old (2008), Uncategorized

2 days in paris…

…has to be the best movie I’ve seen in 2008 so far. And I think it may well have to kick one of my other Top 5 movies out of the Top 5, though it’s going to be difficult figuring out which one gets the boot. (The list, FWIW: I Heart Huckabees, Stranger Than Fiction, All the Real Girls, Shopgirl, Lost in Translation.) I just saw the film today for the second time within a week, since I’m still flu-ish but had to teach class this morning and we just began a unit on male-female relationships, and I thought (or, rather, Sax Man proposed) that 2 Days in Paris might be a good start to that unit, since it does offer a very healthy yet entertaining and interesting perspective on romance. And beyond offending a student I have who is actually FROM France (“not all French people are perverts and live like country bumpkins who skin rabbits…”) and forgetting that there’s a fair amount of full-frontal male nudity in the film (and, uh, I have two students who are under age… yikes!), the class really liked it.

But ANYHOW… I thought it might be interesting to share my favorite lines from each of the six aforementioned movies, the ones that so appropriately encapsulate exactly what I like best about each film. Enjoy!

I Heart Huckabees

What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m doing the best that I can. I know that’s all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn’t than nothing in this world makes any sense to me; I’m fucked. Maybe I should quit. Don’t quit. Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don’t fucking quit. Just, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do anymore. Fucker. Fuck. Shit.

Stranger Than Fiction

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren’t any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true.

All the Real Girls

When people from before come up, I want you to understand what they hate when they see me.

Shopgirl

As Ray Porter watches Mirabelle walk away he feels a loss. How is it possible, he thinks, to miss a woman whom he kept at a distance so that when she was gone he would not miss her. Only then does he realize that wanting part of her and not all of her had hurt them both and how he cannot justify his actions except that… well… it was life.

Lost in Translation

Your life, as you know it… is gone. Never to return. But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk… and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you will ever meet in your life.

2 Days in Paris

It always fascinated me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all, nothing. It hurts so much. When I feel someone is going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I get to hear the whole thing. Here it is. One more, one less. Another wasted love story. I really love this one. When I think that its over, that I’ll never see him again like this… well yes, I’ll bump into him, we’ll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we had never been together, then we’ll slowly think of each other less and less until we forget each other completely. Almost. Always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drunk up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well. There’s a moment in life where you can’t recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can’t live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else’s kisses.

So there you have it. Commence the psychoanalyzing of my state of mind, state of relationships, and state of chaos. Namaste.

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