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calvary.

By • On • In 28 days later, movies, scott, Uncategorized • 1 min read

January is over, and so far I’ve been back to my usual movie watching. Reunited with my first love, and it feels so good.

One of the very best films I’ve seen so far this year is John Michael McDonagh’s Calvary. 

The film opens with Father James, a small town priest, hearing confessions. An anonymous parishioner promises to kill him the following Sunday, because the man was raped by a different priest as a child. The film then follows Father James attempting to come to terms with his life and vocation, while deciding if he will leave town, defend himself, or accept his fate.

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Calvary works with the efficiency of an assassin. There isn’t a wasted frame in the film. Especially in terms of the film’s dark humor. Brendan Gleeson is one of the most under-appreciated actors alive. He’s even better in Calvary than he was in McDonagh’s previous outing, The Guard.

The depth and subtlety of both the writing and the performances are captivating, and the acid humor, anger, and tenderness are all so impeccably delivered. These performances are enhanced by how visually beautiful the film is. The cinematography is really photographic. The camera doesn’t move. Wonderfully framed shots are set up and that is where the shot is held, frame after perfect frame. The fact that the camera isn’t moving leaves the viewer alone with the gravity of the moment.

You should watch this one.

 

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what does that feel like?

By • On • In 28 days later, scott, sports • 1 min read

What does it feel like to fail profoundly when absolutely everyone can see you?

Last night, in one play, the Seahawks went from certain repeat champs to losers. The difference was literally the absolute worst play call I have ever seen in sports. Not a dropped pass or missed timing, not a fumble or even just a mere interception (although interception it was), but a conscious decision to do something that made no sense and is unambiguously bizarre.

What does it feel like to make the call that wipes away a season’s worth of effort, rendering moot so much blood and sweat spent, men playing injured and tired? And what does it feel like to fail like that during the most watched event on television?

I’m a Giants fan, with the exception of OBJ my favorite team was abysmal this year, so I don’t mean this question bitingly. I’m not asking as a dig at the two men who made that play call. I mean that sincerely. How the fuck do you bounce back from that sort of profound failure? Where everything you work for distills down to one moment and you make a strange decision that you will forever wish you could take back?

I’m not sure I could. I can’t be certain I’d have the resilience required to fail like that in front of everyone and get back up and try again.

Without hyperbole, the end of that game will be remembered for how bizarre and nonsensical that decision was, and I just can’t wrap my brain around what it must feel like in the wake of failure that will forever be connected to your name. It’s not often I’m happy I was never talented or gifted enough to be an athlete, but today is one of those times.

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28 days later.

By • On • In 28 days later, scott • 1 min read

Writing is often a solitary act. For some, this is experienced as loneliness; for others it is experienced as a blessed relief from other people. For someone like me, who in every personality testing metric always hovers right on the tipping point between introvert and extrovert, it is often both lonely and a relief. That’s a big part of the reason why I’m always attempting to incorporate the people I love into my writing process. Trigger Fiction is a great example, where I make stuff up based on prompts my friends have given me.

Yet, the fact I’m still writing at all is due in no small part to a silly writing challenge with my friend way back in 2004. I wanted to try to write more often to see if I could learn to be any good at it, so I teamed up with my friend, referred to as Waldo Nelsonsonton for privacy purposes, and we endeavored to force ourselves to write every day for as long as possible. Without that rhythm, and without seeing what changes and emerges when writing is actually happening every day, I probably would have lost interest and never would have realized just how important writing can be for me personally.

The other day, we were chatting and realized we both needed that sort of kick in the creative ass again. I’m finally getting a bit of momentum in my writing for the first time in a long while, and what better way to push that forward and keep things rolling than to jump back in with Timmy the Fish in a winner takes all test of writing endurance.

A new post. Every day in February. Waldo named it 28 Days Later.

May the shortest man win.

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