5.5.13

Schenectady.

It's unusual to me to see movies with distinct acts anymore.  Sure, you can tease out story points and changes in tone.  You can track character arcs and suspect what may be coming next.  But to see legitimate acts, changes in focus from one character to another, with tonal qualities that are represented not only in the characters but in the film itself?  I feel like that's an art that isn't well-represented nowadays. 

And then there's The Place Beyond The Pines.

It's billed as a Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper movie about good guys and bad guys, cops and robbers.  It appeared in the trailers as action and suspense, with drama and maybe a love story thrown in for good measure.  I guess on the surface, that's an accurate representation.  Yet….not at all. 

I can't really figure out the right order to address all of the things in my head, so I'm just going to jump right in.

First of all, it's not a Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper movie.  It's a Ryan Gosling then Bradley Cooper movie.  The two characters share a scene together - a brief but intensely important scene that sets up the end of Act I and the beginning of Acts II and III.  When Gosling makes his swift exit, Cooper steps in to take the reins.  Gosling remains a presence through the rest of the film, but he is not shown again other than in a picture at the end.  Our bad guy has been defeated, ultimately, and our good guy has appeared to enjoy the spotlight.

Act I is the story of a tattoo-covered Gosling who learns he's a dad and tries to find a way to provide for his child - using his unique skillset and a friend's knowledge to rob banks.  As you can surmise, this doesn't end particularly well, leading to Gosling's departure from the film, through a window, early on. 

The cop who cornered our anti-hero becomes our new focus, single-handedly bringing down the corruption in his police department and working a promotion to ADA into the deal.  He's smarter than everyone around him and uses it to his advantage, all while caring for his own small child and wife.

Fifteen years pass and it appears that our old cop friend is now making a run for Attorney General, while working with his now-ex-wife to raise their teenage son.  Cooper takes a backseat here, to let his boy Avery (or AJ) take the lead, splitting the screen with new friend Jason.  These two become our third act focus, as we anxiously wait for the reveal that these two are more intimately connected than either could possibly be aware.

So three acts, each with a totally separate focus.  The narratives are clearly connected, but our POV has an effect on how we comprehend what we are seeing.  The filmmakers aren't satisfied with just giving us a new perspective, though.  The ways that they crafted the acts were impressive in and of themselves.  I'm not well versed in lighting and camera use to go into a lot of details, other than that there were choices clearly made to make each act look distinct, while still keeping the overall story uniform.  It was subtle, and it was wonderful to see. 

I can say though that I was particularly drawn to the use of shaky cam throughout the film.  In Act I, with Gosling's story front and center, there were scenes that didn't make a ton of sense to me to use shaky cam.  He wasn't necessarily running or jumping or doing anything crazy to necessitate it, but then it clicked.  The shaky cam was somehow tied to his emotion.  When he was panicking, or angry, or unstable, the shaky cam became more noticeable.  It was the strongest during the last couple scenes of Act I, as Bradley Cooper's character was introduced and Gosling's was reaching out to anything that could save him, trying to come to terms with the inescapable position he had gotten himself into.  And once that was over, the shaky cam ceased.  Cooper's character was much more self-sufficient, self-aware, and self-confident.  He did was was needed, he made decisions that were sound, and he stuck by them with surity.  The shaky cam only came back in bits and spurts after that, when things got hectic or panicked again - but never as long or as intensely as it was used with Gosling.  As we entered Act III, the shaky cam came back just a little bit - whether this was to tie Gosling's son to his father or just to show the imbalance within the two boys, I'm not sure.  But when they were steadfast in their decisions, the camera held still.  The more I think about it, the more this decision just seems genius.  Maybe they didn't plan it that way, but man did it work. 

16.4.13

Tuesday Thoughts (or, My Brain Goes Haywire When I Don't Sleep)

I have a piece of advice to offer to anyone out there that may come across this.  If a person ever, ever, mentions to you that they have ever been suicidal, they've ever doubted their desire to live, or that they've wanted to die to escape their own personal misery, you have no right to tell them that their feelings are unfounded, their panic unreasonable, or their fears exaggerated.  I don't care if the person is young or old, male or female, known to be depressed or just hiding it well.  Even if it comes up 8 years later in conversation and you think that they are better now, you don't tell someone that their panic, fear, and fears about continuing to live are being felt for no reason.  There's always a reason.  Always.

You don't need to understand it.  You don't need to empathize with it, or sympathize with it, or even know the details.  The reason may seem entirely stupid to you, or it may be something that would make you feel the same way if you were in that situation.  It doesn't matter.  You accept that the person is (or was) dealing with something they felt they can't handle, and you support them.  You refer them for help if need be.  Is it your responsibility to keep them alive? No, and you can't feel that pressure on you so that their potential decision becomes a guilt you carry for the next several decades.  But the decent human being thing to do is to at the very least not insult them or what they are going through.  I really don't think that's too much to ask.

Another thing to think about, just from me to you?

6.3.13

Ebbs and Flows


Friday
6 o'clock
After dinner
Blinds closed
Everyone gathering
Knowing we were late
Clothes on the floor
Blankets askew
Flushed skin
Fingertips
Rushing

Monday
3 o'clock
Blinds open
Door unlocked
Visible to everyone
Sweating after practice
Wandering hands
Lazy exploring
Sore muscles
Massaging
Comfort

1.3.13

Blink.


I blinked.  When I opened my eyes, time had flown by.  Life had passed by.  I had missed fights, break ups, and make ups. Tests and games.  Failures and successes.  I had blinked and missed the prime of my youth.

I blinked.  The time I had missed before seemed to rush back.  No, I couldn’t remember the exact moments we spent together, or the days I pushed you away, but the emotion was there.  Raw and just as painful as it was joyful.

22.2.13

I should listen to myself when I say I'm tired.

Here’s the thing. I’ve always been billed as smart. I’ve made good grades, been able to apply recently-acquired skills, explain things to others, juggle multiple things at once, blah blah blah. It’s just who I am… it’s a part of me that I don’t really think about. When people have commented on my intelligence in any way, I’ve shrugged it off, smiled, and said that I really don’t see it. And that’s about as honest as I can be. It’s not false modesty. Or just modesty. I genuinely don’t see it. I’m sure that’s some balance between seeing myself as ‘normal’ because I’m the only me I have to compare to, and having my lack of intelligence constantly reinforced as I grew up. I feel grossly inferior to those around me frequently, and I have little faith in my own abilities.
Yet at the same time, I find myself in grad school, bored out of mind and not learning anything. I’m not reading for class. I’m not prepping for quizzes. I’m waiting til the last minute to write papers. I’m not challenged, and I hate it. I feel like I’m wasting my time. And I realize, as I think about it, that I think I’m being lazy and disengaged because it’s the only way I’ve found to add a slight level of complexity to what I’m doing. I can’t get myself to care other than when I absolutely have to. And then I work simply out of necessity. It’s incredibly frustrating. I hate feeling like I’m not learning. I love learning, but I think I hate school. And somehow my screwed-up brain processes this as my being stupid. Shut up, brain.
I don’t want the people I care about to feel ever that they are inferior to me, and I definitely never want them to think that I think that. Because I don’t. The people I’ve kept in my life are there for a reason, and they all bring something into my life that means a lot to me. I don’t ever see myself as superior to the people I care about. They’re my peers. My friends. Knowing that I’ve ever made someone feel that way hurts me deeply and makes me feel like I’ve failed them. For someone who is supposedly smart, I really am an idiot. Or maybe just a really bad friend.
I know I’ll figure it all out eventually, and as much as I hate where I am right now and want to throw in the towel, I don’t think I’ll actually do it. I’ll just keep skating by and trying not to let it eat away at me, until I reach a point where it doesn’t anymore.
22.2.13 9:50am