"and she doesn't need to change / but I do"

Via Audio with Kid, You'll Move Mountains at the Empty Bottle on Wednesday night was a blast. Just like Saturday, Via Audio played an effervescent, emotionally-charged (highs and lows) set. Arrived moments after KYMM started their set--which seemed a little off in some ways, but was still quite refreshing.

Chatted some more with the Via Audio folks after the show, and actually met a couple who laughed as I was high-fiving Jessica. Ended up feeling glad I stuck around after the music . . . the little socializing was fun. Also made it to Scott's apartment for about an hour before heading home.

Aside from finding my driver's side mirror on my car smashed before I left, and the last bit of I-88/290 being pretty ridiculous (lots and lots of salt-saturated water on wind-shield), the night went well. Didn't fall asleep in my Thursday classes, either.

Have been communicating, in various forms, more than expected . . . wonder if this will continue. My poetry writing exercise is to compose a sonnet--have experimented a little already, and I'm finding it peculiarly entertaining consciously writing in iambic pentameter.

Have some small things to get around to this weekend . . . I guess I'll figure out how to do this. I generally seem to.

"You wanted a monster / Here I am"

I'm not entirely sure if it was because I was more tired than I thought, but I just socialized a bit after a Via Audio concert. I note the thing about tiredness because I just saw myself in a mirror, and . . . I look quite worn out at the moment.

Aforementioned concert was fun . . . the band has a fill-in drummer for traveling now, and the guitarist changed his style a bit. This seems to mean an edgier, harsher sound to most songs . . . which is actually what I prefer in my music. Awesome.

Found myself still thinking obsessively about Cloverfield at the concert . . . particularly realizing how I think it's effectively an excellent example of the kind of "new horror" movie I was trying to envision a few months ago: it terrifies not because of its gimmicks or thrills, but because it sucks the audience in and makes them feel just how difficult--impossible, even--the situation is. Scares come from imagining it's not a bunch of actors in make-believe getting increasingly screwed, but that it's you, and your friends, and the people you love. It digs in, making the entire experience eerie and unsettling. Maybe this isn't entirely different from the basic Horror-genre entry, but I stubbornly assert that Cloverfield worked far more effectively than any recent "scary" movie that I've seen. I want to say it was the scope of the destruction versus the stature of the perspective: a city under siege, thousands upon thousands of people's lives disappearing all over, with a fundamentally everyman vantage to the hopelessness and hysteria.

But perhaps I could buy in so easily because of my personal connections to a few "particles" in the frame of the film. Two such particles as follows: 1) the protagonist fights for a love that isn't exactly requited, and 2) I am right at home with the hand-held camera work. On the other hand, there was very little on the surface for me to connect with in any of the main characters--they were trendy party-goers, quite distanced from any of my preferred subcultures--yet the underpinnings proved to be quite compelling.

Hopefully I'm nearing the end of my captivation with the movie . . . I have to finish a half-draft of a short story tomorrow afternoon, and the little work I've managed I'm not very happy with. Also, planning on traveling downtown Wednesday to see Via Audio again will necessarily require finishing several things for Thursday in advance, so I'll just be tired (instead of tired and unprepared) for my Thursday classes.

A few notes on the postless interrim between late December and now: work has progressed to something like 95% completion on The Burning Five, with the newest plan being to finish that last 5% before February; I watched lots of Stargate: Atlantis and Monk; attended an interesting Medieval Music show in Hayward; I decided, ultimately, to drop a Literature & Film course for the sake of my sanity; Poetry Writing and Philosophy of Language are already very interesting courses; and Problems of Reality probably isn't challenging enough for me but it should be OK because by 3:30PM Tuesday/Thursday I'm nearing my sustainable limit for intensive critical thinking.

Existentially, I continue trapping myself in thoughts considering various depths of love/intimacy, am pretty confident in what I can get done in the next twelve-ish months, and continue expanding my abilities to appreciate persons who think in substantially different ways from me (as long as they can appreciate me in return).

Cloverfield, disbelief in suicidal courage

I'm thinking about Cloverfield, the movie reviewers are calling "monster-movie meets Blair-witch" that hit theaters just . . . yesterday?, after having seen a 1PM showing earlier this afternoon.

I enjoyed it . . . I wonder, I think I might have even loved it. Thus, I've felt compelled to try and get a feel for what other people seem to think about it--this is a compulsive habit that often steals at least a few hours after viewing anything that I both enjoy immensely and where it happens one could fathom that a sizable audience would be commenting about their own opinions. I think the last time it happened was after I saw Mirrormask, something like 2 years ago.

Anyways, the consensus looks rather split, except for one detail: that the film, at it's heart, is stupid.

Then, I find myself at odds, as I thought the writing was quite effective, particularly for the immediate concept within the film. I expect most know, at least partially, that this film is about some "monster" that unexpectedly attacks New York, and that it's filmed first-person, following several "victims" of the attack instead of glorifying/exploiting the mass-annihilation generally at the core of the "monster-movie" genre.

One criticism that I've been particularly surprised about is how quite a few reviewers/Internet-folk seem convinced that the actions the main group of characters take are largely divorced from what they would expect "intelligent" characters to take. I am taken aback, as I conceived very clearly, and very early in the film, that the primary human side of the film is rooted in two immediate realities: 1) Death is almost certain, and 2) There are people I care about who are still alive (where the "I" is primarily connected to the protagonist(s)).

Therein, the fundamental drive of main-character "Rob" felt immensely believable for me in a satisfying way. That is, Rob's (admittedly juvenile) last words to supporting-role "Beth" haunt him such that, due to the largely unrealized (yet potent) connection between the two, he must find her even though the situation surrounding him is, well, grim.

The criticism I detail above seems to suggest that Rob should instead, were he a smarter character, engage in saving himself. More believably, that he would place his concerns for Beth to the side until the people he cares about that are with him (the other protagonists/supporting characters for the most part) are en route to safety.

Following "smarter decision #1," there seems to be an immense disbelief for the possibility of suicidal courage. Particularly that, even though aware of almost-certain death, the smartest decision in immensely dire situation is to focus entirely on preserving oneself, even if one has hope that someone important to his/herself could need his/her help. It is, then, not smart to be the hero. Following "smarter decision #2," . . . I would grant it is a smarter decision, except that the protagonists who follow Mr. Rob do so after he tries pushing them away. Perhaps viewers missed/failed to understand that he was prepared to quest without the help of his friends?

A sizable portion of the film is bound to be lost to a chunk of its audience due to subtlety. Much movie-going public wants pure entertainment, taking any & all thoughtful elements to detract from the experience. I am hoping it is this group that is arriving at the above conclusions--this group that wants Rob to turn back around the mid-point of the movie.

I wonder if it is a necessary casualty, then, that the features most salient to me are, perhaps, invisible to majority . . .

I'd want to save her. Even knowing this to be pragmatically impossible, I'd want to try. Then, it's a little sickening to me to realize I would be branded a moron by the morons . . . no sleep lost, but I wonder about the length of the disconnect between myself and the masses.