An oldie but goodie...
Mon oncle Antoine. Hailed by many as the best Canadian film ever made, this movie blew me away. It's about nothing interesting, really, but the imagery of small town Quebec life, the English vs French struggle, lost innocence, and the lies we all hide: this movie will stay with me a long time. Criterion Collection released an anniversary edition of it (the movie was released in 1971) and I'm seriously thinking of adding this one to my permanent collection. The star, a young 14 year old boy who only made one movie as far as I can tell, is so riveting as the boy trapped in a cold, isolating world of the past. The director, Claude Jutra, is also something of a phenomenon in Quebec culture, a wunderkind artist who made only a few movies, then got caught up in the language wars when he agreed to spend time in Ontario and BC making English-language films (after struggling to find work in Quebec for many years). He committed suicide in 1986 after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's in his mid-50s. He lived his last years in an apartment just facing Square St-Louis, a small city square that I know very well and I always think about him, his movies, and his struggle whenever I walk through there...
Then I watched Denys Arcand's 1989 movie Jesus of Montreal. Movies from the 80s often feel very dated, very silly, in fact. The music, the style, the issues all seem so far removed from life today. But this film feels so relevant and interesting. In typical Arcand style, it deals with issues involving the Catholic church, religion in Quebec society today, sex and hypocrisy, but it's told with such beautiful cinematography. I love how Montreal appears in this movie and just about every single external shot I recognize in the city. I love the complexity of his portrayal of the faceless Catholic bureaucracy and the fact that he parallels the band of actors and their leader with Jesus and his disciples. Though the movie is very 80s, it's universally interesting and complex.
Life is so quiet lately. In a good way, I guess. No plans yet for any trips. Christmas is usually very quiet because nearly everyone we know leaves for at least 2 weeks. I have some spare time this year for a change and we may take a road trip or two. Short ones. And soon the snow will start...
So I rented this movie a couple of weeks ago and really enjoyed it. Then I ordered the book and I love the book even more. I read about 80% of it in one sitting: I just picked it up and couldn't put it down.
I really like the blend of journalistic technique mixed with pure storytelling and Chris McCandless is such a character, you feel his personality just leaping off the page.
Great book!
I was 18 years old and walking home to my apartment on Franklin Avenue in Boise from work as a waiter at Plush Pippin on State Street. As I zipped along the street, Eric, who was Wendy Belcher's boyfriend (my first boyfriend Jerry and I lived with her), was playing football in the field at Boise High and he saw me passing at shouted out: "The Wall fell down, maaaaaan! Those Germans are freeeeee!"
I was like: "Huh?"
So he shouted: "The Berlin Wall! It's been knocked down! It's over, maaaaaaan!"
And that's all I remember. I vaguely recall a conversation later that evening with someone much older than me who talked about how this was an historical moment and that I would remember this night. Who was that? Russ? Josh?
I did know a lot about Germany since I started studying German when I was 12 years old. But I was much more interested in German language and literature and not so much about politics. Then (I was only 18!). So I didn't quite know what an important process had started that night.
We had all these friends who lived in (what we called) "the Franklin house," a huge old mansion a few doors down from our apartment. I do remember being up in Heather and her sister's attic apartment, holding their kitten, and listening to them talk about Germany and all the changes these developments would lead to. Haha, my most vivid impression of that old house, though, is the "water wars" that were constantly going on (the water pressure was terrible and everyone had to fight to be in the shower first or there would be no pressure anywhere in the apartment) and how STDs made their rounds throughout the entire building (we called Mindy "Clamindy" and Lea "Gonnolea" haha). All these straight kids screwing each other non-stop. In our apartment, we just had our crazy roommate, Wendy (who kept a mannequin, Mona, dressed up in the living room year round: at Christmas, she'd be decked out in slutty Christmas clothes, in summer, slutty summer clothes, etc etc) and her boyfriend Eric. They'd get drunk and beat the shit out of each other (not him beating her, them beating each other). Oy. How long did Jerry and I live there? Six months?
Woops, got sidetracked wallowing in the past. The Berlin Wall. In the long run, I guess this hasn't really affected me personally very much. Or who knows, maybe the hand of history is so far reaching that its effects are impossible to truly understand on an individual level.
All I can think about now, these 20 years later, is my own life and how far I've come since that November night so long ago. It seems like I've lived 10 different lives since then, many countries, a few relationships, many friendships.
Here is the Franklin house today. It looks similar but much more upscale. When I lived there, it was full of poor young students and stoners. It was practically falling apart. Our place (just a few doors down on the other side of the street) has been torn down and replaced by an office building. Too bad, too. It was such a beautiful place: it had this sun room in the back overlooking the garden that was one of the most beautiful rooms I've ever lived in. It was my favorite place to sit with a book.
Ah, well. Time marches on. As the Chinese say, "You can't welcome the new until you get rid of the old."
Quiet days. Mildly depressed as I always seem to be every November what with a long cold winter ahead of us.
It doesn't help that nearly everyone we know is traveling or making plans to: I&C are headed to France for two weeks, M just got back from Peru, C is in Berlin (we have Mac for two weeks), JP is in Japan, and R just got back from Hawaii. Even C&J are off to Italy in the spring.
And we're stuck here for the time being, facing a cold & bleak Quebec winter. Sigh.
I shouldn't complain. We've made a lot of sacrifices the last few years and it's been well worth it. And the end is in sight: just one more winter and we will just about have it set up so that we can leave every winter from now on. Or nearly every winter.
I think this is partly just job boredom. It comes in waves and because I've been doing a new part of a project, learning a new software system, I could distract myself for the past few months. But I guess I'm over that. Anyway, it's fine, another new project starting next month so that'll get me through a chunk of winter. Hopefully.
Thank God for friends. Last night M was working, so I went over to I&C's and we hung out in their kitchen chatting until late, then ordered Indian take out and watched "Good Night and Good Luck." Then, since I had missed the last train, I decided to forgo the taxi ride and I walked home from Point-St-Charles -- it took over an hour. But it was nice, walking over the canal in the moonlight, through downtown and past the throngs of drunk McGill and Concordia students, up St-Denis and through the Plateau. What a great way to spend a Friday night.
OK to work now. I've got a full day in front of this computer to get through, then a big dinner tonight around the corner that I am not really looking forward to.
I want this life:
