I’ve always been a writer, such that I’ve always had an awareness of what I’m writing above what I think is probably normal. It all began when I was quite young. Being from a broken home, a large portion of my relationship with my mom was conducted by mail. We put a lot of efforts into our correspondence, which was great fun, and my mom even bought me a book to help my inspiration. I might even still have the book, now that I think about it. It didn’t stop with my mom, though. When she moved not so long ago, she mailed me a box that was filled with letters I had received in return for letters sent to quite a large number of people, some of whom I had completely forgot. I was quite impressed with myself for the achievement. Today, I can barely get a reply to a text message (exaggeration!).
My attention to the written word continued into my professional life, where much of my business is done through email with people on the other side of the world. From the start, I made a point of carefully constructing my missives to be as clear as possible to the readers. While they are all English speakers, they aren’t American so there is always a chance for confusion. One person I have worked with over the years writes (especially in the earlier years) in extensive abbreviations, a hold over from the telex days when every character counted, literally. It took me some time to decipher, and so in response I pledged to myself to write out every single word always. I’ll admit I’ve gotten a bit lax. There are a few words I always abbreviate. But I still make a point of writing complete sentences, with proper punctuation and capitalization (as a result, my personal emails are practically devoid of these things). I pride myself in it. I have therefore been chagrined this week by the discovery my fingers have become quite lazy.
I was issued a new computer at work this week and have spent some time customizing my settings. I’m generally opposed to auto-correct, and have turned it off. What I discovered, however, is that on my old computer, I still had the “capitalize the first letter of sentences” turned on. Now, it seems at least half the time, I’ve been having to go back and fix my capital letters! Since when did it become so difficult to hold down the Shift key? Am I really in that much of a hurry? It has brought a new found awareness to my typing. I read an article recently about the growing disuse of periods as a signal of sincerity in typed messages. I pray I don’t fall victim to this herd mentality. It would really get my goat to have my behaviors defined by generational norms (I’m fairly safe as I’m not quite young enough to fit into the millennial range).
What does this all mean? Well, it means I’ll be paying more attention to my punctuation, in the traditional sense. So, if you get a text from me that ends with a period, there’s no need to read anything into it. When I’m being sarcastic, you’ll know it by the look on my face.
The last day of the festival was also our last day of festival, and we found ourselves once again at the Uptown. The awards had been given out that morning, and we were in line to see the big winner, Captain Fantastic. It had a couple advantages – one, the star, Viggo Mortensen was a spotlight guest of this year’s festival, and two, the film was in large part made in the Pacific Northwest. Even without the advantages, Captain Fantastic has a lot going for it. An off beat family, raising themselves (dad included) in the wilderness of the lush PacNW, is forced to reconcile themselves with the real world. It’s funny and sad, and all around well-written. It was a hit at Cannes, and will be released in theatres in July. I’m pretty sure it will do decently well.
In case you’re interested, my favorite of this festival has got to be The Brand New Testament (Day Eight), tied with Hunt for the Wilderpeople (Day Seven). A very close second is Girl Asleep (Day Three). Check them out if you can.
If you are reading this in time, do check out some of the “Best of SIFF 2016” screenings this weekend. They will be replaying some of the films we saw, as well as quite a few others. Hurry, before they’re gone!
The festival is winding down, and for our penultimate screening we find ourselves returning to the Uptown for the world premiere of Middle Man, starring Jim O’Heir. Mr. O’Heir was in attendance, along with writer-director Ned Crowley, and actors Anne Dudek and Andrew J. West (they brought gifts for the audience!). The framework for the story is a familiar one, this time involving a CPA who decides to pursue his dream of being a stand-up comedian and the mysterious hitchhiker he picks up on the way to Las Vegas. They get stuck in a kind of time warp, like those dreams where you’re running but don’t actually get anywhere. They are so close to Vegas, but can’t seem to get out of a town called Lamb Bone and its quirky residents. A black comedy, there are some moments of gore. My favorite character turned out to be the troubadour TQ, who sang a song and dressed a bit like Chris Isaak.
This film fails the Bechdel Test. And while I don’t know that it would have benefited from passing, it does have the overall feeling of a dude pic, even if those dudes are middle-aged (or older?). The few women there are in the film, however, are pretty much treated the same as the men, so there is that. No spoilers!
After a quick trip to Capitol Hill for the fourth and final time of the weekend, we headed to the Uptown for The Brand New Testament. I had high hopes for this one, as it stars Benoît Poelvoorde (as “Dieu”) of Man Bites Dog fame. It’s a silly thing. I’ve rolled my eyes at people clambering to Audrey Tatou films, as if a good actor cannot be in a bad movie, or just their presence will make any film worthwhile, and here I am deciding to see a film in large part because of one of its stars. Regardless, I was not disappointed. The premise is that God has a tweenage daughter who decides to rebel against grumpy ol’ dad. With the encouragement of the spirit of her brother, JC, Ea sets out into the real world to shake things up. The real star is, of course, Ea (Pili Groyne) who starts on her path of reckoning by texting everyone with a mobile a countdown to their individual deaths. There are some strong reactions to this information, and some lives are changed irrevocably.
To be clear, The Brand New Testament is a comedy. A really great one. I’m not sure if it will get a theatrical release in the US, but I would guess it will find its way onto Netflix eventually.
After some discussion, we have concluded that this film most likely passes the Bechdel Test.
Back in Capitol Hill for the second time in one day (haircut!), and the third time of the weekend (I went back a fourth time Sunday for non-cinema-related business), we had the delight of watching Hunt for the Wilderpeople at the Egyptian. From the guy who brought us Eagle vs Shark, this was a fun trip through the bush of New Zealand. A city boy, in need of fostering, with gangster ambitions gets placed with a couple on a farm. Things go well at first, then the boy, already prone to running away, is given a big reason to make himself scarce. He’s teamed up with gristly Sam Neill for an adventure in the wilderness. A favorite of the festival, sometimes the audience laughter blocked out subsequent lines (jokes?).
Wowee, forget the story – New Zealand is an awesome bit of topography! There were some really great aerial shots and sweeping vistas that make Annabel Langbein‘s show pale in comparison. But, seriously, except for one excruciating scene of harsh nature, Hunt for the Wilderpeople is a very enjoyable film. It will be showing in some theaters later this month. Does not pass the Bechdel Test.
After the movie, we wandered over to Molly Moon’s to get some ice cream before they closed for the night at eleven. The weather was perfect for it, and the swiftly moving line was well out the door. We’re not quite there yet, but summer nights in Seattle can really be downright pleasant.
One byproduct of the film festival is that I spend way more time in Capitol Hill than usual. We made the trek on Friday, joined by a third wheel – I mean, friend, to the Egyptian for Burn Burn Burn. Like My Blind Brother, this was a first-time directorial effort by a British woman. And while they shared some themes (such as survivor guilt), they couldn’t be more different, especially in terms of tone and setting. In Burn Burn Burn, two friends set out across Great Britain, scattering the ashes of their recently deceased best friend. They are young, so the death is a tragedy, and the trip forces the women to deal with things they wouldn’t have otherwise. There were moments of hilarity, and plenty of heavy times, too. Well worth the effort, and passes the Bechdel Test.
Afterward, we had a nice dinner at Via Tribunali, where I discovered that I prefer the Fremont location. No surprise there.
I’m really kidding about the third wheel comment, by the way, in case anyone was worried.
Thank goodness for national holidays. No work, and we get to see another movie! This time it was Contemporary Color at the Egyptian. David Byrne spearheaded an event where ten high school color guard teams were teamed up with ten composers for a grand exhibition. Each musician composed a new song for their team and performed it live while the team performed their routine.
I find it extremely heartwarming when high school kids get opportunities such as these. Color guard teams are not the superstars of high school. From what I remember, it was made up with people who could not make the cheerleaders, or who wanted to be in band but had no instrument. But here they are getting to be in a huge arena (Barclays Center in Brooklyn and Toronto’s Air Canada Centre) with thousands of audience members, some for the last time in their high school careers. It was televised, apparently, on a local broadcast, and now it’s made into a film. That’s got to feel amazing.
I ground my coffee by hand this morning. No mishaps.