More and more and more and more music!

The trouble with waking up at midnight and not being able to go back to sleep... I end up looking for music and getting obsessed about music and getting frustrated that I have to be passive in the musical process because I can't reproduce the music or create more music or share the music with anyone in the middle of the night except through a very non-interactive blog.

Apart from Lana Del Rey (aka psychotic songstress to some of you), I've also been listening to Kathleen Battle.



Battle also sang one of the tunes in the soundtrack of House of the Flying Daggers:



I watched that movie recently, and to be honest, wasn't a great fan. Martial arts-deception-romance-tragedy movies have been done, and done better. And while I love the song, it's somehow disconcerting to have an English song in a Chinese period movie.

Doubt

Just watched Doubt, which I'd always meant to watch but somehow never did. Wonderful film & extremely talented actors, though a bit too sombre for my mood today.

Also, I never thought I'd say this, but isn't football such a lovely sport?

It's slightly perverse. I hadn't touched my violin for months until the day I put it in storage. While waiting for the guys (actually, a lady. gal power!) to pick up my stuff, I played it in the kitchen (most of my housemates had already moved out anyway, and I also muted my violin), and it felt so good. And now that it's safely in storage and I can't get at it, I'm longing to play my violin. I know I'm crap at the violin, but there's something about the intimacy and closeness of the violin that the piano (or guitar!!!!!) can't replicate. It's almost like having a 2nd voice. Argh I need to just fall asleep and stop torturing myself.

1st Christmas on justareed

Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy the celebrations and/or break from work!

I've been complaining about work these few days. But the moment I get free time I happily, voluntarily start researching. Because I want to. Go figure. I think that probably the best way to get me to do work is to give me a holiday.

Curse of the Golden Flower is a good show. Go forth and watch! Unfortunately Jay is a really really really lousy actor. In the only scene where he had any real acting to do, people actually laughed. You've gotta do better than that, Jay. Especially since everyone else on the cast is a pretty good actor/actress. But I like the song hee.

Movie log (14 Oct-22 Oct 06)

You, Me & Dupree - This is not my fault. The bf gave me a choice between Silk & this.

Black Dahlia - Creepy at parts, but fun. Sniggered throughout the show, full of outrageous characters and (to me) nostalgic plots.

My Summer of Love - Cool show! I loved it.

Don't ask me why I'm watching so many movies. *cry*

it's been a long day

I actually watched 2 movies today, The Fog of War and Les Amants Reguliers.

The first was ok, interesting enough. McNamara is, of course, an intriguing character, and it's nice to hear his version of what happened. I thought it was really touching when he broke down while talking about JFK's death though (I'm a sucker for these things). Sometimes we forget that presidents are humans with friends and loved ones too.

Les Amants Reguliers was an elegant, elegiac film, starting with the 1968 riots, and moving on from there. I don't know why, but I was entranced by the quality of the film... and here I really mean how sharp the images were, and how that enhanced the beauty of the black and white images. The shadows and lighting were beautiful...

Anyway, it starts off with idealism and violence and revolutionary ideas, and hopes. And slowly all that gets stripped away, and everyone is gradually co-opted into the system. Disappointment sets in, and weariness, and then resignation. The people who'd been with the protagonist during the riots gradually leave him. All head for a better life. Some hold on to the idea of the revolution, but descend into buffoonery as their ineffectual efforts testify to the lost cause. Most others abandon the cause and become 'bourgeois'. The 'Establishment', at first seen by the protagonist as these 'lousy bastards' who clobber women and sneak up on barricades, are actually nice, genial, if shrewd old men... But they're part of the system nonetheless, and they triumph in the end, as the police officer pronounces the protagonist dead. Dead, not fighting for the revolution, but dead from a lousy drug overdose. Death of youth, death of love, death of ideals, death of hope, death of dreams...

The film was very slow, and lasted 3 hours. Only 2/3 of the audience was left by the time we were done. And I think it's a pity that we've become so used to fast-paced Hollywood flicks that we can't adjust ourselves to the pace of slower (but better) films. We can't seem to wait for pleasure anymore, but I think patience is exactly what we need. You don't really understand in the first few minutes of the film; you need to wait for its full flowering to be able to appreciate it. But if you get bored by the end of 10 minutes, then you don't get to taste the many textures and emotions of the film. It was a very 'whole', 'completed' work, and I know that if I could watch it another time, I'd get more out of it, because there's so much more to it.

I loved the frames where the actors/actresses stayed very still for very long... It was not that they froze the frame. The actors just stayed still, but you could tell because they couldn't really stay perfectly still. It was like a 'live' portrait, very aesthetically pleasing. (most of them were portrait shots)At times I thought the actors/actresses looked like flowers in their fragility and their 'aliveness' and their stillness. It's as if the director had wanted that moment of time frozen forever, like an old photograph, yet better, because this photograph breathed and lived.

And the sense of history in the film... Perhaps the director assumed mistakenly (this is Singapore after all) that the popular history of 'barricades in the Latin Quarter' was known to the audience. I don't think some people got the references.

Anyway, I'm hopelessly tired. I think I over-committed myself. Usually I'm very careful about giving myself enough time and space (because I'm both extremely introverted and a low energy level creature). Unfortunately this time I thought maybe for once, I could forget about that and go all out. As a result I'm exhausted. The languages I'm learning, music, school, films, the thesis, the extra papers that I might have to write even... I want to do all of that very very badly. But I'm tired, very rapidly losing my sense of humour, and currently, my thoughts feel like a swarm of intoxicated bees.

Movies watched in past week

I finally watched Singing in the Rain! It was fun, but I think I'm growing out of movies of this type (plotless musicals).

(btw, Bleach is showing now on cable!)

Also watched Scoop, which I don't remember much of, but it was funny.

Watched Fauteils d'Orchestre (Orchestra Seats) at Alliance today (and ran into one of my profs haha). It was good! and inspiring... I loved the concert pianist! And the idea... What happens when your achievements, your certs, your qualifications, start becoming a burden? They start restricting your options, and start pushing you to where you might not want to be... Haha of course I'm not saying I'm not lucky to have come this far. It's just that I'm starting to feel increasingly restricted, not by anything material, but by the expectations of others. *whine* :P

I hope tomorrow's show will be as good as I expect it to be. Hee.

Oh and bought Cache! and A Ton Image! For an incredible price! (10 & 2 bucks respectively)

And It Started with a Kiss (taiwan drama) is coming to cable mwahahahaha...

*yawnz* I'm incredibly tired... and brain dead.

Movie log

Movies I've watched since last Friday:

Sepet - pretty entertaining, but not in top league yet

Little Red Flowers - slightly disturbing, but cool

Little Miss Sunshine - must-watch

American Dreamz - darn funny. thanks Joyce.

The Host

Remember what I said about films being the sole consolation for a dull, boring life? I watched The Host with Ed! Yay!

But first, speaking of films... Paula Abdul appeared in the Rockstar audience yesterday! (yes, I'm very up to date with certain types of news.) Hey Paula, check out the singers who can sing (compared to American Idol), and the wonderful show format (compared to American Idol), and the lack of soppy family videos (compared to American Idol).

Spoilers warning! Don't read if you haven't and are going to watch The Host.














The Host had a sad ending... So much for "a family comedy in the guise of a monster movie" (Ed's words). So I was sad for a while. But what I found really disturbing about the film was that it seemed to be the fantasy of a guilty father (perhaps it's just me).

Ok, spoilers warning #2. If you read on, don't blame me.

Let's read the movie like this: a father who seems slow and totally 'out of it' lives with his father and his precocious daughter. He's looked down upon by all his family members, including his daughter, but he loves them, especially his daughter, dearly. So what essentially happens is, a monster appears from out of the blue, kills his father and daughter despite his best efforts to save them, and in the end, he adopts a little boy who gets along with him and doesn't look down on him, and he takes over his father's store.

Hmmm. Suppose I was a father who doesn't have the respect of my child or dad, I live with my dad and I'm a lowly employee in his store while he makes all the decisions and often scolds me. What would I fantasize?

Suppose... a monster came and killed the two of them. And of course I didn't want that. I tried to save them. It wasn't my fault. Everything was out of my control. I cried over my dad's body. I cried over my daughter's body. I avenged my family by killing the monster. I've been absolved from all guilt. And I adopted this little boy my daughter died trying to save. It was the right thing to do. But it is only with this little boy that I can build up the parent-child relationship that I've always dreamt of having.

Ok... Maybe it's just me. But I thought there were tell-tale signs. Like when his brother and sister were weeping over the body of his daughter, he walked up to the little boy (after killing the monster) and picked him up. And it seemed by the end of year he'd lost all interest in the event that should be considered traumatic to him. He absent-mindedly switches off the tv - doesn't even notice it actually - when a news report comes on about the monster, in order to concentrate on having dinner with his new son. He now owns the store, and is in charge of protecting it. He holds the gun. His new son doesn't talk back at him, and is, actually, very much like him. Both stole stuff when they were young because they were hungry; the last 'family scene' with his new son shows the son basically sleeping and eating - the two preoccupations of the protagonist. This is really the perfect son for him.

Hmmm. If you were a father who didn't have the respect of your family, didn't have your own means of making a living, had to depend on others, were at the beck and call of your father... If you couldn't deal with the fact that you longed to be rid of this family, if you couldn't deal with the fact that actually, what you really wanted was another family in which everyone respected you, and you were in control... what would you fantasize?

My friend, the award-winning director

We went to watch Joyce's documentary at Substation last night, and it was GOOD!!!!!!!!!! It was so funny! And the audience loved it! She got the most laughs and the loudest applause. Joyce is SO cool!

After the screening Joyce was literally mobbed by screaming fans (ok that was just us, her personal groupies, but people DID mob her during the Q & A, and she received a flood of namecards and DVD requests). And Min, Jean and I stood around absolutely thrilled cos WE LOVE JOYCE! (haha don't kill me please)

But really, her documentary is fantastic. She got some really brilliant interviewees (including Ivan Heng and Woffles Wu), and the message came across strong and clear. We were telling her that she should just sell the DVD.

And for those not in the know *sniffs disdainfully*, what I'm talking about is Singapore Standard Time, a short documentary about time and trees and Singapore. As far as I know, it'll be showing on Central (?) sometime early next year. Don't miss it!

Just to get it out of my system

Qualifiers: I'm writing this based on my somewhat hazy memory of the show, so perhaps I've left out elements or exaggerated (even made up) some things. If I ever watch the show again, I'll re-look this.

Spoilers!

I was wondering why Tony Takitani was so strangely compelling (hehe), and I finally hit on a strangely compelling explanation. The show was very very very tightly controlled. So tightly controlled that it was very finished and very disciplined. I got the vague sense, even while watching, that it was a very 'small' show, not just because it was short (about 1.5hrs) and about only 1 man (as you can tell by the title), but also because of the style. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't grand, it wasn't exciting; by right it should have been kind of dull. But the style really reinforced the theme of the movie - loneliness. Restraint in the style parallels the protagonist's restraint on his feelings (loneliness), which was also compared to the physical imprisonment of his father (another type of restraint).

And now I shall proceed with the analytically dubious exercise of talking about restraint on the part of the director, the composer, and the fictional characters in the show in one breath. And I'm going to get away with it because it's my blog, and all I want to do is to explore (why the show is strangely compelling and) the feeling I get of restraint in all elements of the show.

I thought the use of a narrator was a big factor. Having a narrator tell the whole story takes away the sense of spontaneity and 'presence'. The movie is not one that is happening there and then, while you're sitting in the cinema. Restraint vs spontaneity... The sense of anticipation is taken away because everything already seems inevitable. Which is all the more depressing, because there doesn't seem to be any hope, and the few instances of hope (that I'll talk about later) have the audience really wishing that there could be a happy ending or at least some sort of resolution. (of course it doesn't happen)

Plus the narration was very matter-of-fact, even during the sad/traumatic parts. Very... restrained.

The framing of scenes was interesting also. Lots of boxes, very careful, very orderly.

The use of sound - it was a very quiet movie. I don't think there was any scene with loud music (oh yeah there was! when Tony was watching his dad's performance).

The use of colours - nothing flashy, all blues and greens and greys and browns. With the exception of the wife.

The wife obviously stands as a counter to Tony. Tony might be an artist, but he draws very very careful, detailed, emotionless pictures of machines. He is very organized, not very expressive, stoic, and to many, quite boring. He is someone who denies his own emotions, his own loneliness. We never see him emotional except when it comes to his wife, and even then, his emotions are 'hidden' from us by the director. When he asks his future wife out, he is emotional (and kind of sappy) but we look at them from the distance and through the rain, and of course, we are told what happened by the narrator. When his wife dies, he cries, but behind the sofa, so we never see his face. His wife, though, is unable to restrain herself from spending on clothes. While Tony deals with the loneliness by turning it inwards, restraining his emotions and behaviour, his wife deals with it by externalizing it... by wearing her solutions outside.

And interestingly, it is the clash between restraint and the lack of restraint that leads to the wife's death and the breaking down of Tony's newfound happiness. I guess it sounds silly that the wife died because Tony asked her not to buy more clothes and she tries to, but cannot restrain herself. But her death is also the premature death of Tony's attempt at learning to open up and express himself - the failure of his new venture into the realm of emotions, so to speak. When the extreme lack of restraint represented by the wife dies, Tony is back to his old ways. The clash between Tony and his wife over her spending is a clash within Tony too - keeping everything orderly and controlled vs letting go and escaping the imprisonment of this self-imposed restraint and loneliness. Without his wife, Tony cannot accomplish the latter.

So the wife is interesting. Tony was able to date her because his self-restraint broke down once. When she dies, we see Tony returning to his apartment, doing the chores, and then there is quiet, then there is the regular ticking of the clock, and Tony crying behind the sofa. I really liked that scene because the sense of loneliness is so oppressive. Really brilliant.

If the wife is interesting, the effect her death has is interesting too. Tony loses the two people in his life (his wife and dad), both of whom were more colourful than him. (A note on the dad. The dad is a jazz musician, which suggests improvisation, spontaneity, passion, feeling.) At first Tony seems to want to deal with his grief. However, it gets too burdensome. So he sells his wife's clothes, burns his dad's old records until finally, he is truly and absolutely alone. His way of dealing with the tragedies is learning to forget and to restrain the emotions, and in doing so, making himself even lonelier.

Tony sets about trying to get over his wife's death in an almost laughably rational way. He attempts to hire a female personal assistant to wear his wife's clothes, just so he can get used to his new life. He puts an ad in the papers, specifies the requirements, conducts job interviews, and then chooses a girl who looks like his wife.

The girl, who seems like a peripheral figure at first, actually becomes a central figure. When she sees his wife's collection of branded clothes, she starts crying because she's never seen so many beautiful clothes in one place before. In the end Tony doesn't hire her, but though he's able to distance himself from the memory of his wife and father, he cannot forget the girl who cried.

Following our discussion on self-restraint, this shouldn't be surprising. It doesn't matter that the girl cried for entirely the wrong reason. She was able to experience the catharsis that Tony is not able to. She was able to cry openly in front of the camera, whereas Tony had to restrain his emotions, and had to hide his (very limited, all things considered) expression of grief. His wife just died, but it is the girl who is crying, not himself.

It is not strange then, that the movie ends with Tony trying to contact the girl. What is he trying to accomplish? Perhaps he is trying to connect to the only person left to him who seemed to care. Perhaps he is somehow trying to get in touch with the sense that it is possible to reach out to another person, to forget restraint, as he did with his wife. Or perhaps he is simply fascinated by that image of catharsis that he is so divorced from. His phone call to the girl seemed entirely impulsive, his last attempt at escaping the prison and loneliness he's created for himself. Of course, almost inevitably, he misses her by just a few seconds, and the movie ends there.

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Ok, can you imagine not being able to think of anything EXCEPT that bloody movie while you're trying to finish your readings on balance of power in Asia? Freaking hell. Between, I apologise if not everything is logically consistent. The above is more an amalgamation of related thoughts than an argument.

Oh, and one last note on the movie, before I feel compelled to blog about it again, there is probably another level of discourse. All members of Tony's family are dealing with a sense of emptiness, and escaping from their own traumas. His dad cannot stay in one place, or spend much time with his son. His wife feels as if she has to spend on clothes to fill up the emptiness. Tony... well, Tony we know. There're probably themes of alienation, materialism, capitalism, identity, Westernization in there.

Note: The wife's obsession with clothes is exacerbated by a trip to Europe // The father's love of a Western form of music (jazz).

Ok enough! I need to stop thinking about this movie!

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I've got Jay's album! *does hip-hop Jay victory dance*

But I'm slightly disappointed in it. It's all very nice, I know *waves fingers dismissively*, but kind of tame? I prefer Jay with an edge. Like, put him in corny costumes! Get him to sing weird songs! Put him in a lousy singlet even! Drama mtvs! Just don't make him boring... And don't make him sing with Fei Yu Qing haha...

Though music tends to grow on me, so maybe some KTV sessions later I'll find myself liking the album.

Gigolo Wannabe

It's actually wholesome fun and entertainment.

Mostly about movies... and stuff

Spoilers warning!

I've been watching tonnes of movies lately!

I watched well... Ant Bully, which doesn't really count.

The Producers - hilarious, but I suspect the original was better (aren't they always?). I really liked the white Ikea furniture scene (you'll know what I mean if you watched). I thought the ending a mite draggy.

Pretty Persuasion! It's a must-watch. There's a good dose of 'inappropriateness' (quoted from a review), which makes it fun to watch (if you enjoy gasping in horror at the depths some people can sink to tsk tsk). I like the complexity of the main character. I can see why she's a tragic figure, mostly villainous, but somewhat misunderstood and self-destructive. In fact, the most interesting character by far in the show (with possible exception of decadent old dad, but nah, not really).

Tony Takitani today... Such a sad little movie... Such a sad little smooshy little movie... *tear* Another must-watch, if you're not feeling too sleepy. Arty films are a little slow. Ah, but it's slow but strangely compelling (yay! I can now be a film critic because I have used the words strangely compelling!) (sorry J, if this seems a little familiar)(and by the way, I really do mean it's strangely compelling, it being the most strangely compelling film I've seen in ages.)

It's funny how different people notice different things in films. J noticed the camera action and the framing and transition of scenes. I noticed the comparison/similarities between father and son - a musician and an artist, both experienced a type of imprisonment (this comparison was made as explicit as arty films go) as well as loneliness, both lost a wife. As well as the differences. I noticed the piano theme vs the father's trombone jazz. I noticed the very very very regular background music (which was used at least once, to remind us of a clock ticking), again, in contrast to the jazz. I noticed the water motif - the sea, the rain, washing the car, watering the cactus. Both of us noticed the very noticeable narration, and the quietness of the film.

Hmm actually, that's not really tonnes of movies. But I watched all that in the past 10 days! Not too bad lar.

I'm watching movies because movies have become the only bright spark in my life. 2 hours of my life during which I have no choice but to sit in the dark and not feel compelled to read? Excellent!

The reason I hate weekly assignments is it makes me feel trapped. The system is such that I have to do something every week whether I like it or not. I really really hate it. I hate feeling compelled to go for lessons regularly, I hate feeling compelled to read and write regularly. The thought of doing all that is worse than... well, a lot of things. It's the thought of it that makes everything so stressful and miserable. I want the freedom to go wherever I like, to read whatever I want, whenever I want to. I don't like feeling obliged or forced to do things.

You're not allowed to eat or drink in the Picturehouse. I suppose it's because arty films are so silent (I know this because of my vast experience with 1 arty film), and they don't want coke-slurping or popcorn-munching sounds. Or maybe popcorn and coke is just too plebian (J's word) for a high-brow place like Picturehouse.

Speaking of which. Some time ago, Ed and I watched Salsa Salsa Salsa at the NLB. Talk about atas-ness. Everyone there looked old and/or rich. High density of Jimmy Choos (yes I know what that is!) and all. Unspoken rule that your bag cannot be bigger than an anorexic chihuahua (or a PDA) (or a well-endowed platinum card accompanied by a slim handphone). Someone behind us commented (loudly) that the play was like "a geriatric Sex in the City"! How often do you hear the word 'geriatric' in your normal (plebian) crowd? I can't even pronounce the word properly for goodness' sake. The next play I watch, I'm going to comment (loudly) that it is so 'phenomenologically Kafkaesque with a latter-day Straussian influence'.

Wait a minute. Why do I need movies to be happy? Why should I pay to regenerate the capitalist machinery that tortures me in order to be happy? Oppression, I call it! Tyranny, I name thee! Foul hegemony!