Ramblings of the writing impaired

I can’t post a review for every move I watch, but maybe I can keep track of my thoughts.

Today I watched Darren Aronofsky film ‘The Fountain’. I was a little worried because the first time I had seen it I had been blown away by it’s beauty and complexity, listed it as a ‘Six start film’ and purchased the DVD. I worried that something that left such a strong impression could live up the the legacy left in my memory but as I watched it I realized my fears were unjustified and was caught up in it once more. I began thinking of life, death and love. But also my own selfishness.

I call myself an artist, but do I try to be one because I love film, and find that only watching movies is not proactive enough? Or do I love films because I’m an artist. Do I interact with other people only to study there reaction and response so I can put it in my films? Thinking about that brings to mind the struggle that Karin’s father faces in ‘Through a Glass Darkly’ as he dealt with the guilt of using her condition as content for his novels.

I had had a huge argument with my boss a few weeks ago, I remember I was just trying to be responsible and take accountability for some problem I had created, unfortunately I have a bad habit of expressing myself using absolutes which made her see my attempt to amend my errors and open attacks on her authority. I was confused, having said what I said to defuse a situation that suddenly paled in comparison to the outburst that occurred because of my statement. I went home that day terrified because of the unpredictability of the outburst and even began to question the security of my job. I brooded the rest of that day, pissed and tense from fear. Shortly before I went to bed I got a massive brainwave, and the unexpected outburst then became a useful building block for a script that I have in outline from. I was still worried about my job but I could use this to create a more realistic and believable character for my movie. Sometimes I feel like a leach feeding on the people around me just so I can express myself artistically.

When I’m not working on a film for an extended period of time I get depressed, it’s not the kind of depression that could escalate to suicidal depression, I could never commit suicide, that would be a grave crime against all of my unmade films. I feel like I need to keep pushing, keep making films even if no one watches them, sometimes I feel that that is my only love. Which seems sad, only loving arts seems so empty. Right now I feel like I haven’t created anything that is truly good, everything I made is just an exercise so I can start making films that are really worth while, sort of like Don Hertzfeldt, he said that everything up to ‘Rejected’ had sort of been him familiarizing himself with the medium so he could make great stuff like ‘The Meaning of Life’ and ‘Everything Will Be OK’.

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