“It needs more light on the front to make it shiny. I keep adding white and yellow, but that only washes everything out.
'You need to add a bit of shadow back here.' Miss Moore dips a brush in sepia and paints a curve along the outside edge of my apple. Immediately, the shine on the apple is apparent, and it looks much better.
'The Italians call this chiaroscuro. It means the play of light and dark within a picture.'
'Why couldn’t Gemma simply add the white to make the apple shine?' Pippa asks.
'Because you don’t notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.'
–Art class conversation between Miss Moore and the First Class, page 266, A Great and Terrible Beauty
Monday, December 17, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Perks of Being a Wallflower
Really, there's no word for this film other than "infinite." Which is apt, because that's how the protagonist of the story feels throughout his adolescene.
The goal of this story, as I see it, was to produce a film that didn't feel like just-another-teenage-movie. "Perks" succeeds in this goal overwhelmingly--the create something that doesn't cheapen the teenage experience.
As we grow older, as we move forward in our lives, we forget how we felt at 16. More than that--we want to forget how we felt at 16. We want to make our actions during adolescene unimportant, because back then, we were still under construction. We want to think that who we were in high school wasn't real. That what we did didn't matter, because we were still figuring out who we were.
While it's true that the time for experimenting with identity is during adolescence, that fact does not make any of our experiences less important. We would all like to to disregard our mistakes and crystallize our successes. "Perks" argues that no matter what, everything we expereince is important. We should remember the good along with the bad.
"Perks" challenges how we, as adults, perceive our years in high school. It says that our pain, our uncertainty, our emotional struggles--all of that was real. And we should strive to remember that with clarity, because we can't remember our recovery from pain realistically unless we do. Our discoveries, our reaching out for understanding, our being reached out for--how do we know this if not emotionally? How do we find happiness if not in the midst of pain?
What use is there in remembering the golden days without remembering how our friends saved us-- and what they saved us from?
I find myself wondering if watching "Perks" as a teenager is different from watching it as an adult. If we all, no matter what age, want to elevate our past experiences. Make them into something better than they were.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Indecorous
"Mr. Worthing! Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent posture. It is most indecorous."
These are lines spoken by the character of Lady Bracknell in scene 1 of 'The Importance of Being Earnest'. Lady Bracknell is shocked and disturbed to find Mr. Worthing in the throes of a less than perfect marriage proposal to Gwendolyn; and Gwendolyn, perhaps, is enjoying the guilty pleasure of pushing the boundaries of social decorum.
Jasmine recently played the role of Lady Bracknell in her high school's performance of the play; so I had the occasion to read the play, and then enjoy the performance. The scene is hilarious, but the word, "Indecorous" is a perfect reflection of Lady Bracknells character... slightly obscure, so as to mark the speaker as educated and articulate; defining fashion and style, so as to define the speaker as superficial and pretentious; and percussively stacatto, so as to hammer home the character's lack of diplomacy.
Words, like 'indecorous', are beautiful things; filled with subtle meanings, found in nostalgic contexts, and sometimes used again, like lethal weapons. I think that everyone out there has there own arsenal of unusual words, sometimes associated with a certain memory or experience, captured forever in their conscious or sub-conscious mind. If we could distill their thoughts, or disect their speech; we would probably find an utterly unique list of unfamiliar words befitting that person alone. 'Logical'...'Arrhythmia'...'Callipygian'...'Reckon'...'Iatrogenic'...'Identical'....
From time to time, I'll post a blog entry regarding a word that I find to be particularly lively or poignant, maybe even personal.
Etymologically yours,
Steve
These are lines spoken by the character of Lady Bracknell in scene 1 of 'The Importance of Being Earnest'. Lady Bracknell is shocked and disturbed to find Mr. Worthing in the throes of a less than perfect marriage proposal to Gwendolyn; and Gwendolyn, perhaps, is enjoying the guilty pleasure of pushing the boundaries of social decorum.
Jasmine recently played the role of Lady Bracknell in her high school's performance of the play; so I had the occasion to read the play, and then enjoy the performance. The scene is hilarious, but the word, "Indecorous" is a perfect reflection of Lady Bracknells character... slightly obscure, so as to mark the speaker as educated and articulate; defining fashion and style, so as to define the speaker as superficial and pretentious; and percussively stacatto, so as to hammer home the character's lack of diplomacy.
Words, like 'indecorous', are beautiful things; filled with subtle meanings, found in nostalgic contexts, and sometimes used again, like lethal weapons. I think that everyone out there has there own arsenal of unusual words, sometimes associated with a certain memory or experience, captured forever in their conscious or sub-conscious mind. If we could distill their thoughts, or disect their speech; we would probably find an utterly unique list of unfamiliar words befitting that person alone. 'Logical'...'Arrhythmia'...'Callipygian'...'Reckon'...'Iatrogenic'...'Identical'....
From time to time, I'll post a blog entry regarding a word that I find to be particularly lively or poignant, maybe even personal.
Etymologically yours,
Steve
Thursday, November 15, 2012
A Directing Project
So, for those of you who don't know, every year in drama productions, the students do a director's project. I'm keeping myself accountable and working this year through a blog. Yay!
Thereabouts above lies one of my favorite short films of all time--a collaborative artistic creation from hitrecord, an online and collaborative production company started by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I just love Metaphorest's voice--it reminds me of everything I want my show to be. "Iterations" is a touchstone for me--my controlling image. We'll see where it takes me.
I'm even considering perhaps making "Where the Wild Things Are" into a short film. I think it would probably work out really well. Anyhow, that's all for now. More to come, hopefully soon! I'm working on a playlist. Of course, now I have to include some stuff by metaphorest. Really like her voice.
Monday, November 12, 2012
A Few Diverse Movie Reviews
This week was an interesting one, to say the least.
My parents went out of town for my aunt's engagement party. It was, in actuality, a bachelorette party, solely because it was in New Orleans. I'm a bit glad I wasn't there because I really don't want to witness the adults in my life getting trashed in New Orleans. They brought back gifts though!
While they were out of town doing interesting and new things, Sam and I had a Torchwood: Miracle Day marathon, went out once to see the new James Bond Movie! and slept. It reminded me of how much I simaltaneously love and hate the most recent Torchwood series. Have you ever watched a show where you know that it has the potential to be something incredibly good, yet at the same time, you know that, somewhere along the way, someone has royally screwed up? Torchwood: Miracle Day is like that.
Regarding Torchwood:
The actors are all stunning. The script is quite good as well, sometimes. But the storyline, story progression, and overall composition of the piece is blatantly terrible. And what makes it even worse is that the series itself is not blatantly terrible. It's not even really that hateful. It's just that there are these moments on screen where everything comes together, and you can just see all of it, how wonderful the actors are, how much they can do when everything comes together. Then, in the next breath, it all falls apart. Sometimes it's that something that was meant to play well on screen doesn't. Sometimes its a plotline that has no ultimate relevance to the story, and so leaves the audience hanging in anticipation, a feeling which eventually dies out and putrifies. And it doesn't make the series bad, it doesn't make the series not worth watching. It doesn't even make everyone on screen not brilliant. It's just.... dissappointing.
All the power we've grown used to being engaged with in the series is un-present. Torchwood: Miracle Day is only as strong as it's weakest link, which I would say is the useless and overplayed storyline of Oswald Danes. Everything else may have been reconciled with a little work. But Russel T. Davies is trying to do too much. Rather than containing the story and making it into something genuine and honest that the audience can connect to, Miracle Day becomes an overdramitization of unbeleivable events. What the creators of the series seem to be reaching for here is a message, a dogma. They want to make a statement, and, in striving for that, they lessen the effectiveness of their story.
Regarding James Bond:
"Skyfall" seemed to be to Sam as "The Dark Knight Rises" was to me. She wanted to see it again as soon as we exited the theatre. Actually, before we exited the theatre. Once the credits started rolling.
It was similar to "The Dark Knight Rises" in many ways. Veteran actors Daniel Craig and Judi Dench provided brilliant and unnerring performances, yet it was nothing we hadn't seen before. As with the third Batman movie, what we really came to see was the new story. We wanted Bond and M to be placed in new, even more challenging circumstances--ones that would test the limits of their endurance and strength. Ones that go beyond anything we've seen them endure before. In order to still get a thrill out of their character, we still have to truly doubt that they'll survive this time.
After everything their characters have gone through before, amping up the danger and maintaining a high level of tension in the story is a tall order for any writer/director--yet this is exactly what the new story manages to acheive. Somehow, even after seeing Bond "die" and come back to life thousands of times, we still manage to doubt his survival. We still manage to fear. We still think "maybe this time." Maybe this time, he really is dead.
Perhaps it's our suspension of disbeleif. Maybe part of it is our willingness to buy into the story. After all, I found this movie a bit more trite than "The Dark Knight Rises" simply because I'm not as much of a fan. Yet still, it's not all our willingness to beleive. The creators of the movie have to give us something to beleive in. Devotion to the characters and loyalty to a story isn't enough to make a movie good. "Skyfall," however, does give us something to beleive in. They succeed. They give the audience one hell of a story.
By the same token, if you're expecting something radically different from the other James Bond films, think again. "Skyfall" is no better or worse than any other Bond movie. It's not an intensely emotional film, or an intensely moving film. It won't bring you to tears or change your life. It doesn't really leave you with a lot to think about.
The Bond franchise follows one of the prime rules of Hollywood--if you hit upon something that works, use it. "Skyfall" follows much the same pattern as prior Bond movies: it has intense and visually stunning action, a beautiful woman turned asset and lover, a sembelance of romantic tension between Bond and his female coworker, a mission vital to the security of England, and a desperate, large-scale fight for queen and country.
The tradition of this movie provides a comforting security in it's infallibility. Still, the director doesn't let any of these comforting patterns stagnate--he refits them, tries to make them new, and better. There are some interesting twists and turns in the movie. For one, the entirety of the film, rather than just the action, is visually stunning. There is one shot in particular that strikes me. Toward the end of the movie, certain unamed characters are going on a bit of a road trip through the English countryside. The veiw captured on camera is incomparable.
I love "Q," the new tech guy. He reminds of me of Reid, from Criminal Minds--a young genius, not overconfident in his abilities, but still snarky. There's some hilarious dialogue and tension between him and Bond. The opening to this movie is one of the best openings I've seen... basically ever. It's the hook to end all hooks. And the ending... well, my best advice is to watch it.
My parents went out of town for my aunt's engagement party. It was, in actuality, a bachelorette party, solely because it was in New Orleans. I'm a bit glad I wasn't there because I really don't want to witness the adults in my life getting trashed in New Orleans. They brought back gifts though!
While they were out of town doing interesting and new things, Sam and I had a Torchwood: Miracle Day marathon, went out once to see the new James Bond Movie! and slept. It reminded me of how much I simaltaneously love and hate the most recent Torchwood series. Have you ever watched a show where you know that it has the potential to be something incredibly good, yet at the same time, you know that, somewhere along the way, someone has royally screwed up? Torchwood: Miracle Day is like that.
Regarding Torchwood:
The actors are all stunning. The script is quite good as well, sometimes. But the storyline, story progression, and overall composition of the piece is blatantly terrible. And what makes it even worse is that the series itself is not blatantly terrible. It's not even really that hateful. It's just that there are these moments on screen where everything comes together, and you can just see all of it, how wonderful the actors are, how much they can do when everything comes together. Then, in the next breath, it all falls apart. Sometimes it's that something that was meant to play well on screen doesn't. Sometimes its a plotline that has no ultimate relevance to the story, and so leaves the audience hanging in anticipation, a feeling which eventually dies out and putrifies. And it doesn't make the series bad, it doesn't make the series not worth watching. It doesn't even make everyone on screen not brilliant. It's just.... dissappointing.
All the power we've grown used to being engaged with in the series is un-present. Torchwood: Miracle Day is only as strong as it's weakest link, which I would say is the useless and overplayed storyline of Oswald Danes. Everything else may have been reconciled with a little work. But Russel T. Davies is trying to do too much. Rather than containing the story and making it into something genuine and honest that the audience can connect to, Miracle Day becomes an overdramitization of unbeleivable events. What the creators of the series seem to be reaching for here is a message, a dogma. They want to make a statement, and, in striving for that, they lessen the effectiveness of their story.
Regarding James Bond:
"Skyfall" seemed to be to Sam as "The Dark Knight Rises" was to me. She wanted to see it again as soon as we exited the theatre. Actually, before we exited the theatre. Once the credits started rolling.
It was similar to "The Dark Knight Rises" in many ways. Veteran actors Daniel Craig and Judi Dench provided brilliant and unnerring performances, yet it was nothing we hadn't seen before. As with the third Batman movie, what we really came to see was the new story. We wanted Bond and M to be placed in new, even more challenging circumstances--ones that would test the limits of their endurance and strength. Ones that go beyond anything we've seen them endure before. In order to still get a thrill out of their character, we still have to truly doubt that they'll survive this time.
After everything their characters have gone through before, amping up the danger and maintaining a high level of tension in the story is a tall order for any writer/director--yet this is exactly what the new story manages to acheive. Somehow, even after seeing Bond "die" and come back to life thousands of times, we still manage to doubt his survival. We still manage to fear. We still think "maybe this time." Maybe this time, he really is dead.
Perhaps it's our suspension of disbeleif. Maybe part of it is our willingness to buy into the story. After all, I found this movie a bit more trite than "The Dark Knight Rises" simply because I'm not as much of a fan. Yet still, it's not all our willingness to beleive. The creators of the movie have to give us something to beleive in. Devotion to the characters and loyalty to a story isn't enough to make a movie good. "Skyfall," however, does give us something to beleive in. They succeed. They give the audience one hell of a story.
By the same token, if you're expecting something radically different from the other James Bond films, think again. "Skyfall" is no better or worse than any other Bond movie. It's not an intensely emotional film, or an intensely moving film. It won't bring you to tears or change your life. It doesn't really leave you with a lot to think about.
The Bond franchise follows one of the prime rules of Hollywood--if you hit upon something that works, use it. "Skyfall" follows much the same pattern as prior Bond movies: it has intense and visually stunning action, a beautiful woman turned asset and lover, a sembelance of romantic tension between Bond and his female coworker, a mission vital to the security of England, and a desperate, large-scale fight for queen and country.
The tradition of this movie provides a comforting security in it's infallibility. Still, the director doesn't let any of these comforting patterns stagnate--he refits them, tries to make them new, and better. There are some interesting twists and turns in the movie. For one, the entirety of the film, rather than just the action, is visually stunning. There is one shot in particular that strikes me. Toward the end of the movie, certain unamed characters are going on a bit of a road trip through the English countryside. The veiw captured on camera is incomparable.
I love "Q," the new tech guy. He reminds of me of Reid, from Criminal Minds--a young genius, not overconfident in his abilities, but still snarky. There's some hilarious dialogue and tension between him and Bond. The opening to this movie is one of the best openings I've seen... basically ever. It's the hook to end all hooks. And the ending... well, my best advice is to watch it.
On Break Ups
I don't really beleive that there is one, love-above-all, soulmate. There is, perhaps, the greatest love you will ever feel for another person. The best connection.
All I know is now. I have no comparison. Is this why high school crushes feel like the end of the world? It's the first romantic love, and so the only. Who's to know if you'll ever begin to love someone else the way you loved your high school boyfriend?
It's like giving away a peice of yourself. It's like... there's this piece of yourself, and...it's gone. You don't know how, or why. You just know.
You never imagine the end of a relationship while you're in one. When you tell someone your secrets, you don't realize that that means they're not yours anymore. You're trusting that person with your heart, but when you care about them, when you like them, it's implicit. It's not a carefully reasoned, carefully measured choice. You don't decide to trust them. You just do.
And then when they leave you, it's the absence of someone to share your life with. You're bereft of their constant presence by your side. They're just...not there anymore.
All of a sudden, every experience you've ever had together is just a reminder of that. He's the one who took you to a concert and gave you his sweatshirt when it got cold.
It's easier to make things abstract. To not get into the specifics.
You want to make the relationship everything, because then, somehow, you'll be able to make sense of why it hurts so much. There's a connection between you, warm and most definitely real, and you pour trust and love and secrets into it until there's nothing left that's not yours.
It's a joint account.
You've opened it together, and, even if you close it together, the reclaiming of what's yours isn't easy. How do you tell?
Because you won't be able to go back to how you were before. He's a part of you now, too. After you have a connection with someone, something in your life will be missing.
Slowly, slowly, you can rediscover who you were before him. With the help of freinds, reminding yourself of your life, what's valuable in it. What you care about that's not him. Many, many things. The longer the relationship, the more you have to rediscover. The more you have to relearn. The farther back you have to go--the harder it is to find out what it was before him.
And the more you care about someone, the harder it is.
The more you feel like you've lost.
All I know is now. I have no comparison. Is this why high school crushes feel like the end of the world? It's the first romantic love, and so the only. Who's to know if you'll ever begin to love someone else the way you loved your high school boyfriend?
It's like giving away a peice of yourself. It's like... there's this piece of yourself, and...it's gone. You don't know how, or why. You just know.
You never imagine the end of a relationship while you're in one. When you tell someone your secrets, you don't realize that that means they're not yours anymore. You're trusting that person with your heart, but when you care about them, when you like them, it's implicit. It's not a carefully reasoned, carefully measured choice. You don't decide to trust them. You just do.
And then when they leave you, it's the absence of someone to share your life with. You're bereft of their constant presence by your side. They're just...not there anymore.
All of a sudden, every experience you've ever had together is just a reminder of that. He's the one who took you to a concert and gave you his sweatshirt when it got cold.
It's easier to make things abstract. To not get into the specifics.
You want to make the relationship everything, because then, somehow, you'll be able to make sense of why it hurts so much. There's a connection between you, warm and most definitely real, and you pour trust and love and secrets into it until there's nothing left that's not yours.
It's a joint account.
You've opened it together, and, even if you close it together, the reclaiming of what's yours isn't easy. How do you tell?
Because you won't be able to go back to how you were before. He's a part of you now, too. After you have a connection with someone, something in your life will be missing.
Slowly, slowly, you can rediscover who you were before him. With the help of freinds, reminding yourself of your life, what's valuable in it. What you care about that's not him. Many, many things. The longer the relationship, the more you have to rediscover. The more you have to relearn. The farther back you have to go--the harder it is to find out what it was before him.
And the more you care about someone, the harder it is.
The more you feel like you've lost.
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