Went and saw the movie "Bloody Sunday" at the Lagoon on Tuesday night. It was at the invitation of my dad, which surprised me because he rarely ventures out of Woodbury and into the city any longer. Since he has absolutely no reason to--he's retired and has a beautiful house and all the amenities, comforts, and privacy offered by the modern American suburb, I don't blame him one bit. But, this was a movie concerning Irish history, and that's apparently enough to draw him out. However, I must say, he didn't necessarily see anything to inspire a return trip any time soon.
The previews shown before the feature presentation began with a Spanish language melodrama about a Catholic priest engaged in an illicit affair with a young, female member of his flock. The key scene, which was interspersed with stylistic shots of him shagging her rotten, was in a confessional where he asked her (en Español) "Do you have any sins to confess my child?" And she responded, "I confess...only to LOVE!." Then the schmaltzy romantic music swelled, a lengthy list of international film festival awards received by the movie was listed, and it faded to a prolonged black screen. I guess this was intended to allow the audience to sort through the complexity of emotions that were inevitably inspired by this profound preview. Unfortunately this spell may have been prematurely broken for those sitting near us, as my dad was clearly heard unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a chortle.
The next preview was for a movie also in Spanish and concerned a female bull fighter, who apparently has a dramatic life for some reason or another. The series of smash cuts and non sequiturs left me confused as to the plot line, but I think it has something do with the problems in her personal relationships. Or difficulties in breaking into the matador's union. Or the psychic trauma associated with her fruitless search for a pair of toreador pants that doesn't make her nalga look too big. After a dramatic crescendo of schmaltzy romantic music and a lengthy listing of international film festival awards, the preview mercifully came to and end. No dramatic black screen this time, but more laughter from the old man.
Finally, a preview for the movie Naqoyqatsi which is described on its Web site as "A motion picture experience beyond words, NAQOYQATSI merges the power of image and music to plunge into the heart of the hyper accelerated, globally wired 21st century. Mesmerizing images plucked from everyday reality, then visually altered with state-of-the-art digital techniques." Which sounds all well and fine (if you're suffering from dementia!).
The segments shown in the preview had a distinct resemblance to the bizarre and reverentially ironic films shown at First Avenue before concerts--that is, random scenes from pop culture and classical Russian cinema and WWII footage and 50's high school hygiene films, all done with a score composed of Gregorian chants mixed over the top of a Chemical Brothers track.
As I recall, the specific scenes from this movie were that fat guy catching a cannonball in his midsection and bouncing back into the tarp (which was also once memorialized on the Simpsons), then some A Bomb test footage from Bikini Atoll, then Dwight Clark receiving "the Catch" from Joe Montana, then a Palestinian youth throwing a brick at an Israeli soldier, then some dogs dancing on their hind legs wearing tutus, then Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem, then an American F-16 shooting a missile, then Robert Byrd trying to clear his throat (and getting it entered into the Congressional Record), then...well I forget as this hyper accelerated plunge into everyday life started to mesmerize me and blur my consciousness (other wise known as putting me to sleep).
But upon being awaken by the dramatic music crescendo at the end of the preview (which I think was the closing notes of the song "Officer Krupke" from "West Side Story" played on the sitar) , I had this strange desire to see a Run Westy Run concert. My dad's reaction? He leaned over and said to me in a dry tone, "Somehow I don't think this one is going to make it out to Woodbury. Damn, I may have to miss it."
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