Monday, December 31, 2012
2666 - The Part About The Crimes
Excerpt (421):
Around this time, Juan de Dios Martinez was still sleeping with Dr. Elvira Campos every two weeks. Sometimes the inspector thought it was a miracle the relationship survived. There were difficulties, there were misunderstandings, but they were still together. In bed, or so he believed, the attraction was mutual. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. If it had been up to him he would have married the director without a second thought. Sometimes, when it had been a long time since he saw her, he began to mull over their cultural differences, which he saw as the main hurdle. The director liked art and could look at a painting and say who the painter was, for example. The books she read he had never heard of. The music she listened to just made him pleasantly drowsy, and after a while all he wanted was to lie down and sleep which, of course, he was careful not to do at her apartment. Even the food the director liked was different from the food he liked. He tried to adapt to these new circumstances and sometimes he would go to a record store and buy some Beethoven or Mozart, which he would then listen to alone at home. Usually he fell asleep. But his dreams were peaceful and happy. He dreamed that he and Elvira Campos lived together in a cabin in the mountains. The cabin didn't have electricity or running water or anything to remind them of civilization. They slept on a bearskin, with a wolf skin over them. And sometimes Elvira Campos laughed, a ringing laugh, as she went running into the woods and he lost sight of her.
Around this time, Juan de Dios Martinez was still sleeping with Dr. Elvira Campos every two weeks. Sometimes the inspector thought it was a miracle the relationship survived. There were difficulties, there were misunderstandings, but they were still together. In bed, or so he believed, the attraction was mutual. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. If it had been up to him he would have married the director without a second thought. Sometimes, when it had been a long time since he saw her, he began to mull over their cultural differences, which he saw as the main hurdle. The director liked art and could look at a painting and say who the painter was, for example. The books she read he had never heard of. The music she listened to just made him pleasantly drowsy, and after a while all he wanted was to lie down and sleep which, of course, he was careful not to do at her apartment. Even the food the director liked was different from the food he liked. He tried to adapt to these new circumstances and sometimes he would go to a record store and buy some Beethoven or Mozart, which he would then listen to alone at home. Usually he fell asleep. But his dreams were peaceful and happy. He dreamed that he and Elvira Campos lived together in a cabin in the mountains. The cabin didn't have electricity or running water or anything to remind them of civilization. They slept on a bearskin, with a wolf skin over them. And sometimes Elvira Campos laughed, a ringing laugh, as she went running into the woods and he lost sight of her.
Chicago Bears - End of the Season
Kind of a heartbreaking way for the season to end yesterday. The Bears pull out a 26-24 victory against the Lions at Detroit, but Green Bay falls short in their comeback against the Vikings who kick a last second field goal to win the game.
One more week of games to start off the new year would have been nice.
Update: Lovie Smith was fired this morning after nine seasons. 10-6 this season. Super Bowl in 2006.
One more week of games to start off the new year would have been nice.
Update: Lovie Smith was fired this morning after nine seasons. 10-6 this season. Super Bowl in 2006.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Indianapolis Museum of Art
The Seashore, John Metzinger (1905). Oil on canvas. European modernism.
The Flageolot Player On the Cliff, Paul Gaugin (1889). Oil on canvas. European.
Landscape at Saint-Remy, Vincent van Gogh (1889). Oil on canvas. European.
Winter Landscape, Rockwell Kent (1909). Oil on canvas. American.
The Artist's Party, Joseph Delaney (1941-43). Oil on canvas. American.
(Delaney is shown with his back to the viewer talking to a man believed to be the Abstract Expressionist painter Jackson Pollock.)
New York, New Haven, and Hartford, Edward Hopper (1931). Oil on canvas. American.
He Is Risen (The Passion of Christ Series), Romare Howard Bearden (1945). Oil on gessoed board.
Head of a Clown, Georges Rouault (1920). Oil and gouache on paper mounted on linen. French.
Self-Portrait, Rembrandt van Rijn (1629). Oil on wood. Dutch.
Green Apples with Gray Curtain, Walt Kuhn (1943). Oil on canvas. American.
The Flageolot Player On the Cliff, Paul Gaugin (1889). Oil on canvas. European.
Landscape at Saint-Remy, Vincent van Gogh (1889). Oil on canvas. European.
Winter Landscape, Rockwell Kent (1909). Oil on canvas. American.
The Artist's Party, Joseph Delaney (1941-43). Oil on canvas. American.
(Delaney is shown with his back to the viewer talking to a man believed to be the Abstract Expressionist painter Jackson Pollock.)
New York, New Haven, and Hartford, Edward Hopper (1931). Oil on canvas. American.
He Is Risen (The Passion of Christ Series), Romare Howard Bearden (1945). Oil on gessoed board.
Head of a Clown, Georges Rouault (1920). Oil and gouache on paper mounted on linen. French.
Self-Portrait, Rembrandt van Rijn (1629). Oil on wood. Dutch.
Green Apples with Gray Curtain, Walt Kuhn (1943). Oil on canvas. American.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Zero Dark Thirty (Dir. Kathryn Bigelow)
I went to see the hunt for Bin Laden to take my mind off a woman.
The need of cinema for total immersion. To get out of your own head. And in that theater, it delivered. You don't need popcorn. You don't need soda. You'll just sit there riveted. Frozen. Without blinking. Sustained tension from minute one to the final moment. When it ended I could have continued to sit there for another hour. Finally, a real movie.
And it seems to usher in a new genre of cinema. Something I'll label for right now 'new journalism.' A sprawling narrative tale that jumps years and time, yet effortlessly so, without becoming disjointed. Fabric and small details throughout. Kind of three films in one -- a political thriller, a procedural, and the final one being an exhilarating men on a mission. A huge New Yorker piece adapted for the screen. I put this film alongside Zodiac.
Jason Clarke and Edgar Ramirez have worked themselves to become my favorite actors.
(A couple brief notes: Camp Chapman sequence -- I knew what was going to happen from hearing about it on Fresh Air a year ago and was still tense/and then angry for the security breach to be allowed, and the tracking of Bin Laden's courier in the market place should be remembered. A question: If they're able to track his phone, can't they listen in on the info he's providing and know if UBL is giving orders for Abbottabad?)
Two words: Fucking Awesome.
A great, grand American film.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
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