Perhaps in 1986 Allie would be recognizable as a human, but in 2024 this guy is wholly alien. A grab bag of grandiosities that don’t all seem make sense in one person simultaneously, it mostly makes this about one guy who sucks.

And not even a guy who’s wrong! Some of those grandiosities are indulged in a way that undercuts the characterization. As if Allie is largely correct that he’s in the right and it’s the world dragging him down.

I saw セカチュー early in college, probably an ideal time, and so I’m primed for the terminally-ill-young-love story. I also used the 青春18切符 while I was living in Japan. I’m also very similar in age to the protagonist. I was ready for whatever this was gonna do. Plus i’m on a plane, my tear glands are prepared.

Watched in optimal rom-com setting, on a plane, where I’m most likely to be deeply moved.

This did nothing for me. I appreciate how their relationship felt real, but if a romcom’s success hinges upon the viewers desire to see a couple end up together, I just didn’t care. I don’t really like either or these people, and don’t care about their future.

Ultimately I’ll remember this as a handful of excellent scenes or shots seasoning a bland dish.

Watched with a 3 year old who wasn’t actually that interested. I don’t blame him. Woody is insufferable.

Free screening at the Metrograph, which I visited for the first time after a 3+ years of (distant) membership. The guy at the box office was so surprised by my allegiance that he gave me a free pass to use during my visit, which I used the very next night.

Took me some time to adjust to the stitled dialogue, but somewhere around “that’s very inter­disciplinary of you” I got on its wavelength.

Reveals its (possible) thesis towards the end on the “exhiliration of navigating a disorienting space”, which recontextualized everything prior, and made me want to rewatch as soon as I got home.

Watching things on a plane, where I’m far more susceptible to melodrama, means everything gets graded on a curve.

Kate’s redemption story of taming storms worked for me! And always psyched to see predatory (redundant) real estate be made the true villain. Ramos’ character gets off light, though, that dude’s a vulture. Fuck him.

I’d read that climate scientists asked for global warming to not be cited as a reason for increased tornados, due to inconclusive studies. I’d read a fair amount of complaining about that absence. But a tornado swelling in the fires of an oil refinery is not subtle.

I wish the segments in Fon were subtitled as well, but I respect the choice.

The university debate called to mind the discussions of students in A Night Of Knowing Nothing. Seeing people around the world congregate and deliberate in democractic spaces is invigorating. All power to the people.

At a recent book event, I saw Ta-Nehisi Coates say “oppression isn’t ennobling. It just makes you oppressed”. I get the sense that the creators here disagree.

Beams with satisfaction at ascribing all number of pathologies to First Peoples, and then declaring those pathologies beautiful. Despite this, Trilby remains compelling. As an inheritor of a long lineage of questions regarding assimilation and aspiration, I long for a story of Trilby written by her confederate, rather than her oppressor.

Spike Lee’s Jungle Fever and Mo’ Better Blues actually come close.

Watched to distract myself from following election results. Worked well!

Watched to distract myself from following election results. Mostly worked.

Evoked a very specific hope about reconnecting with one’s brother that is, in fact, actually kind of about the election after all.

Something strange about watching and autobiographical documentary. To what extent do I believe the narrative that the creator has constructed about their subject (themselves)?

Why is so much direct address in English? With English writing? That gives the sense of direct advocacy (which is good!), but then she denies that she’s an activist. She incudes a scene where she says any apparent suicide attempt would be an indication of foul play. And then includes a sequence that implies her own suicide attempt.

This is a film of 8 years of metamorphosis.

As the final scene turned to black, I had a big stupid grin on my face. No, I don’t know what I think about any of that. But the less cerebral, more sensual, experience of actually witnessing it I do understand, even if I can’t articulate.

Sadie’s averted eyes, short halting sentence deliveries, and subtle lip movements might be tells of an inexperienced actress, but they read as familiar and human. I’ve been thinking about her a fair amount.

I understand the function of the framing narrative, but I think it depresses the start of an otherwise compelling and inspiring story about youth and student activism.

Images like these are fertile ground for growing real internationalist solidarity. Their struggles are hued by the specifics of their place (Hinduttva), but are immediately relatable in their broad contours (education funding and privitization). And seeing a borderline horror movie presentation of CCTV footage of police breaking into a sealed room is potent among many here in the US.

Another wonderful culture-clash film by Weir.

Glad the police procedural serves as mere scaffolding for the romance, planted in mutual care, and doomed by its likely mutual exotification. I didn’t understand Ford as sexy until here. Every look of McGillis’s and Ford’s is an enchanting invitation for transgression.

Love also the many moments of explicit non-dialogue. Samuel’s eyelines and pointing. The erecting of the barn. Also has my new favorite cinema laugh: Eli’s laugh at Book’s comment about never holding a teet this big.