Short piece today. Fridays have morphed from Gilliam Fridays to Sofia Coppola Fridays. Beginning next week, the eighteenth, I’m diving into the oeuvre of one of my very favorite filmmakers. I’ve had some truly special experiences with Sofia Coppola’s films — experiences which I will also discuss on a weekly basis. Very few filmmakers have captured the ennui of everyday life better than she has and I am excited to dive back in to these films I love so much. Also, this will line up nicely for her brand new film, On The Rocks, to release in October. Next week is The Virgin Suicides. Until then, love each other.
Tag: love
The King of Staten Island – Apatow’s Love Letter To The Precarious Nature Of Life
Judd Apatow is responsible for many of my favorite comedies. Before we get to it, I have a story. In the wake of Freaks and Geeks, Apatow made another tv show: Undeclared. In one episode, the group of students plays a prank and duct tapes someone inside of a phone booth. This tickled me to no end. So much so, that I concocted a similar plan to carry out with my brother and two of our friends. Unfortunately, there were no longer any phone booths in our town so the plan had to be adjusted. What I came up with was to wait at a local diner and when someone parked in the back and then entered the diner, we would duct tape their car shut. We tested the plan out on another car in a different parking lot. Two people up top and two people laying on the ground, passing the roll of tape between each of us — this way the duct tape would wrap from roof to undercarriage. We executed the plan to perfection — nearly.
We unwittingly chose the car belonging to the daughter of the chief of police.
Long story short: my plan accidentally got my brother arrested.
On to the task at hand.
Apatow’ s latest effort is, The King of Staten Island. The film is partly inspired by star Pete Davidson’s real life. First off, Davidson is great in this film. He has an odd charm. I don’t know how else to put that because it’s indescribable. Davidson has something unique on screen where he can equally make you groan while still rooting for him. This is also due in part to a terrific and realistic script. One thing that is universal in Apatow films is how natural his characters talk to and act around each other. His films are shaggy and maybe run too long in spots for some viewers. This has never been the case for me. I’ve mentioned this countless times here but it bears repeating: character over plot. There is no discernible plot in this film other than if Pete’s character will ever properly deal with the trauma of his father’s death and actually grow up. There is no real resolution because his journey is our journey and our journey is never finished until the day we die. Instead, Apatow loads the film with scenes of friends and acquaintances just shooting the shit and I am here for all of it. The scene’s with the friends are countered with more serious ones involving the family. Everyone is still dealing with not only their own shit but everyone else’s shit as well. Everything feels so natural. I love the ebb and flow in the tone.
Eventually, Pete’s mother, played wonderfully by Marisa Tomei, wants to try and move on with her life. She begins to date a neighbor played by Bill Burr. Pete immediately hates him for obvious infantile reasons but goes apoplectic when he finds out that Burr is a firefighter. This kicks the biggest plot point of the film and focuses the story for a bit. We can feel how personal this all is for Pete in real life. After all, his father was a firefighter who died on September 11, 2001. In the film, his father also perished in a fire and Pete cannot fathom why his mother would want to potentially go through that again. There is also an incredible conversation about why firefighters would have children and potentially scar them for life when they tragically died. The film cuts deep when it wants to. This is also when we meet Steve Buscemi as a firefighter in the same house as Bill Burr. Now, I didn’t know that Buscemi was a firefighter in real life before becoming an actor. On top of that, he went back to work after September 11th in order to help with the rescue efforts — amazing and heroic. In the film, Buscemi steals it all in only a handful of scenes. His sincerity rings loud and echoes throughout our hearts and minds.
The film still reserves plenty of time for idiotic antics and weird asides. There is a scene featuring Action Bronson, a real life rapper, as he stops by the firehouse looking for help. The entire crew is on a call and only Pete is there sweeping the floors. Bronson has been shot or stabbed or something — he is hilariously vague about what happened to him. It all almost feels like an SNL sketch or something ripped from another film. This is what I love about Apatow: if it works, it goes in. The scene is odd and misplaced on the surface but actually provides much needed levity from the more serious subject matter the film begins to delve into. Apatow is an expert at this. As serious as Burr’s character is on the surface, Burr plays him with a maniacal grace that provides gut busting laughs. It’s a thing that permeates every moment of the film.
This is what I appreciate most about Apatow’s work — it’s real. He views life like a bodega shelf — there’s a little bit of everything taking up space. It may be dusty. It may be expired. But it may just be exactly what you’re looking for.
Next week I was planning on doing a piece on season three of Westworld but the truth is I don’t have much to say about it other than I didn’t like season three of Westworld. There it is. Print the review. Instead, I think I’ll write about an awesome horror movie, The Color Out Of Space. Until then, love each other.
Gilliam Friday #12 – The Wrap-Up
We find ourselves at the end of the Terry Gilliam project — twelve straight weeks of the madman’s work. We began with his Monty Python efforts and ended with his finally finished dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. What a ride. I was reminded of films I loved, found new love for films I originally struggled with, and some old loves now fell flat. Throughout this project, I was reminded that from a visual standpoint, Gilliam stands alone. His films are each unique in their own way and even more when compared to where cinema was in general when each of those films released.
But seriously, what did I learn from all of this?
Let us begin with Gilliam as a visual artist. Every single film he has ever crafted has been visually stunning. He is a true auteur, unafraid of any subject matter and uncompromising in his vision. He forces the viewer to buy in. Whatever you gain from viewing his work will always come on his terms. This is something that will shut down some viewers and keep them away. The flip side to this ideal is that those who buy in willingly, typically come away astonished. I also learned that Gilliam hates bureaucracy — hates it. Most of his films have a subtext dealing with the annoyance of red tape and failed governance. He is also an artist obsessed with paranoia and juxtaposition. You will find this on a constant basis in his films with the palettes he uses and his deep focus camera shots. Everything in his films is heightened in order to hold the viewer’s supreme focus while still keeping them off balance.
One other thing we must get to right away is that I now wonder if Gilliam has a problem with women. It cannot be overstated that his comments earlier this year about how tired he is that white men get blamed for everything, is extremely troubling. He has also thrown support behind Harvey Weinstein which is blatantly wrong-headed. I don’t sanction or agree with any of this — hard pass for me. With that said, I wonder where this stems from? And that’s the craziest aspect of all of this: Gilliam the person is still largely a mystery. We can infer all of these things we’ve already discussed but he has still managed to keep us all at bay — protecting his innermost desires to the end. I both like and dislike how he views the world. He paints in his films with a childlike wonder. Gilliam shows us worlds that are like electric carnivals used as a mask for societal rot and despair. He also shows heart here, especially with how he depicts the homeless in many of his films — the unfortunates are ignored and trampled by the powerful. This is in stark contrast to his depiction of women in most of his films. The truth is, as I’ve gone film to film, the women are mostly seen as annoying, trouble, or both. Many times they are devices to serve the plot. His visual talent is so extraordinary that I think these themes become overshadowed but they are there if you look hard enough. Two films stand out to me where this was not the case: The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys. They also happen to be two films that Gilliam did not write. This definitely begs for further discussion.
The final thing we’ll discuss today is how Gilliam’s career is split into three sections (and hopefully an upcoming fourth). His early work is where he found his feet. Working as a member of the Python troupe allowed him creative freedom. It’s the least populated portion of his career. He followed this up with a thirteen year prime where he dealt masterful film after masterful film. This is an insane run from a filmmaker uninterested in making typical studio fare. Brazil, The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen, The Fisher King, Twelve Monkeys, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Any filmmaker would kill to make one of these films. Gilliam made them all…in a row.
Of course, with the highs come the lows. Gilliam’s disastrous attempt to make his dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, derailed his career. He then entered a ten year funk where he still hit some high notes but his films felt more disjointed and angry — lacking the intrepid energy from his earlier work. He began to regain his footing with The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and again, tragedy struck that film multiple times.
Terry Gilliam finally got the proverbial monkey off his back when his dream was finally realized. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote showed me that the madman still has the goods to be a true auteur. We will see if he has the stuff to give us some more to chew on.
I’ll leave you with this, a ranking of his solo films. This means that I’m not counting the python work. Worst to first, here we go:
The Brothers Grimm
The Zero Theorem
Jabberwocky
Time Bandits
Tideland
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
The Man Who Killed Don Quixote
The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
Brazil
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Twelve Monkeys
The Fisher King
And that is a wrap. I had fun revisiting these films and filmmaker I have adored nearly my entire life. I found it enlightening and not always in a good way. I now look at Gilliam a little differently because of his depiction of women on film — something I was either not able to see while younger or just willfully ignorant of until now. I guess I learned some things about myself as well — things I still need to work on. I’m willing to do the work.
Next up on the docket is another of my faves, Sofia Coppola. I’ll outline the project next week and then dive into The Virgin Suicides on Friday, September 18th. Until then, love each other.
My Favorite Color – A New Poem
The color blue reminds me of my childhood
Of the cool ocean water crashing over me
As I laugh my way through summer on the coast
*
My mother and her mother pack sandwiches
And beach sandwiches are the best sandwiches
My mother’s mother’s mother fries up breakfast scrapple
As my brother and I wake in the attic
Our sleep, the best sleep, in military cots thirty years old
*
The sound of laughter and delightful screams
As us children chase each other around a seashell driveway
We take our meals on the screened-in porch
While the adults play cards into the night
We pilfer candy from a jar while everyone pretends not to notice
*
The color blue sends me back in time
And allows me to remember what matters most
We become immortal through our memories
*
Gilliam Friday #11 – The Man Who Killed Don Quixote
Finally, the monkey is off his back. After decades of struggle, heartbreak and misfortune, Gilliam finally achieved catharsis in getting his magnum opus onto the big screen. To some, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote may seem like just another film, a weird film, but still just a film. To those of us who have followed Gilliam’s career, this film being released is everything. Before we get any further into the film itself, let’s chronicle the entire production just to gain some perspective on this journey.
Gilliam began work on the film in 1989. This was shortly after the financial debacle of The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen. Hollywood didn’t really have a good sense of how to deal with Gilliam as an artist. He began writing Quixote while taking on directing jobs for two films he didn’t write: The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys. It took Gilliam nine years (and a third straight success with Fear and Loathing) in order to secure funding for his Don Quixote project. Soon after, he secured the services of Johnny Depp as his star and they began the shoot in 2000. The production did not last long. Flooding, illness, and other monetary (not to mention insurance) issues ended production of the film. Gilliam would try and resurrect his project several times to no avail. Eventually, Depp had to drop out and many of the sets were completely destroyed. This hammered several nails into the film’s coffin. While they were filming, Gilliam began shooting behind the scenes footage for a “making of” supplement to the film. This became the documentary, Lost In La Mancha, and was released in 2002. It stood as a chronicle of disaster.
The troubled, disastrous production of, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, plagued Gilliam for the latter part of his career. From the distracted job he did with The Brothers Grimm, to some serious dark material in Tideland and Doctor Parnassus, the filmmaker was trying to shake himself from a depression.
Well, he finally did it.
The Man Who Killed Don Quixote finally hit screens and it is largely a triumph. Gilliam still has the goods and really really really knows how to cast. He stepped in a golden pile of shit by casting Adam Driver and Jonathan Pryce together as his leads. They are perfectly balanced in opposition. Pryce is no stranger to Gilliam and he digs into his role as a man who believes himself to be the famed adventurer. Adam Driver, is a wonderful counterbalance as the young filmmaker who’s spent the last several years trying to find his true self. Gilliam has altered his film to better fit the dark period this new vision was born from. Quixote is a film at once about the folly of youth and the regret of old age. We can sense the freedom of spirit that Gilliam rediscovered in finally getting his pet project completed. The production design is exquisite and the script is better than ever. I couldn’t imagine any other actors than Driver and Pryce in this film now — call it kismet. I love the idea put forth of a story about two men, one old and one young, whose lives never amounted to what they once hoped for themselves. Quixote is chock full of second guessing, calling men out on their views of the world, silly fight scenes, musical numbers, and ultimately immense heart. This is Gilliam laying it all out and reclaiming his position as one of film’s unique auteurs. I hope he gets to make more films, at least one more, before he hangs it up. He deserves a victory lap and one last dance now that he is free from his albatross.
Bravo Mr. Gilliam, bravo.
Next week, the wrap-up. Until then, love each other.
Gilliam Friday #10 – The Zero Theorem
This film doesn’t work. On paper, it sounds great but in reality, it never lifts off the page. The film is set in another dystopian future, though this time it is one speckled with vibrant color. It’s definitely pleasing to the eye. I particularly liked the opening few minutes where Waltz’s character leaves his dark and dreary home and steps outside into a bright and vibrant, yet dilapidated world. Gilliam’s playfulness with lighting sells this. Now, the story follows a worker, obsessed with his own impending death, being tasked by management to prove a theory that everything in life ultimately adds up to nothing. This is known as the Zero Theorem, hence the title. If this sounds intriguing, that’s because it is intriguing but the subsequent film is a joyless affair. Everyone is either openly depressed or masking their depression. It was all too bleak for my taste.
The cast is a good one but most aren’t left with much to do. Christoph Waltz is good but his character is so dour, it’s hard to root for him because even he doesn’t know what he really wants out of life. David Thewlis, as his supervisor, injects at least some life into this film every time he is on screen. Ben Whishaw and Peter Stormare are two actors I love to see but they’re are in the film for only a few short minutes. The same can be said for Tilda Swindon. Matt Damon plays management in the film and again, I love him in nearly everything else he’s ever done but he just doesn’t mesh with Gilliam as a creative partner. His scenes are stale. This puts a lot of pressure on Waltz to carry everything off himself but the script doesn’t allow that to happen. The only people who truly come alive on screen are Lucas Hedges who plays the son of management and Melanie Thierry, who plays a sex worker named Bainsley, and Waltz’s character’s(Qohan) muse. She is electric and the only one who looks to be having any fun. I looked up her imdb page and was shocked to see that she hasn’t really broken out in Hollywood. If nothing else, this film should have launched a big career for her.
One thing I must note is that this is yet another story where the main female character is objectified and sexualized by all of the male characters. This has become a running theme throughout Gilliam’s career and something I will be certain to dive into when I write my wrap-up in two weeks.
There are cool and interesting moments in the film for sure. Qohan has a computer monitor in his home that allows him to view an expanding black hole. There’s a moment where he projects himself and Bainsley into space, nearing this black hole that is nothing if not revelatory. They discuss the idea of the soul and how life must mean something. Qohan is dealing with unknown trauma and it’s making him increasingly nihilistic. Him choosing the black hole as his favorite place to visit leads Bainsley to ask this question: Is THAT what’s inside of you? How do you live with all that…emptiness? It’s a profound question and one that Qohan doesn’t have a good answer for because he’s unwilling to accept what may or may not reside inside of him.
At first, I thought this film was an allegory about mankind becoming a slave to technology and while that is part of it, the film is actually diving much deeper. The film is really about the soul of mankind and the world that lives within us. We can become shut-ins who are desperate to remain in the dark with our secrets. It’s familiar territory for Gilliam and he’s explored it better in the past — most recently in his previous film, Doctor Parnassus.
There are neat tricks Gilliam pulls off in an attempt to excite and seduce us. As Qohan begins to unravel, the camera becomes more active — leading us off balance and jolting us awake. It’s a shame that we desperately need this push because everything else has landed so flat. Qohan proves the theory to management’s satisfaction but not his own — he is not convinced that he sufficiently proved that everything adds up to nothing. This is partly because he is in love with Bainsley and partly because he’s never let go of his old trauma. By the end, Qohan has attempted to purge himself of his pain but instead gives in. He ends in a digital afterlife where he can hopefully be content and happy with Bainsley. There is evidence during the credits that Qohan may not have been successful but it’s all vague.
The Zero Theorem is a quiet, ponderous film about the entirety of life. It has ideas but they never lift off and instead feel like a film version of reading a textbook. And this may be the point of the film, like the title suggests — but there’s no joy anywhere near it.
Again, I cannot overstate how devastating the failed project of Don Quixote was to Gilliam as an artist. Ever since his legendary struggles began with that cursed project, he flailed about. He managed to recapture some of his early magic here and there but more often than not, Quixote was an albatross, hanging from his neck and dragging him into the muck. Nearly every film in the wake of that disaster felt like his own commentary on what went wrong. The effort here is admirable but not necessarily enjoyable.
I cannot wait for next week when we’ll finally talk about the Don Quixote project. Until then, love each other.
Gilliam Friday #9 – The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus
We can’t dig in to the next film on the list without, again, beating the Quixote drum. I now see just how much Gilliam was reeling from the destroyed project that consumed him for nearly a decade. He had previously tried to shake himself loose from his rut by taking on two projects so close together that they were released in the same year. The first, Brothers Grimm, was unfocused and messy. The second, Tideland, was the darkest material Gilliam had tackled. It felt more like an exorcism than a full fledged film. Now, four years later, I found him still trying to work through the pain of his failed magnum opus.
What should also be noted is how the production of The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus ran into trouble at every turn. First there was the death of actor Heath Ledger during principal photography, then upon completion, a producer died, and then during post production, Gilliam himself was hit by a car. This film still getting made and released is a small miracle in and of itself.
Onto the reason we’re together today, the 2009 film, The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus.
It tells the story of an aging conman/magician/mystical person named Doctor Parnassus who is really more of a gambler. He is constantly engaging in bets with the devil, losing those bets and doubling down to try and dig himself out of a hole. At first, he won and was granted immortality. He quickly realized that immortality was not all he thought it to be and made a new deal to be granted youth so he could be with the woman he loved. The payment was that if he ever had a child, at the age of sixteen, that child would become property of the devil. The film begins only a few short days before Parnassus’ daughter’s sixteenth birthday.
Parnassus, his daughter, and two assistants have been relegated to performing in their own traveling sideshow where they attempt to trick people into passing through their magic mirror. Once inside the mirror, the person is now inside of Parnassus’ imagination. Of course, what they see and experience is also partly dictated by their own imagination. It’s here that they will then be given a choice between two locations — one represents Parnassus’ theory on life while the other represents the devil. Parnassus struggles to find people who don’t succumb to the devil’s promises and thus is digging himself even deeper.
One night, they happen upon a hanging man beneath a London bridge and rescue the man. He’s played by Heath Ledger and has no memory of his previous life. The film really takes off from here as Ledger joins the troupe as a thank you for saving him. He is wonderful in this film — a natural con artist full of exuberance, wit and charm. With Tony’s help, Parnassus begins to gain the upper hand with the devil and just may be able to pull off one last wager and save the soul of his daughter.
Up to this point in the film, there are a few things to note. First, the imagination on display is second to none. Gilliam is fully in his wheelhouse. The monks’ snow covered temple, for example, is extraordinary. Again, Gilliam is giving us a vision only he could give, warts and all. Like many of his previous films, it takes a little while for the tone to settle and gel but we get there — Gilliam, like many auteurs, forces you to buy in to his vision and leave your own shit at the door. The material again is on the darker side. Many of the scenes and dialog and actions toward the daughter, Valentina, are problematic. She’s only sixteen and this does lead to some uncomfortable moments. Gilliam knew this and framed it around the devil’s wishes to soften, or at least explain, the questionable antics. There’s also a moment of blackface in the film which has no business being there. There is simply no excuse for it. It was done to serve a joke but the punchline is not worth a second of the journey taken to get there. So, the film is definitely an imperfect film.
Now, as I’m watching, I’m still digging the film because it’s really about the world each of us holds inside our mind. It’s around the halfway point where LEdger’s character, Tony, first enters the mirror. The result propels the second half of the film ever higher than its setup. It’s also where we first get a glimpse of the genius idea Gilliam had to get the film finished despite his lead actor’s death. He gathered a few of Ledger’s friends to play the late actor’s role. Tony goes into the mirror on three separate occasions and the mirror world inside Parnassus’ mind changes Tony’s face. The first time this happens, Ledger transforms into Johnny Depp. This is the shortest of changes and also the least effective. I love Depp. He’s one of my all time favorites and was brilliant in Fear and Loathing. Here, he plays Tony with a smirk and a wink. It’s more brooding and a little off from Ledger’s take. The second time Tony enters, he transforms into Jude Law. This is the best alternate version of Tony. Where Depp did his own thing, Law matches Ledger’s tone and nervous energy. It’s a damn near perfect match. It’s also our longest look inside the mirror world. I remember thinking that Gilliam should’ve been the one to make a live film version of Alice in Wonderland. He’s always been in love with Lewis Carroll and has paid homage to the writer on countless occasions. You could make the case that this film is his version of Alice in Wonderland. It’s equal parts whimsy, moral fable, and nasty legend. The final time Tony enters the mirror, he transforms into Colin Farrell. This is where we finally see Tony for the bastard he truly is and Farrell is good, not great. The problem here is that Colin Farrell has too kind a face. It’s just hard to buy in that he sucks as a human being. He manages to pull it off but barely.
The entire film is wonderfully absurd but it also begs the question of whether Gilliam has problems with women. Here, Valentina is constantly objectified as a sixteen year old and serves mostly as a plot device. Her plight propels the narrative forward but she doesn’t really hold any other weight. This is what holds me back just a bit from the film. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good film but some tweaks to the script could’ve landed Gilliam firmly back on his feet. The more I searched my feelings on this film, I came to realize that Valentina and Parnassus specifically are stand-ins for The Man Who Killed Don Quixote and Gilliam himself. This story is really about an old man questioning his choices and loyalties on the eve of losing what he cherishes most.
The film is visually extraordinary and brimming with ideas — perhaps too many ideas. It’s dark, daunting, and proves Gilliam’s tenacity as a filmmaker. It won’t win any converts but it shows an artist willing to try and dig himself out of a hole that has consumed him for over a decade.
Next week, The Zero Theroem. Until then, love each other.
Ramy Season 2 – An American Tale
Hulu has something special on their hands with Ramy. We’re two seasons in and I don’t think anyone who has seen the show is feeling patient about a third season — we want it now. The show has created such a unique blend of comedy and drama that it’s quickly established itself as a breath of fresh air. There is nothing else quite like it, save for Atlanta. It’s in these two shows that we can better understand America, it’s failings and the great promise that it still holds.
The first two episodes of season 2 give us a sobering look at what happens when we forget about our soldiers once they’ve returned home from war. Ramy finds himself at a spiritual crossroads and he’s desperately seeking not only guidance but also affirmation that he’s a good person. He helps this soldier who at first is ignorant of the Islamic faith while also condemning the religion and its followers because of the horrors he experienced fighting overseas. Ramy brings him to the man he seeks guidance from, played by Marshala Ali. The soldier, begins to see the humanity and good spirits of these people, his new friends and ultimately decides that he wants to convert to Islam. It’s here where things get dicey. Their place of worship is under constant protest from others who are still ignorant of the teachings of Islam. The soldier cannot abide this and attacks one of the protestors. The nuance involved in creating these scenes is nothing short of extraordinary. In a few moments, Ramy has shown us all sides of the argument — presented to us for examination and hopefully introspection.
The show eschews plot in favor of digging as deep as possible into all of the characters we meet. Ramy may be the title character but we are treated to whole episodes devoted to supporting characters. The show focuses on his sister Deena, his mother Maysa, his father Farouk and even his uncle Naseem. This is an effective tool in building the world from the inside out. It expands the show’s horizons and ours as well. Deena struggles with growing up while not only being Muslim but also a young woman in a doubly hostile world. Maysa struggles with her place in life and this pull from a part of herself that so badly wants to be helpful — even when she’s being increasingly offensive. Farouk is lost for much of the season as a man who has always supported his family and now being jobless. He’s being affronted by his own brand of chauvinism and ends up being rescued by a rescue dog. Farouk’s story in particular was a real treat this season. Then we have the brash and incredibly offensive Uncle Naseem. This season reveals that Naseem is a closeted gay man which illuminates his daily outward persona as a beard of the highest order.
We root for these people to find their way and the show walks a delicate balance between maintaining what is true to oneself while changing just a little bit in order to better fit in with today’s society.
Notice how Ramy himself hasn’t even come up yet? His story of course runs throughout the season but he is so lost and nearly beyond hope. He’s suffering from undiagnosed depression while constantly trying to fill the void with either sex or pats on the back. He doesn’t just want to get better and be better but he also needs to be told that he is better. It’s tough to watch. He gets so many things right but never quite addresses his lack of stakes in anything he attempts. Ramy’s problem is that he lets himself off the hook at every turn. He’s in love with his cousin and eventually cheats on his fiancée the night before his wedding. This is all horrendously selfish but upon the end of his wedding night, having gone through with his marriage and even taking his new wife’s virginity, he decides to come clean. It’s the single most fucked up slide into wrongheadedness that Ramy has ever engaged in. Mahershala Ali, Ramy’s now father in law, shows up the next morning and brutally takes Ramy to task. He’s so overcome with grief and anger that he almost physically hits Ramy. It is a testament to his inner strength that he withholds and leaves Ramy to his own dark thoughts.
I will always applaud a story that is unafraid to take its main character to task for their failings. There’s never any room for hero worship — that train of thought breeds bad stories. Here, Ramy reels from his family’s cutting remarks, to his wife leaving, to his brutal take down at the hands of his father in law, to the even more brutal take down at the hands of his cousin. Ramy ends up alone in the abandoned, shit covered car left by the homeless soldier he tried to help earlier in the season. He’s adrift with nowhere to turn. It’s sad but deserved. I, for one, cannot wait for season 3 to see if Ramy can pull himself out of this whole he has put himself in.
Ramy provides us as American a story as can be. One full of humor and drama in equal measure, just like our own daily lives.
Next week, let’s tackle Edward Norton’s film adaptation of Motherless Brooklyn. Until then, love each other.
The Painter and the Thief – Compassion breeds Forgiveness
What does forgiveness look like? Can you quantify the power of redemption? Does it matter if it’s ever achieved so long as it’s attempted?
These questions ran through my mind while watching the documentary, The Painter and the Thief. I cried throughout this film and haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw it. It is a powerful statement on people being colored in shades and not just hard lines.
The story is about a woman named Barbora and a man named Bertil. Barbora is an artist and one night, after the close of a gallery show, two men break in and steal two of her paintings. The men are quickly captured and sentenced. The paintings are not recovered. One of the men is Bertil, and Barbora contacts him right away because she’s only concerned with recovering her paintings. What unfolds is one of the most beautiful portraits of the human spirit I have ever seen. Bertil is a drug addict and his addiction fuels his poor decisions in life. Once released from prison, he agrees to sit with Barbora in order for her to paint his portrait. They arrive at an agreement that he owes her this much. What neither of them could have known was the deep and soulful friendship that would blossom from the inciting tragic event.
When Bertil first sees his portrait, he breaks down in sobs — not mere tears, deep, uncontrollable sobs. He’s never seen himself from someone else’s perspective and this allows him to step outside himself for the first time ever. We are there sobbing right alongside Bertil. It’s here where the film truly shows us the power that art can possess. Watching someone, near hopeless, see themselves through someone else’s compassionate eyes is uplifting. We follow Bertil and Barbora through the subsequent years as their friendship continues. We are there with them through their daily struggles and small victories. Bertil tries so hard to kick his habit but his demons constantly get he better of him. At one point, he is nearly killed in a car wreck and Barbora is there with him throughout his long and seemingly impossible recovery.
For her part, Barbora has her own demons. They’re nowhere near the level of Bertil’s but still, we watch her struggle and it breaks our heart because she doesn’t deserve any of it. At first glance, it’s Bertil and his spirit that captivates us the most but by the end of the film, we are rooting for Barbora just as hard. I want as many people as possible to see this beautiful film because it will help them understand the struggle many of the more unfortunate of us contend with on a daily basis. This world could use as much compassion as possible.
This film strikes a decidedly personal tone for me because I’ve had a member of my family go through these struggles just like Bertil. Hell, in some scenes, this family member even resembles Bertil. He was such a nice person to be around but his demons always managed to get the best of him. I choose to recall the fond memories because this man was the father to my first ever niece (and then another one). No matter what, he’ll always be responsible for that gift — the greatest gift I have ever received. Unlike Bertil, this man eventually succumbed to his demons and left this world a little less vibrant for the rest of us.
We perceive time as a straight line but it’s only an illusion. Life spins us around, blindfolded, and then sends us off to conquer each day. It’s a miracle more of us don’t succumb. In the end, our lives are as precious as our time is finite and struggles or not, as long as we’re trying to make it all a bit more palatable, we’re going to be okay.
Next week, let’s talk about Ramey’s second season. Until then, love each other.
Afterlife – A New Poem
I want to dream the dream of Gods
And for life to tell what it wants.
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I want to drink from legend’s cup
And for the truth to become clear.
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I want to wade in fields of sage
And for them to tell my story.
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I want to run with the horses
And for the birds to cease judgment.
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I want to be shot by Cupid
And for it to last forever.
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I want my new dream to take hold
And for me to not ever wake.
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Open Mouth Insert Words 