I’m retreating, further and further, into stories these days. The world is increasingly made up of vitriolic people only concerned with their own immediate and selfish desires. It’s tough to take. Maybe it’s just the result of losing a year of our lives to this pandemic but we’d almost certainly not have lost nearly this amount of time had adults been in charge over the past year.

I digress.

My novel is out of my brain and into the hands of people deciding whether or not to release it into the wild and I’ve already begun work on my next project. I know I stated last week that I have two ideas worth following right now but for the time being, I’m focusing on one of them — a memoir…of sorts. Families tell stories and build legends. These stories are passed on from generation to generation with small details changing until the stories resemble very little of the truth originally behind them. None of this matters. The core is the core and as long as that remains, the rest is fair play to the storyteller. I have a lifetime of stories, some of which have been passed down and many others which I have experienced myself. It’s been a fun project to check back in with the family house on memory lane and I hope to honor the history of my own crazy family by gifting these stories to the rest of the world.

In the meantime and more precisely, in my downtime, I’ve been watching some movies (and a show) that have been long on my “to do” list. I watched Jim Jarmusch’s brilliant Ghost Dog: The Way Of The Samurai. I told you all that I’ve been meaning to do a re-watch and I finally did just that over the weekend. What I didn’t expect was to have that movie blown off the map by something else.

First, I’ll deal with Ghost Dog. The film is perfectly crafted for what it is and aims to be. It’s lazy and hypnotic in equal measure. The story goes nowhere while, at the same time, teaching us all real life lessons worth a lifetime. The RZA’s score is impeccable — a low key masterpiece of film scoring. Every note and beat accents each scene and builds upon itself, constructing a welcome soundscape to get lost inside of. Jarmusch’s camera is stagnant and slow, capturing everything in Ghost Dog’s periphery. It’s so effective by allowing us to feel alive inside this world. We focus on the insects and the birds. The sound design compliments everything else and finishes off our immersion. We can feel the heat on our backs and smell the sickly sweet aroma of a parked ice cream truck. The writing is sparse and simple but extremely effective. Why waste words? Looking back, I believe Jarmusch has been an enormous influence on filmmakers like Nicolas Winding Refn. These artists come across more like painters than filmmakers sometimes — living and breathing in the abstract while forcing us onto their wavelength. They create portraits and allow those portraits to speak for themselves. It can be challenging but when this type of material connects, it lands harder than anything else. I find it all much more rewarding than anything else. Ghost Dogs still holds up, all these years later.

I’m skipping the big one for a moment to speak on two other viewings real quick. First, the film I Care A Lot, starring Rosamund Pike, Eiza Gonzalez, Peter Dinklage, and Dianne Wiest. I dug the hell out of this film. It’s acerbic as all get out and possesses the psychopathic heart of a serial killer. Rosamund Pike is one of the most interesting actors working today. She is always in absolute command, not just in every film but every single scene she is in. Study her even when she’s not speaking. Her body language, face, hair, posture, they are all speaking volumes at all times. For his part, Dinklage is a titan. He’s able to create a palpable sense of thoughtful danger at every moment in this film. You cannot remove your eyes from him. Last, Dianne Wiest. My goodness is she great in this film. She always come across so sweet and delicate, like a favorite family member. Here, she uses this to create a quiet sense of constant menace. I’ve never seen her like this before and I hope awards voters do not forget her performance here later on this year.

Next, the streaming service AMC+ has a British drama on offer called Gangs Of London. It stars one of the guys from Peaky Blinders and mama Stark from Game of Thrones. I don’t even know why I bring that up because it makes little difference. The important aspect is that this show is made by Gareth Evans, the psychopathic director of the two Raid films.

Side note: Raid 2 is far better than the first film. I’ll be taking no questions on this topic.

The story here is fine but typical. The show is well acted and competently presented in every other aspect. The reason for it’s existence is as a showcase for insanely creative violence. I love grounded, martial arts infused fisticuffs. I grew up on Bruce Lee. Evans needs to be on some sort of watch list because his brain is demented. These fight scenes are absolute batshit fucking bananas — all of the superlatives apply. Episode six is basically a one hour long gun fight war battle royale to the death between a band of gypsies and a Nordic hit squad. I mean, my gawd! That’s where I’ve left off and I have no idea how they’re going to top that.

And finally, the movie that blew me away and then some: Nomadland.

Frances McDormand can do no wrong. She has always been one of my favorites, ever since Blood Simple. Chloe Zhao directs her (and the rest of the film) with a plain spoken grace. There isn’t much dialog and what we do get is short back and forths which inform us of lifetimes lived by these people. Every single shot of this film could be a post card. It’s a wonderful story about the beating, human heart still trying even in the face of complete devastation. I believe McDormand and David Straithairn are the only actual actors in the film. Everyone else on camera is an untrained actor, most of whom are really living the nomad life. This all adds up to build an indisputable effect of realism. Every setting feels lived in — every frame alive. The film raises up our own defiance of societal norms, allowing us, if only for a moment, the ability to cut through our own daily bullshit and take stock on what is truly important. It’s easily the best film of the year and the one I’m rooting for to win everything it’s currently and hopefully nominated for.

That’s it. That’s enough. Other writing to do. Next week, Hopefully I will have watched Judas and the Black Messiah by then. If not, who knows? Until then, love each other.