Welcome to the inaugural post in a new category: shit from an old notebook. The idea is to transcribe whatever scribbles I jotted down in the dark but failed to flesh out, so I can stop carrying this shit around, physically and metaphorically.
What I wrote down on the back of my Brattle membership envelope:
8/8 Goodbye, 1st <3
Paris Feb 1999
green summer light
2007 graffitied ruins
Sullivan's Studio 1 tee
"The actors are annoying. It's talky, complacent [illegible]."
Turn Me On Dammit
What I remember, Goodbye: Lola Créton renders one of the most uncomfortably genuine manifestations of depression and debilitating heartache I can remember, along with the soul sickness of not being able to move past a formative love affair that lingers in her cells like a chronic disease. Also, scarves. Those fucking French people and their scarf-wearing élan. I can't wait to see what Créton does in Olivier Assayas' Après mai, screening this Thursday at NYFF50.
What I remember, Turn: Lead Alma is plagued by an ache of a different kind but no less painful: raging hormones. She yearns for Artur but can't keep her hands off herself or off the speed dial connecting her to a phone sex line. Glassy pink lipgloss obsessively applied by a self-satified chubby blonde. Gossip at school. And a lovely interlude at a friend's older sister's apartment in Oslo, showing Alma that the world is much bigger and kinkier than her shitty little town.