FROM BAD TO BETTER:
As March 2014 burst in like a lion, my life was not in particularly good shape. Stress levels were high from dealing with family issues, and a weekly commitment to Avatar remained quite low on my list of life priorities. With other matters on my mind, the film had little chance to bleed off the screen and into my life. The only time I thought much about Avatar was when physically in the process of watching the film. Hell, sometimes I wasn’t even thinking about it while plopped right in front of the screen. I was still stuck in a bit of a spiral.
“Smash! Boom! Crash!”
How depressing. Thankfully, things have a way of turning around. As the month got rolling, my life, Avatar viewings begrudgingly included, began to improve. After almost a month and a half of being entirely unable to focus on the film in any meaningful way, I got back on the horse (the horse of weird conspiracy theories about movies full of blue cats, I guess).
And so the month continued. During my viewings I took light looks at elements of the film (like the lack of corpses, and the replaceability of actors in the franchise). Yet while not physically watching the film, the blue cat-people were not on my mind. Why? Couldn’t tell you. Maybe I just didn’t have any real investment in the film. Possibly it hadn’t had enough time to burrow into my subconscious. Either way, I’ve got no complaints.
But even if Avatar wasn’t yet messing with my mind, earlier stages of the Cinema 52 experiment were still having their effects…
I spent 2012 watching everyone’s second or third favorite John Cusack movie, High Fidelity, once every week. If you assumed that every joke in this comedy would have become utterly stale a month or two into the experiment, you would be correct. Oh, except that there was one line that I never got until a full two years later. Jack Black’s shiftless Barry is the front-man for a band with a constantly shifting name. The penultimate name mentioned is Kathleen Turner Overdrive.
Pictured: Barry Jive and the Uptown Five, née Sonic Death Monkey.
I spent my year with High Fidelity assuming that this was merely a surrealistic name featuring the star of Peggy Sue Got Married. Until this March, that is, when I discovered that Bachman-Turner Overdrive was a band that exists. Had I been properly taking care of business back during my High Fidelity year, I probably would have know this. But I wasn’t apparently, so I had no idea that Barry’s band title was just a pun. Maybe Sonic Death Monkey is a riff on some band I should have heard of too, but I aint seen nothing yet to indicate such. Oof, these jokes I’m making are terrible. Better roll on down the highway. No, I’m not proud of myself.
One of the most disturbing signs that a film has gotten under your skin is to find it showing up in your dreams. Well, near the very end of the month, it would appear that I woke up in the middle of the night and cryptically wrote down the words “Dinosaur island dream.” Upon waking I completely failed to remember that I had even had a dream, much less what actually happened in it. What would appear clear is that it was triggered by 2013‘s fairly extensive Jurassic Park exposure.
Aww, I miss Dinosaur Island.
One can only hope that this time next year I’m not dreaming of blue cats. Because, as always, to hell with that.