A recent conversation piqued my interest and 2nd viewing of 500 Days of Summer.  Yes.  Second viewing.

Upon first viewing, I was astounded at how resonant the pain in the film was.   Really fresh from a break up, watching this film in tandem with Paper Heart allowed me to scar appropriately.  After Paper Heart’s conversational, mockumentary structure, I became a tad critical of western perceptions of love – the film became a forum for the carnivalesque qualities of love.  Nothing too deep cutting.  500 Days on the other hand, had my heart slowly gripping the cavern of my chest and up out of my mouth to give me the most painful of embraces.  I wasn’t a wreck, but I wasn’t golden either.

500 Days achieved catharsis.

Relief.  Repose.  Repeat.

A second viewing, only warranted by a conversation of memory and love, and a humorous comparison of real life to cinema.  Was I Tom?  Was I Summer?

The films structure is a smorgasbord of style by the music video director Marc Webb.  Webb pulled no punches when it came to jarring and pulling the viewer into the seduction of misery.  From the opening credit sequence of the home films of Tom and Summer, to the comical nods to world renown directors-Webb wanted your heart, all of it.

A contemporary set up for the chic designer also permitted huge liberties in creating an aesthetically flat film.  Shapes and lines from the buildings, illustrations, Ikea, and right down to the casting of Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel.  The flat qualities of the film wasn’t a bad thing – Webb used that quality to maximize the appearances and conversations on love.  It made things simple, obvious.

Expectation.  Reality.  Repeat.

Webb used the jumps in time marked by the scrolling days to match up with an universal understanding of love and love lost.  Most folks remember the best, and re-live those moments.  The moment we think heartbreak is over, we’re triggered by our loneliness.  Our hearts our front loaded in way we’re fixed on pain, and healing looks like something we’d never expect.

This movie isn’t too deep.  Memory and love are themes immemorial.  Unfortunately, the 2nd viewing only revealed more of the flaws that I chose to ignore the first time.

The interspersed interruptions at the peaks of pain only avoided the potentially boring mud-wallowing of self-pity and anger.  Webb skirted this trap with flourishes that are contemporary versions of Rob Reiner’s nondiegitc interviews in When Harry Met Sally, except Webb made it for a generation of both the saccharine-indulgent and culture snobs.  Then again, I don’t think Webb had that capacity available to him in the film, he’s music video director, they cater to attention spans the size of mosquitoes (annoyance then lingering).

I had no doubt about the chemistry between Tom and Summer.  What I did doubt was their individual performances.  The quick quip to Tom alluding to Goethe’s Young Werther, and even Zooey’s attempt at Anna Karina was a bit too superficial, the story only made it clear that Tom and Summer couldn’t sustain the projection of love and it’s exploitative nature, unlike the performances in The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant.  Then again, the film wasn’t necessarily trying to achive that kind of depth.

It’s still a fun film.  I laughed.  I cried.  I cursed her name.  I said, “I’m sorry.”

In this spectrum of Tom and Summer, most folks lie between.  Tom and Summer are the same person, just at different times in their lives, and that’s okay, the story was banking on that.

At the end of the film I asked myself if I was Tom in my last relationship.

No, I wasn’t.

Was I Summer?

No, I wasn’t.

Am I Otis Redding?

Maybe.

I’m sorry, or maybe not.

• Ms. Monica Wong, I’m sorry.  This is my apology to you, since you’re radio silence leaves some desire for compassion… Mea culpa, mea culpa

• I continue to work on a documentary that challenges all of my notions of storytelling, business, and politics involved in state executions, and forgiveness.

• I continue to work on a long term project that is more hang out and trust building time than actual production.

• My friends have been present in my life again because they can be, and in less obvious ways I’ve asked them to be there.

• I’m learning to love myself more, it’s sappy, but true.  Think about it.

• I’m going to New York with the purpose of using anonymity as a strong suit.  With camera in tow, 10 rolls of film, a sound recorder, and most importantly some resolve and humility I hope to understand myself better by understanding strangers better.

(This is where I should have posted some YouTube video or poem to leave you with a tone or some kinda mantra-evoking material, but I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t pretentious – in fact, this inclusion of this thought is pretentious enough eh?)

. I’ve trained to the best of everything within me.  Given circumstances and will-power (or lackthereof), I will not be aiming for a goal time of 3 hours and 30 minutes, but will simply aim to finish strong at 4 hours.  My last time in December 7 of 2008 was 3 hours and around 50 minutes.  I’m optimistic.

. I’ve noticed that in my running that from miles 20 to 25 is when my spirits are the lowest, I feel doomed, lonely, an overbearing sense of guilt in the indulgences I allowed myself in lieu of training (It’s the latent Catholic in me).  In retrospect, I shouldn’t be so masochistic.  I need to ride a mental balance of positive reinforcement, and constructive criticism… all in 26.2 miles.

. All the running is done by you.  It will be your left foot and right foot to carry you over the line.  No one else.

I fell off of training for a minute.  I had a previous goal of finishing the SF Marathon in 3hours and 30minutes, but since I fell off, I’m just looking to finish.  I can still run and roll with the punches, but training appropriately – meaning committing to a schedule and following through would put me in a position to finish strong.

But I’m back on it y’all. No lie.

Day 4 of Week 6 was a strained 6 mile run completed in 47m and 30s.

I sqeezed out the run on the treadmill on 3.5 hours of sleep. Ugh.

While I ran I thought:

1) In light of watching X-men Origins: Wolverine , realized that the whole Marvel franchise is a cycling of Greek tragedies.  It’s not a bad thing, but it explains all of the mommy/daddy issues, self-awareness against the concepts of nationhood, of humanity and why many are so resonant with audience (note: resonant does not imply amazing).

2) I thought why the hell was I running.  Lack of sleep, compromises my immune system, making me susceptible to catch something.

3) I’ve been seeking out more and more photographic ghost-mentors (folks that I look to for guidance without ever breaching anonymity), and am taking a look at Tony Remington’s, Alan Dejecacion’s, and Sean Marc Lee’s Flickr accounts.  These folks are more accessible to me, somewhat easier to contact, and they interact with spaces and bodies that are more familiar.

4) I wish I practiced my writing so I could write like Jay.

5) (Yes)

Went on the treadmill again to save myself from the cold, biting winds outside.

Did 6 miles in 50m 10s.

Jumped on the weights for another 20minutes.

Some thoughts going through my head at the time:

1) Glad that I finally figured out why my Pentacon-Six was giving me these:

I only found out after shooting another roll with Monica that the shutter wasn’t completely shutting, so that there was a streak of overexposure/light leak in the shot (See the shot of my nephew, and of the Lozada side of the family).  In the slower shutter speeds, or later in the roll, the shutter would actually get stuck open – which explains why my dad and sister look ghostly in the last shot.

Sure this is an arugment for the digital side, but again there’s a value in the craft, mechanics, and work that’s still present in shooting film, especially from older cameras.  Perhaps it’s a dogmatic, old-school way of practice, but diligence always has it’s benefits, and for the most part, it’s worked in my favor.

2) On that tip, I’ll finally be expecting this lovely in the mail:

Can’t wait.  Can’t wait.

3) I’m driving down to Los Angeles and will be around from about May 6 – 8 to support a 2004 project entitled, ‘down so bad, looking up.’  It was my 2004 effort with Visual Commmunications Armed With a Camera Fellowship.  ‘down so bad..’ is a short experimental chronicle that features a fictional manong who found his voice with a bottle of whiskey, and Bukowski.  I had five minutes, and really pushed the structure and narrativity.  Of course, it’s disjunctive, odd… questionable.  But it’s sincere and aware of itself — I don’t know what that means, but I put some effort in it, and got some strong support so come out if you’re in the hood!  Oh, props to Muni Zano who acted in it, Terry Kosel, Jay Perez, and John Dion for listening to my rants, reviewing my scripts, or even rolling with me to Los Angeles (remember how we ended up volunteering Terry?).

I caught a bad cold after finishing a long run.  It crept to my lungs, giving me a thick cough.  I wheezed for the first set of days, and was knocked from even stepping foot to lift weights.

I think that may have been close to two weeks ago.

I jumped on the treadmill 5 days ago to do a 4 mile run, and it felt okay.

I jumped on the treadmill again for 6.25 miles, finished in 45:10

I’ll be running bay-to-breakers with a group of friends from work.  Our theme is superheros – I need to figure out mines soon.

Thinking this:

Too much?  Nah.

Onward.

Day 14, Week -1;  March 12, 2009 @ 600AM

3 Miles, Treadmill – 24m 05sec

Threw in a rough workout after the running.  Running on less than four hours of sleep becuase of work, but the physical strain was much needed to reset my spirits for the day.

San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival 2009 starts today!

Support!

I was DP on the short One For Three, a short we shot in the sweltering hawt bastion of suburbia known as Fremont.  Good times, if you can get into the program it’s one of the stronger ones in the shorts series.

See y’all there…

I’ve been running.  Just haven’t been updating. :/

Day 8, Week -3; February 26, 2009

Ran 5 miles;  Saw From Monument to Masses and a bunch of old friends.  FMTM is truly cinematic.  I’d like to work with them to do a doc on their tour, but I’m sure somebody’s already got them covered that way.

Day 9, Week -3; February 28, 2009

Ran 6 miles – Up and down Twin Peaks.  Anyone else try that yet??  It’s not a bad hill run via the paved road, to make it challenging one should run up and down the paths and get their knees beat.  Sight was loverly, I probably saw you down there either with loved ones, or chillin’ by yourself.

Day 10, Week -2; March 2, 2009

Ran 4.0 miles

Day 11, Week -2; March 3, 2009

Ran 3.5 miles.  Ran outside.  Along Embarcadero, through Chinatown.  I hit up the Manilatown Heritage Foundation space and saw Jerome R. and Jose T.  Jerome has been holding classes there and is working on something pretty awesome-like, it’s top secret, so I’m not at liberty to say other than it involves memory and space.

Day 12, Week -2; March 4, 2009

Ran 5 miles @ 7:30PM.  Treadmill running.

Day ?, Week -1;  March 9, 2009

Ran 2.5 miles @ 5:30AM;  I chased the moon, and ran from it.  It was cold, felt like 45, ice down my lungs.

Ran 3.0 miles @ 2:30PM;  I walked with Jerry for a bit, asked about his health.  Ran up embarcadero, and through Chinatown.

This morning I woke up with a stronger cough.  Thanks.

Aside from the continuing regimen, I’ve been watching these movies:

Autumn (Sonbahar)

Played at Cinequest.  It’s about a young man regaining his identity after being imprisoned for 10 years due to his political involvement in a failed Turkish rebellion.  Set against a forested backdrop, the film works to isolate his anguish.  The lead heads to the city often and falls for a sullen prostitute.  Their dynamic is the familiar Holy-Mary-Mother-Whore relationship.  I was on the fence about it, however, the cinematography was on-point, which narrative nods to Dr. Zhivago, Autumn is still an honest attempt at never being quite the same ever again.

Historias Extrodinarias

Also played at Cinequest.  Films an ambitious, and indulgent road tour on the existential Argentinian male.  Traversing rural, and abandoned landscapes, the geographies match their mutual protagonists.  The writing is a romp, and the direction is committed in its hubris, with a voice-over film hitting a little over four hours.  Yes, four hours.

Tokyo Sonata

Also played at Cinequest.  Caught this one here because the SFIAAFF screening is sold out.  Y’all are missing out if you don’t get to catch this film.  I’ve always held in high esteem films about falling apart, implosion, dissolution, and eventual rebirth-malformed as it may become.  This film is absolutely that.  You’ll love the forays into the nuclear family webbing becoming undone, and the butterfly that emerges – and yes, I probably ruined the film for you at that point… not really.  Watch it whereever you catch it.

Watchmen

Caught this at 4AM.  I only got through 2 chapters of the comic, and a couple of articles, so I had a superficial understanding.  Loved it.  You need to watch it, Moore purist or not.  If you’re a hater, please tell me what the last comic film that seemed to be hermenutic AND hermetic all at once (pretentious, of course).

I’ve been filling myself with this too:

I’m not the only one diggin this ish:

Paz.

Day 7, Week -3 / 10:30AM

6 miles on the treadmill

Completed in 45m 06s

Peak speed at 10.0 mph for 2 min.

This weekend was spent resting.  I hit a cleaning binge on Thursday night, and came away with about 2 hours of sleep, so running on Friday was out of question.  I thought I could keep running and running on the weekend, but my body kept insisting on sleeping and chilling out, or at least making sure that my head and heart were at ease before straining them with a long run.

Here’s an article about resting and running.  I should integrate in my training regimen, but rest is the only thing I’m really lazy about.  When I’m deeper in training though, I most certainly begin to turn in on Friday nights, to hit the ground hard and long on Saturday mornings… you’ll see.

Instead, I helped myself to watching some films over the weekend. 

There’s a solid critique of the film Wendy and Lucy on Geologic’s blog.

If I can add anything to his critique, it’s reminiscent of the photo documentary works of the Depression era photographer’s, most specifically Dorothea Lange.  In fact, I’d contend that the film’s droll qualities are akin to a roll of film shot by Lange.  There’s the rough editing and composure of the photo, the subject is asked to sit in their state of distress, distemper, or disillusion, what-have-you, and the photographer dances around them and reappropriates the drama.  Wendy and Lucy carries substantive moments, moments in repose and still, yet the movements between are exasperating, frustrating at best.  If one seeks out a distilled form of body in space look to Robert Bresson’s catalog, and one finds despair in the form of doomed characters confined by strict rules not completely of their society, but of the director’s stringent and sterile style.  It’s watchable, but brace yourself.

I took a second look at Planet B-Boy by Benson Lee.  It’s a work that is a great update to the meta-narrative of B-Boying.  Themes included Hip-Hop as a vehicle for self-discovery, and within that a subset of themes with globalization, male psychology, etc.  I can’t speak loads more about it, as it’s very straightforward.  One thing to note however, is how quickly the game changes every year with crews upping one another, and how political/culturally influential the judges can be on these international competitions.  

I also got to see Coraline in 3-D.  Pure joy, pure horror.  I’m not saying anything new here when we discuss the psychology of children’s tales and the fixation of fear and what these fears address.  It seems that most animations are for adults anyhow, as our generation has become more and more responsive to our bygone days of Transformers, and the constant flow of Marvel films.  I’m not knocking it, but cheers to the geeks turned filmmakers and studio execs.