The movie was long. And, unfortunately, starred me. There was a lot of slightly sorrowful staring out of windows, A lot of bad poetry. A lot of weak, blank, wonder, so much that was out of focus and abstract, too much faint, distant hum of traffic! Too much that was anxiously happening just beyond my understanding---and I was anxious because of that. I wish I had been more a part of things, but the movie had scenes that were indescribably poignant and brief! Moments inside of moments. Scenes of sorrow which bled into scenes of sorrow without relief. Anxiety was the worst thing about the film. The director tried to fix this with sorrow. Melancholy was preferable to anxiety, especially in terms of aesthetics. The cinematographer, Pierre L. God, had vision, but was quirky, mysterious, and moody. The director shouldn't have, but often resented, even hated, the cinematographer! The lead actress was exquisite, but kept thinking she was in another movie. That was very upsetting. There was always a problem with the popcorn. Something was always happening in the lobby. A disturbance. Maybe laughter. I would have to go out there. My poem always needed editing. The reviews were bad. I often didn't read them. That was my right. The acting was OK. A little obvious at times. The worst part of the movie was it was predictable, but also I hated when the film would break. I woke to the same film, but in pieces. The way the rain would invade. I needed better actors. They were always too sincere. I wanted the film to be more in the moment. It was never here. I blame that on my acting. I wanted to act, but was always myself. Just now I looked up from this. The half-darkness, as usual, no help.
