Gosh, It's a Brutal World

But tucked inside it. like those extra dimensions that are so small and tightly wrapped that we can't see them, are many wonderful things. They are wonderful only because we have grown into our own explanations of the the world. I recently bought the soundtrack from Genghis Blues. I can't remember if I posted anything about the movie on the blog. Paul Pena, and old blues artist who played with the greats, is now blind and living poorly in San Fransisco. One day he hears the Tuvan throat singers on the radio....and the rest is history. He teaches himself throat singing. He makes friends with a gang of wonderful oddballs. They all fly to Tuva and Paul ends up, with an amazing cast of characters, in Tuva, singing with the throat singers. He plays and sings with the Tuvans. Strong friendships happen and the music gets blended. The movie is powerful enough. But the soundtrack bent me backwards. Between Paul and the Tuvans, the blues happen. if you think you might have a soul, rent the movie and buy the soundtrak. If you are not sure, ask me and I'll help you get the music.
Posted by suckerbeagle at 9:23 PM
Labels: Paul Pena, Tuvan Throat Singing

Time to Drink some Illegal Whiskey

And time to talk about movies since I just upped my Netflix subcription to 5 at a time. Five. Who's gonna watch all these? Really it's part of my neurotic stockpiling disorder. This also explains why I have 45 cans of Trader Joe's beef chili in my pantry.

Last night, after eight hours on the road from Worcester to home.( see how I looked afterwards above) I took stock of myself and discovered that the cupboard was bare. So I watched "The Year of the Dog". What happened? I thought I was following along quite nicely, but things began to happen. And happen. Maybe this was someone's unedited entry in NaNoWriMos ScriptFrenzy that takes place in July. Okay, so Laura Dern did a great job with her "Mommy" character. But I had bad dreams about the rest of the movie.

Tonight I watched "Amazing Grace" and totally enjoyed it except for the fact that I know most of it sort of didn't happen exactly that way. It's a good movie for our times. Well, for people who already know how crazy we are now. It had some of those elements of being able to tell a story about then, that's also about now. Like Shaw did in Saint Joan. The Albert Finney character was fabulous. I think it's growing on me.

How to Draw a Bunny

This movie is just the thing that fits inside you and never goes away. I first heard of this movie at the Museum of Fine Arts. It was playing there and I missed it, but it looked interesting. So I ordered it on Netflix and then promptly forgot what it was about or why I ever wanted to see it. So I kept sliding it down on the list (trust, mistrust) until, finally, I forgot to manage my list and it came to the house. That can happen, as you know.
John Waters and Andrew Moore put together a film about the artist, Ray Johnson, that leaves you wondering which is better--Ray Johnson--or the movie? The answer is --both. Okay, Ray Johnson was, well, Ray Johnson. The movie is a Ray Johnson motico. On one level it plays as a retrospective of Ray's live and his art. On another level it plays out as a totally noir B detective movie. More like a noir detective documentary. (Remember Dragnet?) It's Dragnet in an exquisitly "Ray" way. Ray Johnson was not an outsider artist. He knew everyone in the arts, and everyone knew him. But in an important sense he was an outsider artist. He was outside of everything. Hilarious interviews with friends who tried to buy some of his art work. The negotiations over the sales became bigger than the art. And the art is stunning. Film footage of Ray at a suburban garden party-episodes on his "foot" period. He drew and collaged feet for a long time. Finally he rented a helicoper and dropped "foot-long" hot dogs over Long Island. I can't tell you what a fabulous movie this is. I am thinking of holding a showing of if. Yes, of course I own it.