It's a Cold Snow's a Gonna Fall

Welcome to the winter of our a-part-ment: we woke up this morning to a clogged oil tank (Don't ask me, I'm from the S'th), a non-functioning heater, and a frigid out-from-under the comforters ambiance; Beck bravely tried to fix the problem herself only to have created a cloud of blue smoke. She's a witch; freeze her! (Note - that is the second time I've used "she's a witch" today. The other was in today's awesome SASI class, where I compared a "guilty until proven innocent" justice system to witch trials. I actually told the class to burn one of my students. There goes my day job). Beck wisely then conjured the "Superior Oil Guy" spell and had him come bang the oil drum loudly. Seriously, I felt like I was on the set of A Christmas Story. Sans porn-star to be. For all people reading at the Nutty 12th grade level, "sans" means "without." And for those not in the know, the little boy in A Christmas Story, he of red rider b.b. gun wanting fame, later had a career in the porn industry. "You'll shoot her eye out," indeed. Anyways, said Superior Oil rescue man fixed the problem, and now we are sitting in a balmy (relatively) 60 degree apartment with a snowstorm (or three inches, whatever) on the horizon and beck in the ER. Another lonely night in the Nyetverse. So it goes.

Sherrybaby (2006): 74

Beck and I watched Sherrybaby the other night; I had been waiting a long time to see it and enjoyed Maggie's performance (yes we're on a first name basis) (because I know the PGOAT and the PGOAT knows the Gyllenhaals, booyeah) (and they know, um, Crackle) (that's the last Hedbergism, I promise). Beck accused her, as I think I mentioned earlier, of glorified pornstarism. (This is the all porn edition of the Tin Man, btw. Of course I didn't need to say that, because you knew it when you saw it. Yah!). And while it is true that there were copious amounts of naked Maggie in this film (and the last one we saw, Happy Endings, and the one before that, Secretary), I would beg to say that they were appropriate. This coming from someone who is confessedly infatuated with the Mags. So I am clearly not to be trusted.

The movie is of the type I would call an "acting vehicle" for lack of better terminology; everything is about the enchanting stylings and image of the lead actress, and the scene is locked on her and her point of view throughout. She is terribly gruff and rough-edged; my experience of the film bounced between feeling her soul being ripped from its roots by her situation and thinking that a large part of the problem was stemming from her own reckless stupidity. The film walked that line superbly, and did an admirable job of showing the hurricane effect Sherry's reckless life had on her family. The awkward pauses and fumblings of her torn brother are carried off with a nice subtle edge, as is her friendship / affair with a purposely scary looking Indian character who ends up, despite his own past, being the most responsible and loving person in the film. The overt and outlandish performance stands out brilliantly, but it is the subtle issues playing in the background that make the film poignant. I actually think Maggie's acting and situation steps across the line from endearing into painful for the audience to sit through; she just becomes clueless to a painfully unbelievable extent at a few quick scenes in the film. Overall she is great, and the movie carries a powerful, jarring scene that brought up images of the equally effective scenes from A History of Violence and Cache. You must see that one; it's a self-contained huge moment, and the film did a great job of revealing a great deal with a simple scene. Overall, it's a very good film, somewhat limited by its virtuoso aspect imho, but well worth the trip into this heartbreaking portrait.

END REVIEW

So that's it on this end; I spent the day tutoring and am now on my lonesome. I will leave by throwing my friend Mike NTPB under the proverbial bus; I read one of his syllabi for a course on American Film that starts off thusly:

"First, a confession: I’m a film junkie. I feel strongly that film is the greatest art form of the 20^th century. It combines painting’s ability to communicate meaning and emotion through pictures with literature’s power to express ideas through story and character. Quite simply, film is more powerful than literature and painting in its ability to stimulate us, to make us feel and react, which, after all, is what some would say is the point of art."

I've been thinking about this quote a lot today and wanted to see what the people think before I comment on it. This may be more of a musing type of thing; the ever evolving Ballad knows limited limits.

That's it for the time being; I'll be alone in snowy Grafton if you need me... in the next 10 hours.