Location: St. Vincent & Grenadines

You were driving home in the dark on one glass-slippered heel, window sliced open and bathing in the snowliquor of the night air. We heard you singing, and couldn't bear to wake you.

01 May 2005


The Best of Youth is a six-hour movie that seems shorter, but shorter is still pretty long. Provided that you have a comfortable chair, which I did not, it is worth the investment of half a day. Kev said he liked it a lot, 8 or 9 out of 10. I wasn't quite as enthusiastic; as I said in the previous post, I'm a glowing-review slut, and in this case my expectations were built pretty high. I experienced no grand revelations, I was not profoundly moved; I enjoyed spending time with the characters and witnessing the stories of their lives, but it didn't seem to have any great purpose or message. That's well enough, I suppose; not every work of art needs to shake the earth. But a movie of this size needs a great deal of energy to keep rolling, and this movie needed more of it. It was good anyway, I recommend it, you should see it -- but don't expect it to be unforgettable.


Anonymous Laura said...

Slightly off topic, but on still because of movies (I just looked at your full profile)--did you see the sweet article in this month's Utne Reader about things that you learn about from significant others, the "good stuff" like music and movies that you take away and make the relationship worth it? Of course, it focused on "Harold and Maude." And, of course, I've had TWO boyfriends for whom that was the absolute favorite movie--and I can now cheerfully admit that I never liked it because I think it's depressing, so I don't quite know how I fit into that article's argument. Still, I *did* think of you so I suppose it made its proper impact. :)

1:09 PM  
Blogger Felix Helix said...

I wonder if it's possible to have a relationship, beyond the purely sexual level, with a person with whom you share no aesthetic preferences. Making the first mix tape for your new lover is one of life's great pleasures, innit? Or was, back in the day; now it's a CD, of course. Choosing the tracks from your vault of favorites, picking out the ones that reveal who you are, or at least who you would like to seem to be; mingling those with the ones that seem to reflect who your lover is, the way the two of you are mingling; arranging them from first to last, trying to anticipate the reactions they will receive, the surprise and the shock of recognition.

Music tends to have a deeper emotional impact, post-relationship, than movies do, I think. For one thing, music is more portable. It follows you around and appears uninvited in strange places, like when you're sitting on the toilet in the middle of the night.

But yeah, I owe much of my aesthetic sense to the partners I've had. Why, if it weren't for Anh, I probably would never have had the opportunity to discover that I don't care for the Pet Shop Boys.


6:39 PM  

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