Monthly Archives: December 2014

Birdman by Alejandro González Iñárritu

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I watched Birdman over the break, and it’s a spectacular film worth seeing, especially if you haven’t already watch Aronofky’s The Wrestler or Black Swan—all portrayals of big celebrity personalities who have lost touch, or are losing touch, with reality. While Aronofsky is probably wondering how Alejandro González Iñárritu got ahold of his script, viewers are growing weary of the possibility of seeing suicide and self-harm, as emotionally unstable characters linger closer and closer to dangerous edges.

Michael Keaton is wonderful and nuanced and vulnerable, as are Edward Norton, Naomi Watts, Andrea Riseborough, and Amy Ryan. Emma Stone, who I love in over-the-top comedic and big blockbuster performances, seemed less capable of a performance en par with the work of her colleagues. It can’t be fun to be the novice among acting giants.

In part, the movie provides a delightful and smashing critique of…well, critique. And so, I am aware of the complexity of my own participation in the writing of a critique of the film. Bottom line, it was a pretty good film, with great actors, who did their best to bring new light to material and subject matter that has already been done to perfection by Darren Aronofsky.

i do rush home

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I rush home to play the piano. (Well, keyboard.) I listen to songs on the radio and try to figure them out while driving. I fill out all of the exercises in my lesson book just for the joy of it.

My mom’s pretty competent at the piano, but has always wanted to play the violin. She started taking lessons this summer and absolutely loved it. I, on the other hand, have always wanted to play the piano. I took lessons when I was very young, but they were short-lived.

This summer, my mom inspired me with her violin lessons. She kept saying things like, “I just love it,” and “It’s so great.” It’s probably the English major in me, but I’m always prompting her to explain what she means. “What’s great about it?” She couldn’t quite explain. Now, neither can I.

I found a teacher who lives nearby and signed up for lessons this fall. I immediately loved it and, like my mom, find myself sort of inarticulate about it: “It’s the best thing ever,” and “It’s just so great.” At first I really loved the forced meditation. Music requires your entire brain, and when I’m concentrating, there is no room for chatter. There is no room for anything else, and it is divine.

One of the things I miss from my last relationship is music. I miss singing (though I am shy!) and I miss hearing the new song and the song that’s dedicated to me. So, I’ve tried to create that for myself. I’ve been surprised by how quickly I’ve been able to move through the lesson book and how satisfying it is to play.

I’ve always felt drawn the to piano. I have always wanted to be able to play. I love the sound of the piano. I’m also really fast at typing (and I think that actually helps.)

I don’t know what else to say. See how rambling and incoherent I am about it? Other than just “YES! I am doing it! And it is so great!”

morning scene

morning scene