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!

I've Got A Fever, And The Only Prescription Is More Good Movies

Last week, after leaving early from work, I decided to spend my afternoon at the movies. Not a lot interested me, but I had heard strong positive buzz about District 9 , which I was anxious to see. The trailer hadn't won me over, but the marketing for it had allured me quite a bit. I hadn't slept much the previous night (because of a 7:30am shift at the museum), but, thinking the movie was going to be a tense sci-fi story, I thought I would snap out of my drowsiness in no time and be gripped to my seat. As it turns out, I dozed off about ten times throughout the movie, and by the end I was struggling to keep my eyes open and enjoy the narrative.

I left the theater feeling confused and very disappointed. Why had the movie been such a let-down for me? Perhaps it was because I had been drowsy the entire day and wasn't in a particularly energetic mindset - or maybe, given the lack of sleep, I was just plain ol' cranky. Regardless of my bad mood, I felt District 9 was trying way too hard to be topical (what with the whole "apartheid" symbolism and everything), and the protagonist came off as irritating in his actions and behavior, with his character arc being very predictable. Overall, the film's message was laid on a bit too thick for my taste, and it didn't pan out to be the nuanced, thought-provoking film I thought it was.

I got home, plopped on the couch and relaxed for a while - but my moodiness persisted. Why had this movie put me in such a rut? I couldn't figure it out...

A week later - this past Monday - I had an almost identical experience. I barely slept on Sunday night (painful cramp + neighbors hammering on the wall next to my bedroom = bad morning), and so, after doing some work during the first half of the day, I decided to keep myself busy and go see Inglorious Basterds. Surprisingly on this ocassion, I was fully engaged throughout the entire film and enjoyed it very much (despite Tarantino's constant self-indulgence in his long-winded dialogues). So - two similar situations in which "lack of sleep" was at play, and yet, each had different outcomes. With District 9, I went back home angry and disappointed at my choice of movie...yet after Basterds, I felt an inner "high" that cheered me up for various hours.

Big deal, right? So WHAT if I liked one movie over the other? Some movies are good and others are bad...Yet, why does this happen? Why did District 9 provoke such hostility in me - as if I had just been spurned by a girl - and Basterds made me want to whistle as I rode the subway train? Watching movies can be, in and of itself, a full-on sensory experience that can brighten - or bring down - any given time of day. Much in the same way that eating a Spicy Tuna Roll cheers me up, so does watching Jack Nicholson chase down Shelley Duvall through a creepy snowbound hotel. Along these same lines - having to eat olives, to me, is akin to being forced to see an awful Pulp Fiction "rip-off" with two horrible actors as protagonists. Yuck.

We all have our idiosyncratic passions in life. Sports fans camp out in tents outside of stadiums for days (and even weeks) just to get great seats to season games. This fervor is validated when their "interest" manifests itself before them in an emotional and spiritually-enriching way. If the fan's respective team plays spectacularly well, it reinforces the attitudes and reasons for why they follow this particular interest the way they do. However, if they play badly, the very opposite occurs: fans get belligerent and are quickly disheartened by everything they thought they stood for and believed in. Their zeal drifts off (albeit temporarily) and the cycle begins again as they try to regain that inner passion that they once felt.

Same thing happens with me with movies. One mediocre film can quickly ruin my day and vanish any sense of hope and optimism that I had for new, groundbreaking narratives. The feeling of emptiness that I get inside of me can only be gotten rid of by watching a good film that WILL once again reinforce that innate zest in me - the reason why I still keep caring...why I still "pony up" $12.50 every week to see a movie that I could very well download online for free - or could possibly be an atrocious piece of crap.

It's love, is what it is. We may get hurt 9 out of the 10 times we visit the movie theater - and feel heavily disappointed, rejected, cheated (sometimes even "used") - but it's all worth it, just to experience that one instance that comes along every once in a while that makes you a firm believer in your passion all over again.

Ctrl+Fbk+Del

Like many people, I have a volatile relationship with Facebook. Well, I'll be honest with you: I downright hate it. However, one cannot ignore the fact that it's a very helpful networking tool, and so, no matter how much I dislike it, I always end up caving in and accepting its validity. It is indeed an effective way of reaching out to potential friends (and employers), not to mention it's got unlimited photo-upload capabilities, which I enjoy.

When I'm not editing photos and posting them, though, I don't do much else on the site (save for the occasional "stalk"). I feel like there's not much to like about it, yet I've come to shamefully rely on its availability, so much so that every once in a while I have to suspend my account. Mainly it's because I hate myself for spending so much time on the site, simply doing nothing (i.e., stalking). Another reason is because I can't stand some people's meaningless statuses, and they force me to disconnect myself entirely from that world.

See, with a site like Facebook so available and useful to us, we tend to drop our guard and feel as though we need to share everything and anything with people, no matter how dull it is. We judge each other with a personal and watchful eye on how we express ourselves and react within the site. We communicate so ably and freely with people that every single gesture, statement and thought or idea that is stated on the site is heavily scrutinized and dissected:

"She removed her 'In a Relationship' status and is now 'Single'?! That bitch!"

"He removed his 'Single' status and is now 'In a Relationship'?! What a dick!"

"What does she mean by ' Cute pic ; ) ' ? I think she digs me, bro."

On Facebook, you usually have two types of people: (1) Your friends, and (2) everybody else. This latter category usually consists of individuals you've come across whom you've never had a substantive conversation with:

• People that lived on your floor freshman year of college
• People that talked to you at a party or bar and apparently did remember your name well
• Co-workers that try a little bit too hard to be your best friend
• Estranged family members (2nd cousins, Grandma's new boyfriend, and the like...)
• Your neighbor's sister's best friend's nephew

(The list goes on...)

Having people like this on my list made me feel awkward and insincere, so, about a year ago, I decided to be honest with myself and do something that I find completely acceptable, yet some deem improper: I began to delete them from my account. Yup. A healthy "FB House Cleaning." But don't misconstrue this - I didn't delete people that didn't have it coming to them. I've only removed a handful since last year, but the reason I've done so is because I don't qualify them as my "friends." They're more like far-away acquaintances; if there was a "My Acquaintances" list on the site, they'd surely be on it. Also, it's not because I don't want to hear from them ever again - it's because I feel cheap and disingenuous having them on my list when in fact I don't know who the heck they are. Some people enjoy having 2,000 "friends" on their network, but not me. What good is it to have a bunch of strangers on your list if you can't stand half of them - or can barely remember their full name?

The acquaintances I have "let go" from my list, I've done so in a painless, easy fashion. However, I've had a couple of actual friends of mine (or close acquaintances) whom I've had to delete in the past year. I had my fair reasons for doing so, but, to be honest...I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. The downside to deleting a friend or close acquaintance is that...they'll actually notice that you deleted them. (Yikes.) For instance, this guy I met in college - "Brad" - used to date a girl friend of mine. He was a nice guy, but I always thought he didn't like me very much. He would sporadically lash out at me for no apparent reason and our interactions were consistently odd. So, after a couple of months, I felt Brad didn't think too highly of me, and so I removed him from my list.

Cut to a couple of months later, when I received a message from him:

"have you been deleting me as a friend on facebook? hehe, it's cool if you have."

I shied away from answering him at that moment, but after more months passed, he asked me again, and I came out and told him why: because he had lashed out at me on several occasions and I just felt he wasn't interested in us having a rapport of any kind. Surprisingly, this turned out to be incredibly therapeutic - he acknowledged his past mistakes, I told him I had no qualms with him, and now we have a solid friendship.

In another instance, I had a relapse last summer with a girl friend, "Hannah." I had invited her to a concert - one that she was really eager to go to - and she abruptly cancelled on me just hours before the show. Her excuse was somewhat flimsy and lame, and at that specific moment I was miffed by the "brush-off" - so, in a fit of annoyance, I deleted her from my list. Maybe I overreacted, but I did so out of my own, hurt emotions. Whereas Brad had lashed out at me, Hannah had made me feel unappreciated as a friend - she did not give me the consideration I deserved in telling me of her cancellation in advance.

Once again - months later - I received this message from Hannah on my Inbox:

"omg jose, did you just 'limited profile' me on facebook???"

My reply was clear and concise:

"i didn't 'limited profile' you. actually, i deleted you."

I don't necessarily feel good about having acted this way. I, too, would be mad if I ever were in the position I put Hannah and Brad in. It's understandable. But I did it for a reason. I didn't undertake these actions out of spite or out of an ingrained "superiority complex." They had done unfriendly things, and I needed to assert myself with them - send a symbolic message. My actions may be deemed unusual, but think about it: if this exact situation unraveled in real life - and not through an online networking site - one would undertake a similar behavior: ignore their phone calls, blatantly brush them off at parties, etc...

I find it surprising that people take it so personally. It's not like I literally erased them from existence. What it all comes down to is this feeling of interconnectedness we share when we're on Facebook - freely reacting to (and with) a multitude of people at any time during the day - and the isolation and disconnect we feel when that link is shattered. Like online dating, Facebook is a fantasy world of sorts where we can re-make ourselves - downplay our shortcomings and embellish our strong suits. If a person leaves Facebook or deletes someone from his/her list, the "outlet" of communicating is made more visible and apparent. We thus realize not only the appeal of the site - to bring people together from different backgrounds - but also take closer note of people's existence and attitudes. Yes, these moments I had with Brad and Hannah were awkward and unfortunate, but they were essential in putting everything out in the open and addressing issues within the friendships. As of today, I have patched things up with both people and they're back on my FB list.

The impersonality and scrutiny within the site will undoubtedly continue, but we can embrace it and use it for positive change - to learn about people and "build up" on relations. After all, isn't that what social networking is all about?

Saturday of Summer

This past Saturday I finally went to the High Line, the integrated landscape park that runs along Gansevoort Street all the way to 34th Street. It was erected in the 1930's to support the freight trains that ran through that area. The day was hot, humid and very sunny, but the park was quite a sight to see - I even spotted Ed Helms passing me by! People sell fresh lemonade on wooden stands, they mingle and sit along the boardwalk, and/or make their own picnics and enjoy the afternoon there.

Afterward, I went to see (500) Days of Summer (which I was skeptical about in the first place, but I decided to give it a shot). Although I definitely think the film is overrated, it's still nevertheless very amusing and entertaining, and for once in a long time, the "romantic comedy" genre has been given a much-needed "reboot." The movie unfortunately perpetuates the quirky "hipster" style that we've seen ad-nauseam since Garden State, and it does have an air of pretentiousness (the blending of sketches & live action, the "hip" soundtrack), but director Marc Webb keeps things fresh and breezy, and effectively distances his film from the other, idiotic "rom-com" fare. It very much falls in accordance with genre conventions, but it's still clever and engaging within its own formula. One major reason I went to see it is because of the film's stars. Joseph Gordon-Leavitt is a very talented young man (have you seen Brick? You really should), and I'm completely infatuated with Zooey Deschanel. I wouldn't say she's a great actress, but she's a terrific singer. She and musician M. Ward have a folk/country/pop band - She & Him - and I was lucky to catch them playing at Terminal 5 last summer (7/26/08). Here's a taste of this amazing gal's talent: