on celluloid

I found myself sitting in a cinema, this evening, for the second time in as many days; the tentative plan had been, perhaps, to go and see a film tomorrow with a friend, but events have left me craving solitude, here and there, and so I bailed. As someone who never bails, it was a bit of a cop-out all the same, since the trip to the local picturehouse was t.b.a. in any case.

And so I ended up sitting in front of what I would have been sitting in front of anyway, but instead of a friend, I was accompanied by even more vital a companion; there's a lot of love in a tub of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream... grrrowf. And I got the badge; independent cinemas are so much more fun.

Rather different from last night's Cold Mountain, which I enjoyed with some minor reservations (I'm easy to please, but no critic; I recognise a bad movie; it wasn't that), American Splendor was a warmly crafted piece based on the comic book writer, Harvey Pekar, who, from 1976, penned an autobiographical series under the same title as the film.

Harvey Pekar the movie blends fictional and documentary styles together with an easy manner, splicing together interviews with the real Harvey, his wife and his friends, with the fictional portrayal of his life, played by actors and, occasionally, drawings. At one point, the actors are seen next to the people they represent, and it suddenly becomes easy to appreciate just how accurately they emulate their subjects.  Somewhat novel. And if you see the film, you'll understand why I was repeatedly transported to the Simpsons universe; think Barney Gumble and the fabulous comic-book geek.

It wasn't phenomenal, but it was both gently humorous and touching; liked it. Just one tear.

The film release schedule goes haywire, hereonin; starting with Lost in Translation, tomorrow (and bloody late by present UK standards), a whole volley of releases and re-releases begins, including Girl With a Pearl Earring, again featuring Scarlett Johansson (who I remember best from The Horse Whisperer), Belvaux's three-part Trilogy work, which I have to see, Tim Burton's Big Fish, which arouses some curiosity, Sylvia, a re-screening of Timecode, and Bertolucci's The Dreamers.

Secretary (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is being re-screened too; missed it the first time around, and then thought about buying the DVD blind (£8.00 from Blockbuster), but I'm tempted to see it on the screen since Adam and my own film-friends, all with rather similar tastes to mine, assure me I'll enjoy. Subjective, as all things, but experience has shown that such recommendations do alright, on the whole.

This is why I need a real job.