I'll Go Tomorrow
I was going to go to a movie tonight in Berkeley. Guinevere, the story of a photographer and his model, a May-December romance told from the viewpoint of the young woman, a first directorial effort by a screenwriter named Audrey Wells. I watched the Guinevere trailer yesterday afternoon waiting to see The Minus Man, another first directorial effort by the screenwriter who wrote Blade Runner. It was a screenwriter turned director sort of an afternoon. The Minus Man was good (serial killer, not particularly bloody, different twist, worth seeing), but I was more interested in the Guinevere trailer.
A young woman, still living with her family, is photographed by a "famous photographer". She photographs well. Stuff happens. The line that got my interest was the photographer saying to the young woman that they could live together if she spent time creating. Didn't matter what. Could be photographs, sculpture, crayons on paper. Her choice. She replied she'd been thinking more in terms of cooking meals. (Dimpled smile.) No. Create. She had to work at creating something in order to live in this guy's studio.
That got me. I wanted to see that. The old fart (famous but fading?) photographer shacking up with the young attractive girl model is a nice fantasy from an old fart's perspective, I suppose, but the hook was the apparent attempt to examine of the nature of the artist. I'm a sucker for a good life meets art movie. I got all this, you'll notice, from watching a three minute trailer. This entire story line. Are we projecting, Prop? Sitting in the theater with your camera on your lap, fantasizing? Are you the mentor or the student? I'm the student. We're all students.
Well, I decided not to go. Perhaps later this week or the coming weekend if it's still around. Rent it when it's released on tape. I read three Internet reviews earlier this evening and two of them stressed it was just a tired young girl - old guy rehash, not worth driving across town to see on a week night when I have to get up in the morning. One of the reviews was more favorable, stressing the mentor relationship and the growth of the young girl into a woman of broader perspective and understanding. I shouldn't read reviews. I should have trusted my instincts and seen the movie for myself. The trailer did get to me. How often can you say that? Movie reviewers. Maybe I'll go tomorrow.
Mr. Wuss is eating the vet's cat food. He's not liking it and he's making a point to tell me about it when I get home from work, but he settles down, eats some of what's offered and curls up on the desk. He's skinnier and I can feel the hip bones under his skin, but he's better. As to whether or not he's OK, I don't really know. He goes back to the vet for more tests in November.