Sunday, March 28, 2004
Gerry, or how I learned to stop being critical and love pretension...
I normally don't like films in which nothing happens. Although I certainly can appreciate stunning cinematography, it normally isn't enough to keep me interested for 90+ minutes. But something about the trailer of Gerry, a film by Gus Van Sant/Matt Damon/Casey Affleck from 2002 that had a very brief run in the States and was only released in France after the (inexplicable, in my opinion) success of Elephant in the fall. But this something is not as mysterious as I make it sound: it is the music of Arvo Pärt, whose score is the most remarkable component of the trailer.
Stéphane had warned me that absolutely nothing happens in the movie (of course, he was one of the 10 people to have seen it during its US release), but I felt a very strong attraction to it nonetheless. So, to bridge our last Friday class to a night out at Café Banal (1e50 for all drinks and that is not banal), a fellow Pärt fan/Sorbonne student and I headed to the cinema across from the Centre Pompidou.
For 90 minutes I sat, spellbound by the tragic splendor that unfolded in front of me. Not only was I moved by the expansive desert images and Pärt's haunting score, as expected, but I was consumed by the story . Two friends decide to avoid the tourist-ridden trail to "the thing" (we never learn what they were going to see) and try to find their own way. They get lost, they get thirsty, they barely talk to each other accept for the occasional mindless banter about Wheel of Fortune and video games (which I found to be a perceptive reflection on 20-something American boys). The movie spans 3 and a half days with the tension building subtly as time passes. The very slow pacing of the film allowed my to get inside every shot and I felt that the more I explored, the more there was to find.
I was surprised to see how many people found it boring...yeah, there are long straight shots, and the editing is not as rapidfire as we're used to in our channel flipping culture. The tonal, simplistic music of the beginning gives way quickly to a sound collage of noise, where the soundtrack and the score become indistinguishable. But anyone who watches this film and is in no way touched by it visually, emotionally, or aurally has been destroyed, in my eyes, by the modern world. I am not a pretentious filmster. There are a lot of underground indy films that I think are crap. I liked Good Will Hunting and didn't like Elephant so much (although I found it interesting). But Gerry really got under my skin. Perhaps it is because I am learning to appreciate nothingness, ambience, and stillness. Perhaps it is because I am hypersensitive. Perhaps it is because I love going to the movies in Paris. I found beauty in this film.
Stéphane had warned me that absolutely nothing happens in the movie (of course, he was one of the 10 people to have seen it during its US release), but I felt a very strong attraction to it nonetheless. So, to bridge our last Friday class to a night out at Café Banal (1e50 for all drinks and that is not banal), a fellow Pärt fan/Sorbonne student and I headed to the cinema across from the Centre Pompidou.
For 90 minutes I sat, spellbound by the tragic splendor that unfolded in front of me. Not only was I moved by the expansive desert images and Pärt's haunting score, as expected, but I was consumed by the story . Two friends decide to avoid the tourist-ridden trail to "the thing" (we never learn what they were going to see) and try to find their own way. They get lost, they get thirsty, they barely talk to each other accept for the occasional mindless banter about Wheel of Fortune and video games (which I found to be a perceptive reflection on 20-something American boys). The movie spans 3 and a half days with the tension building subtly as time passes. The very slow pacing of the film allowed my to get inside every shot and I felt that the more I explored, the more there was to find.
I was surprised to see how many people found it boring...yeah, there are long straight shots, and the editing is not as rapidfire as we're used to in our channel flipping culture. The tonal, simplistic music of the beginning gives way quickly to a sound collage of noise, where the soundtrack and the score become indistinguishable. But anyone who watches this film and is in no way touched by it visually, emotionally, or aurally has been destroyed, in my eyes, by the modern world. I am not a pretentious filmster. There are a lot of underground indy films that I think are crap. I liked Good Will Hunting and didn't like Elephant so much (although I found it interesting). But Gerry really got under my skin. Perhaps it is because I am learning to appreciate nothingness, ambience, and stillness. Perhaps it is because I am hypersensitive. Perhaps it is because I love going to the movies in Paris. I found beauty in this film.
