the city in film
So glad to reconnect with this 1980s classic from Joan Micklin Silver, which I found much richer and poignant since I’d recently caught up with her 1975 Hester Street.
Here’s the basic plot in limerick:
At the bookstore she flirts, cool and coy
With her eye on a popular goy.
Her friends and her bubbe
All want her a hubby
But what's wrong with a nice Jewish boy...?
Here’s another filmerick for your enjoyment. (You’ll note that this one, on Fred Wiseman’s latest documentary, City Hall, is a lot shorter than the film itself.)
City Hall (Fred Wiseman, 2020)
As the five hour mark he was nearing
Wiseman must have expected some jeering.
It’s far beyond copious,
A real magnum opius:
It’s as long as a Zoning Board hearing.
As described previously, I’ve been exploring a new medium, the “filmerick” (limericks to summarize great films). Here’s a new one in honor of Chloé Zhao’s poignant and meditative on-the-road epic, Nomadland:
Nomadland (Chloé Zhao, 2020)
They may think that you don’t have a plan,
When they see that you poop in a can,
But it’s them that did go mad,
You hard-working nomad:
You’ve a home on the road in your van.
For my longer (and slightly more serious) review, see The Arts Fuse.
My class on “The City in Film” recently screened Vittorio De Sica’s classic BICYCLE THIEVES, and I was inspired to pen another “filmerick”:
BICYCLE THIEVES (Vittorio De Sica, 1948)
De Sica shoots Rome neo-real,
The poor have been dealt a raw deal.
A bike is required
Or Ricci gets fired:
All men must eventually steal.
So great, so sad.
As described previously, I’ve been exploring a new medium, the “filmerick” (limericks to summarize great films). Over the weekend my daughter and I were fortunate to catch a special screening of Blow-Up at the Harvard Film Archive, and here’s what I came up with:
BLOW-UP (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1966)
A portrait of visual glories,
And behavior abhorrent to Tories,
Signor Antonioni,
Has certainly shown he
Can spin some great shaggy-dog stories.
The film itself is great, of course: a wonderful, touchingly sad meander through 1960s London, ushering in what would later be recognized as a golden age of the cinema of urban alienation and the search for meaning amid the chaos of modern life.
I was especially moved by how beautifully Antonioni filmed both the perfectly balanced “design world” (fashion shoots, bohemian artist “live-work space”) and the eclectic clutter of “real London” (crowds and demonstrations, junk shops, construction sites). Both draw you in – part of the mystery implied in every shot – and one leaves the film with an appreciation for the eye’s uncanny ability to frame and capture the art all around us. (Although whether we can every truly grasp and understand what we capture is another story altogether…)
