What have I seen lately
The Internet users were buzzing about the latest image of Bill Murray. It was an uncouth Tom Hanks until they realized their mistake. Apart from Wes Anderson's films, where Murray was one of the regular actors, he was sporadic on the big screen these last few years. Animation features may not count unless the "Ghostbusters" star appeared in a Pixar picture. I suspected that Murray's wry humor might not jive with Pixar's, which would be a light comedy. On the other hand, Mel Gibson was making rounds of appearance lately. It wouldn't surprise me if he could revive his career during his sunset years. After all, Hollywood actors tend to look out for their colleagues especially the talented ones. I was thinking of his early career, where he starred in some fine dramas.
Cinema and Modernism turned out to be a challenging module. After writing about "Battleship Potemkin" and "Metropolis," a conversation on the possible demise of the Wachowski siblings would turn out to be a perfect distraction. There were historical references, so I would ask my dormmate about it. He seemed irritated, even distracted, as he would focus on the plight of the New York Knicks (during his break from the coursework). Adam was a walking encyclopedia on World Cinema, who would recommend some foreign films (with English subtitles). He understood my hesitation to rave Atom Egoyan's films. I might have seen too many Hollywood pictures, such that I would prefer a straight narrative. I might have the patience to decipher the subtle messages in short stories, even novels. But cinema would be a whole new ballgame. I would struggle in German Expressionism, and I found out from older students that my sensibilities would be put to the test after watching the films of Werner Herzog.
The perks of armchair traveling
Readers, including students, would be told to look at this list (and that one). It could be a comprehensive look at English literature, the hundred novels that must be read during a lifetime. I don't mean to be ungrateful to the Victorian authors, even the gifted writers in Children's literature, but an elitist attitude might have influenced the outcome. I was thrilled to read pulp short stories, which my father would give to me as birthday presents. The authors, most of whom I couldn't recall at the moment, wouldn't pretend to be Daniel Defoe. It was a simple yarn, which might be a perfect way to kill time. These writers led an eventful existence, but it would be an understatement. They knew that a good story could be found somewhere in the remote regions of the world. Sir Henry Rider Haggard would be their inspiration.
The Grand Canyon intrigued me for years. It was a postcard-perfect place, and adventurous souls would dare to explore the recesses. I imagined the challenges, but it seemed a walk in a park compared to Haggard's exploits. My cousin teased me about his holiday in Cape Town a few years ago, which seemed like the end of the world. Two oceans would meet in front of the seaside metropolis, and the desert was the backyard. He didn't venture into the Namibian desert, but he was told about the harsh beauty of the arid landscape. I could imagine it, even plan a holiday. For now, I would content myself with the changing colors of the leaves.
