Monday, November 20, 2023

Recover an America that no longer exits

A new cache of DVDs from the Kensington branch of the VPL. I watched two last night. The first was Journey's End (2017), a lyric poem with language game annotations concerning a British regiment on the front lines during the last six months of WWI, when more than a million young men died. Following that, another lyric poem, and maybe the last Terrence Malick film I'll ever see, called A Hidden Life (2019), a story of honour and love, both of which are writ large, with beatings (by Nazis) in the face of honour, and the usual beautifully-shot collision of lovers' bodies weaving through open fields.

Prior to Journey's End was a trailer for American Folk (2017), one of the (many) films that no one sees in theatres, at least not in my circles. From the trailer we can infer that the film is about a young man and a young woman (both folk singers) on a plane -- when suddenly the pilot announces the plane will be turning back. The reason -- 9/11. The couple are given a van by what looks like a good witch, and together they drive across an America that, according to the quote pictured up top (from Variety), "no longer exists." True enough. But whether that refers to pre- or post-contact America remains to be seen. 

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