No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2002-09-26 - 10:28 a.m.

Orange vs Igby, laughing at masturbation, aggression in dreams

There aint nothing like War Pigs early in the morning. Okay, it's early for me. But that's because I'm nocturnal. Damn, I need a job. I went out and applied for retail jobs this week. So far, nothing.

In the past week, I saw Orange County for the first time and Igby Goes Down. I liked the former much more than I expected I would and disliked the latter fairly intensely. Characters. It comes down to characters. In both movies, slightly whacky characters do things which strain credulity. They make decisions not motivated by personal interest, or what such a person might actually do, but instead make whatever decision is required to further the sophomoric plot. The difference is that in Orange County, I actually liked the characters. They were two-dimensional caricatures, but the film-maker realized that and didn't try to make them something more. In Igby the characters were two-dimensional caricatures, but the film-maker thought they were a hell of a lot more, so they ended up looking ridiculous. Besides which, I didn't like a one of them. There was no character with which to sympathize, therefore there was no reason to care what happened in the movie. At all. Which is why it was boring.

One little side note. At one point in Igby, he asks Claire Danes if they can have sex. She says "No, it'll only make you feel hollow inside. You'll feel better if you just masturbate." I laughed out loud, very loud at that line. I thought it was really funny. Then I realized that I was the only person in the whole theater who laughed, and that a couple of people were actually looking at me, in their "this is an art house theater, we don't laugh at *that*, you vulgarian" kind of way. I should have flipped them off or something, but instead I just went back to watching the movie.

Okay, I just remembered something from last night's dream. I had one of those actors nightmares. Mine always involve not having my costume. In this case, the show had started and I realized I was missing part of my costume. Getting it involved running a great distance, followed by a ferry ride (don't ask, I don't know). Anyway, during the incredibly long run section, a guy on a bicycle almost hit me, then started biking off muttering about how I got in his way. So I stopped and screamed "Fuck You!". Then I started running again.

I wonder if I have some pent-up aggression that's not getting expressed.

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