Lonely Hearts Club Band

Since everyone else had their plans for dinner, I had to make my own. After coming back from MOMA and having a startlingly realistic dreams about my post-nap plans with sad undertones, I awoke to look up theatres showing my last movie of interest from last year's crop-Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona. I chose a scene from the screenplay for my Directing Mis En Scene class (which means Directing the Scene; basically, directing actors within the elements of a cinematic scene) because of the subtext. I had a blast directing that scene, and have been wanting to see it before it disappeared from the theatres, despite not hearing anything special in terms of reviews. I wanted to see how I could get around NYC by myself, and if I could actually enjoy the experience and avoid the overall sense of paranoia that plagues me walking down the streets of Los Angeles and my hometown in the Inland Empire. I found a nearby theatre on 13th St called Quad Cinema, and with Haven's (thank you!) trusty map I was on my way down the F train.

Probably because of its proximity to Parson's, the outside of the theatre was modern and ultra-slick. The screening rooms themselves were on the small side, but I do enjoy smaller theatres. What I really dug was the bright green light projecting on the screen from two studio lights; I thought it was a creative use of cinema equipment and complimented the soothing classical music playing before the lights dimmed.

IMAX, eat your heart out.

One of the crazy green studio lights.

Before the movie started, there was a woman complaining about her troubles to her male friend. These issues surrounded an artist friend having to stay at her home during his art show, and how she couldn't emotionally handle the stress because of her multiple therapy sessions, and claimed about the superiority of her portfolio over another artist that she disliked, who was getting attention from a few small galleries, etc. Her male friend consoled her, offering her anecdotes involving another artist who only showed at one gallery every two years, usually selling $200,000 in paintings each time, but after gallery fees and before taxes, that artist only has an income of $50,000 each year. All this reminded me of how tough the art world is, about my own insecurities when relating to my peer's artwork, and about how dispassioned and bitter we can get when when doubt ourselves. Art is a pretty miraculous concept on its own; we tend to bog it down with our own fears.

As for the movie, the cinematography and editing were initially jarring. This was my first in-theatre Woody Allen pic, and I hated his heavy reliance on narration to divulge exposition. It made the narrative feel cheesy, and any other interpretation useless. As the narrative carried along, I began enjoying the feature when I became accustomed to the awkward cinematography, until I arrived at scenes that were out of focus. However, I was impressed with the acting of Bardem, Cruz, and Rebecca Hall's work in the movie. I was pleasantly surprised by the end of the movie that I actually enjoyed it in all of its imperfections; I would definitely watch this again. By the way, it's really bizarre watching a scene in a theatre that you previously directed on a much smaller scale, and know exactly each line and feel yourself picking the scene apart. I would have added more business here, established a wider shot there, etc. Um, I'm not like this at every movie I watch.

One of The New Schools is located directly across from the theatre. I recall S + G speaking about the new branding for the New School, and their approach to use the street stencil as a revolutionary approach for a revolutionary school. I liked how it only included a fraction of the actual name.

Afterwards, I rode the V train all the way back, stopping by a vendor on the way home. Feeling like a New Yorker, I ordered a kebab and a Coke, and handed the vendor a two dollar tip, which lit up his eyes and he earnestly thanked me for it, shaking my hand. He even offered me a free pretzel for "dessert"! I never expected this kindness out of someone who sees countless rushed people throughout the day; it really made my night.

I am in love with New York City. The people have a vitality, an unspoken bond that I haven't experienced in Los Angeles. I think it has something to do with the lack of great public transportation and the geographically-enforced financial disparities. When people drive around in their steel cages all day, and avoid others walking down sidewalks, a different kind of detachment happens than one may feel in a city with over eight million people.

I don't feel so alone out there.