A strange movie. When I first watched it, I greatly admired the care taken with it, the historical accuracy in set and costume design, dialogue that sounded perfect for the 17th century New England, and characterizations both in writing and performance that made you believe that these people actually are living at that time. But I can’t say that I enjoyed it or liked the finished product much at all. The mindset and attitudes of the characters and the circumstances in which they lived oppressed and depressed me too deeply. Too claustrophobic, you might say.
But people whose opinions I deeply respect had liked the movie hugely. As is my wont when that happens, I felt the need to take another, possibly more than one, look. I decided to purchase a copy on Blu-ray when the price went down so that I could watch it when I felt like it and without any time constraints.
mention as I move along, and some of it is implied. He is an artist, and he creates works of art. For me, art first must entertain, interest, engage me. In that Fincher succeeds to a degree matched by only a few of his peers. As you will see, in some cases it took me more than one viewing to recognize the brilliance within a particular work. But loving his work as I do, that was an easy and always rewarding undertaking.
I had been vaguely aware of Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker but I had never experienced any of her dance work. Until last night, that is. I put on my new Blu-ray of her remarkable piece “Rain” and I was transported. Ten dancers, 3 of them men, the other 7 women. Music by Steve Reich, “Music for 18 Musicians,” some 70 minutes of it. Non-stop dancing
(Photograph Copyright 2009 by Andrew Moore)
The photograph we are looking at is Plate 20 in Andrew Moore’s “Blue Alabama.” When I first look at it I see a simple photo taken from a hallway through open double-doors onto a porch where four people are seated in conversation. On the floor is a golden retriever, possibly keeping an eye on the photographer in the hallway. It must be summertime, for the people are wearing shorts. Beyond the porch is the green of the yard, echoing the bit of green I see from a plant on the porch. An attractive portrayal of a peaceful moment.
But every time I return to the picture I find myself moved more deeply by the photograph. It seems more complicated than I first thought. Carefully composed and filled with stillness, it seems to contain movement and life.