old joy


it's been a fortnight of meditative cinema - the monks of 'into great silence', jack nicholson's ambivalent journalist at the heart of 'the passenger', and now the unexpected glories of 'old joy' - a film apparently based on a book of still photographs. two guys who used to be roommates go on a short road trip, lie down in a hot spring, talk a little, feel regret, and go home.

the sense of a once-meaningful friendship disappearing into the past is palpably evoked by the pitch-perfect central performances by daniel london and will oldham, the gentle photography that really takes its time, and the fact that pretty much all of us will be able to identify with the story from the inside.

it's also one of the most subtly devastating critiques of the bush administration, and, more importantly, the lack of a substantive alternative offered from the left (and my generation specifically).

perhaps the only criticism i would make is that there is not enough of this film, but that, i guess is another way of saying that what is there is really rather wonderful.

the passenger


watching michelangelo antonioni's 'the passenger' is a stilling experience, not least of all because jack nicholson's laconic way is better suited to this film than pretty much any other i've seen. the story of a man who disappears into the life of another for reasons best known to himself doesn't rely on movie style or tricks, but conveys something of the inner life of a certain kind of person - he or she who does things for an inexplicable purpose. 'i used to be somebody else but i traded him in' says jack's character, travelling from north africa to london to munich and barcelona by way of the map of the human soul. a character tells another that the questions we ask reveal more about us than the answers given. nothing much happens in this picture, except the transfixed gaze of the audience. and it made me feel like i was alive.

p.s. watch it with jack's commentary on the dvd for a treasurable couple of hours in the presence of one of pop culture's true originals.

if it's not one thing, it's another

spare a thought for this guy, kevin mcconnell, 19-time oscar loser, whose experience last sunday night didn't exactly match that of helen mirren, martin scorsese, or forest whitaker. as the imdb tells us today:

Oscar Loser Lost Mother After the Awards

Oscar's biggest loser Kevin O'Connell had a double reason to feel low the day of the Academy Awards - he was nursing his dying mother, who passed away just after the telecast. Apocalypto sound mixer O'Connell found out he'd missed out on an Oscar for the 19th time on Sunday night, but he had more pressing personal matters on his mind. The multi-nominee attended the Oscar ceremony, but left right after his category was announced and raced to the hospital to check on his ailing mother. In a statement released to website GoldDerby.com, O'Connell says, "My mother Skippy passed away on Sunday night right after the Oscars. I was holding her in my arms when she died."

into great silence


found myself beginning lent a couple of days early last night at belfast's www.queensfilmtheatre.com being drawn 'into great silence' - a near-three hour documentary about life in a carthusian monastery.

it is slow and quiet, and makes the radical gesture of not offering commentary on the lives of those it portrays.

the notion of spending a life in near-silence is threatening to me, perhaps to most of us; but by the end of the film i was almost ready to commit. the film-maker, philip groening, flicks up biblical quotations from time to time, returning to jesus' words about giving up everything to be his disciple. the repetition of this phrase has a hypnotic effect, and as the film builds and builds to a climax in which a blind monk discusses his faith, intercut with scenes of the most extraordinary physical beauty, groening manages to convince that the richness of these mens' lives is an astonishing reward for choosing not to live like the rest of us.