something to write about every day. If you write for long enough, you eventually start to write about the things that are important to you, and you go deeper and deeper into those thoughts. Sometimes, that can lead to positive changes in your life. I feel like that’s what has happened with this blog project.

I love it enough to keep it going! I will continue to hold myself accountable for posting regularly, though now it will be less frequent, so that I can also write other things. I hope that you will continue to read. If you’re interested in following my blog, you can subscribe at the bottom of the page, or bookmark it. Thanks!

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September 11, 2011

What You Want V.S. What You Need

What do you really need?

I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately, as I’ve been getting rid of a lot of my possessions. It’s a difficult question, with potentially difficult answers. Are you sure that you can clearly see the line between luxury and necessity? The more that I think about it, the things that I used to think of as necessities are looking more and more like luxuries, and some of the things that I used to think were luxuries are beginning to look like necessities.

Let’s look at the various ways that one can consider luxury and necessity. Need is defined by what the ultimate goal is. If your goal is to keep your body living, then you need food and water. You may or may not need shelter and clothing, depending on where you live. But, do you need to stay alive? Why? If we seriously consider this question and can only come up with, “Because I don’t want to die,” then we have to say that, actually, everything is a want, and nothing is a need. Being alive is a luxury in and of itself.

I’m not advocating only having what you need and not having what you want, so even if we were to agree that living at all is a luxury, that’s not a reason to stop living. But if we can take that idea seriously, it can become a new way of thinking that may enhance your appreciation for your life. Sometimes, we cherish something more if we understand it as a realized want, rather than as something that we’re entitled to as a basic necessity.

It’s an interesting idea to me because it reverses the standard way of thinking about need versus want, such that need becomes secondary to want, in this way: every goal, including the goal to stay alive, is a want; every goal has requirements (needs) for its accomplishment. In other words, we need what we need in order to accomplish what we want.

So let’s go ahead and answer the first question in the post. What do you really need? Nothing, if you don’t want anything. Then, let’s go ahead and ask the real question:

What do you really want?

This question, to me, implies that there can be things that you really want and things that you just sort of want. There can be things that you think you need, but know that you don’t want. That’s the sort of stuff that can make you feel trapped.

In my case, what I really want is to make films. It’s what I’ve really wanted for a long time, and from time to time, I actually do it. But I no longer want the film thing to be off to the side, so what I want now is to focus on the film thing.

I have let the things that I thought were needs get in the way of my wants. I thought that I needed to go to college, and that I needed to get a job. Those were not really needs, though, because there was no clear goal that I had for which those were a requirement to accomplish. My one clear want—to make films—did not require college or getting a job. In the case of the job, it actually gets in the way of making films, so now I feel like, rather than needing a job, I actually need to work less.

By putting filmmaking as my number one want, I have recently been able to reassess my needs in a serious way. In order to make films in the way that I want to, I need to write and I need to be working on other films. In order to do that, I need to have a lot more time than I have with this full-time job. In order to make sure that I’m spending the minimum amount of time making money, I need to minimize the amount of money that I need to stay alive.

I need to stay alive if I want to make films. I need some money to buy food in order to stay alive. I need a job to earn money, but a job costs time. I need a lot of time and a little bit of money. I need to be minimally employed, and I need to live in a manner that suits that.

There are things that would be nice to have, but I need to not want those things. Those things cost money. Money costs time. I need to put my time into writing and working on films in order to accomplish my want—to write and make films.

I’m very curious as to what you feel you need and want. I would love if you’d share with me what you feel is absolutely essential to have in your life. So, please, tell me: what do you feel that you need, and what do you really want?

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September 10, 2011

Austin is for Lovers (of Cinema)

I’m incredibly privileged to be living in Austin, Texas, which, in my opinion, is the best place in the world to be a movie fan. I’ve been to the cinema in several major cities across the U.S. (including LA/NYC), Europe, and Asia, and nothing comes close to the movie experience that is offered in Austin.

The availability of films that I’m interested in seeing is so great that I often have to choose between one amazing film and another amazing film, if they both happen to be one-time special screenings. It’s like living in a year-round film festival. Going to the cinema is so cheap here (I pay anywhere from $0 to $7—rarely more) that I can afford to go see as many movies as I can pack into a week. Finally, most of the cinemas here take the film experience seriously, meaning perfect picture and sound, strict no talking policies, food and drink available for reasonable prices, and no advertisements being shoved in your face.

In addition to the atmosphere of a year-round film festival, Austin actually hosts several amazing film festivals. The biggest one, obviously, is South by Southwest, which has turned into a can’t-miss festival for the film industry. Additionally, there is the Austin Film Festival, which has become the can’t-miss festival for screenwriters across the nation, as it’s the largest festival dedicated to celebrating the screenwriter. There are also smaller festivals, like Fantastic Fest, which hosted the first public screening of THERE WILL BE BLOOD, Cine Las Americas, Austin Gay & Lesbian Film Festival, and the Nordic Film Festival.

I’m seriously just drenched in movies here. It’s almost disgusting. And most of this stuff is within 5 miles of my house. I’m there in under 10 minutes. Try saying that about going to the movies in LA or NYC. It’s hard not to gloat.

Filmmakers love coming to Austin. In addition to the standard Q&As at the film festivals, the Austin Film Society does an amazing job at hosting special screenings on a weekly basis and getting filmmakers to sit down for discussions. The Alamo Drafthouse also hosts special and advanced screenings with the filmmakers or actors in attendance. Tons of great filmmakers, famous and un-famous-but-still-great, call Austin home.

Sometimes filmmakers will come and hang out in Austin, just because. During my first month in Austin, I went to the midnight screening of SCOTT PILGRIM V.S. THE WORLD, at the Alamo Drafthouse. Unannounced, Mr. Edgar Wright, the director of the film, popped in and gives a high five to every single member of the audience! Why? Because This Is Austin, Texas, Where Filmmakers And Audiences Come Together To Drink Beer And High Five. None of that, “Uh, hi, Mr. Wright, I like your films” sissy nonsense for us.

Edgar Wright High Fives Everyone At The Alamo Drafthouse!

I was inspired to write this post because I went to big chain movie theater (AMC) for the first time in a long time a couple of nights ago, because I wanted to see CONTAGION in IMAX. It was about as good as that kind of experience can be, largely because teenagers and old people (the two age groups most likely to talk through a movie) aren’t going to be interested in a midnight screening of a heady movie about disease. Still, I paid $15, which is more than twice the amount I usually pay for a movie, and had to sit through a lot of advertisements for Coca Cola, listen to horrible singles from upcoming album releases, and play Movie Trivia For Morons™. (That’s my trademark, not AMC’s) Getting a drink or a snack was out of the question, as it’s prohibitively expensive at large chain theaters.

This Couple Really Loves Being Assaulted With Advertisements

This is what the movie experience is for the majority of filmgoers in the U.S. I’m surprised that attendance for movies is as high as it is, considering how unpleasant and expensive it is compared to watching a movie at home, especially if you’re going as a family.

Chains like AMC and Regal make the attempt to provide a good movie experience and good customer service, or at least that’s what they blare at us repeatedly between advertisements, but they’re such big companies that it’s impossible to provide anything but an impersonal experience. Their theaters are designed to have the minimum amount of character. They just can’t hold a candle to cinemas like the Alamo Drafthouse, which has a singular vision and dedication to a great movie experience, with the all-important attitude of “if you don’t like what we’re doing, then don’t come here, and if you bother others by talking during the movie, we will kick you out.”

A Great Cinema Experience is Always Right Around The Corner From Me

Between the Alamo Drafthouse, The Paramount Theatre, the Violet Crown Cinema, the Austin Film Society, and the various film festivals, there is something great happening every day, and I am never wanting for interesting films in a great setting. Going to the AMC made me realize how much I’ve taken for granted about the movie experience here in Austin, where I can easily avoid the large chain movie theaters.

When I was living in California, there would be times where I would just not go to the cinema for a few months, because there are chunks of the year where there aren’t any interesting movies out, and I’d feel like it wasn’t worth the money or the effort to go a movie theater. Now that I live in Austin, I feel like it would be impossible for me to stay away from a movie theater for a whole week. It’s constantly inspiring and revitalizing! That’s why Austin is the best place to be a movie fan, and I love it.

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September 9, 2011

Matt Writes Movie Reviews: CONTAGION

In the first shot of CONTAGION, we hear a cough, we see a sick person at an airport bar as she talks on the phone, then as she pays her tab, the camera tilts down slightly, bringing a bowl of complementary peanuts into the foreground. We don’t see her stick her fingers in the bowl or anything like that, but the point is taken: every single day, we touch thousands of things that thousands of other people also touched that day, then we touch our face, we rub our eyes, we toss some already-touched peanuts into our mouths, and so on.

People start dying five minutes into the movie, and they don’t stop dying. A freak virus has spread. It’s novel. Nobody has seen anything like it before. A startling statistic is thrown out: “The average person touches their face two to three thousand times a day,” says Dr. Mears (Kate Winslet), “three to five times every waking minute.” I still have a hard time believing that statistic, but, like all the jargon in the film, it’s said with such authority that it feels like it must be true.

The film intercuts between several stories that are all just various ways that people are reacting to this new virus. How would the Center for Disease Control respond? How far would someone go to save a loved one? How far would someone go to save their small village? How are people in the United States reacting? How are people in Hong Kong and Japan reacting?

Writer Scott Z. Burns picks out a handful of characters and sticks closely with them. We experience the epidemic through their eyes. There are no cutaways to hoards of people across the globe panicking. We get a sense of the scale of the disaster through what we can hear our characters say, and the sense of dread in their voice. The screenplay jots around and throws a lot of jargon at us, a lot of which is not dumbed down for us. There’s enough there for the audience to trust that the characters know what they’re talking about.

The performances were solid, if quite straightforward. Jude Law, as a conspiracy theorist/freelance journalist who runs a popular blog, is the only one having a bit of fun with his performance, and the result is pretty entertaining. Otherwise, most of this film is about very smart people being very serious, but the actors stop short of hamming it up, giving us something that feels very real.

Steven Soderbergh’s direction is simple, taut, and effective. He gave himself a lot of restrictions when shooting the film. According to him, the whole film is shot with only two lenses–an 18mm and a 35mm, which is basically a wide lens and a wide-ish standard lens. The compositions are clean and either on a tripod or a dolly, with a very minimal amount of handheld work. No helicopter shots. It feels careful. Efficient. Clean.

The pulsing score, by Cliff Martinez, is almost always there, and keeps pushing things forward relentlessly. The editing, by Stephen Mirrione, is tight, and in places, quite elegant, delivering a great deal of story through brief, wordless montages.

Everyone’s firing on all cylinders, behind the camera and in front of the camera. Yet, the film is so bogged down in the science and scope of it that it struggles to offer much of an emotional connection to what’s going on. At best, we see characters grieving, but I found myself thinking, “Oh, that must be very sad for him,” rather than feeling anything myself. I’m torn between calling that a criticism of the film and calling it the point of the film.

The tone of the film is that of a detached examination, and we take in the emotional responses of the characters in the same way that we take the scientific jargon or government jargon. We hold all of that in our head in order to get a mental assessment of what an outbreak like this might actually be like. There’s no room to pretend that one person’s grief is that big of a deal when a quarter of the human population is on its way to dying. What we have instead is quite interesting and gripping, but when the film ended, I felt strangely empty about all of it. It didn’t really scare me in the way that I thought it might.

Perhaps what I felt was missing was any insight about what we could do about any of this. The film gives you a good idea of how this epidemic would play out, and of how diseases are spread in general. It gives a sense of how vulnerable we are. But when the film ends, there’s just the sense that, “Boy, that would suck if that happened. I guess the way we spread bacteria is kind of gross. Oh well.”

I saw the film in IMAX, because I was curious about what an adult drama would be like in IMAX. I was also curious because CONTAGION is the first film to be shot with the Red Epic camera, which records in 5k resolution. I can’t say for sure how much of that resolution was held onto during post production. I couldn’t say for sure what resolution it was projected at, but the image held up fine in IMAX. It looked good. However, given the understated style of the film, there was no benefit to seeing it in IMAX, so I would recommend seeing a regular presentation of the film and saving your money.

I do recommend the film. It’s an interesting and rigorously intellectual take on the kind of viral epidemic that seems entirely plausible, if not inevitable. There are parts of it that almost begin to feel like a documentary, tracing how we responded to this horrible thing. When the film ended, I felt like I wasn’t really left with much, but while it’s playing, it’s compelling stuff. [Grade: B]

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September 8, 2011

Throw Away What You’ve Written

There’s something about always looking forward that resonates strongly with me. Dwelling on what’s already been done, whether it’s good or bad, just doesn’t seem to be useful. One can sometimes learn lessons from what has passed, but there’s a difference between thinking about the past and holding onto the past. If you’re feeling stagnant, and it’s difficult to move onto the next thing, then you might be holding onto something that needs to be thrown away.

It could be anything. It could be everything. For this post, I’m going to narrow it down to the subject of how to move forward in your writing, and how throwing things away can help you to do that.

I was inspired to write this post when I saw a video of Louis C.K. talking about a lesson he learned from George Carlin.


The takeaway is that Louis C.K. had a difficult time getting into a good groove as a writer and comedian. It took him a long time to build up an hour’s worth of material, which he would tell over and over again until he hated them. But he still kept telling them, because they were the product of work that he had done. At a particularly low point (crying in his car and feeling like this whole writing and performing comedy thing was a mistake), he started listening to a CD in which George Carlin talked about how he would produce a whole new stand-up show every year. Carlin would throw away all of his old material and start from scratch, every year. No going back to the old jokes.

Louis C.K. found that, after throwing away all of his previous work, all that was left to do was to “go deeper.” That’s what struck me the most in this story. After saying all the obvious stuff that you think people want to hear, what else is there to say? You have to go deeper to find that new material. You have to start getting more honest. You start to find the stuff that only you can say. But first, you have to force yourself to continually wade into new territory by jettisoning all the old stuff that you’re holding onto, no matter how hard you worked to get what you currently have. It’s all about what you’re working on now, and what you’re working toward, because what you’re working on now gives you focus, and what you’re working toward gives you purpose.

This blog has been very helpful for me. I’ve set out to do a blog post every day. Each post takes a significant amount of work, typically taking me two or three hours to write, because of the amount of thought I’m pushing myself to put into it. But for all the work I’ve put into each post, once I click “Publish,” that work is done. After that, all that matters is what I’m going to write next.

Toward the beginning of the blog, there were a lot of obvious subjects that I wanted to write about, so I wrote about that stuff. Now, 26 days and 26 posts in, I find myself drawing a blank when I sit down to write. I don’t know what I’m going to write about tomorrow, but I know that I’m going to write something. I have to start digging, and that’s a good thing. What I’m writing about right now is not something that I could have written about at the outset of this blogging project, because I needed to run out of things to write about before I could really write about throwing my writing away.

Now, since this is a blog and everything that I’ve written for it is saved here for you to read at any point, what do I mean by “throwing my writing away?” I suppose it’s more of an emotional thing, to let go of what I’ve written before, and to concentrate on what I’m writing now. It’s a decision to always favor the new, to value progressiveness in my work. If it ain’t broke, fix it anyway, because we need new things. Finally, it’s a way of seeing myself–not through what I’ve done, but through what I’m doing. I am what I do, not what I’ve done.

What’s done is stale. Throw that away. Start fresh. Go deeper.

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September 7, 2011

People Who Inspire Me: Robert Altman

If they should ever say to me, ‘You’ll never see your sons again or your wife unless you get out of the business of making movies,’ I’d say, ‘Sorry, Michael, Bobby, Matthew, Kathryn. It will hurt me not to see you again. But, goodbye.’

- Robert Altman

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Robert Altman is one of the purest examples of a film philosopher that we’ve ever had. I’ve written a bit about philosophy and film aesthetics here, and basically my feeling is that there is more genuine philosophy to be found in the way that a film constructs and observes its reality than there is to be found in the story that the film is telling.

Altman was a pure film philosopher because the style in his films came directly from the way that he looked at and understood the world. His approach as a director was to remove himself as much as possible from the creation of the world that he was capturing. He was uninterested in simply executing the script as it was written. The script was a guide that was helpful in making choices about what to put in front of the camera–the actors and the sets. The script offers a sense of where the story is going to go, and what the characters are like, though for Altman, the script did not necessarily indicate how the story would be told and what the characters would actually say.

Reading his interviews, it becomes clear that he chooses not to follow the script that closely because of the fundamental philosophical position that one person’s vision (the writer’s) or two people’s visions (the writer’s and director’s) cannot truthfully create a representation of people, because people exist in multitudes. The world of the film, while invented, still features many characters, all of who have thoughts/feelings/opinions/experiences that are beyond what one or two people can imagine.

Here is an insightful excerpt from an interview with Charlie Rose, which you can see in its entirety here:

All I can do is start with the idea. By the time I’ve cast the film, 85% of my creative work is finished… then I turn that over to these actors, and I just sit back there and watch… I want to see something I haven’t seen before, so I can’t very well say, ‘Do this.’

He goes on to say that he will do his best to inspire them and to keep them honest. He offered a sense of direction, but the creation of the world was left to the actors. This freed Altman up to be able to, in his words, “watch” this world that was separate from himself. The audience then gets to see the way that Altman has captured that separate world. Instead of focusing closely on anything for the audience, Altman’s style is one that captures the world of the film in an unfocused, detached way, which is how the world that we live in is presented to us. In the case of watching an Altman film, as it is in the case of living our actual lives, we are the ones to have to do the focusing.

Altman’s trademark style is thus born out of a philosophical perspective about the way the world is presented to us. He’s probably most famous for his use of overlapping dialogue, roaming cameras, and multi-narrative storytelling. Even when he’s making a movie with a small cast of characters and one main story, his camera will roam over to other things happening in the periphery, at the expense of us getting to see everything that happens in the main story. Altman is famous for excising parts of the main story, leaving holes that the audience has to fill in for themselves. That’s an instinct that runs counter to the conventional, exposition-filled style of storytelling. It’s also closer to the way that we really experience other peoples’ stories–we never get to see everything about somebody else’s life.

Altman was interested in the idea of the world, and how we come to know and experience the world. Each one of his films would take on a world. Instead of holding your hand and guiding you through this world as if you were a tourist, he just hands as much of the world as he could capture over to you for you to explore.

I know that I haven’t actually written about any of his movies, mostly because there are so many and they all essentially do what I’ve written about here. But if I had to write about one movie, it’d have to be THE COMPANY, which is a film about the world of modern classical ballet (it follows the Joffrey Ballet Company), and one of my favorite films.

THE COMPANY started as a project developed by Neve Campbell, who was a serious ballet dancer from her childhood through to her young adult years. She felt that there had never been a movie about the world of ballet. Altman agreed to direct the film precisely because he didn’t know anything about ballet, but was interested in discovering that world. Neither Campbell nor Altman were interested in the kinds of silly stories that are featured in all the other movies about dance–they just wanted to take a look at the world.

And that is exactly what they did. Campbell’s character is not imposed with some cheesy dramatic arc. There’s no cattiness or competition or villain trying to thwart the dreams of Ms. Campbell. There’s a boyfriend, played by James Franco, who is just a nice guy and they have a simple, healthy romance that makes them both happy, without any will-they-or-won’t-they or turmoil caused by some stupid misunderstanding. What is featured in the film is hard work, passion, and beautiful dance. The film takes an approach that is closer in spirit to documentary filmmaking than it is to conventional narrative filmmaking. The film imposes almost nothing; it revels in what is there. And it is so beautiful and lovely.

Altman has been a beacon for me in terms of letting the way that I see and understand the world shape the form of a film. He has been key in opening my eyes to the potential of exploring different ways of seeing through watching films. There is an openness and honesty and purity in letting an audience in on the way that you see the world that I have found incredibly inspiring.

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