Some things in life
Are worth fightin' for.
I realise I have been a bit precious lately--perhaps this entire past year, but especially recently about this move to the Northeast.
"49Up" was worth every moment of frustration, doubt, forlornment, ennui, and fright it took to find the theatre and return to the metro with wallet still on my person. I suppose Landmark theatres don't rake in enough greens to afford a more central or easily accessible location. Or all of Boston is really just a windy tunnel between shallow canyons of soulless concrete blocks with few pedestrians at any hour. Where are all the students? Why does this feel like a sci-fi city where even all the robotics are underground? No, Henry, this was not a man-sized world. Add a dash of Edward Hopperish sun and it's the setting for another dystopic epic about the struggle for survival of the dwindling human soul (queue Ben Stein!)
This evening, the industrial streets were particularly sparsely populated and I found myself jumpy on the deserted sidewalk, preferring in some uncomfortably unlit places to walk instead on the bike paths, also unpeopled. So what if that group going into the seafood restaurant were a little alarmed that I seemed to trail behind, be on par, and pass them within seconds? I am the professional pedestrian these days (miss you, PP). The KST station really is that subterranean and unadvertised at night. Boston's streets were unplanned and consequently, haphazard, filled with unfinished, geometrically irregular, and hidden trajectories and addresses. Even places marked 1 Eponymousstreet are camouflaged by several serpentine blocks of undistinguished architectural assemblies and garages. Like English country roads, this town assumes you should know where you are going before you arrive or you should not be going anywhere.
Well, my love for the cast of the Up documentaries outweighed all of those, in the end. More trying was missing the intended showing of the film at 4 due to my complete confoundment (once again--just like the fabric store) by undeducible Bostonian cartography. It was my own silliness, of course, not bringing a map, but I'd googled the place and thought it was right across the street from H and A's flat. Anyhoo, though I'm sure the audience's love for the Up subjects only grows with every 7 years, this time, they have spoken out about the intrusive and horrific aspects of being filmed for the series. I did feel a bit guilty about my paid voyeurism into their ordinary, photographed lives and wondered whether I would have agreed to do some a program. As the venerable A.O. Scott points out, the series is on the one hand an irreplaceable sociological treasure and on the other, a slightly inethical, almost cruel satisfaction of a curiosity that should perhaps have never been given such a telescope. The director now pays all of his subjects for showing up and shares all prize money with them, but they have been exposed to much judgment over the last 42 years (!)
And no, I don't think I would have agreed to be a subject though I agree with Ebert and company that this has been an important addition to our appreciation of life. Not that any of the subjects (my favourites are Nick, Bruce, Neil, and Tony) will ever read this, most likely, but I thank them for everything they've brought into my own understanding of this earthly existence. As the overly silver-tongued ministers used to say in regards to their pension-dispenser the Emperor: "I have been enriched [literally, "moistened"] by your munificence". Thank you, all.
One last thing before I go tonight. Whilst trying to find the blasted cinema this afternoon, I wandered by many empty lots and blank buildings. I had the feeling I was going in the wrong direction once and happened upon a cafe-like setting with baked goods in the window and two policemen chatting at a corner table. I thought I could ask them for directions because after all, they are policemen, and looked for the entrance to the shop and saw the banner: "Dunkin' Donuts". It was too perfect.
I realise I have been a bit precious lately--perhaps this entire past year, but especially recently about this move to the Northeast.
"49Up" was worth every moment of frustration, doubt, forlornment, ennui, and fright it took to find the theatre and return to the metro with wallet still on my person. I suppose Landmark theatres don't rake in enough greens to afford a more central or easily accessible location. Or all of Boston is really just a windy tunnel between shallow canyons of soulless concrete blocks with few pedestrians at any hour. Where are all the students? Why does this feel like a sci-fi city where even all the robotics are underground? No, Henry, this was not a man-sized world. Add a dash of Edward Hopperish sun and it's the setting for another dystopic epic about the struggle for survival of the dwindling human soul (queue Ben Stein!)
This evening, the industrial streets were particularly sparsely populated and I found myself jumpy on the deserted sidewalk, preferring in some uncomfortably unlit places to walk instead on the bike paths, also unpeopled. So what if that group going into the seafood restaurant were a little alarmed that I seemed to trail behind, be on par, and pass them within seconds? I am the professional pedestrian these days (miss you, PP). The KST station really is that subterranean and unadvertised at night. Boston's streets were unplanned and consequently, haphazard, filled with unfinished, geometrically irregular, and hidden trajectories and addresses. Even places marked 1 Eponymousstreet are camouflaged by several serpentine blocks of undistinguished architectural assemblies and garages. Like English country roads, this town assumes you should know where you are going before you arrive or you should not be going anywhere.
Well, my love for the cast of the Up documentaries outweighed all of those, in the end. More trying was missing the intended showing of the film at 4 due to my complete confoundment (once again--just like the fabric store) by undeducible Bostonian cartography. It was my own silliness, of course, not bringing a map, but I'd googled the place and thought it was right across the street from H and A's flat. Anyhoo, though I'm sure the audience's love for the Up subjects only grows with every 7 years, this time, they have spoken out about the intrusive and horrific aspects of being filmed for the series. I did feel a bit guilty about my paid voyeurism into their ordinary, photographed lives and wondered whether I would have agreed to do some a program. As the venerable A.O. Scott points out, the series is on the one hand an irreplaceable sociological treasure and on the other, a slightly inethical, almost cruel satisfaction of a curiosity that should perhaps have never been given such a telescope. The director now pays all of his subjects for showing up and shares all prize money with them, but they have been exposed to much judgment over the last 42 years (!)
And no, I don't think I would have agreed to be a subject though I agree with Ebert and company that this has been an important addition to our appreciation of life. Not that any of the subjects (my favourites are Nick, Bruce, Neil, and Tony) will ever read this, most likely, but I thank them for everything they've brought into my own understanding of this earthly existence. As the overly silver-tongued ministers used to say in regards to their pension-dispenser the Emperor: "I have been enriched [literally, "moistened"] by your munificence". Thank you, all.
One last thing before I go tonight. Whilst trying to find the blasted cinema this afternoon, I wandered by many empty lots and blank buildings. I had the feeling I was going in the wrong direction once and happened upon a cafe-like setting with baked goods in the window and two policemen chatting at a corner table. I thought I could ask them for directions because after all, they are policemen, and looked for the entrance to the shop and saw the banner: "Dunkin' Donuts". It was too perfect.
And another thing, the most inspirational thing I've heard in a while. After residing in Country X for the past 16 years and not speaking the language for aesthetic, pragmatic, and time-constraint reasons, Far said he has begun lessons! I am so proud of him, especially at his age. Learning languages is never really easy and only becomes more cumbersome as one grows older, but he piped in: "Sometimes, you just have to discipline yourself." I am so glad he is my father.
The river going east has turned west today. They say that happens after ten years.
posted by greenyew at 9:02 PM
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