Boy, that post really didn't stand up to well to the harsh light of day, eh? Let this be a lesson to y'all: no matter how much the words are simply flowing from your fingers at three in the morning, and you poeticism knows no bounds, when you look at it in the morning, you'll realize that it's mostly claptrap. Though, to be fair, most of The Lord of The Rings was written late at night by Prof. Tolkein, since he didn't have any other time to do it. But, hey, we can't all be superstars.
Can't Sleep
It's 2 in the morning but I can't sleep. I don't even feel tired anymore. I feel wide awake.
I wish I could come up for some reason for this, but I can't, other than: suddenly, every second spent at home seems important. I leave on Sunday to return to Kentucky, and every second in New Hampshire feels like it should be treasured, that I should be up accomplishing things before I return to the drudgery of schoolwork.
No, not drudgery. I'm wildly excited about the classes I have this semester, three of which involve filmmaking. It's these films that scare me. I just watched one of the special features on the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King Extended Edition DVD about a young indie filmmaker named Cameron Duncan. Duncan was so captured by his filmmaking that when cancer took his body over for the second time, this time destroying his lungs, he continued shooting his movies, pouring his own pain into the process. The end result is stunning - all sorts of technical weaknesses can be pointed out, but when you hear Duncan's voice in the steady voiceover of a teenager who has made his peace with death, it's heartbreaking. "The only things you regret in life are the things you never did," he monotones, and I'll be damned if it didn't make me want to go out and conquer the world. There was a real power in his work that amazed me and made me insanely jealous. In his film, they bury him on a hill overlooking the park, where he "can watch over the park in protection as the seasons change." When Duncan passed on, they really bury him on the hill, overlooking the park.
And now I just feel inadequate. That I might pour myself into a project, bare my soul to the world through the power of film, and people will feel - nothing. If, in the next semester, you ever see one of my films, there is nothing that will scar me more than you saying "I didn't feel anything." Hate my work, despise it, insult it with every depreciating word that you have in your vocabulary - but at least, by reviling my work, it did something to you.
I don't know where my whole "emotional artist" thing came from, I suppose it's a product of a sleepless night. But is this the curse of the unnoticed artist? To struggle in vain and wait for the world to notice, to feel your passion and be moved by it? And, when the world passes you by, as the world always seems to, what then? For every one grand success there are ten thousand grand failures. If your life's work is in the creation of something that moves people, what happens when people remain stagnant? Do these artists just fade away? Was there ever a purpose to them trying? Is there still time to switch to be a business major?
And yet, somehow, these people arise out of bed each day and face their failure again. I can't think of anything more poetic. I think there's something so pure in creating something and knowing deep down that it will never make an impact, that the world will pass over it as it's passed over everything that you've done. And to make it anyway, because it had to be made. To create, not for the world, but because that creation was locked inside of you, waiting to get out, needing to get out. My hope is renewed, though this post is going to look terrible in the harsh light of day. Ah, well. Its creation was the important thing. Let the world pass it by.
Reviews
I've been putting phony dates on all my reviews, so that they don't show up as posts. It seemed like a smart choice, since they're meant to go into the "Revues" section, and not to be individual posts. But I'm already sick of it. I put a lot of time writing these, which means I don't feel like writing a whole new, huge post, and as a result, all of my posts will end up being a paragraph small, and all of my reviews will languish on the sidebar. That all ends today. All of my reviews will now appear on my blog first and the sidebar secondary.
I went to see Finding Neverland this evening, my little sister took me out on a date (she paid for everything, 'cause I'm poor and she's cool). It was a lot of fun, I really oughta try to make sure I see her more this summer. I never see her, and I see my brothers all the time, possibly because they are my brothers and we live in the same house, and she's not really my sister, and therefore doesn't live in the same house with me.
We also went to Barnes and Noble so I could pick up a book for my "Script to Screen" class. Each member of the class is supposed to chose their own book on making short films, read it, then report back. I picked up Rebel Without A Crew, or How a 23-Year-old Filmmaker with $7,000 became a Hollywood Player by Robert Rodriguez (the guy who made El Mariachi and Once Upon A Time in Mexico). It seemed appropriate - I love filmmaking, and I don't have any money - but it's not directly on making short films, it's a diary of his making El Mariachi, which was picked up by Columbia Pictures, for - you guessed it - $7,000, so my professor might count off.
Speaking of "Script to Screen," I've really got to get cracking on coming up with ideas for the screenplay that I'm doing with Jeremy for this project. Though Jeremy sent me up an idea a coupla days ago that's really started to get my mind moving. There's some things we need to work out, but I really think that the idea, the main idea, is something that could be phenomenal. Watching Finding Neverland and thinking about some Tim Burton films, like Big Fish, and how those sort of films looked, and worked - it made me excited to do it. Though it could be schmaltzy, and bad, too. It involves a little girl who's dying, so that's something that can go either way. But I think that Jeremy and I have the right sort of personalities to pull something like this off. I have utter confidence in our abilities.
Knock on wood.
Review: Finding Neverland (2004)
Starring Johnny Depp, Kate Winslet, and Dustin Hoffman
Big names, yes. But it's Freddy Highmore's performance as Peter, the boy who inspired Peter Pan, that makes this film. Highmore stares down everyone with soulful eyes throughout, daring anyone to help him deal with the pain of having lost a father and being on the verge of losing his mother. He and Depp drive the heart of this movie, giving me great hopes for the two of them in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, due this summer.
The movie's a tearjerker - designed to be one, and it succeeds with whimsical grace. Depp, the most open we've seen him at least since What's Eating Gilbert Grape, becomes writer J.M. Barrie, the creator of Peter Pan. Barrie, trapped in a cold relationship with his wife Mary (a tremendous Radha Mitchell), and lost for inspiration after the flop of his play Little Mary, is sparked out of his doldrums by widow Sylvia Davies (Winslet) and her four children. Barrie begins spending all his time with the family, sparking rumours around town and further alienating himself from his frustrated wife.
Barrie, a bit of an odd duck in real life, is well known for creating incredibly sympathetic woman characters, likely as a result of the distance between him and his real wife. In Neverland, Barrie instead finds solace with Sylvia, until she develops consumption (why is it always consumption in these movies? Is it just because caughing up a fit is easier than showing, say, cancer of the jaw?). Depp, Mitchell, and Winslet all play their roles with great reserve, letting writer David Magee's adept script and director Marc Forster's able hand steer the film.
The highlight is when Barrie brings the production of Peter Pan to Sylvia's parlor in order to show her Neverland. It's a great moment, one which Forster directs with alacrity as Jan A. P. Kaczmarek's lush score lifts the film from a solid biopic to one of the great films of 2004. The next best moment, though, would have to be seeing Hoffman, playing Barrie's producer, sitting back on his armchair reading over the script going "Indians! Pirates! Smee!" I'm making a rule that Hoffman (Captain Hook in Hook) must be in all movies relating to Peter Pan in some way.
The rundown: Well acted, well written, and well directed, Neverland is solid in every aspect. Four stars, and I believe in fairies again.
Let's Review
I've decided that it's too much trouble to review things that only just came out - movies in their first weekend, books that have just been released, etc. I don't have the cash to be throwing on every movie, book, and CD that comes out (see previous post entitled "All You Ever Need to Know About Cars") , and frankly, no one's asked me too. I'll review what I see, and I'll call 'em as I see 'em.
If you're up for it, you can check out my latest review, The Sum of All Fears (2002).