cinema lunatic

This is my favorite bit of dialogue in Lost in Translation:

Bob : I don't want to leave.
Charlotte : So don't. Stay here with me. We'll start a jazz band.

And one of my favorite details from the movie is the jazz band Sausalito (I think) which performs jazzy versions of "Scarborough Faire" and other hits in the Bob and Charlotte's hotel bar.

In honor of the movie, I compiled an iTunes playlist for when I have my mid-life crisis or third-life crisis (a little late for quarter-life crisis I'm afraid). It is the following:

1) After the Love is Gone by Earth, Wind and Fire. Knock 'em dead with a tear-jerker.
2) Rocket Man by some one-off jazz band that was on This American Life. Get people's attention with a hooky song that's fun to sing. Maybe with a subtle ska beat.
3) Single by Everything but the Girl. A mournful tune, to entice people to drink, either because they don't know the song or because they're really depressed after listening to this song.
4) Comfort of Strangers by Mike Figgis, featuring Skin on vocals. Wow the crowd with something breathy and sexy.
5)Lowdown by Boz Scaggs. Get 'em dancing with something "uptempo" (well, "up-tempo" for a hotel jazz band).

Squeeze's "Loving You Tonight" only fails to make the list because I don't have it on my computer. It's kind of a short set (only 23 minutes). By now, most of you will have finished your drink and left the bar, so it hardly matters.

So, the Woody Allen of my generation is... John Cusack? Just try to convince me that Cusack's character in High Fidelity is not the Allen prototype -- likeable, cynical, funny and strangle-able.

Here, Cusack plays Rob Gordon, a used record store owner who obsesssively replays his worst breakups after the collapse of his latest relationship with Laura (Iben Hjejle), a long term girlfriend who has hooked up with a sensitive new age guy who works in the "conflict resolution" industry. Rob employs two music fans, Barry and Dick, who are even geekier than he is and the three pass the endless hours at the music store by making top-five lists at each other. Rob even tries to deal with a breakup by reorganizing his record collection in autobiographical order. We all know -- or are -- someone like him (hi, Mike!).

The premise sounds gimmicky -- it's a Woody Allen-type romance with indie rock! -- but it actually is quite satisfying because the characters turn out to be so real through Rob's media-infused point-of-view. And while almost all the characters start out as caricatures, they mellow out into rounded people as Rob (and the viewer) comes to clarity. It's funny -- and and important part of the narrative -- that the viewer learns that reality of four of his top-five breakups doesn't exactly match his memory. And it's interesting that he keeps insisting he's a "loser," when the viewer sees that he is obviously not one (what loser has a convincing and sweet one-night stand with a musician?).

One of the riskier -- and therefore so much more satisfying -- elements of the movie is Rob the narrator's unreliability. To take what Rob says as gospel-truth would slightly miss the point. But this narrative device is so subtle it's barely noticeable until the transformation is complete. It's to the actors' and director Stephen Frears' credit that the viewers just get carried along by the story and don't get caught up in such narrative gimmickry.

The setting helps too -- the movie's Chicago, where Rob makes several transfers on the El while trying to explain himself to the camera, feels like a real city where a record store such as Rob's really could exist.

The success of this movie is that it feels so authentic. Someone could really live Rob's life.

Labels: H