And by God, I mean that. I just watched all 68 minutes of The Man With a Movie Camera. Think USSR, 1929. What I found amazing is how he managed to pair his form (montage [editing], and lots of trick shots) with his content (a day in the lives [not LIFE, because this is Soviet Cinema, goddamnit, and we're talking about the proletariat here, not the silly little individual] of the Russian people). His style of filming combines a paradox of the artificial and the naturalistic; yet he manages to connect the two with industry. MY GOD!!!
Okay, I'm going to calm down now. Most of you probably don't care about Dziga Vertov, anyway. Well, you should. Dziga Vertov is my homeboy.
So this one time I was wandering the streets of Ogunquit, Maine, pretending not to be a tourist, when the woman in front of me stops walking and shouts at her boyfriend, as loud as anyone ever has, "Oh my God, your ass is HUGE!" I guess tourist towns bring together a conglomeration of really unusual people. They're tourists, so they're kinda homogenous in that respect, but they (should I be saying we?) each bring a little special something to my favorite part of Maine. In this case, it was a gargantuan ass, but I guess that's better than nothing...
By the way, I'm listening to the soundtrack for Frida at the moment. I've kinda been listening to it on a permanent loop for the last four days. There's a slightly hilarious song called "La llorona" which includes the lyric "Yo soy como un chile verde, llorona, picante, pero sabroso," which translates to "I'm like a green chile, weeping woman, spicy, but...delicious!"
I just think that's pretty amazing. In a funny little way. Or maybe I'm just tired and need some sleep.