Prologue to the Prologue: In Which I Talk to Myself:

(Note: These next three posts (a prologue to the prologue, a prologue, and a review of Adaptation) were originally written for the Filmspotting forum. On the forum once a month, those who would like to, participate in what we call "The Movie Dictator Club." Each person dictates a film to another person to watch - the dictatee must watch the film and report back with some thoughts about the film. I was assigned Adaptation for July's dictator club - I put off writing and put off writing until I finally published my write-up, two months later, in September. The prologues reflect my problems in getting started in writing - and interestingly, the film, Adaptation, dovetailed beautifully with my writer's block.)

[Kaufmann]:"To begin... To begin... How to start?
 I'm hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin.
Okay, so I need to establish the themes. 
Maybe a banana-nut. That's a good muffin."


Me: [Yes, how to begin? Hmmm, . . . hangnail, there – ooo, like that shot of the jagged skin on the finger of Kaufmann in the movie – yes, yes, there’s something about that shot that captures an essential part of the movie, I think . . . ] 

Me: [Ok, but talk about that image later maybe. Here goes:]


There’s something infinitely comforting . . .  


Me: [“infinitely”? no, that won’t work, pretentious – less is more. Ok, go again.] 


There’s something comforting about Charlie Kaufmann’s neuroses and self-doubt as I sit here trying to write about Adaptation. 


Me: [wait, should I say “Charlie Kaufmann” or “the Charlie Kaufmann character”? Does it matter? Yes, . . . but that question is part of what the movie’s about isn’t it? Errr, ok, get to that later. Maybe. Go.]


There’s something comforting about the self-doubt, the ordinariness, the neuroses, the paralysis of the character of Charlie Kaufmann as I sit here trying to write about Adaptation . . . 


Me: [I think Aoife’s crying. Should I go check? . . .  I’ve [i]gotta [/i]get this write-up done. This was a July assignment, Melissa, July. You slacker.]


[Kaufmann]: "If I stop putting things off, I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn't fat I would be happier . . ."


Me: [Heh, both true. Go.] 


There’s something comforting about the self-doubt, the ordinariness, the neuroses, the paralysis of the character of Charlie Kaufmann as I sit here trying to write about Adaptation – he couldn’t begin, I don’t know how to begin. He was afraid of being cliché: "My life is a walking cliché."
I’m afraid of being cliché, of being boring. A little bit afraid of being so almost every time I speak, write, post something online, on the boards, on Facebook, wherever. Of course, Kaufmann - both the character and the man – has much less reason to doubt his writerly abilities and wit than I do, but he, the character at least, acts the way I feel when I’m supposed to be creating something, especially writing something . . . 


Me: [Yes, she is crying. Dang. When am I going to get back to this?] 


[6 hours later . . .]


Me: [Where was I? Errrgh. [/re-reads] 

Me: [Sigh. This is stupid. What am I trying to be, Kaufmann? Heh, very funny, just write already. Edit out the edits. Go, go, go.]

Prologue: In Which I Indulge and Write about Myself, Not the Movie

There’s something comforting about the self-doubt, the ordinariness, the neuroses, the paralysis of the character of Charlie Kaufman as I sit here trying to write about Adaptation – he couldn’t begin, I don’t know how to begin. He was afraid of being cliché, I’m afraid of being cliché, of being boring, of being a cheap imitation of someone else. A little bit afraid of being so almost every time I speak, write, even post something online, on the film forum, on Facebook, on Twitter (there’s some real paralysis there), wherever. Of course, Kaufman - both the character and the man – has less reason to doubt his writerly abilities and wit than I do, but he, the character at least, acts and thinks the way I feel and often think when I’m supposed to be creating something, especially writing something. The hesitations and falterings, the bursts of words that seem profound and perfect at first but then quickly reveal themselves to be what they are, shallow, pretentious, imitative, and stupid. On the forum I can’t compete with the quick, omniscient wit of a member like pixote or the dry, confidence of an sdedalus (long-time forum member) or the fluid, wonderful charm of a worm@work (another long-time forum member) or any others of all the amazing Filmspotters. And I guess I don’t want to, compete with them, that is. I’m quite happy to admire. Mostly, it bothers me that I can’t compete with myself, my best work - hmmm, the stuff I wrote in grad school, I guess that would be? A very long time ago. Where is it now, anyway? Moldering away somewhere in a box in our garage? So I’m haunted by that old stuff, paralyzed in trying to write new stuff ‘cause it’ll never be as good or interesting or original. (If it ever was.) And yet, on I go.  I will force myself to write about this film, Adaptation, because I loved it, because I love films in general and love to think about films – and because writing forces me to think more deeply than I would otherwise. I say that to my writing students, and I believe it. I believe with E. M. Forster that “I don’t know what I think until I see what I say.” So I’d better try to see what I say about this thing. Here goes: (see next post)

Writing Is Thinking

This blog began as a personal blog (those previous posts have been deleted), in hopes that some of my close college friends would work with me in tandem, in hopes that we could share each other's lives by way of blogging. Suffice it to say, those hopes did not come to fruition.

I spend most of my computer time these days reading about films and writing about films on my favorite website, the film forum, http://www.filmspotting.net/boards. I've been a member for a couple of years, and over these years, I gained some dear online friends, friends who have introduced me to new films and directors, friends with whom I share my love for film, friends with whom I can argue about films, friends with whom I can rejoice with over films. I've never met any of these friends in person, though some of them have met each other, but I think that we -those of us who are regular members - do truly care about one another, and we have not shared just a love for film but some of our personal lives and cares with each other.

I teach writing at a local community college, and I often tell my students that to write is to discover what you think. And more than that, to write is to form thought. Often, if I do not write about a thing, I will not have any significant thoughts about that thing. And so, when I do write, my thought life is richer, fuller - and I find I have something to say when before I had nothing.

And so, I'd like to re-start this blog. I'll leave my first purpose - the mostly personal one related to my college friends - and begin a new purpose: a blog that gives me a place to form my thoughts about films that I watch and books that I read. I don't assume that my thoughts will be deep ones, they'll just be, they'll just exist for me where they may not have existed before or where they may not have been fully formed before.

A Filmspotting friend who lives in Germany and I have agreed to watch Krzysztof Kieslowski's

The Decalogue together - we'll discuss it back and forth in messages with one another, but I would like to put my thoughts down here as well. This series of ten films has been a series I've long wanted to watch and discuss, and I'm so happy that my German friend is embarking on this project with me. Of Kieslowski's other films, I've seen his three colors trilogy (Blue, White, and Red) and The Double Life of Veronique, and these films number among my favorite films of all time. If practically perfect films exist, these are they, and so I have high hopes for The Decalogue. Roger Ebert has whetted my appetite with some of his thoughts here: http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20000402/REVIEWS08/4020301/1023

I will begin with part 1, "I am the Lord thy God. Thou shalt have no other Gods before me," this week.