A "Fat" Slice of 1970's America

I always get excited when I "discover" an underrated or overlooked film, and today I saw a really good one - John Huston's Fat City, which is being screened at Film Forum. Released in 1972, it was considered to be a bona fide 'comeback' for Huston (a legendary director in his own right, what with The Maltese Falcon and The Asphalt Jungle, among others), and it was also warmly received at that year's Cannes Film Festival.

The story deals with two boxers - an alcoholic "has been" (Stacy Keach) and one who's just starting out (a very young Jeff Bridges) - as they cross paths and try to reach the same goal of success inside the ring. Whereas the elder boxer is desperately clinging to the shred of life he has left, the young one has his whole career in front of him but is not aware of the harsh obstacles that may loom ahead. Huston relishes on the consistent moments of silence between characters to reveal more about their inner frustrations and anger, and opts to hone in on absorbing character drama through Keach's interactions with "Oma," a boozy young woman who gets involved with him, excellently played by Susan Tyrrell. Her fluctuations between bouts of hysteria and silent, emotional breakdowns add a nice touch to the conflict, whereas Keach himself delivers a soulful performance as the aimless, tortured boxer.

Fat City will be playing at Film Forum (209 W. Houston St) through October 1st. Otherwise, you could watch it online (with limited commercial interruption) right here.

Zzzzzzzzz....Ouch!

Ever since I was little, I've had certain dreams that keep popping up in my sleep every so often. I think we've all experienced these in one form or another, and they reveal a lot of insights about who we are. Whether it's dreaming about going to school without any clothes on or having one's teeth fall off, these scenarios seem to come about due to the given circumstance we're experiencing at that moment in time. The "being at school stark naked" dream usually happens during our childhood or adolescence - alluding to youth angst - whereas the "losing one's teeth" dream usually implies a feeling of insecurity we might be harboring inside. It's interesting to me how we all come to share these somewhat universal dream scenarios. Of all the crazy, ludicrous things our subconscious can bring up when we're asleep, these particular "situations" keep recurring in our heads over the years. The dreams are zany and outrageous, yes, but they represent concrete preoccupations - things that impact or worry us on a habitual basis. Be it teen angst or low self-esteem, we're constantly struggling with these daily experiences, and they end up influencing what we think about when we sleep.

However...what explanation is there when our dreams aptly deal with situations or things we haven't experienced, or aren't familiar with?

I can remember when I was around five or six years old, I would dream of kissing a certain girl I liked from school. At that point in time, I had never been kissed before, yet the dreams perfectly encapsulated the full feeling and emotion of locking lips with someone. When I did have my first kiss, I realized that my childhood dreams had been completely "right on the money." How could this possibly be?! How did the dream so minutely capture the feeling and tone of that situation when in fact I hadn't experienced it yet?

Obviously as we grow older, our dreams turn more serious and mature in subject matter. Scenarios start revolving more around concrete ideas rather than silly actions...yet still - in whichever situation - every single "life rite" I dreamt about when I was younger, that I was not yet exposed to, ended up validating itself once I did go through it in real life. If we're able to concretely feel and undergo varying positive emotions (physical love? the exhilaration of skydiving, perhaps?) in our subconscious before we get to experience them in real life, then, can it also ring true for negative feelings?

For example - we've all had twisted nightmares in which we're being chased by some crazed lunatic or we fall off a ledge and plunge to our death. I myself have had numerous dreams where I'm stabbed or shot by a psychotic stranger. I always feel excruciating pain when I endure these dreams; I can barely breathe and I'm incapable of waking up. If I dream about falling from a tall building, I always get a hyperventilating feeling in my stomach and I force myself to open my eyes before my body hits the ground. Although these are extreme situations, my insecurities and fears (of the unknown, of loneliness) are brought forth and personified; they're issues I can grapple with and relate to because I struggle with them every day.

Still, if these dreary scenarios manifest themselves in my mind in almost the same way as my pleasant ones do, then by this correlation, am I supposed to infer that if I do get shot or thrown off a building in real life, it'll corroborate what I felt in my dreams? How can my dreams accurately make me feel a type of love (or pain) that I've never experienced before?

People can argue that we infer most of it from popular culture (what films/TV/literature tell us about how certain things feel like without us having to undergo them), yet there still is that very powerful, tactile and sensory connection in our subconscious that makes the "dream experience" a visceral one. It's one thing to watch a film or TV show about a guy getting shot, and somewhat come to terms with how that would feel....and it's another thing to actually feel like you're in that person's situation and undergo that feeling of having your arm be blown off or something. Your mind somehow decodes the essence of the experience and relays it inside a dream in a way that alludes to a given situation in your life.

Mind-boggling as it is, I just hope the weirdo who threatens me with a gun in my dreams never appears before me "in the flesh."

However, having my "secret affair with Natalie Portman" dream become a reality wouldn't be bad at all...

"Headless" & Brilliant

Last week I caught a film that completely blew me away - Lucrecia Martel's The Headless Woman (La Mujer Sin Cabeza) - and I wasn't planning on writing about it because its run was supposed to end today. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find out this morning that it's been held over through September 15th! Here's the official synopsis:

"A mysterious and intriguing tale of a woman who may have killed someone or something while driving on a dirt road. Dazed and confused, she tries to piece together what happened..."

The film is a brilliant visual masterpiece that needs the audiences' consistently active attention in order to fully understand and immerse oneself in all of its puzzling and intricate plot details. Director Martel ignores many conventional film norms and presents her story in a mesmerizing way - shooting most of the film in tight close-ups and eschewing the need for establishing shots - while framing her subjects in odd, off-balance compositions. Martel also never "spoon feeds" information to the viewer, instead relying on us to catch the details of the action and the subtleties between the characters on our own. She beautifully subverts conventions in narrative and turns what would ordinarily be a straightforward "mystery/thriller" into a deeper and more affecting experience.

The Headless Woman is playing at Film Forum (209 West Houston St.) until September 15th. The praise has been almost unanimous, so if you live in the city, you should opt out of dreck like this and go check out this unbelievable film.

Smiles? Not Part of Job Description

For the past two months or so, I've been working part-time evenings as a survey question writer for a media company. It's a sometimes taxing experience, but it's really decent pay and a comfortable working environment. Ninety-five percent of the people working there write questions for shows like The Daily Show and Letterman, whereas the remaining five percent are composed of writers working on Telemundo and Univisión programs. Us Spanish writers are a small bunch - about eight or so - but we get along really well and watch out for one another when we struggle with a particular show. Whereas we're a surprisingly tight-knit group, the other 95% give off a consistently alienating vibe. At first I thought the "issue" was just with me (i.e., "the New Kid"), but it turned out it's apparently with the entire Spanish Language Writer troupe. I've been racking my brain trying to figure out why this is so, but no answer has presented itself to me. When I started in June, I thought I'd be able to socialize freely with people, given the laid back environment there. However, every time I make a small gesture - a pleasant wave or a friendly nod - to anyone nearby, I just get a blank stare in return. If I smile at a girl passing me by, she'll almost definitely reciprocate with a deadpan look.

One evening that I had the night off, I went to see Contempt at Socrates Sculpture Park. As I waited for the movie to start, I noticed a bearded man sitting next to me, sharing a picnic with an attractive girl. I definitely recognized his face from somewhere, but I was drawing a blank as to his name, or where I knew him from. I went to work the following night and saw the bearded guy there. Perfect!, I thought to myself. A great way to 'break the ice' with him. He had decent taste in films, after all, so he showed promise as a guy to have a good conversation with. I saw him in the break room and awkwardly told him about our coincidental Contempt encounter. He in turn smiled and nodded politely...

Cut to a week later or so: Beardy is sitting behind me, focused on his work, as I eat a snack before I start to write my questions. At one point, I get up to walk around and he and I lock eyes - one of those moments where you're supposed to give a "hello" nod and acknowledge the other person - but he completely snubs me and just keeps on typing as if I weren't standing in front of him. Then, this past week, I saw him again in the break room and tried once more to make contact - waving modestly to say "hi" - but Beardy this time looked completely through me and kept on talking on his hands-free cellphone. He was on the phone, yes, but the guy still nevertheless could've acknowledged my gesture with a quick nod or smirk. Nope. He chose to disregard me altogether.

Needless to say, I don't care much for Beardy anymore.


I've realized the scenario pans out differently if an attractive Latina sits next to me. The other day, a pretty Puerto Rican co-worker of mine came in and said hola! to me as she sat down to start working. The hola! was clearly directed at me, but a dude sitting behind me got a good look at her and decided to cut in, saying, in awkward Americanese, "oh-lah! (hola)." She exchanged pleasantries with him while I tried to ignore him completely, but this one comment that came out of his mouth caught my attention and unnerved the hell out of me:

"You know, you Spanish-speaking writers need to socialize with the rest of the people more. You should all mingle more with us."

I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut, but it wasn't easy. Why is there such a discrepancy between the different working groups? Is it a "culture clash" thing, in which both sides are reluctant to make the first move towards befriending/getting to know one another? Or is it simply a situation in which everyone just wants to be left alone - no interruptions or "small talk" - in order to do their work peacefully and go home?

If it's the former, then it's truly disappointing for me. People behave that way in middle school and in summer camp, but not when you're 21+ and living in a freewheeling and diverse city like New York. If it's the latter, then I can somewhat sympathize and understand their reasons. I'm also not keen on being overtly friendly with co-workers (or co-workers being overtly friendly with me), because it can be truly off-putting - but - that is not my intention. It's not like I want to become their BFF's or go out drinking with them. In effect, it's a question of common decency and good manners. Pure and simple. We're all working in the same space together, enduring long hours of survey-writing, and a nice gesture like a smile or a wave can help ease off the tension we might be feeling. Unless someone's clearly done you wrong, why carry on with such an attitude? Are people really that insecure with foreign-speaking individuals that they prefer to ignore them altogether?

Should I even bother to keep trying to be friendly? I've already made the "first step" numerous times, and it hasn't made a dent. One thing I do know for sure: if Beardy blatantly ignores me one more time, a cup of subpar coffee from the break room is going in his face. Oh-lah!