For someone who's never been gone.
Admittedly, I'd do well to see a few of Hartley's films again — and catch a couple I've missed — but this one hit me as straight-on as nothing of his since 'Simple Men' (one of my three favorite movies ever!).
The droll, deadpan surface level of the dialogue once again serves to convey an *immense* amount of thought, anguish, and backstory behind each character, with their wounds, indignations, and strivings. The intersections are never less than enlightening, as each has to truly grapple with the other (Hartley once said he wasn't interested in writing other than "strong-willed characters"), finding, at every turn, no small amount of articulation of one's desires is required just to cope.
Sounds like a drag? This stuff's hilarious! "I know what it *means*, Fay." "And then, afterwards, he still didn't introduce me." "Oh ... you're religious?"
Complainers remind me of what Atom Egoyan once said about the responses to his early films, contending that they were "cold": "To me, it's almost operatic ... they're *so* far gone, they could barely muster the energy to kill themselves." (paraphrasing from memory, here.) Similarly, in Hal Hartley's films, every look, every gesture, has so much boiled down into it that only the truly-astute would notice the immense amount of ground covered in this ostensibly-sparse 94 min.
(Best screening I've ever attended at the Laurelhurst Theater here in Portland, too! Even subtle, little jokes — the kind that "barely happen" — got people knowingly chuckling, and I had a nice conversation with a woman in lobby about the latest issue of 'Cometbus' that I was reading: "What's he doing nowadays? Me and my friends had been wondering!" He's around. We're all around, it seems!)
Hallelujah.
Admittedly, I'd do well to see a few of Hartley's films again — and catch a couple I've missed — but this one hit me as straight-on as nothing of his since 'Simple Men' (one of my three favorite movies ever!).
The droll, deadpan surface level of the dialogue once again serves to convey an *immense* amount of thought, anguish, and backstory behind each character, with their wounds, indignations, and strivings. The intersections are never less than enlightening, as each has to truly grapple with the other (Hartley once said he wasn't interested in writing other than "strong-willed characters"), finding, at every turn, no small amount of articulation of one's desires is required just to cope.
Sounds like a drag? This stuff's hilarious! "I know what it *means*, Fay." "And then, afterwards, he still didn't introduce me." "Oh ... you're religious?"
Complainers remind me of what Atom Egoyan once said about the responses to his early films, contending that they were "cold": "To me, it's almost operatic ... they're *so* far gone, they could barely muster the energy to kill themselves." (paraphrasing from memory, here.) Similarly, in Hal Hartley's films, every look, every gesture, has so much boiled down into it that only the truly-astute would notice the immense amount of ground covered in this ostensibly-sparse 94 min.
(Best screening I've ever attended at the Laurelhurst Theater here in Portland, too! Even subtle, little jokes — the kind that "barely happen" — got people knowingly chuckling, and I had a nice conversation with a woman in lobby about the latest issue of 'Cometbus' that I was reading: "What's he doing nowadays? Me and my friends had been wondering!" He's around. We're all around, it seems!)
Hallelujah.