Dreamways

"Love, in all its splendor and mess, found a fit expression on Rome’s oldest bridge last year. Inspired by a best-selling book, then the movie version, young couples wrote their names on a padlock. They chained their lock around lampposts on Ponte Milvio. Then they symbolically cut off escape by tossing the keys into the wine-dark Tiber below." So begins Ian Fisher's article "Love Rite on a Bridge, but Is the Romance Fading?" in The New York Times (06 Aug 07).

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This 1997 German-French movie features Daniel Craig in an intelligent European co-production about love triangles. Miriam is in love with two men, John (Craig) and Pierre. When asked to make a choice between the two, it dimishes her. It seems that she needs both loves in her life in order to thrive. Can the men make such an accommodation, can they live this situation as a demonstration of the depth of the love for her?

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Bright Enough to Make One Split

It seems that each day exists
to be written and waking is
another yawn of ampersand
and swooning the result
of being held by flesh.

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Starring Toby Jones, Daniel Craig, Sandra Bullock, Jeff Daniel, this movie is another telling of Truman Capote's story revolving around his book In Cold Blood. I had thought, after Phillip Seymour Hoffman's turn in Capote, that this second movie would be pointless. I was pleasantly surprised to see that this other revisioning of those people and events is quite interesting.

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This French movie is a sequel, as it were, to L’Auberge Espagnole, of a few years ago. The focus is a young fellow who does not know how to act in order to obtain True Love. He is torn by a conflict between lovely, Aphroditic, but inconstant love and more Heric, but grounded love. I found the film a bit uneven, but all-in-all rather interesting.

A dismbodied Dream of Perfect Love: all ease and air, no ground, no home. A Full-Body Dreaming of Love: blood, sweat & tears, and Home.

Movie Associations. When I went in to pick up the DVD for last night’s viewing of this movie, Josh launched into a ten minute harangue lambasting The Science of Sleep. He could not say enough bad things about the movie. Obiviously something archetypal was triggered in him. It wasn’t just „Eh, I didn’t care for it,“ but there were rivers of vitriol pouring out of him. It was amusing to listen to him. I still like the film as much as ever.

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This French movie stars Gael García Bernal and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Directed by Michel Gondry. The story of Stephane and Stephanie, two young, dreamful people, next door neighbors in Paris. Stephane lives a life where the boundaries between sleepfulness and wakefulness are enormously less distinct than for most people. Stephanie, too, is much more connected to the dreamful world than most.

Their dreamful ways afford both of them much beauty and magic, but, particularly for Stephane, create great difficulties in negotiating the wakeful world.

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A sun-drenched Sunday morning. I’ve breakfasted in bed, read both newspapers, shaved and showered, and am ready to tackle the new day. Well, perhaps touch it below the waist or pull its flag out, rather than tackle it.

More Middle of the Night Ruminations prompted by HOA stuff. Last night the focus was on Voice. That it is crucial for me not to feel shut down by The Gang.

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 Vivid images from Brokeback Mountain have been with me the past weeks. Interestingly enough, they appeared before I even saw the movie. I had playing in my head strong and vivid internal movies of being in Colorado mountain scapes with Jake G. / Jack. My soul visited a sweet and fluid interaction with an image of an impish, sensual and easeful Man of Gyllenahall’s visage. A fellow who sees me and loves all that he sees therewith. Wordless ease. A pure fitting together. Embodiment. Like Oren.

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"Yes". Last night F & I went out to a movie, the first such entertainment excursion since his back difficulties started. We saw Sally Potter’s latest opus, Yes. I love it. (F, interestingly, found it „self-absorbed“ and tedious.) For me, it was a delightful trip in a world of fascinating questioning, a world of sensuality. „She“ was played wonderfully, I thought, by Joan Allen. Sam Neill was her husband. A fellow with and Armenian name was „He“, her lover.  read more »