I strongly consider changing the name of my blog to “rantrantraskolnikov” or “rantrantrazumihin”. Then I decide that the allusion to the characters in Crime and Punishment -one a murderer and the other a picture of benevolence- is a little pretentious. Maybe by my next post the name will have changed 😉
“I used to be quite good at writing” the thought finds its way to me even as the silvery glow of the screen threatens to lobotomize me. No, that was just the high school teachers trying to fend off the apathy in me by claiming I had potential. One of the things I had to do to unlock this potential was my homework.
The paragraphs above sit in loneliness for a couple of days as I wait for inspiration to strike. It does, after I watch First Man. The abundance of shaky close-ups in the opening ten minutes prompted some anxiety and annoyance. Then I realise that this technique may have been used by the director to indicate the anxiety, the anxious grief that the main character (Neil Armstrong) feels at home after the loss of his young daughter.
This revelation makes me forget my anxiety and leaves me feeling quite pleased with myself (a state, as some of you know, I find myself in quite often regardless of whether it is deserved or not). Perhaps that’s the reason I enjoy the rest of the movie so much.
The Director, Damien Chazelle is an expert at placing the viewer in the characters shoes. This is proven in rattling shots of bolted surfaces inside cockpits and fleeting glimpses of perfect sky and space. Exhilarating. There is little sci-fi here though, and little is needed as the movie hurtles enthrallingly through real-life events towards its stunning lunar climax. Foy and Gosling give thoughtful, controlled performances. It is clear that the makers of the film have chosen to frame the protagonist with the loss of his young daughter. It is strongly suggested that Armstrong was driven to his feats by this loss and that of astronaut companions.
As promised in the earlier post, the cinema has been the main theme of this past week, and the other films I have watched have provided more inspiration. But the trip to the cinema has, in itself, yielded food for thought. As, trudging on crutches through the extravagant Sunway Pyramid (the nearby supermall that houses the TGV cinema) one cannot help but notice a difference in how I am received on crutches as opposed to in full health. Passers-by will flash a sympathetic smile, clerks and drivers and waiters and waitresses almost unanimously enquire about my injury. Otherwise stone-faced and distracted university peers seem to melt at the sight of me as I am showered with god-bless-yous and speedy-recoveries.
I suspect my reception (by strangers) in Finland would be more subdued, though I have not been crutched in the homeland as I am here. It is not that there is a lack of assistance for those in need but rather less visible sympathy expressed; and you can be almost certain that only a priest will ever give you gods blessing.
I look down at the faithful aluminium steed at my side and am thankful for the change in perspective. After all if you are to take crutches as extensions of the arms then the user becomes a gorilla, knuckle-walking through the brush. Once again that silvery glow threatens to hypnotise me, I slam my laptop shut before..
rantrant 