The film zooms in on the players–the guitar necks, the cymbals–and occasional two or three person shots (but very rarely faces).
The faces come in the interstitials, where the filmmakers show the band walking around (getting on subways–walking in rain), and where they talk to fans.
The film is gorgeously shot, but I have to admit it’s not the kind of live show that I enjoy watching. It’s a little dull–not in individual moments because just about every shot is gorgeous, but in five-minute blocks. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing how these guys make this wall of music. I love watching Stuart’s hands on the neck of his guitar, but this is not a very mobile bunch. Indeed, many of the people in the audience seem to just be closing their eyes and absorbing the music rather than watching them. And I found myself doing the same thing (in which case, I would just get an audio concert, right?). This is compounded by the fact that the camera is in so tight, any big movements are missed.
This is not to say that there aren’t moments of brilliance to see. Watching the band wait and wait and wait as the chords from “Fear Satan” fade out before they blast into the finale is pretty darn awesome. And there are moments like that–crisp clarity where everything comes together.
Some kind souls have put the entire show on YouTube. Here’s part 3 (with “Fear Satan”)
And the fan who speaks over the closing credits is trippy but cool.
[READ: July 31, 2012] “The Places You Find Yourself”
I found this story because a reader left a comment that Junot Díaz’ story ”The Cheater’s Guide to Love” was just like this one.
I have to disagree almost entirely with that sentiment because Díaz’ story talks about what it is like after someone has broken up with you and this story is about being stuck in a relationship that you feel compelled to get out of.
Edwards’ story (which won the 2009 Open City Rrofihe Trophy) is about settling. And it’s a very realistic portrayal of the frustrations of life: relationships, job, commute–it’s a rather cathartic story. It is especially cathartic because there is no main character, only “you.” And Edwards keeps this second person narrator throughout the story.
The story is set up as a series of monogamous relationships: “Then one morning you’ll wake up and there will be another one lying next to you, maybe this one a brunette…”
But for now, he is stuck with Heather or is it Kelly (let’s call her Heather Kelly. She is wearing old panties…the ones with holes and your old shirt. It pisses you off (even though it means she is so wonderfully comfortable with you). She also doesn’t shave enough and those prickly hairs are so annoying. And she cut her hair after she started getting fat. Ugh. “You” are kind of a jackass, but not an unusual one.
But Heather isn’t your only problem. Your work life is boring as anything–meetings you don’t care about, a coworker who used to be fun but now just imitates (remember how you were going to start a microbrew together? Ha). If only you had become a fireman like you said you were going to when you were a kid (do fireman ever fantasize about working in a cube?).
And then there’s the commute. There’ s a part near the end where the commute crisis comes to a head and real catharsis is almost achieved. It almost changes everything. Almost.
The content of the story doesn’t seem that original because it is so familiar. I mean, we could probably all write some of this. But it’s really what Edwards has done with it that makes it so interesting. I have to thank the comment for introducing me to Edwards.
This story is available here.
For ease of searching, I include: Junot Diaz.