Watching movies at the DMV

I've been spending more and more time (and money) at the movie theater lately. From the Hitchcock series at my local Riverview Theater, to another Jamie Foxx biopic (sort of), to a really enjoyable indie film , the cinema has been good to me. Okay, so The Soloist wasn't my first choice for movies that night, and it was a little bit predictable, but it wasn't bad either. Watching an auteur like Hitchcock week after week, I've begun to remember why it's so remarkable to see a movie in the theater: the things I enjoy are amplified there.

The camera movements in Hitchcock, from the pronounced visual tricks of Vertigo to the subtle mastery of Rope (more on that in a minute), are so crucial to the experience of watching his films. And watching an original print on the big screen of the movie theater, a viewer gets to see all of these touches amplified to a degree that you just can't grasp on a 24 inch television. (I'm speaking for those of us with standard definition, crappy television sets, here). The curator of this festival has astutely included one of Hitchcock's lesser-known gems: Rope. This film, starring Jimmy Stewart, has a great visual trick of its own: the entire movie takes place inside one apartment, and there are very few individual shots. The claustrophobic feeling created by the closed space and long, drawn-out scenes adds weight to the growing paranoia of the film's protagonist. It was fun to re-live this movie (which I've seen several times) in the setting of a movie theater with my brother, who had never seen it. Likewise, last week's showing of To Catch a Thief made me appreciate the breathtaking camerawork on the rooftop cat burglar scenes at the movies beginning and end. I'm coming to appreciate that these movies were made for the theater, and to see them in their original setting is to see them with fresh eyes.

I must confess that my renewed interest in moviegoing coincides with a project I have been involved with since February: two of my very good friends are making a movie right now. Each weekend, they assemble the cast, rent the equipment, and scout locations in which to make their feature-length effort. These guys have poured their lives into this project, and I'm proud to say that I've been involved as both a production assistant and actor. The end result is going to be great, in part because I've watched this thing from its genesis, but also because these young men care very deeply about what they're doing. Both of them are very studied in cinematography and editing, and more than that, they both have a good eye for what potential the medium of narrative film holds.

I'll end with a confession and a realization that sums up the lasting power of film. Yesterday, I was at the DMV getting my license replaced. In the center of the room was a muted TV playing a black and white film. Embarrassingly, I've never seen the movie Casablanca. Regardless, it took me no more than five seconds to realize that this was the movie I was watching (and mind you, Bogart wasn't even on the screen). The long tracking shot of a black piano player in a smoky club, inhabited by people from around the world, past tables of gamblers, through the coatroom and around several conversant socialites--this one shot, so beautifully executed and so instantly evocative--told me that I was watching Casablanca. The aura of that movie is so potent that some kid at the DMV (sixty-seven years after its release) could know that movie without having seen it.

One of those 'life is good' posts

Throw open the windows! Spring is here and I have the day off!

Things are starting to green up around the neighborhood, and I find that with every passing day I have more energy to do the things I care about: catch up on correspondence with friends, ride my bike and explore the city, and build connections with my surroundings and with God. In addition to having more energy, I also have more time--classes ended last week. After what felt like a marathon of paper-writing and presentation-giving, I have arrived at that after-finals place where I come home from work and say, "Now what?"

Well, the answer is now I can rejoin my fabulous book club. Now I can sit in the hammock on a week night and have a beer. Now I can watch the Twins play the Mariners (just don't talk to me about the games we dropped to the Tigers and the Orioles this week).

I'm not ashamed to say that this is one of those "life is good" posts. Spring makes things feel less complicated, and I am happy to embrace it. Sure, there are still bills to pay and plans for the future to consider. There are still major issues to wrestle with and serious realities to face. Working at a bank right now gives me an unusually close position from which to view our current economic situation. Moreover, my position as a student with loans out and a better-than-average credit score leaves me feeling frustrated.

In any event, this is just one of many issues I think about on a near-daily basis. For every Paul Krugman column I read, I'm also trying to grasp the sacrifices made by Bobby Sands. For every Martin Luther thesis I consider, I'm also trying to stay caught up on the NYT Bestsellers list. For every Op-Ed I see on Iran or Pakistan, I'm also scouring a music blog for details on the new Wilco album. Oftentimes, I'm jumping from issue-to-issue without fully processing anything.

I have trouble sometimes separating what's going on with me and what's happening in the broader world. Things alternately seem too personal or too removed with little rationale. And yet, everything seems more manageable in spring than it did in winter.