this weekend, when we've not been buying 20lbs of basmati rice, or 12lbs of short grain brown rice, my yin and i have been having a (mini)BGLT film festival in our living room.
Friday night we screened Transamerica, and although it left me feeling happy for the mother and her journey, i was unable to overlook my dis-ease regarding the treatment and plight of her son. the film's closing ten minutes were insufficient in my estimation, and the uplifting superficiality of the final scene between them seemed to gloss over the damage and trauma that the boy endured as a result of his mother's search for completion. her path to wholeness cannot substitute for his, and i felt an upsurge of doubt and discontent, wondering about the damage we cause in attempt to know our selves, how even the most benevolent of intents can be skewed and perverted by our inability to see into the hidden places of our being.
next up...
Saturday night we watched Brokeback Mountain, and i was pleasantly surprised. i avoided the film for years, initially from a complicated, self-imposed cinematic exile, and then from fear of disappointment, but Ang Lee's landscapes were stunning. moreover, the shot of Heath Ledger walking away in the side view mirror was equal parts poignant, breathtaking and sad. the exploration of masculine intimacy and its mediation through sex and violence was superb, and the film seemed to serve as a fulcrum balancing denial, self-loathing, and desire. it painted a touching portrait of interminable longing and indomitable love without veering into sentimentality, and the sincerity of the film made it possible to forgive its obvious, preposterously metaphorical final shot.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
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