Solaris

I finally started to make headway in my Netflix queue, and one of the movies I watched was Solaris, which a friend had recommended. (The Steven Soderbergh/George Clooney version, not the original).

It was definitely well-made. I like Soderbergh’s movies on the whole, and I especially like that they’re a great balance between mainstream and art-film; he doesn’t pander to the audience, and he takes artistic risks and shoots things in a novel way, but he doesn’t get all pretentious, either.

Natascha McElhone as the wife was really, really impressive — she could’ve turned out either completely unsympathetic, or overly idealized. Instead, she seemed like a real, interesting person. And as much as I wish I could, I just can’t dislike George Clooney. He’s not a particularly notable actor unless he’s doing comedy, but I’ve never seen him give a bad performance (since “The Facts of Life,” anyway), and he does a good job of being generally smarmy but overall likeable in whatever he does.

Set design, music, and effects were all good too. Nothing over-done or too flashy; this is a psychological movie, not an effects showcase. The story did seem to jump around and leave a lot of stuff unexplained, feeling as if significant parts of the plot had been edited out. But better that than to bog down in unnecessary exposition and detract from the central relationship.

Still, I hated it. Just found it overwhelmingly depressing and bleak. Maybe I was going into it with the wrong frame of mind, but my take-away message: No matter what, you are going to die alone. Even if you find the love of your life, and they love you back, you will never truly know them. At best, you can only know what they choose to show you. You can only know how they make you feel; the things that you love about them. The person that you think you know, the person that exists in your mind, isn’t real; it’s nothing more than another aspect of yourself. Only in death can we truly know and understand each other.

Thanks for the pick-me-up, Steve. I really needed to hear that right now.

I ate a big red candle

I just realized that my blog entries, although sporadic, have been consistent in their Eeyore-ness. I’ll counteract that by being upbeat tonight.

I saw Anchorman over the weekend. It was no Dodgeball, that’s for sure. But it still had its moments, including remarkably well-done Planet of the Apes references. Steve Corell, as functionally retarded weatherman Brick, stole the movie. I would’ve thought that Will Ferrell would’ve insisted that this be completely his star vehicle, so it was a nice surprise to see everybody else on the cast get a chance to do their bit.

I’m realizing that moving to San Francisco was an all around good choice. I’ve been out with friends twice this week and am planning to go out again tomorrow; that would’ve been a month’s worth of socializing back in the soul-crushing suburbs of Walnut Creek. (No offense to residents of The Creek, but your city sucks and people only go there to die.)

Elevator Lady

Tonight was the Pixies show at UC Davis. The show ended a little over an hour ago, and I’m just now regaining my hearing.

This was a really big deal. Big reunion tour after something like 10 years, tickets sold out in less than five minutes. My friend Matt bought tickets off ebay and we both spent too much money on them, but seriously: the Pixies are one of the best bands in rock history. I’d had a chance to see them in Athens, back when I was at UGA, but turned it down because I’d heard Doolittle and didn’t like it. (“What’s with all the screaming?”) Later, I’d become a huge fan, but the band had broken up and I’d missed my one chance to see them. I’ve cursed myself for that ever since. Especially since, as anybody will tell you, I’ve got an unhealthy fixation on Kim Deal, who’s just about as cool as a person can be. (I’d gotten to see her with The Breeders a few weeks ago, again thanks to Matt).

So it was great to see the band together, and it was a good show, but I just left feeling really old. It was really loud, and the acoustics were such that I couldn’t make out anything but the drum and bass on most of the songs — I heard the recording of the show on the drive home, and I would never have thought it was the same show I’d just been to. It was very crowded, and very hot, and everyone there looked like they must’ve been at least 10 years younger than me. After the whole thing, I just felt like I’d been beaten up. Either I’ve prematurely aged, or even scarier to think about, I’m just old. Or, it could be that I just wasn’t Born to Rock. And that’d be a shame, because I’ve got the soul of a rocker.

Still, “Levitate Me” was really cool live.