So, this morning I was reading and cringing at the Cinetrix’s review of David Gordon Green’s George Washington–there will be more on this later today–when I noticed the comments box. One respondent, Lisa Rosman, gave an intriguing comment and linked to her review of Green’s Undertow, a movie that spawned a lot of mixed reactions in me. So, I read Rosman’s piece.
And then I read more, and more, and more, digging through her archives like a pig sniffing out truffles. And that’s basically how I spent my first hour of work today, furtively reading her sharp, funny, and compelling essays instead of responding to the pile of paperwork that’s sneering at me. Here’s a sample:
We Americans pretty much never shut up anymore. People blither on their cell phones and thumb their sideberries everywhere and always (even during film screenings); blast our ears with programmatic music and blather when walking or running or showering or shitting. There are virtually no moments left when we have to sit still and grapple with the pain that lurks in every modern template. Only a rarified strain of movies compel us to listen by resuscitating the stillness our daily lives so sorely lack. We are lucky that so many have been released this fall. For at their best, they burrow into that quiet and all it holds, allowing us to channel ourselves and our truest selves through them. And even if we don’t know why we love these films, sometimes we still yield to their deeper lessons and pleasures.