Showing posts with label the story of the weeping camel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the story of the weeping camel. Show all posts

Saturday, November 17, 2007

half nelson


I’m learning there are movies I love that I shouldn’t bother mentioning. At least not with zeal. Like I did not too long ago recommending Kitchen Stories to a Norwegian-American, sure that he would love the subtlety of the way that story’s told; certain that the sacrifice that’s made at movie’s end would devastate him as it did me.

It didn’t.

The Story of the Weeping Camel is another one that I regret ever mentioning to anyone, because of course no one will ever watch it. Would you be caught dead renting a movie called “The Story of the Weeping Camel”? Of course you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have been caught buying a ticket myself -- I only saw it because I got free passes. (But it’s so good! But forget I mentioned it.)

Then there was Kung Fu Hustle. Popped it in for movie night with friends and laughed uproariously -- until I realized too late that I was the only one. Everyone else was horrified. (Mostly. They warmed up about midway through.) [1]

Half Nelson may be another one. Watched it last night after I tucked in Mr. Hoo and his IV drip at the hospital and returned home late to a quick dinner of scrambled eggs and the very last dregs of my sister’s homemade chutney (sweet mercy so good) (‘specially with a little dollop of Greek yogurt on there as well) and popped in the movie for company.

So subtle. So well-played. Brilliant performances by all the principles. Unnerving story line -- a high school history teacher / girl’s basketball coach / frustrated writer who dopes up in the margins of his life, is discovered by one his students -- a young girl surrounded by her own tough challenges as a kid in the inner city. A young girl who had anchored in him. Which makes her discovery of her teacher in a stall in the girls’ locker room with a crack pipe that much more complicated. She’s black, he’s white. She’s 13, he’s not.

Somehow, by the end, their friendship gets them where they need to go. Still: it’s messy, and ambiguous, and unresolved. But solid.

Made my heart ache in ways it hasn’t since I was 13 and looking for a hero.

Definitely one of those movies I’m glad I watched alone, because if I’d seen it with someone else I’d be wondering about their reaction -- did it effect them in the same way? And if it didn't there would be that post-movie conversation that would drain away the rich broth of emotion that the movie left me steeping in.

So let’s pretend I never mentioned it.


[1] If you happen to be one of those who really dug Kung Fu Hustle, and have a thing for the Iron Chef, check out The God of Cookery (if you can find it) -- produced by some of the same folks who were involved in Hustle, and definitely of the same flavor. You won’t be disappointed. I don’t think. But what the hell do I know.
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