Trilogy

Most of you know that I co-host a monthly documentary group called First Friday Films where we meet and discuss various cross-cultural films. Some of them address issues of faith, most are just glimpses into how the rest of the world thinks and lives. We often conduct phone interviews with the directors, and the group is able to ask questions and interact. Last month we had over a hundred people show up.

It is a good thing, this documentary group. I believe that it is affecting some of the attendees, and that they will be better people because of it. That said, it has always been a dream of mine to host a film group in a more intimate setting, addressing the Big Questions as well as matters of the heart. One idea is to present four films by one of my favorite directors, Nanni Moretti. His films are small stories that are largely autobiographical snapshots of his life and thoughts. I would present these four films, in this order: Caro Diario, Palombella Rossa, Aprile, and The Son's Room. I may go into more detail about this a little later.

There are another three films which I think make an incredible trilogy: Lost in Translation, The Girl in the Cafe and My First Mister. They each share a common thread: Two people (an older man and a younger woman) find friendship in the midst of deep, undefined loneliness. These three films, placed side-by-side, are powerful and possess the ability to turn anger (often at the root of loneliness) into sadness. And it is in sadness that we are finally true.

Perhaps one day...

The ordinary

It's hard to write about the ordinary when I keep reading the extraordinary over at my sister's blog. Read her two latest entries here and here.

The Squid and the Whale

My friend Brett recommended The Squid and the Whale. Excellent film. Without giving the end away, the film concludes with one of the central characters confronting a source of his fear, which is also tied to one of his happiest times in life. It is a dramatic moment where this character leaves the old ways behind to run to confront this sacred memory.

After the film, I sat there wondering: What would have happened if this source of fear - and joy - had been moved. What if this character, finding the courage to face the past, had turned the corner to find his memory replaced with a parking lot or a condominium complex.

I suppose he would have continued to run.

Clients

I spent the last eight hours with clients, shooting a video in our studio. We talked, joked, laughed, argued and shared a meal together.

Martin Buber wrote in depth about the loneliness of modern man before men whom he associates with but does not meet. What is an appropriate level of "meeting?" The producer-client relationship is most often a false relationship: I, as the video producer, must guard my comments, must watch how I give direction to insure the client will not only continue to work with us today, but on future projects as well. And they realize the power they possess. We ensure that the client is never thirsty, that his jokes are laughed at, that his comments are listened to no matter how outrageous they may be. It is two false selves circling each other in an awkward dance.

Is it possible to have true "meeting" between two false selves? If it is not, is it appropriate to accept the world as it is and treasure the small moments of genuine meeting?