I saw a great play at Theatre Y in Lawndale. In it, a man wrestles with his family’s history during the Spanish Civil War and its aftermath. Like so much else these days it’s difficult not to relate it to the unraveling of this country right now. Art is often that way. Whatever it’s about, we make it about our own problems and times.
Ross McElwee came to the Music Box for a Q&A after a 40th anniversary screening of Sherman’s March. The last time I saw it was in the late 80s at the Coolidge. It’s a movie that starts out to trace General Sherman’s bloody path through the South to conclude the Civil War but ends up a messy dive into the filmmaker’s love and family life. Fewer casualties but still plenty of damage.
I watched a couple more of McElwee’s films at home ahead of seeing his new one later this week. What ties all his movies together is his neurotic, often funny narration. He’s this awkward looming man with the camera on his shoulder. Not fully participating in the events of his life in favor of capturing them on film, yet making it all about himself anyway. I know that move very well.
A lot of the stuff this week is about where memory and family meet. There’s a part of any art that’s happening in the moment but most of it, necessarily, is concerned with some version of personal or societal past.
Christopher Nolan’s remarkable new adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey is yet another example. Anyone who goes to see it and doesn’t receive the clear message to the powers that be isn’t paying attention.
I recorded the Sound and Fury book-release Saturday at Tangible. It was a small gathering but friends showed up and there was good conversation.
I contributed some art for a new press.
Go see Carla Simón’s new one, Romería, then her previous two if you haven’t seen those. More family/memory business.
Listen to Tether by Alden Hellmuth. A new favorite.