Friday, September 25, 2015

Futnuckery Dialogues: 8 1/2 or "Eight and a Half"

Frederico: Optimistic?
He presents himself as the bored disinterested auteur.

All artists are in their hearts, fools.

He takes his movies, all of which are internalized affairs and characterizes them as glitzy affairs, trimmed.  This a defense mechanism?  To deny how close he became through his work to his adoring international audience?  He is saying, no, no, as a producer, as a seller of films, this then, this latest work is the closest to me!

The intelligent man, that Frederico, collects hearts, the icons of those women he has loved before, from the first, the dreambeast of the shore to the latest, and not the wife, for that relationship is more externalized and worldly.  She follows him as he pursues his own mad journey.  He goes to the spa, an intended rejuvenation that is more a social affair, blunting any healing effects within its own silly trappings, the lines of people standing in the dust for a cool draught.

As an auteur, he worships beauty, naming his muse for the world, not his charming actress wife, but the nymphet Claudia Cardinale.  These days we just look at them on computer screens, but here the rich artist rides with her in a car talking of life, and out of that lovely face comes words that transfix him.

A lot of small talk here, for a movie called eight and a half.  Quiet, seemingly inconsequential moments, as the artist's feelings roll about within him.  At some point I would have liked to hear Mastroanni scream, experience catharsis, but there was always a dulled edge, just like the ineffective trip to the spa, lacking a release.

Maybe also, sometime soon I will watch the movie again using another thought, that of human gestation.... oooh...  Eight and a half film, Eight and a half months.... hmm.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

These the words of Chopchop McJangle(9.23.15)

As a writer, I like to stretch myself.  Here I constructed a long statement, ala Henry James and William Faulkner.  The clauses just hang, gently shaking in the air.

"I let Bradford live in the converted garage, live with his whole life in one room and his charge spread about three bedrooms, living and dining rooms, and kitchen: he did that because I arranged it and paid him and possibly he liked it or just accepted it the way the former alcoholics accept things, stoic, to just stand there, shaking, suffering, while the cold winds, rains and cruelty of the world buffet the sufferer, just to suffer through as punishment for the gluttony before, maybe that the spirit was lost during a long span of time, given to whatever demon swam inside the bottles, then it was just to suffer in hopes of paying a spiritual debt, for they so doubted themselves, the recovering drunks-it was a path I let him walk alone in an addition to the house and not in the house proper, where he could be alone with it, breathing his sleepbreath and sucking in great sleepgulps with the dust and dander of his own former shame, his own current millstone that sat right there in the room with him, perched on the carpet which was stretched over oil-stained concrete in a room that was once a car shed."

Monday, September 21, 2015

Yer jowls, shut them: more helpful advice for Andy, via me.

It is the path of the imperfect man to be the author of his torment; with his tribulation being his issue, he is as beset by a swarm of angry bees, unable to free himself from the cloud.

When you're in it neck deep, don't open your mouth unless you want a taste.

Andy rassled over meaning, and worked at criticizing himself, when really his biggest problem was what made him special: he was conscientious in a world that was immolating itself, eating itself. 

I use past tense. 

Because screw you, dogg.

That show has not been on in like ten years, yet I remember: they put him in charge of the place, gave him the prettiest woman, and he got a fat promotion.  9/11 got him one promotion, as his superiors were killed off in the terrorist strike right down the street from the stationhouse.

That kinda sucked but hey, silver linings, right?  So it was kinda good, too.

Somebody needs to walk by and give uplift, and that somebody must have credibility, else Andy will ignore him, like the paper-hanger that showed up at A.A., the sight of whom, that skell he knew from earlier, disgusted Andy.  He tells Andy to listen to the ending, even as Andy is walking away, that it all comes out okay in the end, because the light is always there for us to see, if we but open our ignorant eyes.

Andy furthermore said he was a good fish guy.  He was steadfast at keeping a healthy fishtank.  Bobby Simone had the birds.  Danny Sorenson had the strippers.  John Kelly had his sensitive ex-wife.  Upstairs John had his boyfriends.  Even I had a dog one time, just feeding him extra crap that I didn't want, doing that as an afterthought, but man was that dog loyal.

I'll go forth and build an Andy-size cage.