I was happy to be reminded by my computer that we'd gained an extra hour this morning. At the tail end of a blog-free weekend, I spent the whole time without "the urge" and at the start of this entry, I'm still not all too eager to sit down and type. Loss of interest? Nah. I'd attribute it to the fact that every now and then a task or hobby loses its appeal for a few days, but after constantly losing my attention while watching Fox News Sunday this morning, it would seem more a case of a news lull.
How is Iraq? It's progressing, slowly; ultimately, security will require the pacification of terror sources in Tehran, Damascus and Riyadh. Until then, how many times can Paul Bremer sit in front of a television camera and remind the public how many years of dedicated work are necessary to create and stabilize a democracy?
Stateside, we're hearing a familiar refrain. Senate Republicans are trying their best to redefine another setback against Democratic obstruction. Filibuster? Not a chance - not when questionably effectives, parliamentary run-arounds are possible! Little change from earlier this year. Not much change from when Trent Lott was majority or minority leader.
Not much else to talk about, especially on a weekend.
I added Who Framed Roger Rabbit to my tiny DVD collection; the movie was playing in an Albany audio-visual outlet called Coconuts and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I bought it Friday at Blockbuster. Though Roger is as annoying as he was over fifteen (fifteen!) years ago, the movie remains a classic. It's also a milestone: during the 1986 production, Robert Zemeckis did not use computer graphics for the animation.
Cell animation in a computer-dominated age will probably live out the same fate as claymation: they might return for nostalgia's sake, and then only as long as it takes before random generation can accurately mimic the characteristic flaws of both techniques. Can't see it happening? Even though tape can be found in many a studio, audio production is full of analog simulators. Every step digital technology, pictures or sounds, takes towards "analog" resolution lessens the physical value and uniqueness of the older physical tools.
Then again, the mystery of the medium could defy our attempts at progress: oil paints have been at the forefront of Western painting since the Renaissance. The simplest stuff - ground pigment in a linseed oil vehicle - and it can't be duplicated. Watercolor is no comparison; gouache is too specialized; acrylic just doesn't possess the same properties of color, brightness, texture or consistency. I should know about the last medium's comparison to oil. I used acrylic when I started painting in high school and thought it superior; when I discovered that the Syracuse painting department taught all basic classes in oil, I actually considered refusing. Needless to say, I can't remember the last time I painted a canvas with acrylic.
So - Roger Rabbit, an indulgence in the old ways as the last of its kind? Or a charming creation for an ambitious film house to return to? I'll hedge my bets; either way, I've got the proof.
I walked out of Blockbuster carrying a rented copy of bioethics cautionary Gattaca, too. How many movies succeed without a single glaring flaw or oversight? Not many. Gattaca's one. I've only seen the movie three or four times and it stands up brilliantly to the additional scrutiny. The plot is perfect, moving through a seamless, graceful, rhythmic script. The writers, directors and producers knew a thing or two about timeless movies: by not trying to make a philosophical film all things to audiences, their finished product will undoubtedly entertain beyond its time. Focus, nuance, discretion. What we need to know about the Gattaca's future world is given to us. Most films fail with too little explanation (City of Lost Children); some clot dialogue and footage with too much and push the movie into corniness, implausibility or worse (Dark City). In Gattaca, we're given just enough of everything: suspense, pathos, romance, science-fiction and action.
Even moral plays. The DVD happened to provide some additional scenes cut from the movie release - these scenes contributed to what must be one of the valuable cutting room floors in the last decade. I was surprised to see one of the scenes dive headlong into a clear pro-life statement. "What will happen to the other embryos?" asks Vincent's mother.
"They're not babies," smiles the doctor. The dialogue and blocking were obviously slanted to show the doctor's perspective as chilly. Sharply politically incorrect for the late Nineties Hollywood; a subtly religious scene like that would be forbidden today, especially with the cloning debate rising in pitch. But on a more practical level, the extended scene didn't fit. The movie's point about custom-made children had been made, so this wasn't necessary. It was cut.
Production management was another model for near-perfection; is it Two Thousand and Something or 1952? Doesn't matter - the hybrid world is a convincing future. Nothing needs to be explained, so why dwell on it?
The characters certainly don't. Jude Law's tragic wit doesn't lose its appeal after several viewings, either; he works well with Ethan Hawke's eternally likeable protagonist. Uma Thurman plays the exclusive-school uberbabe deadpan, showing emotion in about one out of every five lines. Gore Vidal murders somebody - for science, just like we always knew he would (I'd have warned you about a spoiler but really, the movie is as enjoyable with as it is without prior knowledge). Finally, I returned to the idea that although I am functionally right-handed, my dominant side - eye, hand, foot - is actually my left. Or, as my folks maintain, I began ambidextrous. (If you've seen the movie, you'll be familiar with the line that reminded me.)
Five bucks for an incredible flick that, low profile notwithstanding, will easily find its place among the last century's greats. And my own collection.
Good weekend? Good weekend. I accomplished a bundle of tasks in between the movies, too. And, looking over the last hour's typographical handiwork, I've more than made up for two days' absence. Well, then, let's see what this week has to offer, yes?