Melt soften warm; Busman's Holiday.

Lets forgo formalities tonight. Let our hair down.

Detailed information regarding the portrait can be found in the comments, if there's anyone out there curious about the mundane details of its condition and process. Although I still haven't transcribed my Photo Shop notes. Perhaps I consider those sort of impossibly boring for anyone to look at (as well as being reticent to publicly reveal the true depth of my PS primitivism. My custom PS icon would be a little sledgehammer.)

Recorded some new audio tonight. The first I've done since May, I believe. What went through my head later were fleeting remembrances of Gene Hackman in Coppola's The Conversation.

I feel fairly excited about it. Although I'm not Orson Welles when it comes to the quality of my monologue.

I want to return to the site of my first field recording. Attempt to do it again, carefully. I'd like to do it with company, if possible. Ballast against the monologue. Actually, I wonder if Jon's busy Sunday. Wanna take a walk?

This all relates back to thinking about narrative. I'm pretty fundamentalist when it comes to narrative structure. To me, a key ingredient is a passage of time. Otherwise we're only describing a scene; something photography seems more than capable of achieving unadorned. A passage of time, though, has an implied narrative. Unfortunately, I come from a pretty heavy film background. Well, that's not the unfortunate part (that's just useful). No, what's unfortunate is that I revere people like Tsai Ming-liang. I even read a book about him, years ago (which is a few feet away from me as I type, actually). He said something about how some filmmakers would choose to show a passage of time by placing a shot of a man, sitting on some stairs, and showing him light a cigarette. Then another shot of his feet, with four cigarette butts there on the ground. And how he, his reaction to this impulse (he comes from a heavy French film background that I don't really share) is to just film the fucking guy smoking four cigarettes.


Obviously, when he does this, he has certain key things. One is being careful about music (mostly eschewing it) and ambient sound. Another element is careful framing. Another is careful casting. His movies tend to have people (his muse is actually a found non-actor who has become his default principle protagonist across several pictures) that are somehow simply pleasing to look at. Not that they're attractive. In fact, they're decidedly, identifiably ordinary, in some way. Which is a great tool for empathy. And very underutilized in narrative. At least when big money is involved.

You wouldn't think this would work. Until it does. Go watch What Time is it There? It's one of my greatest film experiences. And granted, one of the things that makes this technique work so flawlessly in his films is the presence, sometimes, of my absolute favorite cinematographer,
Benoît Delhomme. A man whose work in composition and color should be in history books it's so perfect. Also the cinematographer on Figgis's The Loss of Sexual Innocence, the Vietnamese Cyclo, and Nick Cave's The Proposition. All truly good uses of your time, if you find yourself so inclined.



Speaking of good movies to watch, let's do a quick roundup. Not much commentary, I'm afraid. Just fine films seen very recently. And all, at this moment, available instantly streaming on Netflix, although Beau Travail for not much longer.

Cruising. (1980)
Beau Travail. (French 1999)
The Beastmaster. (1982)
Cobra Verde. (German 1988)
Goin' South. (1978)
La Moustache. (2005)
The Edge of Heaven. (German/Turkish 2007)
Executive Decision. (1996)
The Great Happiness Space. (Japanese documentary 2006)
No End in Sight. (Documentary 2007)

And a fine film trailer for something that I'd very much like to see, when able.

La Vida Loca. [You may wish to view this in a separate window; scaling issues.]


Tragically, this filmmaker was recently murdered, almost certainly involving some faction of his subject. Which is chilling, and hopefully... no. I was going to say "serves as a caution to other documentarians," but this was a smart man. He knew what he was doing. He was careful. It's quite sad, actually. But I suppose it's a sad subject.

Still. It's usually preferable to survive.