To Life

In times of total frustration, I feel as though I've lost a good part of myself. But the truth of the matter is that I've merely misplaced me. This comes from a lack of forward mobility, stagnation and soul-crushing procrastination. The only person I can blame for this is staring right back at me in the screen of this laptop and that is me, me me. Fortunately,I can't see me right now because I would punch myself in the mush for wasting more time and energy online than taking care of business.

So I took a couple of necessary breaks while I engage in a refresher course in things that inspire and enrich my soul to serve as a reminder of who I am and what I am supposed to be.

While I took in THE SHAPE OF WATER on my birthday, I felt a need to take in another piece o' cinema because my time before the big screen has been limited to say the very least and I feel as though I've been missing out on one of the great joys of my life.

The great Portland independent movie house known as the Hollywood Theater had a very limited engagement of DUNKIRK in 70mm over the past two weekends. Having missed it on its initial run the past summer, here was the last possible chance to see this war epic, so the saying goes, as it was originally intended to be seen. Since I've never seen any film in this format to begin with, I ventured off to the other side of the Portlandian world and made it to the Hollywood, a a theater I have not visited in over 5 years.

I love this place. This is how I would run a movie theater with first runs, revivals and special showings that are trying like hell to keep the movie-going experience alive and kicking. These include such gems as B Movie Bingo, Hecklevision, the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival and the occasional silent film with live organ accompaniment such as the upcoming SEVEN CHANCES starring Buster Keaton. This is exactly how to run a movie theater in the 21st century.
HOLLYWOOD THEATRE

I couldn't believe my good fortune the day I ventured forth from home to the other side of Portland, which can be both a trick and trek at the same time. Leaving later than I was comfortable with, I managed to fight my way tooth and nail out of the goddamn 'burbs (as I affectionately refer them) and onto the freeway with a credit of only twenty five minutes. When you figure in both traffic and parking, you're talking a deficit that could sabotage the entire excursion. But the Fickle Finger of Fate pointed in my direction and I made to the Hollywood with minutes to spare with even enough time to hit the can on the way in.

Without fanfare or even coming attractions, the film began and kept me nailed to my seat for the next two hours. DUNKIRK is a positively masterful piece of film making. Christopher Nolan's WW II epic is riveting from its opening frame to its last and immersed me completely. What I experienced on this Saturday afternoon was pure cinema, both in content and presentation. Kismet with capital K.

Besides inspiration of a cinematic kind, I turn to the other arts to recharge my soul. I have been absent from any recent showings at the Portland Art Museum for far too long and caught a very significant exhibit, once again, just in the nick of time on its final day. (Are we sensing a running theme here?)

The Wyeth Family, that being the American artists N.C., Andrew and Jamie, along with other relatives represented, had many of their most iconic works (minus Andrew's Helga pieces) presented in this extremely moving show. To view artwork of this caliber and stature that spanned over three generations and an entire century made me gape about in awe and total admiration for what artists contribute to this world and how that can continually passed down throughout time.

When I was in high school, I took a class called Humanities, taught by a Mr. Leonard Fass, an irascible and cantankerous sort who introduced this sullen teenager to many of the finest aspects in society including, music, literature and art. on one particular day, Mr. Fass  showed us a documentary about the Wyeths. It made such an impression upon me, opening both my heart and mind. Art became part of my DNA from that day forward and I've been grateful ever since.

Seeing the Wyeth exhibit and DUNKIRK were more than just a couple of fanciful outings on my days off from work. They serve to remind me what I'm supposed to not only do with my life, but who I am supposed to be. Time ticks away so relentlessly that it can steamroll you into submission, allowing life to pass you by. You can cast your dreams aside from pure fatigue and soon, regret sets in like a tumor. It's time to live again before it's too late.

L'chaim!