Today is Thanksgiving, though you wouldn’t guess it from the sterile walls and empty smells. Visiting hours here are from 1:00-2:00 PM every day. Toy Story 3 murmurs in the background as my family and I approach the main desk.
The Descent
Nocturnal Animals with Direction and Screenplay by Tom Ford
If I were to describe my visceral reaction to Nocturnal Animals, the new Tom Ford, I’d say it was a series of peaking electric shocks followed by cardiac arrest, or as a looming tide of fear and dread which waxes until I’m forced to swallow it. Two or three times I considered leaving the theater, which in my case means I’m probably watching an exceptional film.
The Terranauts by T. C. Boyle
T. C. Boyle’s new novel is all about the plot, with the author is at his acerbic best. You would not be blamed for thinking he has no faith at all in humanity until you get to the end. I can’t tell you about that because it would be the final spoiler of all the spoilers I will not reveal.
Elle directed by Paul Verhoeven
For those that find cliché an imposition on their patience, Elle directed by Paul Verhoeven is two-edged. Yes, the film seems to find some conventions of the thriller indispensable, like the loud, sudden noise that turns out to mean nothing. And is it a spoiler to say that a character shouldn’t go down into the basement? But the film is so ingenious otherwise, so original in its plot contortions and so fuck you I’ll show you anything I want in its bravery, that ‘must see’ rings out at you from the screen.
Death Sure Changes a Person
The first time I saw Lucille after she died, she told me, “You better find someone new, Harlan, or you’ll be lonely.”
This Is the World We Live in Tomorrow
Before you enter this run-
down house, drink caffeine.
As you approach,
ignore baseball-busted
window on second floor—
you’ll never leave first. Follow
creaky path down dank hall
to third door, the only room
with blue lights dimmed. Take
a seat before the console
of your choice. Start to play
don’t stop. Don’t eat. Don’t
sleep. Let time escape
like the caged bird
from my bedroom,
the last heart-beating thing
touched by anyone
who’s ever come here.