The Rider

By Nick Cave & Warren Ellis, from The Proposition soundtrack


'When?' said the moon to the stars in the sky
'Soon' said the wind that followed them all

'Who?' said the cloud that started to cry
'Me' said the rider as dry as a bone

'How?' said the sun that melted the ground
and 'Why?' said the river that refused to run

and 'Where?' said the thunder without a sound
'Here' said the rider and took up his gun

'No' said the stars to the moon in the sky
'No' said the trees that started to moan

'No' said the dust that blunted its eyes
'Yes' said the rider as white as a bone

'No' said the moon that rose from his sleep
'No' said the cry of the dying sun

'No' said the planet as it started to weep
'Yes' said the rider and laid down his gun

It's not that I don't love you, blog...

It's just that I think I need some space. And time. To do the 560 bajillion things I need to get done between now and Christmas. But never fear! My movie-watching has remained vigilant. Since last Sunday I've seen Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, Wuthering Heights (with Tom Hardy, who is so pretty), and the BBC Jane Eyre (yes, the one with Timothy Dalton, and yes, I watch Bronte/Austen film adaptations when I get sick because they're comforting and DON'T JUDGE, HATERS).

I also watched Lawrence of Arabia with my mom, which is obviously an incredible film and has remained surprisingly relevant, all things considered. Also, Metropolis (which I still haven't finished, because... meh), Stagecoach (!), Hombre (Newman. Enough said.), Marvin's Room (ugh), and The Boxer, which was good if a little trite.

And I rewatched West Side Story and American Beauty yesterday in the Media Library aka Livingston Library basement, since I need to get this thesis shit written. Written, like, weeks ago. Panic mode... Engage!

I usually add a picture to keep things lively but I haven't taken many screencaps lately due to actually watching movies on television for a change (crazy!), so here's some Clint/Maclaine squinting action. So attractive.

Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of Desire)

Damiel: [Damiel places his hands on the Dying Man's head] As I came up the mountain, out of the misty valley into the sun. The fire on the cattle range, the potatoes in the ashes, the boathouse floating in the lake. The Southern Cross.

The Dying Man: [slowly begins to speak Damiel's thoughts out loud. They speak together at first. Then, Damiel walks away, and only the Dying Man speaks] The Far East. The Great North. The Wild West. The Great Bear Lake. Tristan da Cunha. The Mississippi Delta. Stromboli. The old houses of Charlottenburg. Albert Camus. The morning light. The child's eyes. The swim in the waterfall. The spots of the first drops of rain. The sun. The bread and wine. Hopping. Easter. The veins of leaves. The blowing grass. The color of stones. The pebbles on the stream's bed. The white tablecloth outdoors. The dream of the house in the house. The dear one asleep in the next room. The peaceful Sundays. The horizon. The light from the room in the garden. The night flight. Riding a bicycle with no hands. The beautiful stranger. My father. My mother. My wife. My child.

Watched:

Took a break from the Clint oeuvre (halfway through Bronco Billy, which perhaps even cheesier than Every Which Way But Loose, if that's possible), moving instead to sci-fi (Metropolis) and Irish patriotism (The Wind That Shakes the Barley, Michael Collins). Procrastination is an art form, and I have become a maestro.

Watched: Fistful of Dollars, Few Dollars More

Fistful of Dollars, Few Dollars More. Both good, but The Good the Bad and the Ugly is to me the superior of the three, by far. Far more storytelling depth (probably due to being twice as long), Clint seemed far more comfortable as The Man With No Name, and also, Eli Wallach. The other two are SORELY missing the Wallach factor. Although Few More Dollars has Klaus Kinski as a hunchback (...interesting...) and it also has Lee Van Cleef, which, bonus. Plus the hat-shooting scene. Still, I thought the last one was best. And if anyone has seen all three, can somebody explain why Ramone shows up as Indio and no one mentions it? Or why Cleef is Colonel Mortimer and then Sentenza? I guess they're really not supposed to be a continuous story at all, still, it's weird when it's the same actors.


Also, saw Rob Roy and Primer. Neeson is always awsome, Rob Roy was a lot more about sex than I thought it was going to be (also, Tim Roth plays a GREAT weirdo flamboyant villian-type) and Primer was confusing but cool. No screen caps because I watched all of the above on Hulu (the whole spaghetti trilogy is on there- get it while it's good!) and the other two I watched on the tv thanks to the magic of Netflix/XBox.

Okay, so that's what I did last night/today. I have to get back to work soon but first... Hang 'Em High. Viva la Eastwood!

In the Mood for Love, Wong Kar-Wai

Took two hours out of studying to watch this very sensuous, beautiful movie. I took some screencaps of my favorite images.

Well played, Levi's.

Finally got to watch some tele this weekend. Saw this Walt Whitman poem on a Levi's commercial. Too tired to get into ideas of exploitation, reinvention, discovery of new art, the limits of appreciation within conspicuous consumerism, but... I liked the poem, and the recording.

America

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,

All, all alike, endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,

Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,

Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,

A grand, sane, towering seated Mother,

Chair'd in the adamant of Time.