Missy | September 29, 2004

This morning the first thing my co-worker Kyle said to me was, “Is your sweater on upside down?” (It is not, but I can see the ambiguity. It’s a weird sweater.)

In other news, I have been watching an unfortunate amount of television, thanks in part to Spike TV showing episodes of CSI daily at 7 AND 8 pm. And Paris Hilton-guest star aside, I am liking Veronica Mars. Is it the new Buffy? Who knows, but it’ll do for now. I laughed at one of the promos that exclaimed (from some critic pullquote), “Out of this world!” Not because her last name is Mars and they live in a town called Neptune, mind you, but because I can’t shake actress Kristen Bell’s strong resemblence to Evie on Out of this World. I guess that means I’m admitting to having watched OotW. Tonight is the attack of the invisible monster on Lost, which hooked me at episode 1.

Other things: Yay! DCist has got a naming convention going on, with my personal favorite so far being the Ronald Reagan National Baseball Club.

I discovered this delightful conversation with Merce Cunningham today, whose company is touring England in the next month. He’s really getting on in years–just a few years younger than my grandma, whom I refer to as the bionic woman, what with all her knee and hip replacements over the years–and I didn’t realize he’s now confined to a wheelchair. When I saw him a couple of weeks back, one of his dancers ushered him on stage upright at the end, but it was clear he was struggling. (There’s a very funny moment at the end of the documentary Merce Cunningham: A Lifetime of Dance, which was filmed a few years back, where he is gyrating to club music with the assistance of a ballet barre, should he suddenly lose his balance.)

Speaking of having trouble standing, I’ve given up high heels for the time being (except for maybe tomorrow, since I have a semi-important meeting and I like to look my best, no upside-down sweaters) because I have some serious foot pain happening. It sucks, and I’m having trouble simply holding releve position in dance class without wincing. And I’ve got a alot of dance activity coming up in the near future. Naturally, I self-diagnosed with my friend Google, and it sounds exactly like neuroma. It’s flat shoes and ice and ibuprofen for me for awhile, until I decide that I should finally go to the doctor.

I’m thinking of a minor redesign of this site. I’ve got a new camera after all. It’s on my agenda for the weekend, but don’t hold me to it. In the meantime, check out Ryan’s funny write-up of the LA Korean Film Festival. And Scott’s TIFF wrap-up. He liked Old Boy, too. UPDATE: I don’t think I’ve directly linked to Radley in awhile. Tons of good reading.

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Missy | September 28, 2004

Ouch. I’ve had serious doubts ever since the D Plan (one of my favorites of recent years) broke up and I started hearing some of Travis’ solo stuff online; the doubts appear to be confirmed. If you want to know what the fuss is about, there are a few mp3s here.

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Missy | September 26, 2004

I have yet to make it into the Washington Post (even though a local actress with my name has occasionally appeared in the Style section). But now my good friends did. See the photo. Mihow is famous! (And that’s Toby in there, too. There’s no mistaking those tattoos.)

Everybody’s probably seen this already (well, if by “everybody”, you mean film nerds with access to the New York Times): The Wong Kar-wai Method! And interesting Christopher Doyle anecdotes! And pretty pictures! (What, did you think I was going to link to the NYT Magazine cover story on bloggers? Please.)

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Missy | September 23, 2004

Remember how I missed seeing Kung Fu Hustle because the screening was cancelled? The supposed real reason behind the cancellation is here.

I took a modern dance class at Toronto Dance Theatre on Saturday in the very cute Cabbagetown part of town. The class was okay–a Graham technique class (which means less actual dancing, and therefore less fun) and it wasn’t as advanced as I’d hoped, but it was a nice break from the festival.

Quick thoughts on other films seen:

Old Boy (Park Chan-wook): Even though the violence caused the female half of the “Let’s converse throughout the whole film” couple next to me to recoil in utter horror and then to leave during “the tongue scene” (thank you tongue scene for getting rid of her), I had a pretty good time watching this film, which wasn’t as violent overall as I expected. But don’t get me wrong: there’s some icky moments, but the film’s more a thriller than a horror film, and there’s a sense of humor to it as well (at least in the first half). I found the film to be accessible ala David Fincher, and I predict it will be a hit whenever it gets a release.

Eros (Wong Kar-wai, Steven Soderbergh, Michelangelo Anonioni): I stayed only for the first two segments and skipped the Antonioni, which I heard was the worst, because I was starving and had little time to scarf down some food in between films. The Wong Kar-wai was very reminiscent of In the Mood for Love in its lushness and doomed love and torso shots and exquisite dresses. And because of the too-strong similarity, it didn’t seduce me like its predecessor. Soderbergh’s installment was less-Eros-y and more humor-filled–delightfully so–and the color scenes were sexy and dazzling. Alan Arkin and Robert Downey, Jr. are very funny. Even though I skipped out on Anonioni’s piece, I felt a disjoint with what I did see (how does it all fit together, etc). But it was good enough to give me a fix from two of my favorite directors.

Zebraman (Takashi Miike): Miike goofy fun for the family! Zebraman punch! Zebraman back kick!

I finished my week by regrettably skipping the last of the midnight madness flicks, the apparently stupid Saw, which was probably a lot of fun amidst the midnight madness crowd.

[By the way, you can find other wrap-ups here: Scott; Mike; Michael; Victor; Zach; Theo; Jeremy; Chris; Robert. Read them--they're smart & funny.]

I woke up early the next day, my last morning in Canada for another year, and freaked out when I was able to catch an episode of Degrassi Junior High on tv. Freak out moment #2: I actually spent CAN$ 17.98 on one (1) Sunday New York Times and one (1) pack of American cigarettes.

I’ve got a small set of photos (with commentary) here (load time potentially painful). My camera was too big to lug around everywhere or else I would have taken many more, like of all the waiting in line. Wouldn’t that have been exciting? Actually, some director pics would have been nice.

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Missy | September 19, 2004

I’m home. I’m unpacked already (only because I left a clean apartment and I didn’t want to come home and ruin it upon entry). I feel like I’m coming down off of a high, even though this festival didn’t have one of its best years in terms of overall quality and I was there for only a small part of it anyway, and I didn’t spend as much time as I would have liked with the other attendees whom I know. Also, I have to go back to work tomorrow for the first time since last Thursday, and that makes me not happy. I hope to write a follow-up post soon, with links to fellow travelers/cinephiles. Also, I have been practicing how to say L’Intrus. All the bilinguals there made me (and my American twang) feel jealous.

Anyway, I wanted to post a WOXY update: I received an email from the WOXY folks to alert me that they are are back up & running in an online format. I knew this already but it was during my blog hiatus and I think now is as good a time as any to tell you all if you didn’t know as well. Needless to say, I am pretty stoked. So tune in to woxy.com. Also, no commercial breaks!

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Missy | September 18, 2004

Hi guys. I’m on my last day here in Toronto, and I’ve got a dance class and four films on my agenda for today. Something tells me I will be sleeping through the midnight showing of Saw. I started to write a post Thursday morning, but it was written when I was half asleep and it made no sense.

Speaking of sleeping, I’ve dozed through only two films: the Kaurism

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Missy | September 14, 2004

Thoughts on The Brown Bunny (Vincent Gallo):
As it turns out, not everyone was aware of the infamous scene; I felt bad about breaking the news to Mihow this morning, whose surprise when she finally sees the film could have been humorously indescribable. Thanks, Missy, for ruining the fun.

While watching it, I initially took the film to be about loneliness and sadness–fine subject matter for any film, in my opinion–but it’s ultimately about something much deeper and (at the risk of parroting Gallo himself) complex: the process of grieving. The film’s lengthy silent shots, mixed with hypnotic musical interludes (with the likes of Gordon Lightfoot–trust me when I say it’s not cheesy) are mostly set against a cross-country drive. I think we all relate to driving similarly, but for me–someone who rarely drives, and when I do, it’s for long expanses, like in the Nevada and Utah desert, or a multi-hour trek to Ohio–there’s a meditative aspect to it, where the mind alternates between becoming blank to transfixing itself upon certain thoughts. I can see where some would find such a thing put to film a bit boring, but I was rapt. I wasn’t left irritated, thinking, “What the hell is going on? What’s wrong with him? Get on with it”, etc. I felt calm, even though it was apparent that we were going to be let in on something awful.

And there’s very little dialogue, which is a point I give Gallo a great deal of credit for, because if you can’t exactly read Gallo’s mind (and you’re not sure of the exact source of his pain) you find yourself imagining his or thinking your own thoughts as if you were on a cross-country drive, without becoming disengaged with the film (well, maybe some people do; I didn’t). Yet there are moments when it’s abundantly clear what’s on his mind, even if the exact plot points haven’t yet played out (see, for example, the scene with Rose). Some of it feels like (and some of it actually is) the type of thing you’d merely imagine only in a state of grief–and maybe these moments are real on screen and maybe not, such as the scene with Lilly. [Side note: one of my biggest pet peeves, along with people walking into movies late, are those who whisper back and forth to each other. Were you raised by wolves? Nothing pulls me out of a film quicker than those distractions. When I heard, "That's Cheryl Tiegs!" I was thinking, no kidding, ass. Only someone raised in a cave by wolves would feel the need to explain that out loud to their companion.]

And as for the scene, yes, there is a context and it is actually quite sad (as opposed to pornographic). The film wraps up in a rush, and maybe that’s supposed to give a sucker punch effect, and in a sense it kind of works. Besides, I was already tired of seeing Chloe Sevigny who, frankly, annoys me. And here, even though her character was kind of twitchy, her calm, high-pitched tone of voice was like nails on a chalkboard. But then I remembered, she’s not my girlfriend. That’s kind of an important thing to note, actually, because this is Bud’s (Gallo’s) story, not mine, even though the grief itself is relatable.

Thoughts on Merce Cunningham Dance Company:
My dance teacher Helanius and I trekked up to the University of Maryland to see Merce on Friday. My goodness he (Merce) is becoming increasingly frail. But there’s such a sprightliness to him. The first piece, Ground Level Overlay, was an aesthetically pleasing piece to the eyes and ears. The music was a series of brass instruments and conchs mostly recorded in a cistern. So soothing were the tonal overlays, in fact, that someone Helanius knew actually fell asleep. Oops. Merce’s works do not involve narrative, only vague themes. Here, I found the piece to be the interaction of unique and varied life forms. Heh.

The primary reason for seeing this performance was for the second half of the evening, featuring Split Sides, two choreographic halves set to the music of Radiohead and Sigur Ros. The two halves–the set, costumes, lighting, choreography, and music ordering–are determined by chance, specifically, a roll of a die. Now’s where I talk about how well trained these dancers are: Merce is famous for choreographing works independently of the music, which the dancers sometimes hear for the first time in dress rehearsal or performance, and must immediately adapt. “Phrasing” is an odd concept to describe here, because the chance aesthetic is certainly a lesson in phrasing–to me, I couldn’t have imagined the version of Split Sides that I saw in any other combination; that’s how adaptable the dancers are. (The first half looked and felt cold, almost Poltergeist-y, while the second half was hauntingly serene.) And yet, Cunningham choreography is mostly about hitting the movement & creating shapes (terrifically challenging movement & shapes, I might add), rather than a more traditional flowing through steps in long sentences as with most other types of dance. It’s avant garde and sometimes easy to become disengaged (especially with the longer pieces), but its uniqueness and imaginativeness are the work of a genius.

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Missy | September 9, 2004

Today I bought a Nikon D70. I kind of feel like throwing up a little. But I’ve decided that photography will be my new hobby. It had better be, now hadn’t it. I don’t even have a child of which to take daily photos so to watch them grow. I don’t even have a dog. This camera is now my baby. But unfortunately it cannot take pictures of itself.

Stay tuned for my adventures.

UPDATE: “This card cannot be used” must mean my memory card got damaged because IT IS COMPATIBLE. $60 worth of compatible, I might add. Jerks. This probably means schlepping back to the store tomorrow. Good thing I’m already on vacation, huh?

UPDATE #2: Well, I made my last two of three trips to Best Buy in 24 hours today. It didn’t help that I slipped on a wet spot on my way out of the store the second time and promptly burst into tears. What is wrong with me, etc, aside from having to haul my ass back & forth to Best Buy unnecessarily? (I admit, had I brought back the entire camera package on that second trip when I thought it was merely a bad card, there would have been no third trip). Anyhoo, turns out it was a bad camera, with a bent prong in the memory card slot (something I, not the technician, discovered). So now I am back in business (because I insisted trying out the second camera while in-store before I left), but too tired to play around with the camera today.

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Missy | September 7, 2004

I really like this interview at The Morning News with New Yorker music critic Alex Ross. Don’t let the words “classical music” scare you off from reading the whole thing; it’s totally accessible. And I am fairly convinced that Ross has not only heard everything, but can speak intelligently upon any composer, musician, band, or genre ever.

Speaking of music, I have been listening to a not-insignificant amount of rap & hip hop lately, and so my cussing has escalated as a result. (I am deliberately holding back here out of politeness, and for the children.) I also still play Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” repeatedly on my iPod out of some sort of tic whereupon I am suddenly The World’s Biggest Badass! Bigger than Jay-Z, Rick Rubin, and Vincent Gallo combined! I can only imagine what kind of dorkified strut I’ve acquired in my walking-down-the-street-as-a-total-badass-edness. (Is Vincent Gallo even considered badass, or just creepy? Hey, The Brown Bunny opens here this week; who wants to go? Related link: Ebert and Gallo kiss and make up).

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Missy | September 5, 2004

Okay, here are some things since we last spoke:

I traveled to San Francisco and to Columbus to spend some quality time with old friends (thanks to Mihow & TJ for introducing me to a brand new city and its charming (?) summer temperatures and fog, its eucalyptus and the other ocean, and for allowing me to get out of my head for a bit, and also for the Modest Mouse tix; thanks to Julie and the rest of the Columbus crew for their hospitality and delightful children); I mutually ended my relationship (this is not the place to dwell upon it–my close friends and I have already done plenty of that in previous weeks; it’s done and even if it meant the cycles of disappointment, sadness, anger, and aggravation, I am now within acceptable limits of “fine” even if I can’t speak with any degree of certainty for my other half or for the possibility of a previously-desired friendship); I began and ended a statistics class (it was condensed into a little over a month; I do not wish to slight the teacher or the students, but it was remedial for me given that I’ve had many, many hours of econometrics at the graduate level; I suppose reviewing the fundamentals and a good grade are worth it in the end, and because knowing when to use the Chi-square distribution is important); dance is coming along (I will be participating in a workshop with my existing teacher after the Toronto trip that will end in an informal performance in December; also, if I can ever pull my creativity together, I will be choreographing and auditioning a piece for a choreographer’s showcase, also in December–I should add that this entails sewing my own costume, which has already caused a small amount of angst…still, thank you years of 4-H); I also took some “urban fusion” classes with local choreographer/dancer Reggie Glass (his excitement is infectious, and his taste in music unparalleled; I learned a little bit of African-mixed-with-street-jazz–yes, even this white girl tried her hand at a bit of breakdancing, so Mihow, when you come here in a few weeks, I will need to you to beatbox when I take my skillz to the streets); I achieved a free-standing forearm scorpion in yoga class (and whenever I fall out of it, you’d better believe my flailing legs are as lethal as a scorpion’s tail); Listen Missy fav Merce Cunningham is back this Friday, with the Radiohead/Sigur Ros program that is determined in part by the roll of a die; I dyed my hair dark brown (hey, it’s better than another tattoo, right?); I thank Anne and the McFadden brothers for taking me out on the town for things like poker and Scrabble and The Hives and generally not letting me hole up at home; I saw Before Sunset a second time with a groups of friends, and I’m pretty sure we were a row full of bawlbabies; attended another blogger gathering (where I innocently and very briefly crushed on a sports columnist who is probably not single–no biggie; this was during the time of the Dem convention, and while all the boys sat inside and watched Kerry’s speech, a group of us girls sat on the patio and discussed Jem and the Holograms–I think it’s obvious who had more fun); went wall-climbing for the first time ever (thanks Joanne!) and managed to not dismember my own arms; I have been deliberating over a career change and maybe (just maybe, someday) a city change (all of this I am sort of playing by ear, but not passively); I’ve got a paper coming out in my agency’s journal, and hopefully another to follow in the future months (boy, would my editor have a field day with this post or what); I have been watching movies (as ever) and hopefully will be getting into the upcoming fall season of plays and live music shows.

Geez, I think that’s it. It’s been a crazy couple of months, and I’m as busy as ever. Life is pretty okay.

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Missy | September 4, 2004

To get things rolling (hopefully my side bar and links, not to mention further posting, will be updated as the long weekend progresses), the most exciting thing right now is the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival. I’m not going for the whole thing, although I wish I was because I was sort of spazzing out the other day trying to fill out my advanced ticket order form. I ended up getting all the films I wanted (even though I wouldn’t have minded seeing my alternates, too) AND I still have time to drop in for a class at Toronto Dance Theatre. And I may try to order additional tickets online when it opens up to the public next week. That’s a lot of movie watching; do I have the stamina?

Here’s the list:
The Holy Girl (Lucrecia Martel)
[I don't know anything about this director, but the film is executive produced by Pedro Almodovar, whose new film Bad Education I am not able to see.]

The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things (Asia Argento)
[I am an Asia Argento newcomer.]

L’ Intrus (Claire Denis)
[I've seen only Beau Travail and Vendredi Soir, but Denis is one of the best working directors today. And I wouldn't expect anything less than stunning cinematography.]

Stray Dogs (Marziyeh Meshkini)
[I *loved* The Day I Became a Woman.]

Whisky (Juan Pablo Rebella, Pablo Stoll)
[I don't really know much about this film.]

Cafe Lumiere (Hou Hsiao-hsien)
[I just (finally) saw Millennium Mambo, and with this newer film's homage to Ozu's Tokyo Story, I'm intrigued.]

Primer (Shane Carruth)
[I think this is getting a limited release soon, but some advanced buzz made it an obvious choice.]

Old Boy (Park Chan-wook)
[I'm nervous about this film. Not for its quality, but whether or not I'll be covering my eyes and ears.]

Eros (Wong Kar-wai, Steven Soderbergh, Michelangelo Antonioni)
[Yes!]

Zebraman (Takashi Miike)
[I'm still afraid to see the incredibly prolific Miike's Audition or Ichi the Killer. This one sounds less bloody.]

Unable to see: Tropical Malady, Moolaade, the new Moodysson, Assayas, Kim Ki-duk, or David Gordon Green, among others. The full list of films is here.

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Missy | September 3, 2004

“Life is desire, not meaning.”
- Charles Chaplin as Calvero, Limelight, 1952

“The answer must be in the attempt.”
- Julie Delpy as Celine, Before Sunrise, 1995

I want to return to blogging soon, folks. I just need to find the words.

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