Movie Listing (2000)

With the end of the decade approaching us, everyone's making lists of "best..." and "worst..." of the 00's. And I thought "why the heck not?".

The first list I thought of making was, of course, a list of the best books. But then it hit me that I'm surprinsingly unaware of contemporary literary works, my wheelhouse being 19th century and before. It's much more advisable my making a list of movies. Therefore, this starts with a trip back to my 15 years of age. Oh, those days... (it was a particularly good year). Bear in mind that this list is exclusively my opinion, regardless of the critics and whatnots, and that I also haven't seen a number of much praised films.

My favorite movies of 2000:

Gladiator: directed by Ridley Scott, starring Russell Crowe and Joaquim Phoenix. The movie that finally threw Crowe in the long-deserved arms of success and world-wide acknowledgement, not to mention the Oscar nod AND the Oscar itself. Great, great movie, from beginning to end. Nothing is overdone - and  this can happen in the blink of an eye when it comes to epics. Most importantly: it doesn't suffer from the presence of overrated leading actors in its midst, like Alexander would, a few years later...

Almost Famous: directed by Cameron Crowe, it revealed my dear, dear Kate Hudson. She managed to gave unexpected life to a role that could've been easily shallow. All the actors shine there and the movie, though with a simple plot, makes you feel like you actually got something from just watching it. If you're a rock fan, this is mandatory, for sure.

Chocolat: directed by Lasse Hallström, starring Juliette Binoche, Johnny Depp, Judi Dench, Alfred Molina and Carrie-Anne Moss. Great cast. Some have complained about the predictability of the plot. Well, it's not about whether you can guess what's gonna come next - but how it makes you feel. Yes, you know Roux is gonna come back, that the Comte de Reynaud and Caroline Clairmont are eventually gonna cave in, and that something's gonna happen to the ashes of Vianne's mom. That's not the point at all. The point is learning more about standing up for what we believe in, about tolerance and love. We need more stories like that nowadays.

Chicken Run: directed by Peter Lord and Nick Park. Brilliant! Specially at a time when the great audience was up to here with Japanese animations. Well, you take that, Jap studios! The British can still kick your butt! (still? when could they ever?... anyway...). The voice cast is rightly chosen, and the lines are something of a genius, like the old rooster Fowler's "Pushy Americans, always showing up late for every war." Ha! And Mrs. Tweedy is simply frightening as the villainess... Had I been younger, I think I would've had a couple of nightmares with her! This is a movie to be seen over and over again. One that makes you believe that hens can actually fly (long distances, I mean). And if they can fly that far, what can't you yourself do, if you set your mind to it?

The Emperor's New Groove: directed by Mark Dindal, it's a much, much underrated Disney movie, and my personal favorite of that year. The last of a long lineage of brilliant animated movies (until this year with the, for me triumphal, return with The Princess and the Frog), this one passed pretty much under the radar. There are no princes in white horses, damsels in distress, fairy-tale castles, singing animals, romance, nor people bursting into song, except for the initial "Emperor's Theme Song", and Sting singing something over the credits - which we can forgive. What it has is a simple plot in a fast pace, with quick-witted jokes and laugh-out-loud satires. It's probably the funniest Disney animation movie since Aladdin. And David Spade's voice for Kuzco is right on the money! And it does have some of the traditional Disney moves: the necessity of the protagonist's internal growth in order to overcome his difficulties, the over-the-top villain, with a stupid but funny sidekick who's usually not really evil, the kind light-hearted peasant who helps the protagonist (usually someone from royalty). Definitely, a Disney classic, not to be missed!

Others worthy of notice that year:
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Bedazzled; O Auto da Compadecida; Memento.

What I regret having watched in 2000:

Unbreakable: ok, I gotta be completely honest here. I have no friggin' idea why I didn't like it. The whole thing just seemed so eeeeeendless, and the plot stupid... it did nothing for me. Yes, random and vague, but there's nothing I can, or rather, nothing I wanna do about it.

Cast away: maybe it was the fact that I went to watch it cus it was mandatory for English classes at school, I don't know... point is, I hated it. And good Lord, how I hated the damn volleyball!

The sixth day: an utter waste of time.

Dracula 2000: I bet Anne Rice was tossing and turning in her tomb. Oh wait, she's not dead... I meant Bram Stoker. They're all the same, all those people writing about vampires, what's up with that... But I gotta admit something: the idea of Dracula being actually Judas was really interesting, I'll give it that.

Cruel Intentions 2: how dare they make a sequel without Ryan Phillipe???? That was outrageous, really. Besides, the movie sucked. I choose to forget Amy Adams was Kathryn, cus I absolutely adore Amy Adams.

Blair Witch 2: The Book of Shadows: I haven't seen it. Nor do I intend to, ever. But to think that someone actually deemed it a good idea to create a sequel to the 99 movie (which I did see) is simply ludicruous. And what's UP with this title anyway? Did they copy it from Charmed or something?

2001, here I come!

Humbuging!

Well well well, would u look at that... I said "Humbug!" three times, with all the contempt I'm capable of - and yet, no ghost of Christmas Past, Present nor Future has paid me a visit. I thought they would, u know, telling me to stop being such a spoiled girl, otherwise Tiny Tim would die. Or something like that.

Huh. Apparently, the Xmas Ghosts don't work like Beetlejuice.

Well, that being the case... God bless us everyone! (Jeez...)

Thinking

"I'm not like them/ But I can pretend (...) I think I'm dumb/ Or maybe just happy."
(Dumb, In Utero, Nirvana)

One of my best friends - my brother, actually - is one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. And I know some darn smart people, mind. And yet, he accepts things as they come, doesn't ask himself or anybody else any kind of questions, and that's that. I'd come down to the conclusion that it was out of sheer laziness.
But I found out the true reason the other day, over lunch:
"Man is the only animal that needs to think. All the other animals simply... are. And they're utterly happy. We're not. We keep looking for happiness here and there, never truly finding it. And the more we think about it, the more miserable we become. You know what I really want? To live like an animal. I just wanna fuck, sleep, eat and fuck some more. When we think, we raise questions. Unbearable questions. Why thinking, then? It's just unpleasant."

Yeah, "lazy" is not the word. "Coward"? I don't think so either. I just had to agree. How could I not? Thinking, true thinking, IS unplesant, it IS unbearable, more often than not. How many times haven't I wished that I could just stop?

House M. D. We're in the 6th season, and I see it every goddamn week. A couple of weeks ago, the episode revolved around this guy, Jimmy Sidas, a genius with an I.Q. of 178 - but  who abused his cough medicine, along with booze, to lower his intelligence. He got married to this dumb woman, and worked as a courier. Why?

Jimmy: I work as a courier because I want to. It's easy, I don't have to think.
Dr. Taub [ironic]: It's too hard to think.
Jimmy: No, just unpleasant.

Jimmy: When my brain was on low, everything didn't seem so miserable anymore. Life was bearable.

Jimmy: It's lonely, isn't it?
Dr. House: It's not that bad.
Jimmy: Then you're not that smart. You ever tried to kill yourself?
Dr. House: Not quickly.
Jimmy: I did. 12 years ago I jumped off the top of my eight-story building into a dumpster bin the day before pick up. I broke my collarbone, my leg, and three ribs. When I was in the hospital they put me on narcotics, and suddenly everything was just better. I didn't feel isolated or lonely. That's where I met my wife. She was so happy. And dumb. And I was... smart... and miserable. You tell me who the genius is. I fell in love with her, buzzed out of my head, and I knew I wanted to stay that way forever.
(Esteban Powell as James Sida in Ignorance is bliss, House M. D., 6th season)

It is not for the faint-hearted, indeed.

Quoting Favorites II (or: on Laughter)

"Because he knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy”
(One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey)

"He knew you can’t really be strong until you can see a funny side to things."
(Ibidem)

Again, top 3 books.

That laughter, that was exactly what Chief Bromden needed. He was entrapped in the fog of his creation, where everything was heavy and mostrous - where he was small and weak himself.
It took this laughter - this laughter that filled up the silences and voids and shook the room with it - to get him out of there. To make him realize he was actually one of the biggest and strongest guys around. To make him be able to run again.

"If you can't laugh at yourself, life's gonna seem a whole lot longer than you like." 
(Natalie Portman as Sam in Garden State)

Raining

We're always learning. Ooops, cliché alert!

Well, what I've learnt this week is that I need to learn (wow, isn't that repetitive?!) how not to give a crap.

Why?

Raindrops are falling on my head/ But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red/ crying is not for me/ Cause/ I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining/ Because I'm free/ Nothing's worrying me.
(Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, B. J. Thomas)

Right on the money.

The rain always, always falls -  how we face it depends entirely on us.
(Credits to M. H., for a great metaphor.)

Somedays we're just not in the mood - we're all dressed up, our hair nicely done, and we don't wanna get wet. We do, and then we get pissed.

Somedays we're in the right mood for that - we see the first raindrops battering agaisnt the windowpane, and we rush out the door, parched for some rain. Gettting wet is all we wanna do then (no pun intended, please).

Somedays we're neither here nor there - and then we think "screw this, I'm already wet, I'm gonna fuck" (pun intended). If life gives you a lemon... you know how the chorus goes. Getting wet, whether we like it or not, that's life. However, we seek shelter from it nonetheless. And that's what relationships are: a shelter from the rain, when it's pouring down.
But shelters are built by human hands, are they not? Just like everything that is human, they're weak. They, too, leak; and we get wet.
At such a time we have two options ahead of us: we can either get pissed all over again, and not forgive our shelter for having failed us so - or we can remind ourselves that, had we built it, it might've been just as weak, and allow others to make mistakes as well. And not give a crap about being wet.
Not giving a crap makes us much, much lighter. Being soaked - to your very bones - and not giving a tiny little rat's ass... talk about freeing.

Going IV

(...)

He stood there, hiding his face against the door frame. He couldn't go. He didn't feel as if he were strong enough to stay, nor weak enough to leave.

As if he wasn't strong enough to leave, nor weak enough to stay.

He turned around to look at her once more. And as he felt his head spinning, he picked up the bouquet he'd dropped on the floor. Slowly, he walked up to her, watching while she kneeled and punched the floor with all her might, as if it had wronged her terribly. She stood up suddenly, and he took the last steps really carefully, lest he should scare her away. He touched her lightly on the shoulder, and she turned around, slowly, puzzled to be tenderly touched. Their eyes met.

She did not show any emotion, and he tried to do the same, not to betray any signs of desperation. He offered her the flowers, in silence.

"C'mon Jean... Take the flowers. Just... take them. Please..." The words echoed within, without ever finding their way out. She looked at him, big eyed - and started backing away from him, shaking her head in an insanely slow, persistent manner, her eyes insistently glued to his. She knew him; and yet, she knew him not. As she withdrew, he shook his head as well, in complete synchrony with her, in complete denial. Suddenly, he threw the flowers on the floor, while he pulled her close to him with the other hand. And with both of them, he wrapped her in his arms.

She grasped at his back, as if trying to return the embrace, but having only a vague idea of how to do it. 

He buried his face in her hair, miserable. And the smell of it... He'd never forgotten it - now he knew he never would.

So that, right there, that was despair.

She moved in his arms, trying to break free from the embrace he'd longed for. He didn't want to let go - and suddenly, she seemed to have lost all her strength, she felt like a rag doll in his arms. But she fought so clumsily he had no option but to let her go. She buried her face in her hands, hiding behind her hair; always without a sound.

He looked at her, then looked away, utterly lost. But when he looked back at her, it was just in time to catch her fall: the minute she took her face out of her hands, she had such lack of will of her own that she'd let gravity pull her down. He tried to drag her back to her bed, but instead, she threw herself on the floor, reaching for the flowers; she grabbed them, thrashing them against the floor so desperately they crumbled.

And the look, the pain on her face... it was just too much for him to bear.

He strode across the room, and in a moment he was looking out the only window there was. He leaned on the window sill, feeling weak, his breathing heavy and his eyes burning. He...

She was... running? Before he'd fully understood what she was doing, she threw herself on him, holding him from behind with all the pathetic strength in her weakened arms. He startled, and tried to loosen himself from her hold, taking large desperate steps, dragging her along - but she wouldn't let go. As he moved, her grip slid from his waist to his left foot. And the more he moved around, roughly, but never hurting her, the more she'd hold on to him, crying, silently.

He fell. She finally released him, and he stayed right there on the floor. He wouldn't...

She ran towards him once again, and he got up on one knee to catch her, but instead, she climbed his right shoulder. With the greatest of ease, he stood up with her on his shoulder, he'd carry her to her bed - but immediately she was somewhat slowly diving towards the ground once again. He slowed her fall even more, and she landed softly on the cold tiles. She lay there motionless for a split second, wrapped around her wrinkled gown, before she started pulling him, trying to get him on the floor by her side. He resisted as delicately as he could, trying instead to pull her back up - she let go of his hand, got up, and made a dash to the window.

She was going to jump.

He caught her midair, she didn't fight. He brought her back to the ground, and safe to his arms again. She seemed to feel that embrace more than she'd done before, she seemed to enjoy it.

Nurse. Visiting time was over.

She freed herself from his arms, and fought the Nothing again, frantically. He couldn't look at it anymore, but could do nothing else but look. He wouldn't cry...

He stole away.

...Unless he had his eyes open.

He's an adorable old man now, with a sweet smile and melancholy eyes. He came back home 40 years ago from the war. His parents have been dead for 10 years, and he misses them. He's got no wife nor children, no one to leave behind.

Except the quiet old woman at the institution, with no smile, big eyes and aquiline nose. The quiet old woman he visits every Sunday between 3 and 4pm.

Updating

Why are people always so obsessed with the new? Don't get me wrong, I love the new - but I just wish it was optional, instead of inevitable. I hate inevitability.

Microsoft came up with Windows 7 cus Windows Vista sucks big time, period. Ok, I get that. But... why did they come up with Windows Vista, when Windows XP works so damn fine?

Why can't we just get on with the old?