|Yes we can... dream about movies. What, healthcare? Uh... (runs off)|
The thing that I related to in this article, and I had known it before but hadn't seen it articulated quite so well in sentences and verbs, was this:
"I’m not talking about the experience of watching a movie and being disappointed. I’m talking about the notion that when you see a movie that you loved but hadn’t yet seen, you’ve erased an aspect of your identity that once nourished you. Each of those movies either fulfilled or frustrated my expectations, but by seeing them I diminished myself as a human being. There was a void now where once those movies used to breathe."
It's such a fascinating thing, and something that is a profound thing for a movie-goer who searches high and low for movies that are just under the radar or obscure. Dibern's journey through movies has taken him to a point where he's more philosophical than I would have been years before. But I can understand it: once the hill is conquered, it's not quite the same. I'm sure I could try and find many of the obscure lot of films from Vogel's text, some of them in museums, some in the deep dark pits of Ebay, some now just surfacing on the back catalogs of the studio's vaults. And maybe finally seeing that obscure movie takes away that part of myself that was there, hoping, wanting, not sure but with a piece of my mind that was secure to myself, uncorrupted by the actual dream on celluloid (to get all pretentious about it)
|Still from a movie I don't remember, but wish I've seen... maybe.|
It may seem futile to find certain things after so much time in the face of a world where so much is available, if only by bit-torrent (albeit me being not-so technically inclined trying to track down, for example, Andy Warhol's Blue Movie on a download site and not being able to figure out how to download the fucker is even more infuriating). And it may also be counter-intuitive given this past month being Netflix-month - a month dedicated to going through the files available on a service where eventually everything could be conceivably available there. Maybe a part of me wants to lose some of the hope in finding that one movie I hadn't seen before and had been searching for years and lo and behold it's right there and just a click away and I can rate it later if I so choose.
|Orson Welles tries magic to find the missing Ambersons print and turns up... Rita Hayworth, bah, who needs that?|
But it's a feeling that should be nourished, if only for a little while. The 'Ambersons' anecdote he tells is vivid and incredible, like one can picture Welles digging film cans of his sophmore treasure into the ground with the fervor and urgency of Harry Lime running through the sewer in The Third Man. There were movies like that for me, and as I ponder them writing this it does become sadder, a little less fruitful. There never stops being a time when I search for new-old films or old-new films, but there were acquisitions over time where now there is a void. I remember finding a used-battered VHS copy of Jean-Luc Godard's King Lear and... oh holy hell, it's still a WTF forever and ever. But as I watched in agape horror at Woody Allen rambling poetic nonsense at the end over slow motion of a horse running on a beach, I should have known it and know it better now: I can never quite relive that again, even as a horrific experience sitting along and clutching my pillow to dear life at the agony of it.
So one just has to keep on dreaming about films, and those unseen, and maybe the film built up is better than the one that will be revealed. On my facebook I have a photo album of "Where in the World is This Movie?" and the list is about twenty-strong, but could dwindle tomorrow. One such movie that was on the list up until a few months ago (though still unwatched) is Alejandro Jodorowsky's Tusk. This is one of those works that some movie fans drool over and others raise an eyebrow in 'huh' anticipation. It's a movie about the friendship between a little girl and an elephant in India directed by a man who previously had a gunslinger and his naked son killing people across Mexico (El Topo) and a woman who uses her son's arms to exact revenge (Santa Sangre).
I can imagine so much potential with something like Tusk, or such disaster. I see a lot of psychedelic colors flying about and music out of Satyajit Ray booming out as a little girl does somersaults on the top of an elephant as it rushes across a village. And I also see Jodorowksy playing a guru with a beard as long as Mandingo's dick writing scripture on a tablet and pontificating about this and that and the other. I can dream those things... and yet also I know deep down it's not true. It's very likely a dull movie, and one that has perhaps stayed in such obscurity for a reason (I procured it under a stroke of luck by a bootleg seller online, though the quality of the DVD-R leaves much to be desired). Perhaps the paradox is that if a movie were as crazy as I might try to imagine, I would have seen it already, or it would be more readily available.
|Actually, this may be even more entertaining to imagine now that I think of it as it will never exist. Holy shit this could've been awesome.|
But it's another thing to not have that, for the hope to keep itching, that the Great White Whale of an Ambersons is out there somewhere, or the dream of it. This is the kind of thought process from this article that would make me want to dream more about those films, my "own" versions playing in my mind (or, more succinctly put in the essay, "...in order for us to nurture that aspect of hope that is tied to our cinephilia, it seems that we must keep some films in the realm of the imagination." Or, in Donald Rumsfeld speak, the "known Unknowns", the things we know that we don't know. Or, as I would like to put it, my dream vs. their dream, a steel cage match in an imaginarium. Point is: keep on the search for movies, but for those that are so elusive that seem impossible to find, make up your own story or version. Your mind is a thing to waste only on alcohol and Jersey Shore, and maybe only the first one in moderation.
Or to put it one last way that might resonate with some of you more 'mainstream' moviegoers as some of the other examples might be too "arty" for some, think back to around 1998, early 1999. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace had been announced that it would be released in the summer. Oh joy of joys, one might say! Finally taking one back in the Star Wars universe, and more crucially for us SW geeks the stories not yet told of those Clone Wars and years where Anakin Skywalker was a young, great star-pilot, cunning warrior and good friend of Obi-Won Kenobi in the Old Jedi Knights Banana Republic Club. Such dreams to have with that, about what planets they visit, what creatures from that period, the battles, the languages! Or how they handle the mother of Luke and Leia, a strong woman who is given very little back-story in the original trilogy. And the dark side, and the rise of Palpatine to power (Elect Palpatine Now!)
|If little Ani sees his shadow, does that mean he go back in his slavedom forever?|
Make some sense? Dreams do feel real, don't they? It's only after we wake up (or go see the projected ones) that we realize something was strange....
|the flooding end of dreaming|