Lynn Shelton - YOUR SISTER'S SISTER

(SPOILER ALERT)

Mark Duplass always plays the same character, and even though I don't know if that means he's just himself, or if he's meant to portray this kind of character over and over again, but all that matters is that in the end he is just really good at it. That is also the reason why I decided to go see YOUR SISTER'S SISTER. I remembered reading some disappointing review in L Magazine back in early Spring when I was still living in Brooklyn. But last Wednesday afternoon, after the gym, I was truly bored and decided to bike to the movie theater. I first purchased a ticket for TO ROME WITH LOVE, thinking, why not see a movie I had already seen, that way I could walk out and go home whenever I felt like it. Of course I would never walk out of a movie that I hadn't seen before (I didn't even do that watching '9 SONGS' in theaters), but I guess I do have commitment issues when it comes to seeing films. Destiny doesn't exist, so it must have been coincidence, that the screening of TO ROME WITH LOVE was delayed. I exchanged my ticket and sat down in hall 3 instead, where they were showing YOUR SISTER'S SISTER. I noticed the great amount of wine drinking wrinkled women around me, so I called my boyfriend in a haze, and because it takes only 2 minutes to bike from our house to the cinema, we ended up watching the movie together.

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Lynn Shelton has always been great at showing us authentic portrayals of relationships, mostly in a way where we feel the reality of the authenticity in a slightly painful way, because we recognize so much of our own wrongdoings, our own decision-making anxieties, our own insecurities and strengths.

Because she is an independent film maker, it surprised me when I saw her directing an episode of MAD MEN a while ago. Season 4, Episode 10, where Don Draper is getting paranoid after FBI G-men started digging into his past. I remember that episode being extremely haunting - Don throwing up in the bathroom after having a panic attack, Joan having an abortion, Lane breaking to his father that he is in love with a black woman - all these things were very touchy and yet authentic subject matters, which Lynn Shelton managed to show in the most sensitive and sympathetic manner.

She does that in her movies too. HUMPDAY was one of those examples. Two heterosexual long lost guy friends try to make a porn movie, masked as an artistic experiment, to find out if what they really want/have in life is truly IT for them. I was extremely overwhelmed, in a complete positive way, by the originality and kindness of the characters and story.

Now, YOUR SISTER'S SISTER is a bit of a different issue.
Mark Duplass plays Jack, a simple guy, probably in his early thirties, whose best friend Iris (Emily Blunt) suggests to him to take some time off from city life and retreat to her fathers cabin on some island in a forest, to think about his life and calm down a bit. When he arrives there he finds Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt), Iris's half-sister, who had the same idea, to the lack of Iris's or Jack's knowledge. Quickly, though, Jack and Hannah get talking and have a bit too much tequila and end up sleeping together. The morning after, Iris appears for a surprise visit and things get really awkward quickly, since Hannah and Jack don't think it would be a good idea to tell Iris about their little one night stand. But of course the truth comes out, and Iris being in love with Jack doesn't really help the situation much...

Here we have Lynn Shelton experimenting with Hollywood cliches somewhat, but this is not hurting the story at all. A popular Emily Blunt and an improved cinematographic aesthetic are unusual for Shelton's work. No shaky hand-cameras here like in early mumblecore films, which always was the edgy gimmick, or rather, excuse, that made those films so extraordinarily authentic. But Shelton finds the perfect balance here between strong, convincing dialogue which never comes off as over-the-top or unreal, and, of course, beautiful cliche moments that don't seem to hurt the story. Calming shots of the log-cabin where most of the story takes place, and some of the forest and lake nearby, remind of how quaint and peaceful the setting is, in which the three characters live through so many emotions in such a short time. The dynamic between the actors is incredible. At no time whatsoever do we feel dislike for either of them, maybe because they remind us of ourselves, our desires and the mistakes we make to get what we want in life, the journeys we go on, the risks we take, just so we can get something good in the end - and there simply is nothing wrong with that, because it is of human character to always seek happiness.

It was surprising to see Emily Blunt being so amazingly genuine and palpable, beautiful as ever with no makeup at all. Her character Iris seems approachable. She is in love with her best friend and doesn't know if telling him would ruin things or improve her life. Her struggle is one known to probably a few of the movie goers, and I felt empathy towards her throughout. Rosemarie DeWitt's character Hannah had it a bit more difficult, since her struggle was a bit more advanced - a single lesbian woman who just got out of a 7-year relationship who wishes nothing more than to become a mother. Her desperation and sadness was natural nevertheless.

Jack, portrayed by Duplass, was the most alluring of them, though. When sent to the cabin by Iris, Jack was basically thrown into more trouble, more problems, got drunk and slept with Hannah, did something natural, made a mistake probably a bunch of people would do, simply because he is human. But when confronted with Hannah's and Iris's truths, overwhelmed by it all, he runs away and goes on a bike ride through the mountains, through the small towns along the way, trying to find out what the fuck he should do now. Having to decide what's the right thing is a hard decision to make as an adult, probably the hardest there is.Mark Duplass at crossroads is so very endearing, we just want the best for him, for him to get the girl and for him to be happy. He's not necessarily a hero, he's not an anti-hero either, he is just a person with many tragic flaws to count, just like you and me. But he makes it through, and that makes us happy, because it gives us hope to make it through ourselves.

We don't get that feeling from Hollywood movies. They give an idea of what could be, of who we would want to be if we had the chance, but we know that there is no such chance, not in our wildest dreams. What the mumblecore movement always has been about was to give us stories closer to home, closer to reality. They never were absurdly intense or shocking, like the Danish Dogme movies, which pledged their authenticity vowing to not add any artificial effects, lighting or editing to their movies, but always had rather intense and overly dramatic portrayals of deeply disturbed characters. Mumblecore filmmakers never obsessed over these kind of extreme measures. Their authenticity comes from the heart, and Lynn Shelton shows this so very well in YOUR SISTER'S SISTER.

Stagnation is Regression

Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.
- John F. Kennedy

I am supposed to write 200 words a day, as the instructions clearly were set by my boyfriend a few weeks ago. I have been stagnating and struggling with the idea of being able to do so. This is the result of boredom, perhaps. Maybe it is just a lack of self-motivation. I can play all the iPhone-games I want in the meantime. Fact is, there is something to be said and why not say it here, other than keep it to myself, or quietly thinking it to myself in my head - oh, how great it would sound on paper, or typed out on this blog. I make up the perfect sentences in my head, sometimes I wish I had a dictating machine, it would make things easier. Maybe I should order one. I remember some kids had one in class last semester, to record the tougher lectures on American government and Iraq politics. I was jealous that I didn't have the money to get one myself. I guess it would have helped understand a few things a bit better (I got an A nevertheless, after writing an A+ paper about the USA as a spin-off of the Roman Empire). However, this needs to stop - I clearly have been fooling myself with thinking that telling these stories to myself in my head could be any more significant than writing them down. Here I am, being honest.

I watched a lot of movies lately. We got one of those movie passes that are only 20 Euro a month and then you can watch as many films as you may wish for that. An all-you-can-eat for movies. It is very convenient. So far we watched TO ROME WITH LOVE, SHADOW DANCER and YOUR SISTER'S SISTER, which all proved to be interesting in different ways. I want to write about the movies and what they evoked in me. There goes the material for the next few days. I am unsure what the theme was for today's essay, but maybe it is just about how I am trying to fight this stagnation. 340 words later, I feel a better person. Good night!

Superhero Bureaucracy

[DAY 15 IN AMSTERDAM] 

In an attempt to save the world, our common superhero usually catches a few scratches. I slipped off my bike pedal today, but no one saw it when I rolled off the bike path into a creek of duckweed. The ducks were too terrified of my human size to start nibbling at me, so they quacked for a bit and drifted into other directions. I was slightly wet. But to get registered in a new country you need to overcome these kind of obstacles. Nothing is easy and you do need to eat shit sometimes, because it is all that they give you, otherwise you would starve. But enough with the metaphors, the truth is that I am a stranger in a strange new land. What are my options?
I am a European citizen, that is something you know about me now. I enjoy the advantages my Europeanity Europeness Europeism Europpp  EU citizenship entails. I was an enemy of the state when I went to the United States a few years back. Not in a dangerous criminal kind of way, no, I certainly am a politically correct person, at least I think I am. But if you go to the US as anything other than a tourist, you become THE ENEMY.

Compared to the duckweed incident earlier today, my first few weeks in New York City were an utter solitary nightmare. You are dependent on the system, yet the system is not dependent on you. It worked fine before you got there, and then when you leave it moves on as well. Your existence is a web of counterrevolutionary nonentities. You have no power. It's not the fact that I got mugged by a gang of underage crack addicts right in front of my house (where on other occasions I witnessed gang violence as its finest when somebody threw a bicycle at another person). It's also not the fact that I once got blackmailed by an unsuccessful gay actor with a bartending job who stole my identity. The citizens I encountered on my journey through New York are a different story. What kept me from becoming an accepted human being in the USA is the endless inane paperwork one needs to fill out and provide just to even walk one step on US soil. And I think that customer service employees yelling at me and connecting me to infinite loops of Old McDonald Had a Farm played their parts... There is a presumptuous emptiness to the bureaucratic hubris that this pseudo-democratic country exhibits to foreigners. I don't understand how I managed to survive those three years without ever biting the grass.

I walked into the tax office in Amsterdam today. I waited for about four minutes until I was called to the counter window, where I had to show my passport and fill out one (!) simple form. I had to wait three more minutes until my name was called to pick up my tax number. It took me 8 minutes total of being physically present in the building and it didn't cost me a penny. Now I can get a bank account, a gym membership, a phone contract, everything I need to start my life in the Netherlands. I never had any of those things in New York. I surely could have had those things, but to get there I would have had to jump through a bunch of burning hoops, and I am not that athletic. To have all these things, you must be rich, and a risk taker, and you must not care about being screwed over by government employees who speak worse English than you. One must think they do this for their own personal pleasure. There is no sense in it. US bureaucracy is the true enemy. Foolish games.

I fell of my bike today,because it is wet in Amsterdam, especially in September. My ass got some duckweed stains, that's fine. I managed to take my first successful steps into becoming an accepted person in this country, as somebody who can't be fooled, somebody who takes bureaucracy for what it is... assumed the bureaucracy I am fighting does have its intended purpose...

Die Hard (To Improve Procrastination)

This is my first essay. I will write more as soon as something bothers me. Today I am writing about books. 

When I was old enough to read, I immediately started to read books. I learned that reading a book could help you with adding information to your brain, which you later are able to use or not use, just as you please. I  also learned, that reading a book could simply be a form of full enjoyment. In the end it doesn't really matter if you read a book, because you will always forget what it said in a book unless you are truly interested in the matter of the book. That was the turning point for me, because personally, I am not interested in matters of books. Maybe I am rather interested in the sound that the dominoes make, that the old men play with in front of my house. I remember playing dominoes as a child but I rather was interested in the domino effect than the actual game (creating a domino effect with books turned out be a fun activity to me unawares).

In my free time I never read books, on occasions* I do, but most likely I wont read a book in my free time. But, as told above, I started to read books at an early age. Then, when I turned fifteen, sixteen and seventeen, I read most of the books. I read them all, you know, those novels they make you read, the ones you're supposed to read and the ones you desire to read at that age. But then I got tired of the stories and I didn't want to hear anyone's stories anymore. I thought they were lies, someone else's fabrications. I believed that I would like them much better if they were true, but what other does fiction have to offer, than just a collection of factoids and wishful thinking.

I started reading biographies instead, and although they offered me a good amount of real information, I realized very quickly that they have been written about people and events by other people, in most cases the authors were total strangers to the person they had been writing about. It was clear to me that I had to diversify my interests and I started reading autobiographies, because it crossed my mind, that only autobiographies could tell the ultimate truth. It didn't take much time for me to find out for myself, that autobiographies over all must be the biggest collections of factoids of all, because they are written by characters of the worst kind, the ones that create their own worlds within their lives, the ones that fabricate stories and fable like no other, just to remain in the world and to stay on top of it.

If I look at a book now, it has mostly only pictures in it and is some kind of work that is justified as a kind of art, that has been dealt with ad nauseam. Who cares? People will always like it. You know, I want Sylvia Plath's ghost to write an autobiography. There is a saying, that only children and fools speak the truth. It is too bad that the majority of children and fools don't write books. However after I came to that conclusion, I stopped reading books.

*M eaning that, if a book of extraordinary historical or literary importance that I haven't read yet catches my eye and/or innermost interest, I will probably read it, which CAN happen but most likely will result in disappointment. My favorite novels are "Franny & Zooey", "The Picture of Dorian Gray", and of newer work "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" and "The Hottest State". I am a fan of William Blake's prose and Noel Coward's plays. My favorite play of all time though is "Spring Awakening" by Frank Wedekind. I always have been a fan of British writers, but I love myself some Walt Whitman on a rainy day.