I saw Match Point tonight. I'm a huge Woody Allen fan and cannot understand those dislike his movies or are indifferent to them. His films contain a wealth of wit, quirky humor, fascinating depictions of the intricacies of human relationships, modern neurosis after neurosis, and a whole lot of existential insight that he doesn't get enough credit for. The man has some pretty deep films, though most of his filmography is of the comical variety. Match Point is one of those dramatic gems. It deals with pretty much the same themes as Crimes and Misdemeanors--one of my all-time favorites--but is particularly well-acted and shot, and the pacing is nearly perfect. The film has some very funny moments, like Crimes, but is mostly a study of a man trapped in a marriage and job that are seemingly unfulfilling to him, who attempts to escape them by pursuing a woman whom he madly lusts after, and who gives his life the edge and excitement that he needs. Of course, his mistress eventually wants him to leave his wife, as in Crimes, and threatens to reveal their affair to her. The protagonist, however, cannot bring himself to leave his wife, whom he seems to love, and his career, which depends on his father-in-law, so something has to be done about the dangerous mistress. You can probably guess what. But the brutal way in which Allen pulls this part of film off is very disturbingly satisfying. He shows, once again, that people whom you would never expect to be capable of terrible things are capable of very terrible things in order to get (or preserve) what they want (or think they want). They are capable of them, and they can get away with them. Because there is no justice, necessarily, in this world at all. Man is the foundation of his existence. He creates the rules and can easily break them. It's not really that he's doing wrong; it's that there IS no wrong, except in each and every one of our heads (and hearts). And Allen demonstates this very poignantly in Match Point. It rings true the timeless themes of the meaninglessness of human existence, the lack of objective morality, and the inevitabilty of guilt--whether existential or moral--better than any film I can think of in years.
Go Woody. Bergman would be proud.
Go Woody. Bergman would be proud.
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I go to Holly Ellis at Idle Hand Tattoo in the Lower Haight.
Emmy's Spaghetti Shack is on Mission, kind of further down around where El Rio is?
There is someone here who has one little kidney bean on his ankle. I found that quite charming.