Breaking the Piggy Bank

It wasn't long before I saw Stellan Skarsgard again, this time in Breaking the Waves, which my Interpersonal Communications teacher decided to show the class as an illustration of Interpersonal Communication concepts. We have to write a four page paper on it, which, like most of the class's written assignments, is a far greater length than the prompt actually supports. Though maybe it's just that I'm having a hard time learning to write to fill space rather than to create something interesting.

In any case, it was nice seeing the movie again after what I guess must be at least eight or nine years. I think I've seen it twice, first possibly in my high school film class, and again with Trisa. I remember being very into Lars von Trier, Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark, and I even sought out his Kingdom mini-series. For some reason I've stopped following his work since then. I see he, as a matter of fact, has a movie in theatres, right now, Melancholia. I so want to see it, but I guess part of the reason I've gotten so bad at following modern movies is that money's so much tighter for me than it used to be. I have a massive library of older, great films I have yet to watch which makes it hard to justify spending ten dollars to see something in theatres and, in the case of a less mainstream film like a Lars von Trier film, spending the money on gasoline it takes to get across town to a theatre where it's playing.

Breaking the Waves tempts me to try, though, as I'm reminded of von Trier's remarkable, unflinching cinematic voice, going for emotional extremes to argue a moralistic point. Yet he somehow avoids seeming silly, possibly because of the realism of his film style, but maybe more because his characters come off so credibly. He's one of those directors, like Ang Lee, who gets good actors and then gets extraordinary performances out of them.

You know, I think the only movie I've seen in theatre this year is Cowboys and Aliens. I can't let it end that way. I'm so damned tempted to go and see Melancholia after class to-morrow. Can't we just end money? Can I get an Occupy movement on that? Am I asking too much?

Twitter Sonnet #328

Unsynced subtitles grind out film strip meal.
Pirates plead to sailors in the dance hall.
Bad teeth crumble on the communion reel.
Mad cave man animators hit the wall.
Portuguese lists bleed into the English.
Nymphomaniac text files get lost.
Iron is useless refined from spinach.
Our pick axes bear now the fulcrum cost.
New calico cassocks confound the deaf.
Aging skeletons gradually fatten.
Four red diamonds spell Queen Elizabeth.
Tissue habits crinkle against satin.
Delayed questions lead to useless footwear.
Lemon blood soaks in the Pine-Sol nightmare.