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contours provocations
journal - 2002-0525 - sat 2200 "Making Love"; "Common Ground"; "Insomnia"; Fluttering Against Marble One night this week, when I was having trouble sleeping, a non uncommon occurrence in my household, I meandered back to the couch, turned on the telly, and came across "Making Love." A movie that I'd more or less forgotten about. The one from 1982 with Harry Hamlin, as a sexaully carefree novelist, and Michael Ontkean, as a repressed doctor. Two men who discover their mutual attraction. The characters are flawed but not neurotic. They don't kill each other. Hamlin does not want committment. While Ontkean does, and moves on to someone else. There are actual scenes of kissing and discrete shots of love-making. Ground-breaking for its time. Certainly for a main-stream movie. And still a very valid see that doesn't see overly dated. As one review commented, the next big studio production to look at two lovers was "Philadelphia" in 1993. And it was far more circumspect about their love life. As I entering this, I wondered what has happened to movies or plots about AIDS. Has AIDS disappeared from the movie scene? Is it no longer a subject for concern? Last night, I caught part of "Common Ground" on HBO. Three semi-related stories of being gay in a small Connecticut town. I'm guessing I only saw about 50%. Certainly the most impressive of the stories is the middle one about the teen swimmer struggling with being openly gay. And the matching story of his French teacher struggling with the closet door. I think my reservation about such productions is their tendency to be didactic. Marked by efforts to refute the common misconceptions about being gay. Praiseworthy as they may be, I'm not sure how effective they is. However, it may be necessary. (Gosh! How that's for waffling?!) This afternoon, I decided to see "Insomnia," the newest Chris Nolan movie. Last year at this time, I was awed by his Memento. "Insomnia" is equally brilliant in its own way. The story-telling is more straight-forward. Although billed as a mystery, it may be more of a study of the characters played by Al Pacino and Robin Williams. Pacino is always fascinating to watch. But Robin Williams is truly amazing. He was so much the character that I literally forgot it was Williams. Neither character sets out to do evil. But at some point, they slip. (I just thought of the many shots in the movie of characters physically slipping; shots that may embody "moral" slipping.) They slip from one side of a wavering border to the other side. While driving to the theatre along the Interstate, I was overcome by three, obviously young, motorcylists, darting in and out of the traffic at a breakneck speed. I absolutely did not see them until they passed me. They were hunkered down on their brightly-hued machines. Anonymous and unknowable in their dark helmets. The wind whipped across their bikes and caused their shirts to flap and ride up on their backs revealing taut flesh across bone. Quickly, they became indistinct fast-moving blots on the east-curving bridge. Soon two more, then a third, appeared to my left. Again, bodies almost molded to the plastic. And brief seconds of naked skin Who were they, I wondered? Where were they going? Would they celebrate once they made it? Would hands clasp arms? Would shoulders bump shoulders? Would one ruffle the hair of another? Would one seem more hesitate, more thoughtful? Would he have a deep rustle in his stomach as he glanced at another? Would it feel like butterflies fluttering against marble? PAX!
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