Total Pageviews

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/8

Although born way back in 1943, director/screenwriter Terrence Malick has made only five full length films through 2001. Each new one is eagerly awaited by fans and critics. I think he is on a different plane than most movie lovers, myself included. I have been baffled by most of his work: Badlands (1973), Days of Heaven (1978), The Thin Red Line (1998), The New World (2005) and The Tree of Life (2001), which I watched on DVD last night. It was a bold endeavor, done in an almost avant garde style that tries to capture the bittersweet mystery of life, focusing on a single family headed by Brad Pitt. It is told in brief clips, often in flashback, leaping across time the way the mind does. There is no plot, which is not necessarily a bad thing. There are long stretches when it seems more like a National Geographic documentary than a movie. I was most impressed by the performance of young Hunter McCracken, the eldest of the three sons, whose character eventually becomes Sean Penn. He is troubled by the nasty impulses he experiences, which afflict all humans to varying degrees. I recommend it only to those who enjoy a challenge. I found myself looking at the clock a few times, wondering how much longer it had to go in its two-hour-plus running time. It's rated seven out of ten at IMDb. I'm not comfortable rating such a work, as I always feel I've missed something. It seems geared toward students of film rather than the general public. I've just added The Thin Red Line, which I liked with reservations, to my re-watch list at Netflix. It's more easily understood than most of Malick's work. It came out about the same time as Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan, a far superior WWII film, at least to the average movie-goer. I am reluctant to view The New World, which focuses on the conflict between whites and Indians, a subject that bores me.
Weird - my PC is back to normal and I have no idea why. The last two sessions have been smooth as can be. Could it be due to something so simple as the change of a password? The 24-user network that adopted me is still there. Have they seen that I have nothing of value for them in my files? Have they already found what they were seeking? Has my surfing bored them into abandoning me? Was the slow down due to something else, the solar storm perhaps? Maybe the ringleader has gone on vacation.
I accompanied my friend to the doctor this afternoon. As we drove the route along Coney Island Avenue, then Avenue J, then Bedford Avenue upon our return, there were scores of adults and children dressed in costumes for the Jewish feast of Purim. My friend went into a bakery and treated me to a Hamantaschen, a cookie commemorating the event of Esther telling the Persian king of a plot hatched against Jews by his adviser, Haman. Mine was filled with raspberry. I'd had them before. My sister worked at Leon's Bakery for many years and brought them home. Now I know the story behind them.
Because of the appointment, the floating bookshop was open only a short time today. I thank the young man who purchased Joyce Meyer's The Confident Woman for his companion, and the young home attendant who purchased three Danielle Steele romances, and her two-year-old son Marcus, who gave me a fist bump, to the delight of his mom. And special thanks to Moses, who dropped off a bag of paperbacks, 90% of which were Steele and Sidney Sheldon. Although their condition is only fair, they're certainly marketable in bulk.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

No comments:

Post a Comment