Some years back (too many to say, really), I wrote this poem that upon completion appeared to be subconsciously inspired by Tennessee Williams. Not that my words on paper resembled those of the master, but it was the vibe I felt while reading it back to myself.
Last night, I read an article about the influential director Douglas Sirk, who late in life made a short film of a one-act play by Williams called Talk to Me Like the Rain And Let Me Listen... which, while unfamiliar, immediately reminded me of my old poem. Why? Here's an excerpt from the opening stage direction:
On a folding bed lies a Man in crumpled underwear, struggling out of sleep with the sighs of a man who went to bed very drunk. A woman sits in a straight chair at the room's single window, outlined dimly against a sky heavy with a rain that has not yet begun to fall. The woman is holding a glass from which she takes small, jerky sips like a bird drinking.
The setting in the play is in a Manhattan apartment, while my poem (as I imagined it) takes place somewhere in the Deep South. And here, the man and woman are (presumably) married, as opposed to the father and daughter in my poem (though the use of the word "father" might not need to be taken literally in terms of their relationship). But the similarities--the diminished woman sitting near a window holding a glass, the rain, the wreck of a man waking up on the couch--were surprising.
Not the biggest coincidence I've ever encountered, but a nice excuse to visit an old friend. Here's the poem, with a few minor corrections/changes by a more critical hand:
TENNESSEE
The rails of the porch were raintipped;
she stood wirelipped
and grimaced at the grey on the horizon
a glass of lemonade sweats on the windowsill,
lipsticky on the rim:
a one-night-sip memento
she longed for the embrace of a velvet mist
but the sandpaper cyclone cut in
inside,
the fabric flutters
from the sideswipe of the breeze,
brushes Father's arm,
sleepnumb on the sofa
the woman in his dream glides closer
(with laugh of heliumed hyena);
he reaches out to pet her
and awakens caressing the drapes
outside,
she peers through the screen:
Father is startled and surly;
he barks for his pipe,
"and how 'bout a light?"
...she withdraws with the grace of the tide.
Boston, MA
2.24.2010
2.16.2010
Excerpt from "The Triumph of Bullshit", by T.S. Eliot:
Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotions that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.
Awkward insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotions that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.
2.14.2010
Favorite Films of 2009
Yes, it's halfway through February, but of course it takes TIME to get through everything that floods the gate at the end of the year.
Some of the films mentioned may not have received a domestic release yet, but I'm including them anyway:
1. A Serious Man (Joel & Ethan Coen, USA)
Winking into the abyss, probably their funniest and most thought-provoking film in quite some time.
2. The White Ribbon (Michael Haneke, Germany/Austria)
A disturbing work with a flawless ensemble cast that simultaneously obfuscates as it illuminates, and consequently one is left with quite a strange taste in the mouth afterwards, bitter and delicious.
3. Tetro (Francis Ford Coppola, USA/Argentina)
An aging master looks energetically into the past, both personally and cinematically, with exciting nods to Fellini as well as Powell & Pressburger.
4. Bright Star (Jane Campion, Australia/UK)
Restraint, delicacy, silence, textures, flora, the wind, and the word. An unfortunately overlooked flower in a year of loud spectacle.
5. Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, USA)
The sum of the parts is better than the whole, but on a scene-by-scene basis arguably the best writing and filmmaking of the year, an abundance of great acting, dialogue, and composition.
6. Thirst (Chan-wook Park, South Korea)
The strangest thing I watched last year, a vampire story where the sexual and doomed romantic elements burst out of their cliched trappings to form something exciting and hilarious, and ultimately very moving. With a lot of blood.
7. Still Walking (Hirokazu Koreeda, Japan)
A simple story about family, the generation gap, and the passage of time; nothing really new here but done in a classic style with the patience and attention to detail of the greats, specifically Ozu. Just about perfect.
8. Funny People (Judd Apatow, USA)
Probably too long, but I wouldn't have wanted to cut any of it out, either. I laughed (harder and more often than any other time in recent memory), and I cared.
9. Avatar (James Cameron, USA)
Flawed, but unforgettable nonetheless. You'd have to buy a tab of LSD to get more bang for your buck.
10. Fantastic Mr. Fox (Wes Anderson, USA)
Not a diversion for Anderson but a continuation of his distinct take on dysfunctional families who put up with each other long enough to find out that they need each other. Such creativity and detail packed into every frame, beyond refreshing for the animation genre.
Honorable mention:
Two Lovers (James Gray, USA), The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (Niels Arden Oplev, Sweden), Broken Embraces (Pedro Almodovar, Spain), The Princess and The Frog (Ron Clements & John Musker, USA), Adventureland (Greg Mottola, USA), The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus (Terry Gilliam, UK), The Hurt Locker (Kathryn Bigelow, USA), Tokyo Sonata (Kiyoshi Kurosowa, Japan), Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea (Hiyao Miyazaki, Japan)
Acting Citations:
Vera Farmiga (Orphan), Abbie Cornish and Paul Schneider (Bright Star), Jackie Earle Haley (Watchmen), Joaquin Phoenix, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Vinessa Shaw (Two Lovers), Michael Stuhlbarg and Fred Melamed (A Serious Man), Ok-bin Kim (Thirst), Kirin Kiki (Still Walking), Penelope Cruz (Broken Embraces), Noomi Rapace (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), Christopher Plummer (The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus), Melanie Laurent, Diane Kruger, Christoph Waltz, and Michael Fassbender (Inglourious Basterds), Zoe Saldana (Avatar), Charlotte Gainsbourg (Antichrist), Souleymane Sy Savane (Goodbye Solo)
1.29.2010
CHECKPOINT
slipped on your bonny gestalt flats
and skimmed along the face of cracked creation,
porter at the border don’t take bags or boxes,
a button-pushin’ potion-bottlin’ prince of poxes,
said “take a slumber ‘til we scrawl your number”
and I stretched on the backs of the wretched
waiting for tri-stamped duty-free dreams
thrown up on wraparound sidereal screens
vested and dusted by wind-wound hands
like chromium crowns in an exhibit case
woke from a cobwebb’ed cheshire refresher
leapt to my threadbare reve-weary limbs
took salmonic flight in a bright water basket
tucked-in tight as two corpse in a casket
the line ever-moving brings nascent nodes nearer
a veriform figure once fading now clearer
chasm be filled
river be stilled
just a broken bone’s throw away,
I heard her sigh from the other side.
***
and skimmed along the face of cracked creation,
porter at the border don’t take bags or boxes,
a button-pushin’ potion-bottlin’ prince of poxes,
said “take a slumber ‘til we scrawl your number”
and I stretched on the backs of the wretched
waiting for tri-stamped duty-free dreams
thrown up on wraparound sidereal screens
vested and dusted by wind-wound hands
like chromium crowns in an exhibit case
woke from a cobwebb’ed cheshire refresher
leapt to my threadbare reve-weary limbs
took salmonic flight in a bright water basket
tucked-in tight as two corpse in a casket
the line ever-moving brings nascent nodes nearer
a veriform figure once fading now clearer
chasm be filled
river be stilled
just a broken bone’s throw away,
I heard her sigh from the other side.
***
11.05.2009
MURMUR POUR MA MERE
died in the wool
interred in the down
down down below
where the sand shifts slow
whisper powder in a sleeping ear
drop a rung from wake-up’s ladder
let the grains tell the brain
of an unfilled spotlight on the stage
a mother of uncertain sighs
highway roam in a mobile home
a patchwork blanket sewn
but never reaped outside bedsheets
hairpins turn
unfurl a bless'ed tress
‘cross a vacant breast
long-missed and amethyst
secre-tarry for a moment
the oft-pricked finger lingers
and the dictaphone phrases
the pitter-patter of little defeats
will the watermill forever roll?
the spokes, finely scored,
bear buckets of white oak board
to keep a jejune heart fully-flooded.
***
interred in the down
down down below
where the sand shifts slow
whisper powder in a sleeping ear
drop a rung from wake-up’s ladder
let the grains tell the brain
of an unfilled spotlight on the stage
a mother of uncertain sighs
highway roam in a mobile home
a patchwork blanket sewn
but never reaped outside bedsheets
hairpins turn
unfurl a bless'ed tress
‘cross a vacant breast
long-missed and amethyst
secre-tarry for a moment
the oft-pricked finger lingers
and the dictaphone phrases
the pitter-patter of little defeats
will the watermill forever roll?
the spokes, finely scored,
bear buckets of white oak board
to keep a jejune heart fully-flooded.
***
5.22.2009
End of a drought!
The first poem I've written in 13 months, the longest gap since I've started writing. Hmph.
Unintentionally, this appears to be economic crisis-inspired, with a bit of 1930's depression-era flavor. Decrying community hypocrisies, down with the rich, up with the scrappy maverick, that kind of sentiment. I leave the literary and/or psychological analysis to you...
***
CIVIC, PRIED
The town drunk
from the wishing well
and spit a filling back willingly
a fecund second ‘til it hit the bottom
de-loused in the flophouse
manhandled for panhandling
by soup kitchin’ cousins
and hoarse thieves tirading a trade
apprentice the season to be polly
wanna catheter to streamline the scheme this time
the mislaid plans of mason men
a foundation crumbles like broken bread pudding
unsure footing for a stood-on cornerstone ceremony
buckled knees of the vie eye peas
bottomed-out top hats and split-seam spats
can’t keep the ice cream parade afloat
with expired milk carton kids;
will those wanton batons higher
and beat the dire drums drier
In the parlor Trixie
was bristlin’ Dixie
she watched from the window
hurtin’ through the curtain
ill-to-follow fallen women,
sworn to skip the stream they swim in,
but tin ears telephone the others,
gossip ‘mongst the city mothers
now resigned to the line
‘twixt the sweet and the swine
she’s a slingshot send-off
Y-stick in back pocket
one-eyed and dog-tongued
a nose thumbed
at the stuffed sirs and puffed hers--
the last of their unkind
no quarter will they find;
the meter is up
and minded by the maid they have betrayed.
Los Angeles
5.22.2009
Unintentionally, this appears to be economic crisis-inspired, with a bit of 1930's depression-era flavor. Decrying community hypocrisies, down with the rich, up with the scrappy maverick, that kind of sentiment. I leave the literary and/or psychological analysis to you...
***
CIVIC, PRIED
The town drunk
from the wishing well
and spit a filling back willingly
a fecund second ‘til it hit the bottom
de-loused in the flophouse
manhandled for panhandling
by soup kitchin’ cousins
and hoarse thieves tirading a trade
apprentice the season to be polly
wanna catheter to streamline the scheme this time
the mislaid plans of mason men
a foundation crumbles like broken bread pudding
unsure footing for a stood-on cornerstone ceremony
buckled knees of the vie eye peas
bottomed-out top hats and split-seam spats
can’t keep the ice cream parade afloat
with expired milk carton kids;
will those wanton batons higher
and beat the dire drums drier
In the parlor Trixie
was bristlin’ Dixie
she watched from the window
hurtin’ through the curtain
ill-to-follow fallen women,
sworn to skip the stream they swim in,
but tin ears telephone the others,
gossip ‘mongst the city mothers
now resigned to the line
‘twixt the sweet and the swine
she’s a slingshot send-off
Y-stick in back pocket
one-eyed and dog-tongued
a nose thumbed
at the stuffed sirs and puffed hers--
the last of their unkind
no quarter will they find;
the meter is up
and minded by the maid they have betrayed.
Los Angeles
5.22.2009
6.16.2008
COSMIC TWILIGHT PIMPS!!*
Céline and Julie Go Boating (Jacques Rivette, 1974)
I had the privilege yesterday of seeing what is a fairly well-known film among cinephiles, but not very well-seen. There is no Region 1 DVD release, and even old VHS copies are hard to find. Not totally surprising, as Rivette isn't one of the bigger stars of the French New Wave, and by comparison his work is probably a lot harder to digest than some of Truffaut or Godard's more mainstream efforts.
The first thought that came to mind when this film ended was "GIRL POWER", and by that I don't mean to say that this film is some kind of feminist manifesto. What it does represent, to me, is a film where the girls get to play in the boys sandbox, acting as magicians, detectives, time-travellers, thieves in the night. It's all done with a lot of enthusiasm, and never takes itself too seriously to refrain from making a joke at any time, however inappropriate. It's also a bit of a puzzle box and Escher painting and part of the fun is watching to see where it's going and what will be discovered as it constantly folds back upon itself.
Very hard to summarize, the film begins with a very roundabout meeting of the two title heroines, played by Juliet Berto (Céline) and Dominique Labourier (Julie). Céline is the wilder of the two, and appears to work (occasionally) as a magician in some seedy nightclub, whereas Julie works in a library, where she and her co-worker smoke while telling the visitors not to. Though this film is set in the present day, the professions of the two women give you an early clue that this film is headed down the rabbit hole at some point.
After a significant amount of time is spent introducing the two characters, and their quickly blossoming friendship, Céline shows up on Julie's doorstep with cuts and bruises. Unable to explain fully what has happened to her, she tells a bizarre story about an old house she was just working in as a maid, where a man lives with his daughter and two women in some kind of sexual power struggle. This causes Julie to investigate on her own. What happens subsequently is a combination of haunted house mystery, chamber drama parody, slapstick comedy, and Lynchian metafilm.
The most unique invention is that even though each of the girls' multiple visits to the house conclude with a push out the front door and short-term amnesia, the devouring of a small hard candy found in their mouths enables them to recall the events that occurred inside. We see the same scenes repeated, extended, and then ultimately dismantled when Céline and Julie return together to rescue the little girl trapped in the family drama, taking turns "playing" the maid and struggling to remember their "lines". They are playing with the conventions of cinema and drama, on camera, and the audience is invited to join in the fun.
One of the highlights is the presence of Berto, electric as any actress I've ever seen on film. She's a force of nature who is impossible to take your eyes off of, and it's not hard to imagine how Julie could be sucked into her new friend's world. Over the course of the film we see the librarian let go of her bookishness and nostalgia for the past (her old lover is met and humiliated by Céline in disguise as Julie in one of the film's funniest scenes) and embrace an anything-goes mentality, culminating in the scene where she must substitute for Céline in a magic show performance in front of some influential investors.
What does this all mean? Who knows, but it's totally liberating, and one of the most unique cinematic experiences I've ever had. I've just located a copy of the film and hopefully will be able to share it with others, like a secret little spell.
* believe it or not, an actual line from the film.
I had the privilege yesterday of seeing what is a fairly well-known film among cinephiles, but not very well-seen. There is no Region 1 DVD release, and even old VHS copies are hard to find. Not totally surprising, as Rivette isn't one of the bigger stars of the French New Wave, and by comparison his work is probably a lot harder to digest than some of Truffaut or Godard's more mainstream efforts.
The first thought that came to mind when this film ended was "GIRL POWER", and by that I don't mean to say that this film is some kind of feminist manifesto. What it does represent, to me, is a film where the girls get to play in the boys sandbox, acting as magicians, detectives, time-travellers, thieves in the night. It's all done with a lot of enthusiasm, and never takes itself too seriously to refrain from making a joke at any time, however inappropriate. It's also a bit of a puzzle box and Escher painting and part of the fun is watching to see where it's going and what will be discovered as it constantly folds back upon itself.
Very hard to summarize, the film begins with a very roundabout meeting of the two title heroines, played by Juliet Berto (Céline) and Dominique Labourier (Julie). Céline is the wilder of the two, and appears to work (occasionally) as a magician in some seedy nightclub, whereas Julie works in a library, where she and her co-worker smoke while telling the visitors not to. Though this film is set in the present day, the professions of the two women give you an early clue that this film is headed down the rabbit hole at some point.
After a significant amount of time is spent introducing the two characters, and their quickly blossoming friendship, Céline shows up on Julie's doorstep with cuts and bruises. Unable to explain fully what has happened to her, she tells a bizarre story about an old house she was just working in as a maid, where a man lives with his daughter and two women in some kind of sexual power struggle. This causes Julie to investigate on her own. What happens subsequently is a combination of haunted house mystery, chamber drama parody, slapstick comedy, and Lynchian metafilm.
The most unique invention is that even though each of the girls' multiple visits to the house conclude with a push out the front door and short-term amnesia, the devouring of a small hard candy found in their mouths enables them to recall the events that occurred inside. We see the same scenes repeated, extended, and then ultimately dismantled when Céline and Julie return together to rescue the little girl trapped in the family drama, taking turns "playing" the maid and struggling to remember their "lines". They are playing with the conventions of cinema and drama, on camera, and the audience is invited to join in the fun.
One of the highlights is the presence of Berto, electric as any actress I've ever seen on film. She's a force of nature who is impossible to take your eyes off of, and it's not hard to imagine how Julie could be sucked into her new friend's world. Over the course of the film we see the librarian let go of her bookishness and nostalgia for the past (her old lover is met and humiliated by Céline in disguise as Julie in one of the film's funniest scenes) and embrace an anything-goes mentality, culminating in the scene where she must substitute for Céline in a magic show performance in front of some influential investors.
What does this all mean? Who knows, but it's totally liberating, and one of the most unique cinematic experiences I've ever had. I've just located a copy of the film and hopefully will be able to share it with others, like a secret little spell.
* believe it or not, an actual line from the film.
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