Saw #ZeroDarkThirty. Lots of 100’s over on Metacritic. Lots of good arguments there too. I find myself to be a lot less stirred.
#ZeroDarkThirty. Wim Wenders’ Goalie’s Anxiety is quite similar. Protagonist isolated, the rest of the world rolls, w’ Disquiet resulting …
… Here that Disquiet moves us to some kind of closure & greater comprehension. But for me keying on the J. Chastain character …
… makes for too much thread, & not enough tapestry.
#ZeroDarkThirty. Threads/tapestry, con’t. Film can do this. Marcel Ophuls! (’69, ’88.) Fiction too (Pakula ’76, [too] obviously) …
… Film can, this doesn’t.
#ZeroDarkThirty. Starts w’ that pitiable 9/11 sound collage. Next, unconscionable torture. Ends w’ a family, murdered in its beds …
… All sort-of explainable, none justifiable. It’s to the film’s credit that it avoids fist-pumping, mission-accomplished triumph …
… We won/we lost.
Last #ZeroDarkThirty. This sounds fuddy-duddy of me, I know. I realize that this thing is dramatically apt, & actual, & authentic …
… That’s all important. But there’s something unfortunate here, an indication of real intellectual, emotional, moral dwindling …
… So many films & conversations, our sorrow, anger, resolution, triumph, joy, sorrow again, all comprised of/reduced to the word “fuck.”