When I am craving mental escape, I go to the movies. A well-told well-acted story on the big screen with a bag of popcorn may be even be more effective than a hot bath for warming up a frosty spirit. Especially if there is comedy involved. Some people devote their entire lives to perfecting a particular craft and become its master. George Clooney and Jeff Bridges are both masters of the gesture; seasoned actors whose physicality, uniqueness, and charm translate into waves of emotion and a string of epiphanies for those who bear witness to their work. Other individuals, like Michael C. Ruppert, dedicate their lives to unearthing the hidden equations embedded within the fabric of society and mankind. Then there is the type like James Cameron, who prefers to focus his energies on conceptualizing massive mega-blockbuster hits that are beautiful in all of their cinematic glory, whose message reaches millions, but whose story becomes fragmented in order to reach such a vast audience, its integrity compromised by the desire to touch too many, at the expense of truly affecting one or a few.
To get through the winter blues, I have started doing weekly movie nights with friends at the theatre. It has become a ritual I look forward to, and finding the perfect film to capture the mood of the day is not an exact science, but a creative art based on impulse, desire, rapport, and a dash of magic.
Up in The Air totally blew my mind. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. George Clooney is so slick and so smooth in this role, strong and sexy yet vulnerable and lost. I don’t want to give away too much about this one, but if you have any family members who happen to have an obsession with collecting frequent flyer points and status miles, this one will really hit home.
Avatar in 3-D was pretty cool too, although I have to agree with the general sentiment among my friends that the film’s plot is less than satisfying. The idea of a utopian society made up of forest-dwelling Na’vi who tap into the natural powers of the jungle and respect the limits of nature is an idealistic fantasy that I wish could be reality. But in my opinion the film would have been much stronger if man had been overpowered by the forces of nature, rather than the other way around. Instead of placing the emphasis on humanity’s plight toward destruction and domination, why not focus more on the delicate nuances of the Na’vi’s tribalized existence?
Apparently James Cameron was trying to convey some sort of moral message or warning here, but it was sadly lost in translation. Pandora is such a beautiful place, why not enjoy it?
Michael J. Ruppert echoes the same sentiments in the new documentary Collapse: that the evils of capital drive our obsession with destruction. Connecting the dots between economics, the history of industrialization, politics, and the pending collapse of our global natural resource supply, Ruppert is a force to be reckoned with, spurting brilliant quotable lines every few minutes, laughing, crying, smoking cigarettes, and cursing like a sailor. The line which resonated for me the most was: “War is a continuation of politics by other means. Politics is a continuation of economics by other means.” To combat this endless loop of over-consumption that dominates our capitalist existence, Ruppert recommends a healthy dose of art and music, a reversal back to a more tribalized existence, and to cultivate a close-knit network of friends and family that you can count on. Oh–and stockpiling a supply of seeds, in case of emergency.
Easy to say, much less easy to do, as so many things are.
The last movie that I saw–with a similar fundamental message–was the story of Bad Blake, a country-crooner turned alcoholic, who is on his last legs where his health and sanity are concerned, as he tours small bars in the United States to make a few bucks in Crazy Heart. The story is rich, warm, hilarious, and simple all at the same time. Jeff Bridges demonstrates his mastery of the craft through a brilliant choice of gesture, most notably his decision to spend a high percentage of his on-screen time with his belt undone. A metaphor for the lack of control he has over his life? A genius comedic device? Or an indication of his tendency to wear his heart and soul on his sleeve, the mark of a truly artistic soul? All of the above.