i guess it's a little stupid that i have to couch this conversation in the context of a movie... but there is something about movies that get you thinking. they're more communal than a book, and being a passive medium, there's this idea that anyone can see the movie and join the conversation. but whatever, that's just fat.
i went to see the night listener. i'd had vague plans to go to a film with the sarahs, but it all spiralled out of control (to be fair, sarah tyler fell asleep. i know she's one of my more devoted blog readers... earlier, when i was feeling disappointed that the movie plans had fallen through, i was confronted with one of the biggest problems of public journaling: do you talk about people who you know read the thing? the answer, in the end, was yes. when it all comes down to it, this is for me first and everyone else second, and if i'm not going to write about what's going on, then that's stupid. suffice it to say, sarah, though i will never recover the "us" time that was robbed from me by your evening nap, i managed to have a good evening, so no worries.) (is placating someone after complaining about them just as bad as editing out those complaints? i don't think so...) (am i placating? i don't think that either). where the hell am i?
oh yeah, the night listener. the onion's a.v. club, which to my mind is one of the only places to find consistently reliable movie reviews, gave it a b, which i think is about right. it's based on something that i wasn't entirely clear on (well, they said "inspired by a true story" but we all know what that means). the basic premise of the film is that robin williams is a radio guy who writes short stories about his life with his boyfriend (played by former beckerman neighbor bobby cannavale) who has aids; anyway, they're breaking up, and gabriel (williams) is having a shitty week, and he gets this manuscript this 14-year-old kid has written about how he was sexually abused during sex parties held by his parents in their basement (this takes up about 30 seconds of the film, more of a background thing). anyway, now the kid lives with a social worker who adopted him when he was discovered; the kid also has aids, and he's very sick, yadda yadda yadda. after gabriel reads the book, he starts talking on the phone with the kid, pete (played by rory culkin). they develop a pretty intense friendship over the phone, and things are pretty good until gabriel's boyfriend (bobby!) suggests that the voices of the kid and the social worker are extremely similar. then, the whole point of the story becomes "does this kid exist or not?"
so, obviously, there are lots of scenes of williams trekking through the snow, looking all beardy and distraught. but there are interesting questions and points raised (though somehow the movie manages to miss them altogether). at one point, one of the characters (i believe its the kid, pete, but i can't remember exactly) says "you're only as loved as you think you are." i don't know how much scrutiny such a statement would actually stand up to, but it's an interesting idea... that with a concept like love, how much love other people feel for you is irrelevant if you don't believe that you are in fact loved... am i being stupid, or is this a cool (creepy?) way to think about it? likewise, if nobody loves you, but you believe that they do, does it matter?
another point that was good (yet vaguely missed) was asked by williams, trying to abstractly ascertain whether pete exists or not: "how can i miss something that never existed so much?" the response involves star trek, and i won't go into it, but i started thinking about how people are telling me to enjoy this time off i have while i have it, which is a challenge for me, because it's easy for me to spend the time freaking out or meandering around the internet instead of enjoying it. of course, i can see that inevitably, as soon as i do start working, i'll look back on this time as the great time, the easy time. so i ask the question: how much of what we miss actually exists (existed)? how much of what we remember is actually constructed? i remember living in nice as a time when people were constantly around and i lived fancy free and i did a lot of hanging out and i was generally happy... and there were certainly spans of that, but at the beginning, i was miserable, and there were no people around. in high school, all i can remember succinctly was hanging out in the journalism room with everybody; in college, all i can recall were how many boys i seemed to be surrounded with as actual potential relationshippy people... but how much of that is real? oy vey.
anyway, it's getting late, and i'm getting less and less coherent. i'm going to pack it in. night, everyone.
i went to see the night listener. i'd had vague plans to go to a film with the sarahs, but it all spiralled out of control (to be fair, sarah tyler fell asleep. i know she's one of my more devoted blog readers... earlier, when i was feeling disappointed that the movie plans had fallen through, i was confronted with one of the biggest problems of public journaling: do you talk about people who you know read the thing? the answer, in the end, was yes. when it all comes down to it, this is for me first and everyone else second, and if i'm not going to write about what's going on, then that's stupid. suffice it to say, sarah, though i will never recover the "us" time that was robbed from me by your evening nap, i managed to have a good evening, so no worries.) (is placating someone after complaining about them just as bad as editing out those complaints? i don't think so...) (am i placating? i don't think that either). where the hell am i?
oh yeah, the night listener. the onion's a.v. club, which to my mind is one of the only places to find consistently reliable movie reviews, gave it a b, which i think is about right. it's based on something that i wasn't entirely clear on (well, they said "inspired by a true story" but we all know what that means). the basic premise of the film is that robin williams is a radio guy who writes short stories about his life with his boyfriend (played by former beckerman neighbor bobby cannavale) who has aids; anyway, they're breaking up, and gabriel (williams) is having a shitty week, and he gets this manuscript this 14-year-old kid has written about how he was sexually abused during sex parties held by his parents in their basement (this takes up about 30 seconds of the film, more of a background thing). anyway, now the kid lives with a social worker who adopted him when he was discovered; the kid also has aids, and he's very sick, yadda yadda yadda. after gabriel reads the book, he starts talking on the phone with the kid, pete (played by rory culkin). they develop a pretty intense friendship over the phone, and things are pretty good until gabriel's boyfriend (bobby!) suggests that the voices of the kid and the social worker are extremely similar. then, the whole point of the story becomes "does this kid exist or not?"
so, obviously, there are lots of scenes of williams trekking through the snow, looking all beardy and distraught. but there are interesting questions and points raised (though somehow the movie manages to miss them altogether). at one point, one of the characters (i believe its the kid, pete, but i can't remember exactly) says "you're only as loved as you think you are." i don't know how much scrutiny such a statement would actually stand up to, but it's an interesting idea... that with a concept like love, how much love other people feel for you is irrelevant if you don't believe that you are in fact loved... am i being stupid, or is this a cool (creepy?) way to think about it? likewise, if nobody loves you, but you believe that they do, does it matter?
another point that was good (yet vaguely missed) was asked by williams, trying to abstractly ascertain whether pete exists or not: "how can i miss something that never existed so much?" the response involves star trek, and i won't go into it, but i started thinking about how people are telling me to enjoy this time off i have while i have it, which is a challenge for me, because it's easy for me to spend the time freaking out or meandering around the internet instead of enjoying it. of course, i can see that inevitably, as soon as i do start working, i'll look back on this time as the great time, the easy time. so i ask the question: how much of what we miss actually exists (existed)? how much of what we remember is actually constructed? i remember living in nice as a time when people were constantly around and i lived fancy free and i did a lot of hanging out and i was generally happy... and there were certainly spans of that, but at the beginning, i was miserable, and there were no people around. in high school, all i can remember succinctly was hanging out in the journalism room with everybody; in college, all i can recall were how many boys i seemed to be surrounded with as actual potential relationshippy people... but how much of that is real? oy vey.
anyway, it's getting late, and i'm getting less and less coherent. i'm going to pack it in. night, everyone.
posted by Charlie Beckerman at 01:26
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