Strep, Gyllenhaal, and Vietnam Music
I went to the doctor and he said, “Well, it’s either mono or strep throat. Let’s hope it’s strep throat.” So I sat at home and logged in some hours on Madden, and put Terrell Owens on the Atlanta Falcons to see how that would feel, and after one game, I couldn’t stomach throwing him the ball—I still hate that guy.
I also took in a matinee yesterday. I saw Jarhead. I have to admit that I’m a big fan of Jake Gyllenhaal; loved Donnie Darko, The Good Girl, and most importantly Bubble Boy. And on a shallower level and proof that commercialism lures me in the same way the scent of a stripper does—that Kanye West song, “Jesus Walks” just made the commercial for that movie look that much better.
With that said, it was a movie about war, without the war. There was some great cinematography and some good lines that talked about a soldier’s or a sniper’s relationship with his gun. And there are things that he didn’t want to tell you, and his memory became physical and this door kept shutting on his secrets, and the door opened up to the things that he was comfortable talking about. But as much as it felt like it could be, it felt like it feel short just because I didn’t care for any of the soldiers, no relationships felt forged, felt honest, felt real, and by the time someone did die—didn’t matter and you couldn’t feel for the characters. If it was the intension to make you feel numb to war, I did. If it was its intension to make you feel empathy for anyone, I didn’t. I wish it was better. It had room and the stage to be great.
Best line: A chopper is flying by playing “Break on Through” by the Doors, and Gyllenhaal stares up and is irritated, and says, “That’s Vietnam music. Can’t we get our own music?”
I’m going to see “Walk the Line,” the flick about Johnny Cash and I’m hoping that sits with me better than “Jarhead” did.
I also took in a matinee yesterday. I saw Jarhead. I have to admit that I’m a big fan of Jake Gyllenhaal; loved Donnie Darko, The Good Girl, and most importantly Bubble Boy. And on a shallower level and proof that commercialism lures me in the same way the scent of a stripper does—that Kanye West song, “Jesus Walks” just made the commercial for that movie look that much better.
With that said, it was a movie about war, without the war. There was some great cinematography and some good lines that talked about a soldier’s or a sniper’s relationship with his gun. And there are things that he didn’t want to tell you, and his memory became physical and this door kept shutting on his secrets, and the door opened up to the things that he was comfortable talking about. But as much as it felt like it could be, it felt like it feel short just because I didn’t care for any of the soldiers, no relationships felt forged, felt honest, felt real, and by the time someone did die—didn’t matter and you couldn’t feel for the characters. If it was the intension to make you feel numb to war, I did. If it was its intension to make you feel empathy for anyone, I didn’t. I wish it was better. It had room and the stage to be great.
Best line: A chopper is flying by playing “Break on Through” by the Doors, and Gyllenhaal stares up and is irritated, and says, “That’s Vietnam music. Can’t we get our own music?”
I’m going to see “Walk the Line,” the flick about Johnny Cash and I’m hoping that sits with me better than “Jarhead” did.
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