I watched "The House of the Devil" the other night, and liked it well enough. An indie horror flick, very self-consciously crafted to appear to have been shot in, say, the mid-80s, with the simplest of touches -- characters' hairstyles, the mom jeans, the rotary dial telephones, the big Walkman -- and it looks very much like it could've been a movie of that time.
It delivered some good atmosphere and some startling moments, although I felt that too much time was spent creating the mood and when things get out of hand, they get out of hand almost too quickly for it to really work properly, in terms of pacing, like going from too little to too much all at once.
Also, the meta-factoid at the beginning basically throws any proper suspense out the window -- not having context for what was happening might've made it work better on the face of things.
As an exercise in cinematic style (e.g., simulating an 80s horror movie), they definitely hit all the marks properly. As a horror movie itself, I don't know if it'll qualify as a classic of the genre.
I don't know if this was deliberate on the part of the director or not, but there's a lot of eating in the movie -- it kind of draws attention to itself, like business for the characters to do. It becomes a little distracting, all the nibbling that goes on. Maybe they wanted the characters to have more to do than just, say, smoke (which some of them do, too). Not sure. But it was a little distracting for me.
Also, the overall conceit of the story was less than I'd hoped for, and the payoff didn't quite deliver for me. Like they ended at both a good and a bad point, saying more by showing less, but also kind of copping out (just because of the rushed elements of horror in it making the payoff feel perhaps a bit contrived).
Greta Gerwig (one of my indie film crushes, right up there with Parker Posey) is in it, in a small role as the protagonist's friend.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Cynical, Cyclical
Sometimes B1 will ask me about something, and I'm torn between giving him the officially accepted(tm) notion of something, and my own cynical take on it. On one hand, I think he shouldn't be burdened with cynicism as a child; but, on the other hand, the alternative is, what, being naive and taking it on the chin?
My life experience to date has made me pretty cynical, I guess. Which is weird, because I still believe in love, in romantic notions -- it's just that I see so little of it around me day-to-day that I think I perhaps adopted cynicism as a kind of armor against the world. It's ironic to me how cynicism attained a negative connotation, and when it did. It walked hand in hand with the advent of industrialism and modernity. Before then, the classic (and accurate) concept of the Cynics was retained. What changed in the world in the 19th century to lead to a negative view of the Cynics?
It's almost like how "conspiracy theorist" evolved as a catch-all term to invalidate a contrary position on something. Like someone can dismiss you by saying "Oh, you're just so cynical" -- without actually addressing what you're talking or thinking about.
Saying something like "It's not what you know, it's who you know" gets you branded as a cynic, even though, in practice, more often than not, it's fucking true.
Anyway, B1 is so sweet, he has this conception of how the world works, and when things don't go his way, he's very reflective about it in a sweet and innocent way -- he reads the best in people (something, sadly, I don't do -- I've been told often enough that I read the worst in people) -- and when people fail him, he tries to figure it out in a kind and rational way, whereas my (ooh!) cynical impulse is to blow it off as a typical result of how people behave toward one another.
For now, I just let him form his own conclusions about things without seasoning them with my cynicism -- for now, B1 can detect my sarcasm rather well and will say "You're just being sarcastic, Daddy." He doesn't yet know that I'm damned cynical, too -- and that I don't think that's a bad thing, either.
There is the way the world works, and the way the world should work, and those ways seldom cross -- and worse, people often fail to acknowledge or admit that this is how the world is actually working. I see that and feel a good deal of pathos.
It's not an easy path to be an open-hearted cynic, let me tell you! My heart isn't hardened by the world, although it should be, given various things I've encountered in my day. I stay young at heart, even while my cynical instincts are always saying "See? I toldja so, Stooopid."
My life experience to date has made me pretty cynical, I guess. Which is weird, because I still believe in love, in romantic notions -- it's just that I see so little of it around me day-to-day that I think I perhaps adopted cynicism as a kind of armor against the world. It's ironic to me how cynicism attained a negative connotation, and when it did. It walked hand in hand with the advent of industrialism and modernity. Before then, the classic (and accurate) concept of the Cynics was retained. What changed in the world in the 19th century to lead to a negative view of the Cynics?
It's almost like how "conspiracy theorist" evolved as a catch-all term to invalidate a contrary position on something. Like someone can dismiss you by saying "Oh, you're just so cynical" -- without actually addressing what you're talking or thinking about.
Saying something like "It's not what you know, it's who you know" gets you branded as a cynic, even though, in practice, more often than not, it's fucking true.
Anyway, B1 is so sweet, he has this conception of how the world works, and when things don't go his way, he's very reflective about it in a sweet and innocent way -- he reads the best in people (something, sadly, I don't do -- I've been told often enough that I read the worst in people) -- and when people fail him, he tries to figure it out in a kind and rational way, whereas my (ooh!) cynical impulse is to blow it off as a typical result of how people behave toward one another.
For now, I just let him form his own conclusions about things without seasoning them with my cynicism -- for now, B1 can detect my sarcasm rather well and will say "You're just being sarcastic, Daddy." He doesn't yet know that I'm damned cynical, too -- and that I don't think that's a bad thing, either.
There is the way the world works, and the way the world should work, and those ways seldom cross -- and worse, people often fail to acknowledge or admit that this is how the world is actually working. I see that and feel a good deal of pathos.
It's not an easy path to be an open-hearted cynic, let me tell you! My heart isn't hardened by the world, although it should be, given various things I've encountered in my day. I stay young at heart, even while my cynical instincts are always saying "See? I toldja so, Stooopid."
Upchuck Truck
I get parent points for last night, for quick thinking while on Emergency Puke Patrol. B1 was a little pukey last night from what I think is the flu (the real flu, mind you, not "stomach flu"). All the coughing I think makes his tummy sensitive. Anyway, he's on the top bunk, and I'm on the bottom bunk, and I'm hearing him coughing (I'd given him cough medicine earlier, but it hadn't kicked in, yet), and I hear him kind of gag, and I'm like "Are you gonna puke, Buddy?" and he's like "Yeah." But I can tell that he's not gonna make it down the bunk in time to reach the bathroom (and Exene's in there showering, anyway), so I snag a plastic dump truck that's in reach and I hand it up in time for B1 to hurl in it. He fills it up nicely, and I'm like "Whew." (because I know B1 would likely just lean over the side and puke over it in a pinch). So, I tell him "Hold the truck; keep it level and steady." and then I ran and got some paper towels and a mixing bowl and he swabbed his face with the towels and I swapped out the dump truck for a mixing bowl. Then I cleaned out the dump truck in the kitchen sink, grateful that the truck had a solid bed in the back, therefore leakproof. Whew! I cleaned it out and sterilized it and left it on the kitchen floor.
The next morning, B2 came in and said "Heyyy, what's my dump truck doing in here?" and I said "Oh, I think the pixies must've taken it for a spin." and He looked around suspiciously, said "Pixies?"
I do feel like writing the company and thanking them for the quality toy dump truck, which proved very good at handling the pukeload of an 8-year-old.
The next morning, B2 came in and said "Heyyy, what's my dump truck doing in here?" and I said "Oh, I think the pixies must've taken it for a spin." and He looked around suspiciously, said "Pixies?"
I do feel like writing the company and thanking them for the quality toy dump truck, which proved very good at handling the pukeload of an 8-year-old.
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