cinematically grounded

I watched Paris, je t'aime (2006) last night and loved it. And today I read in the Guardian critics' opinions about how major world cities have representationally "fared" on film. It's by no means an exhaustive collection of cities and films. In any case, together the film and the article have made me think about what sort of director I would be.

If you remember, I have always dreamt of being a filmmaker. And one of the biggest reasons for this, besides my passionate cinephilia, is what I call "my cinematical mind." Essentially speaking, I think of my life as a movie, and my glasses as the frame of a camera. I have an idea of what I would be like as a filmmaker. In the very least, I would want to make movies I would enjoy watching. But I think cinephilia--whether in the form of postmodern cineliteracy or through the narrative a la Cinema Paradiso (1988)--would figure prominently, and this is important because I also tend to think spatially, in terms of cultural production and consumption. That is why the Guardian article appealed to me so much, getting critics' opinions about how cities have been (mis)represented in film. Paris, je t'aime, which was not mentioned at all, is about space and cinephilia.

So the Guardian article made me think about what kind of director I would be, what geographical location or region I might be associated with. And since my life is a movie and I have spent much of the time "filming" this movie in suburban Maryland, I thought, "Clearly that is my cinematic place!" But it's not just suburban Maryland. Never mind the fact that I do have freedom as an artist to represent places and things that are not natural to my life. In other words, I could make a film in or about New York, couldn't I? It just wouldn't be as good as a Woody Allen picture, if you ask me.

My point of view as a director based in suburban Maryland, close to D.C., would be about this relationship between the suburbs and the capital. I don't know for sure if the discrepancy between the places is totally unique, completely unlike other major cities relationships to their suburbs. I find there is a dearth of films about D.C. Sure, the ones about the government may take place here but they're not filmed here. Capturing aerial shots of the National Mall may establish the scene, but it is a trite one, one that keeps non-Washingtonians from seeing D.C. apart from the monuments and "official" landmarks of national memory and history. Only two films "take place" in D.C. and go beyond this: Broadcast News (1987) and Thank You For Smoking (2005). I hesitate to call the latter a film about D.C. because it's not, and it's not really grounded here no matter how many shots of the Metro and government buildings it features.

I suppose my enthusiasm for this idea of myself as a potential suburban Maryland director comes from my recent dependence on the Metrobus system. For 21 years I'd never ridden the public bus, but now I have--and a lot. I have a deeper appreciation for those who ride it and drive it every day. But also being out of control of where and when and how often the bus stops ultimately exposes to me just how wide a space the length, for instance, of Georgia Avenue, is.

More than this though, I imagine that the frustration I feel (along with others) about how inconveniently located the Metro is from my house would figure prominently in my film(s). I mean, it already does in my life. There is this pull from the suburbs, this idea that the city is the place to find culture (museums, cinemas, concert venues, ethnic restaurants, etc.). My version of "disaffected youth" doesn't include drugs and violence; it's about wanting to have an urban experience.

And let's face it, we need someone to make films about what life is "like" just outside the capital of the world's only superpower (I hate to say it). The site needs to be demystified. A film needs to show that despite having the smartest population or whatever (San Francisco comes in second), D.C.'s majority population is of racial minorities and/or of the lower class(es). Immigrants punctuate this, too. I don't claim I can make this film because I don't know what that "life" is like, but even the acknowledgment of it would be something.

Then I think more broadly about Maryland directors. The two most famous Maryland directors are John Waters and Barry Levinson. (Can you name any other Maryland directors, period?) But their focus is on Baltimore, glimpsing it from different angles. Waters is informed by the working class "freaks" (I don't really mean they are, but he is interested in the grotesque), and Levinson is nostalgic for growing up in the 1950s. My point of view, of course, is completely different. And it is about place, too.

Now back to that Guardian article. I'm a bit disappointed that they did not mention Paris, je t'aime. Having been to Paris and seen some of the places depicted, I can't say I recognized everything. That's the fiction, the romance. But the writer-directors did consciously think about how their stories would fit into the arrondissements. Christopher Doyle's "Porte de Choisy" seemed the most grounded in its place, depicting the Chinese enclave while also staying true to his vision (as a cinematographer, he's worked with many an Asian auteur). But it's also the most outlandish, the one most like a music video, where the visuals and sounds are the feature, not so much the narrative.

The Brothers Coen's "Tuileries," while set entirely in the subway as if to position the subjects and audience in an underworld, is about stereotypes, and does nothing to challenge them. A tourist who ne comprend pas French, Steve Buscemi gets sucked into the idea that modern young romance is sexist, contradictory, confusing, and thus can be used against the unassuming when a young dude threatens violence and his girlfriend's response is to kiss Buscemi, only to let her dude beat up Buscemi. And then she leaves with her dude. See how easily the Coen sensibility can be transported to the Paris Metro? How it can be translated into French? See how cinematic Paris is as a stage?

Paris, je t'aime is about "Paris." While some people may think the film strives to represent "real life" in Paris through the eyes of a collection of internationally-renowned directors, it's not about real life. It's about romance, and no place personifies romance better than Paris.

So, what would my short be, since I am a suburban Maryland filmmaker (among other kinds of filmmaker!)? Maybe my section would try to trace the historical connection between Paris and D.C. Not just through urban planning, but maybe it could focus on L'Enfant. Anyway, I'm not quite sure what it would be, but all I can say is, "Paris, je t'aime."

deja vu

Right now, I have "Not Your Average Travel Guide" (2007-present) on. The host is in London. He's doing everything I did with Stephanie in London. He's gone to the British Museum and looked at the Rosetta Stone and the Egyptian mummies. He's gone to Buckingham Palace, but I admit he at least saw the changing of the guard. He's gone to the Portabello Road street market. He's gone to the Tate Modern. He's gone to the pub to tap into that culture [pun intended]. But I must say he said something that offended me. He said that going to the pub is "a very London thing." Right. Only people in London go to the pub. And what about the title of the show? This is the most average travel guide! And no, I've never pretended that Stephanie and I went off the beaten path while in London.

And to introduce Indian food, he interviews people on the street about how multicultural the London population is. Of course that isn't inaccurate. It's just, I've heard this before. I've experienced it myself. Combined, all of this constitutes the first time anything on the Travel Channel--aside from the shows that profile Disney World--has just regurgitated something I have already done.

Let's hope it continues.

when she rolls into port

Another trip. More photos. Another desktop.


This is part of one of the thirds of the Frank O. Gehry complex at the Media Harbor in Dusseldorf. What I love about all the buildings along the harbor is that you can't get just one photo of the landscape. You can't get just one photo that captures the "essence" of any of the individual buildings, either. It's an architectural photographer's playground.

german randomity

1.) The flight from Manchester to Cologne only took one hour and five minutes. On the way back, with the whole jet stream thing not working in my favor, it took an hour and ten minutes. That's approximately 700 km.

2.) I took out 100 euros from a bank on the border with the Netherlands, thinking I would want to buy more than just postcards and chocolate for the relatives back home. I have 51.89 euro left.

3.) I almost had a marijuana muffin in Maastricht from one of those "coffeeshops" whose specialty is not coffee. Why didn't I have it? I honestly forgot to get it before leaving and moving on to Aachen that day.

4.) Very nearly went to Liege, Belgium. Very nearly.

5.) None of my neighbors noticed that I was gone for four and a half days. I was really looking forward to answering the question, "I haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?!" with "Germany." Damnit.

6.) One of the highlights was catching a glimpse of the driver of an SUV that advertised a business promoting American Indian culture and line dancing--with an emblem that reminded me of the Redskins. He was dressed all in black, wearing a black cowboy hat. Channeling Garth Brooks ca. 1995, perhaps?

7.) I only saw one German flag. I know what you're thinking, but they just express their nationalism differently.

happy birthday johnny borrell

Before I took a three-hour-long nap this evening, I had been awake for 34 hours straight. I'm still very tired and I suspect I will take it very easy tomorrow so as to recover.

I'm not going to recount everything that happened in Manchester. I will say I got lost once but that was just while getting my bearings after having to exit from Piccadilly Station rather than Oxford Road. I heard at Cornerhouse, where I saw The Namesake (2006), that there was a bomb threat/scare. This troubled me because I recalled the Arndale IRA bombing of 1996. Yesterday was the first time in the UK I ever felt worried about where I was. I didn't feel well watching a movie in a basement.

I went to Manchester to see Razorlight in concert, as you know. I am not very familiar with their music, but I do have their first record. The concert was at MEN Arena and I hadn't been to an arena-scale concert in forever. It reminded me of the very first concert I ever went to: Bush. (Don't ask.)

Last night was filled with contradictions. I enjoyed the concert very much; I finally had some fun! We didn't know how many supporting acts there would be or just who they were even, so it really was quite exciting to see it unfold in front of us. Mohair was the first band but I wasn't too crazy about them. Then Pull Tiger Tail came on, and I much preferred them (they were also sexier). I should look up each band's music because I am of the persuasion that believes that seeing a band in concert does not mean that I'll like the recording. I mean, when the vocals are not equal to the instruments' noise, you cannot really hear the vocals. The singer may sound "annoying," and this would only be obvious on the album. Anyway, will look them up. I suggest you do, too. Especially Pull Tiger Tail (what a ridiculous name).

I had grown tired halfway through Razorlight's set. It didn't help that I was also holding my bladder. But once I relieved that upon leaving the venue with thousands of other people, I became hyper and obnoxious. Leaving, we actually passed members of the first two bands signing merchandise. I was so wound-up that I said "hi!" to the lead singer of Mohair as he walked past. He didn't hear me because I probably wasn't loud enough. I should have said, "Your set just kept getting better and better!" This is not untrue; it just leaves out the fact that it wasn't very good at the start.

Then I sat in the kitchen with my friends Lisa and Denise, chitchatting away until 1.45 am. On the way back to the hostel, Lisa had bought a copy of Q Magazine with Razorlight frontman Johnny Borrell on the cover, topless and looking a bit like Mick Jagger and Jim Morrison. We found out from Q that today, the 4th, is his 27th birthday. And he didn't even mention it to us. Surprising because he is sooo into himself.

In any case, I put my head down at 2.10 am but never lost consciousness. People were already asleep by the time I got into bed, so I'm not exactly sure to whom I can attribute each strange behavior. You see, I could never get to sleep because of these weird noises. One guy was snoring AND moaning. It was a sort of hybrid. Another (or it could be the same guy, and I think it was) spurted out trios of farts every so often. Two others had your run-of-the-mill snores. Another spontaneously woke himself up now and again, saying something in a language I could not readily identify. I slept on the top bunk, above some guy who reeked of smoke and B.O. when he got in at 3 am. And he snored. It was terribly unpleasant. Especially since I otherwise really liked this hostel. It was VERY clean, very quiet, and very well-situated. (Although I must say I did not like the showers as you could see right through them and there was no area to change.)

In summation about most of the nine other people I shared a room with last night, I thought: "These people should never sleep in public." I don't understand how some--such as my friend Lisa (who, I might add, never made a peep!)--could sleep through it!

At 6.40 am, I finally stopped rolling around. I got dressed and watched "Breakfast" on BBC 1 where I witnessed firsthand Lee Ingleby's sexiness. He was promoting the BBC 1 drama "George Gently" with co-star Martin Shaw. Other than this nice blip, I really just heard all the top news stories over and over for a few hours. Then I headed out to Urbis. Learned some new things thanks to a private tour (a bored docent walked straight up to me, Denise, and Denise's friend who met us at the hostel just before, and asked if she could lead us around). Learned more about how the building/site relates to that part of downtown. Also more about the architecture and architect himself, Ian Simpson, who clearly has democratic ideals in mind while designing but likes to hole up in the poshest parts of his designs like any pure elitist.

I was afraid there wasn't anything new since the last time I went there. But this was fortunately untrue. "Play" was pretty damn cool even if kids were fooling around with the interactive exhibits. It was basically about people reclaiming urban spaces and subverting practices and prejudices that are so closely regulated. For instance, there were playful uses of irony in temporary graffiti art that was, in some cases, quite inspirational. In the snow, one artist had inscribed something to the effect of "My mum told me to stay at home. Did I listen? Hell no!" and "Listen kids, graffiti destroyed my life." There's guerrilla gardening in some parts of the world, too, where people meet up late at night and plant flowers and such in public areas. This reminded me of Joe's Apartment (1996). Despite looking like something for kids (with a title like that...), it was really rather good.

Also good was the exhibit on Hong Kong's contemporary art trying to reconcile some historical and cultural issues within and outside itself. The exhibit is an event to help mark the 10-year anniversary of Hong Kong's switching over from British to Chinese control. This exhibit was there the last time I was at Urbis, but I didn't get to see it because we ran out of time.

Unfortunately, Urbis will have two exhibits starting in the summer that I will miss: "The Best of Manchester" and "The Hacienda." That pisses me right off.

Next I went to the Manchester Art Gallery and was utterly underwhelmed. The wonderful space that had once housed the Joe Colombo exhibit that had amused me so much I wrote a paper about him was now sparingly decorated for an exhibit about contemporary international artists' use of Cold War sci-fi themes to make statements about race and difference. Almost absolutely no (con)text. And there really wasn't much of an emphasis on a/an (inter)national context, but they showed movie posters of American films in local languages such as Polish and Italian. They looked the same as the American posters for the same films. What does this say? The curators don't even attempt to answer this question. Will say that I loved the richly painted orange walls. So was "Alien Nation."

And then I went home.