Monday, June 30, 2014
This is an open letter to cinema to say hey how’ve you been? We used to be so close, mean so much to each other and although I never stopped caring I’ve been a neglectful lover. I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve put you on the backburner, made you less of a priority to me assuming that at some point in time you’d still be there, waiting for me like you always were. Well before I ask you to take me back, I’d like to say some things.
A few days ago I was taking a nap when I had this dream. I’ll cut out the “crazy shit happens in dreams” parts to get to the point. I was in a book store/library and saw a few books on the film Cinema Paradiso. I pointed out to two employees/librarians/customers how overrated the film was. I went on to say it was one of many films that was mediocre at best that somehow got considered as great art because of the Miramax hype machine. I then went into a tirade of all the other films of it’s kind that the brothers Weinstein helped garner award recognition for. While heating up, I got a phone call that woke me up.
I was back in the real world, ready to meet a friend out to watch the NBA draft and have a few beers, but a fire was lit. My subconscious mind was screaming at me, reminding me just how much fun I used to have bitching about Oscar winners, singing the praises of films and attacking crowd pleasing hogwash given a fresh painted coat of hype. I knew I needed to watch some movies. I needed to write about them, I had neglected my one true love for far too long.
This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to get back on the horse or whatever euphemism you want to use. Sometimes I went so far as to write a rough draft never completed, or merely went to bed thinking about a topic of film I wanted to blog about. So I’m keeping this one somewhat short. Finish something, end the silence that has turned my once lovingly attended to blog into a ghost town full of tumbleweeds and the memories of a once passionate man writing (occasionally) eloquently about the subject most important to me. So alas let me write another run-on sentence meandering through countless subplots, as I fail to yield to a period. Allow me a chance to remind you cinema that you mean more to me than all others.
The wayward lover has returned, just as I returned when I became infatuated or obsessed with so many things from, critic rock, the great English language novels, comic books, baseball, culinary arts, and most recently beer. Being a beer snob has been fun, and I still am one. The spoils of my cellar have not been dispatched with. My liver is cursing me perhaps more than my forlorn heart for choosing such an occasionally self destructive obsession.
Yesterday I watched Roberto Rossellini’s avant-garde mini-opera Joan at the Stake (1954) and Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Lili Marleen (1981) and thought about all the mutual friends we used to have. I started to wonder what the Coen brothers have been up to, have you heard anything from David Lynch? Didn’t I hear Scorsese just made a movie, and wasn’t there a new Terence Mallick film floating around somewhere? There are so many things and people I want to catch up with and the beauty of cinema is that they’re always there. Sometimes they get discarded, ignored, or put on the shelf, but when you’re ready, when I’m ready, it’s just a push of the play button.
So I write to you, the closest thing to a high school sweetheart and the only true love of my life I’ve ever had that I’m sorry. Sorry I forgot how amazing Corn’s-a-Poppin’ could be in theaters, sorry I forgot how amazing Citizen Kane was, sorry I forgot how many hours, days, weeks, months, and years of loving entertainment you’ve given me. All you ever asked in return is that I just spend some time with you.
Well cinema, I’m all your’s if you’ll still have me.
…and for all the friends I’ve made since my last blog entry, welcome to My World of Film, hope you take a minute to see the old me.