Once in a blue moon — and we have a blue moon in springtime. An enormous moon and the blossoming apple and peach trees in sheltered orchards look luminous by moonlight.
Wordpress won’t let me leave comments. I’ll keep trying until it relents.
Heard last night about a friend who had a horrible relapse and I felt quite weepy, mostly because of having sinusitis and flu. Usually I just accept that drinking is our default position and if people don’t really want sobriety enough to do what is necessary, they just don’t want it enough — but I do hate the waste and suffering, the awful fog and insanity into which friends disappear when the drinking is all that means anything to them.
The great avant-garde film maker Chris Marker has died at the age of 91 – I remember his Sans Soleil with a small chill of loss. Much of my 20s and some of my 30s were spent huddled in flea-ridden dark and dingy art cinemas looking at the films of Werner Herzog, Andrei Tarkovsky, Akira Kurosawa. Long rainy obsessive afternoons just absorbing film, getting lost in the visual,surreal images and music and shutterspeed blazing through my mind, pushing aside all other kinds of problems. A solution of sorts, it seemed then.
Anyway, Sans Soleil: you might loosely describe the film as a travelogue through time and geography, from mid-1960s Iceland to early-1980s Guinea-Bissau, Cape Verde and Japan. But there is so much else going on, a collage of losses and dreams — the film begins with an opening shot of three Icelandic children frolicking through a summer field and ends by panning across the same town several years later, buried up to its church steeple in molten lava.
“He wrote me,” the narrator says, speaking of the imaginary documentarian who is supposed to not be Marker, “that only one film had been capable of portraying impossible memory… In the spiral of [its] titles, he saw Time covering a field ever wider as it moved away, a cyclone whose present moment contains, motionless, the eye.”