Nibbling Apples In a Corner
Apr. 18th, 2010 08:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraWatched Mona Lisa, a film I remember loving passionately when I first saw it in the ‘80s. Hasn’t really stood the test of time. I suppose comparisons to Taxi Driver are inevitable, but to me it was more like a flawed Vertigo.
Neil Jordan has an interesting visual sensibility but no real talent for telling a story – in that sense, I suppose, he’s very like Fellini who’s grandfathered in as My Favorite Director, but whose movies I haven’t seen in years and doubt I would like very much if I saw them now. I’m afraid the seedy Soho clubs, sulphurous lighting on Waterloo Bridge, filtered sun setting over ebbing sea, white rabbits hopping along blood splattered walls, and general Graham Greene-ish tawdriness of Brighton’s Prince Albert Hotel are not effective stand-ins for corruption when you fast forward 25 years into the future. From the purely story-telling point of view, Conrad was very wise to leave Kurtz to the realm of “unspeakable” horror.
One interesting point: Cathy Tyson, the high-end prostitute in Mona Lisa looks exactly like Jaye Davidson, the transvestite in The Crying Game.
Else? It snowed this morning. Snowed! Didn’t stick though.
My plot in the community garden got approved – that’s something. Wanted a garden, but didn’t want to put one in here in Freeville: roto tilling would be a lot of work, and anyway I’d like to move into town in a few months.
I’m in a kind of strange mood, a deep lethargy from which I’ve found it all but impossible to rouse myself. Don’t want to do anything. Want to sit in a corner, read historical novels, nibble apples. I’m hoping this is the generative funk that comes before a big creative push but I don’t know.
Neil Jordan has an interesting visual sensibility but no real talent for telling a story – in that sense, I suppose, he’s very like Fellini who’s grandfathered in as My Favorite Director, but whose movies I haven’t seen in years and doubt I would like very much if I saw them now. I’m afraid the seedy Soho clubs, sulphurous lighting on Waterloo Bridge, filtered sun setting over ebbing sea, white rabbits hopping along blood splattered walls, and general Graham Greene-ish tawdriness of Brighton’s Prince Albert Hotel are not effective stand-ins for corruption when you fast forward 25 years into the future. From the purely story-telling point of view, Conrad was very wise to leave Kurtz to the realm of “unspeakable” horror.
One interesting point: Cathy Tyson, the high-end prostitute in Mona Lisa looks exactly like Jaye Davidson, the transvestite in The Crying Game.
Else? It snowed this morning. Snowed! Didn’t stick though.
My plot in the community garden got approved – that’s something. Wanted a garden, but didn’t want to put one in here in Freeville: roto tilling would be a lot of work, and anyway I’d like to move into town in a few months.
I’m in a kind of strange mood, a deep lethargy from which I’ve found it all but impossible to rouse myself. Don’t want to do anything. Want to sit in a corner, read historical novels, nibble apples. I’m hoping this is the generative funk that comes before a big creative push but I don’t know.
