yeah i'm pretty dumb
I remember being very young, maybe nine or so, and being allured by the concept of womanhood. Thoughts along the lines of "I wish I were a girl" and the like roamed freely throughout my mind, but this desire was just that -- a desire. To my eyes, sex and gender were inextricably shackled to one another, and in fact, I don't think I had any remote distinction between the two; in my mind, they were one and the same.…
a reverent re-realization of universal privileges largely and falsely recognized as montonous commonalities; imbued with the most soulful of esotericisms and a pure, unfettered love of life. almost carnal in its burning (com)passion for mortality which seamlessly intermingles and benefits from an off-the-wall metatextual premise
as i stare down the daunting barrel of the prospect of yet another year gone by (and yet another anew), i'm reminded of my immense fortune of various measures, those which i've glossed over in the past. i have only this film to thank.
happy new year's, all. i hope 2022 brings the best to you. <3
To Joy presents itself as a sort of proto-Scenes from a Marriage - Bergman’s anterior study of an agonizingly deteriorating romantic relationship proves itself to be impressive, yet decidedly hollow. The two films share a remarkable similitude, though where they largely diverge is just how immensely under-developed To Joy is as opposed to Scenes from a Marriage.To Joy’s characters serve as almost blank slate with which to convey vastly simplistic emotions–disdain; indignance; melancholy; etc.–almost ill-fittingly so, as there’s a notable…
Bergman watch-through #4
Temporal melancholy, that which is immovable; inescapable // The sands of time reimagined as entirely tangible: they are made scarily real, suffocatingly so.
Wild Strawberries details the relatively innocuous existence and demeanor of one Isak Borg, a notably bitter seventy-eight year old man whose every utterance is that of ennui-driven ignorance. He does not care for kindness, nor others, nor himself, for that matter - he is but a vehicle for the splenetic; a harbinger of anger…