I've never been a fan of Classic Film. Over the years, I've seen a few I fell in love with, like Jeremiah Johnson, The Trouble with Angels, and damn near anything starring Toshiro Mifune, but I never fostered any serious interest in the genre. I'm thinking it may have been the natural result of growing up in the movie theater of a town that offered little in the way of entertainment. Once you've grown accustomed to the stylized, fast-paced films of modern Hollywood, the subtler appeal of classic cinema seems a bit lackluster by comparison, and it can be a difficult thing to un-ring that bell.
In my early twenties, I developed the nauseatingly pretentious habit of denying myself the pleasure of viewing any movie that wasn't foreign. I exposed myself to a number of amazing films this way, and I did so at the expense of all those around me who were forced to listen to me opine on the sterility of mainstream cinema (in between clove cigarettes and swigs of *white zinfandel, of course). I'm certainly /facepalming in retrospect, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't developed some tenderness for the little asshat I so reveled in once being.
But I digress...
Classic Film is unchartered territory. Because I've spent such an inordinate amount of time watching movies, trying to find something to watch on a Wednesday night has become all the more difficult, and I'm being forced to branch out. In these last few weeks, I've seen Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Chinatown (1974), and The Seven Year Itch (1955). I enjoyed them all immensely, but I'm so biased that I continue to wonder if it's by sheer coincidence that I watched three classic films that happened to be entertaining. Apparently, my mind isn't yet ready to accept that American classics might actually be able to hold their own against modern cinema.
*White zinfandel is what classy people drink, right?
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
War and Winter
In case anyone failed to notice, let me tell you: November's here. It's a good thing people have lots of food and family-time to look forward to because I find myself a little underwhelmed by bare trees and gray skies, but in all fairness, October's a tough act to follow...
I've committed myself to a huge undertaking this month. Rather than continue to inflate my progress on the "List" by picking off the lighter, less challenging reads, I am going to dedicate November (and probably December, maybe even January) to getting through Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. This is one of those books I bought because of its reputation as a novel that everyone should at least pretend to read before they die. I wanted to challenge myself, and I'm of the general opinion that they're classics for a reason. Few disappoint, and when I'm done with this one, I can feel as though I've redeemed myself in advance for seeing Breaking Dawn, Part II. Not that I would ever watch something so vapid and shallow...but yes...yes, I would.
So here's hoping Mr. Tolstoy keeps me warm this winter. Wish me luck, everybody!
On an unrelated note, I've been overloading my instant queue with WWII documentaries lately. Ever since Phil and I watched Schindler's List a few nights ago, the Hitler-centric documentaries Netflix is constantly inundating me with have seemed all the more intriguing. The one I watched this morning, called Imaginary Witness, examined Hollywood's portrayal of the Holocaust. It was an interesting approach to the subject, but what I think most struck me was the fact that there are so few survivors left in the world today.
As one man explained it, the window on that time period is closing, and it won't be long before there's no one left to ask about this turning-point in humanity. His statements, in context, were meant to emphasize the importance of accuracy in depicting such things as the Holocaust, but he opened my mind to a perspective of history that I hadn't previously considered. It may seem like a simple notion, but it really drove home for me the idea that history is happening all around us. Even today, I'm bearing witness to events that will one day be understood in a very limited way if they aren't forgotten altogether. It has increased my awe of (and respect for) the world around me.
I've committed myself to a huge undertaking this month. Rather than continue to inflate my progress on the "List" by picking off the lighter, less challenging reads, I am going to dedicate November (and probably December, maybe even January) to getting through Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. This is one of those books I bought because of its reputation as a novel that everyone should at least pretend to read before they die. I wanted to challenge myself, and I'm of the general opinion that they're classics for a reason. Few disappoint, and when I'm done with this one, I can feel as though I've redeemed myself in advance for seeing Breaking Dawn, Part II. Not that I would ever watch something so vapid and shallow...but yes...yes, I would.
So here's hoping Mr. Tolstoy keeps me warm this winter. Wish me luck, everybody!
On an unrelated note, I've been overloading my instant queue with WWII documentaries lately. Ever since Phil and I watched Schindler's List a few nights ago, the Hitler-centric documentaries Netflix is constantly inundating me with have seemed all the more intriguing. The one I watched this morning, called Imaginary Witness, examined Hollywood's portrayal of the Holocaust. It was an interesting approach to the subject, but what I think most struck me was the fact that there are so few survivors left in the world today.
As one man explained it, the window on that time period is closing, and it won't be long before there's no one left to ask about this turning-point in humanity. His statements, in context, were meant to emphasize the importance of accuracy in depicting such things as the Holocaust, but he opened my mind to a perspective of history that I hadn't previously considered. It may seem like a simple notion, but it really drove home for me the idea that history is happening all around us. Even today, I'm bearing witness to events that will one day be understood in a very limited way if they aren't forgotten altogether. It has increased my awe of (and respect for) the world around me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)