Let me preface this post by admitting that I know absolutely nothing about films. I’ve barely seen any, and I have no idea why the good ones are good, or why the bad ones are bad. Lately, I’ve been getting a whole lot of foreign films (mostly French) from Netflix. Part of my problem with watching movies is that I have very poor listening comprehension. My mind wanders, and I have to rewind over and over. But with foreign films, I read the subtitles, and so I’m able to focus on the task at hand. Also, there are usually sweeping shots of beautiful countryside and charming little towns. And finally, I experience a sort of detachment when watching foreign films, because so many of the subtleties – the cultural context, I suppose – are lost in translation, so I don’t get as invested, and I don’t get offended by things that would probably piss me off if they were in an American film (casual misogyny, lame humor, clunky dialogue, stereotyped and/or unrealistic characters, emotional dishonesty, forced and unjustified plot devices). I view everything at a sort of lovely, disinterested remove. And that same missing context also makes the movies really funny to me, in a disjointed kind of way. I compose a kind of running bulletpoint summary in my head as I watch, and it amuses me. For example, here’s what I thought to myself as I watched Joachim Lafosse’s Private Property today:
Isabelle Huppert: I am a very thin lady who lives with my two grown sons. I’m divorced.
Blond Grown Son: I am an asshat, across the boards.
Brunette Grown Son: I am also here.
IH: I have a boyfriend, as well. But I don’t bring him around.
Blond Son: Because I’d be an asshat about it.
Ex-husband of IH: I am a large man, and frustrated. I come around sometimes. I’m not the best ex you could have, but I’m not horrible, either.
Blond Son: I’m closer to my dad.
Other Son: I’m closer to my mom.
IH: I’m taking a shower in front of my grown son. If you think that’s peculiar, it’s probably because you’re an American, and you believe the naked human form is shameful.
Blond Son: One of our biggest problems is that we all only have one car.
Boyfriend of IH: I’m a chef. I’d like to start a B&B with my girlfriend, IH. If you sold your giant house, IH, we could pay for the B&B.
IH: That’d be cool. But I think my asshat son would be an asshat about it.
Boyfriend: You’re so passive. You should just tell your boys what’s what.
IH: I would, but I’m passive. Why don’t you come over and do it?
Sons: Amazingly, we’re taking a bath together and washing each others’ hair. If you think this is weird, it’s probably because you’re an American, and your mind is in the gutter.
IH: So, kids, I’m thinking about selling the house. Let’s not be asshats about this.
Blond Son: Oh, man. I’m SO going to pitch a damn fit.
Other Son: I am also here.
Boyfriend: Listen, your mother wanted me to tell you that we’re in love, and she’s awesome, and we’re starting a B&B together. But I hear one of you is an asshat?
Blond Son: That’s me. I’ll demonstrate my asshattery now.
Boyfriend: That’s it. I’m out of here. We’re through, IH.
IH: Just like that? Why? I thought we were pretty serious.
Boyfriend: Um…I don’t know.
Sons: Yeah, we’re not real clear on that, either.
Boyfriend: Regardless, I have to leave.
IH: Well, I’m going to go stay with a friend I just realized I have. You asshats can fend for yourselves. You are both fully grown men, after all, so I don’t know why this is such a big deal.
Blond Son: Fine. I’ll have my girlfriend over.
Girlfriend: I’m very well-adjusted, and teach aerobics. My boyfriend has seemed cute up to this point, but now that I see him with his brother, I realize he is an asshat. His brother’s much cuter.
Other Son: Oh, come on. I’m just here.
Blond Son: I will maul you in front of my brother to get a rise out of him.
Girlfriend: That’s it. We’re through. I’m way too cool for you – I’m going back to my aerobics class, where I wear a hoodie and a dress over my pants.
Blond Son: Argh! I will beat up on you for embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend, my brother!
Other Son: What? But I’m just here!
Blond Son: Take this glass coffee table to the back of the head! …Whoa. Other son?
…Are you…dead?
…Seriously? How could falling through a coffee table have possibly instantly killed a young, healthy man?
Dead Other Son: No idea. But I think I really am dead. Man!
Blond Son: Oh, shit! And I’ve been such an asshat all this time, and now everyone will really, finally let me have it!
Everyone: Yes. We will. You’re really what’s wrong with everything.
Blond Son: I really am.
(Credits.)
Anyway … nice blog to visit.
