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June 24, 2009
35 Rhums (2009)
Chronology must temporarily fall by the wayside: I made it up to Nenette et Boni before yesterday, when 35 Rhums played at LAFF. That morning and afternoon saw a welcome influx of guests and a not-so-welcome overabundance of sunshine, and by the time five o'clock rolled around and it was time to head over to Westwood, I was spent. I stood in line (more sun!) and briefly considered skipping this partiuclar screening and going to the encore on Thursday - but that would involve passing up the Wilco show that we were on the list for, and besides, I'd been waiting to see this movie for too long. I found my seat and the lights went down and it started. And then halfway through it started again, and in between those two beginnings all the worried creases in my mind were ironed out and I was left feeling right as rain.
That second beginning was the centerpiece of the film, the extended scene in the bar in which the four main characters spend a rainy evening, dancing to the jukebox and silently delineating their relationships. It's the scene which everyone talks about, because you can't not talk about it, even though it's also one of those scenes that can be semantically deconstructed or pedantically described but can't be put into words in any truly meaningful way. I can say that it occurs roughly at the midpoint of the film, maybe even a bit later, and is the culmination of everything Denis has developed to that point - but I can't explain why, in my immediate memory, it comes so much earlier. I can describe my memory of the smile I felt spreading across my face, there in the dark, but as to tracing the source of that reaction I can only suggest you see the film yourself.
The other scenes I loved: the one with the poor 17-year old cat, and the one with the old man on the train, and the way these two representations of the same theme dovetailed at just the right point to underscore its director's intent. That the film was inspired by Denis' mother's love for her own father is clear; but out of that emotional content, Denis has crafted an immensely tender instruction manual on how to let things go.
I rode to the theater with Clay, and we made loose plans to meet up afterwards. But when I strolled outside, I decided to just go for a walk instead. I'd recently sent a friend a note about Baudelaire and his definition of le flâneur - "a gentleman stroller of city streets" - and the movement it inspired, and with that in mind I decided to walk all the way home. Seven and a half miles, which with my newly cleared head and a deficit of sunshine felt like half as much. I can't wait to see this movie again.
And it reminded me that I need to buy a new rice cooker.
Posted by David Lowery at June 24, 2009 3:21 AM
Comments
David,
I suggest a Zojirushi Induction Heating model that prepares GABA brown rice in under two hours.
JB
Posted by: Jerry at June 25, 2009 1:18 PM