Things I Like RIGHT NOW

Synecdoche, New York by Charlie Kaufman – Considering critics have compared it to Beckett, Proust, Kafka and Woody Allen, it was probably a given that I would like Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut. It doesn’t hurt that I find Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to be utter genius and the screenplay of Adaptation to be one of the most mind-blowing and innovative ever. I was not in the least disappointed by this movie despite my immense expectations. The words that come to mind in describing this film, however, don’t at first seem incredibly positive: it’s emotionally-disturbing, disorienting, agonizing, troubling, alienating and overall painful. But the true and sincere emotion that this multi-layered film evoked in me more than made up for the pain and discomfort of the viewing experience. Plus, Kaufman does manage to work in a view laughs and visual gags (often at our pitiful and pitiable main character’s expense) for levity’s sake. All this said, I can’t really recommend the film to anyone but myself. It’s not a particularly enjoyable experience, and the movie’s sentiments can very easily hit as clichéd or pretentious or simply irrelevant if you are not the type of person that spends a lot of time reflecting on subjectivity, art, isolation and regret. Still, I was moved in a strange and unpredictable way by Kaufman’s epically subtle and cerebrally tender work.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath – I know I’m a bit late to the game, but I finally picked up this novel and fell in love with it. As a Smithie, I believe it’s obligatory to have read this iconic and metonymic work by one of our most famous alumna. It is likewise obligatory reading for any self-reflective, self-deprecating, depression-prone, slightly counter-culture, literary young woman (look no further than 10 Things I Hate About You). So, I realize how clichéd it is to say that I’ve fell in love with the book, but I found the novel extremely touching and true. Plath captures so perfectly the universal inner workings of depression and her own downward spiral toward self-destruct that I sometimes felt like it was me she was describing on the page. It’s tragic and it’s touching, especially given the inevitable end of Plath’s real life story, but the simple elegance with which Plath writes is inspiring. And each moment, we sit by hoping that Esther Greenwood will find a way to get out from under that bell jar, because if she can do it, we can too.

The Smiths.

Musique: “Eye Know” De La Soul

Things I Like RIGHT NOW

Feed The Animals by Girl Talk – I’ve always heard amazing things about musical-collage artist Gregg Gillis a.k.a. Girl Talk, but I hadn’t gotten around to listening to him until recently. I just downloaded his latest album (available here); thankfully, he lives up to the hype. His “songs” – mash-ups that combine dozens of unlicensed samples – are a music nerd’s dream. Not only does Girl Talk produce hits as dance-worthy as the latest Beyoncé track, but he’s also creating a musical artifact of sorts – a catalogue of what’s hot in music. Each moment is meticulously worked and spliced. It’s a bit heady at times, but its beats have a mass appeal that is undeniable. Is Girl Talk the future of pop music? If so, I wouldn’t be too disappointed.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro – It’s been quite some time since I’ve been as moved by a work of contemporary fiction as I was by Ishiguro’s gentle and emotional masterpiece. A universal tale of lost childhood and wistful remembrance, Never Let Me Go is simultaneously a slow-burning reflection on the past and the fleeting nature of life and a compelling page-turner that will have you wondering what is ahead from the first page. Ishiguro has an amazing mastery of these two modes of narration. The power, passion and emotion with which the reader emerges upon completing this novel are unrivaled in this modern era. It is a must read, and I can’t wait to see what Ishiguro comes up with next.

Slumdog Millionaire by Danny Boyle – I know this one’s a bit overplayed, and it might be just at the moment of receiving too much praise to the point that it has become overrated, but I greatly enjoyed the movie-watching experience that Danny Boyle created with his most recent film. Sure it’s all a bit chanceful and the highs are too high for the lows which are too low, but I found it to be a both a great bildungsroman and a spot-on commentary on films, filmmaking and the modern spectator. Boyle gave the spectator exactly what he wants to see and made a great movie, i.e. a series of moving images, music, characters and story that pleases. Recently, I’ve seen a lot of movies that would make great books or plays but fail to measure up to the medium. Plus, how could I deny my love for a movie that uses M.I.A.’s music so aptly (even if she’s Sri Lankan).

Musique: “O…Saya” A. R. Rahman & M.I.A.

Magic

I have recently rediscovered my immense love for two things: books and music.

I have been in constant contact with these two forms of media, but the increasing mundanity of this contact has made me forget how much I love them. The activities of listening to music and reading are daily occurrences for me: I constantly have my iPod on as I commute and my iTunes is almost always up when I am at home. And, as a lit major, I always have some sort of reading associated with my classes. At times, I do both activities simultaneously, switching my iPod on as I plow through a text.

Finding myself with a bit of free time, however, I finally returned to my mythical and beloved pastime of pleasure reading. There is nothing better than sitting down to read a book of my own choosing which I can breeze through at my own pace and my own leisure without concern for a deadline or for the quotes that I will pull from it for my essay. Yesterday, I spent all afternoon curled up in the windowsill of a random, third-floor room of the Louvre finishing off a Patrick Modiano book that I had been wanting to read. The room’s aubergine walls, Dutch paintings and perfect view of the Palace Royal made the experience all the more magical. I had forgotten that magic.

Likewise, in constantly surrounding myself with music, I had forgotten its power. I forgot its magical ability to transport the listener across space and time to past eras – its ability to make memories come alive. On a recent stroll through my iTunes catalogue, I haphazardly clicked on the music of Linkin Park, a band my “Last Played” column revealed that I had not listened to in over two years. As the songs played, I was suddenly immersed in the faux teenage angst of my freshman year of high school. My musical tastes may have changed since then, but I still knew all the words, and I was pleased to revel in the memory of it all, no matter how unsophisticated the music may be.

Going further back, I recently acquired a Nanci Griffith album on my computer. This same exact “retrospective,” in cassette-tape form, was one of a number of albums that served as the soundtrack of my youth. Certain classics from my dad’s massive tape collection – which I distinctly and fondly remember organizing and re-alphabetizing each year with my brother and dad – are ingrained in my subconscious. Whenever I hear these songs, I am transported back to the pleasant memories of that safe and simple time when I still had a home and our family was all together, when I didn’t have to worry about the future and I didn’t know what stress what. What’s more, when the songs are actually great, it’s even more of a pleasure to return to them. When I was young, I may have liked the songs, but I didn’t understand how amazing of a songwriter Nanci Griffith is.

I am glad I have rediscovered this magic.

Musique: “Love at the Five and Dime” Nanci Griffith