There's no rule book for innovators like me, which sometimes makes my task difficult. But we don't do things because they're easy, we do them because they are hard (JFK said this right before he was shot in the head by Woody Harrelson's father).
Which is to say, I think I'm halfway through this wonderful adventure. I've watched exactly 39 and a half movies (the half is War for the Planet of the Apes, which I started but then got too scared of the monkeys to keep watching it alone. Rest assured, I will complete it some day), and 39 and a half is exactly one half of 79, which is how many movies are on my list right now. The problem is, it turns out my list might be a little faulty. I keep coming across movies that I have failed to include, and am constantly tortured by the age-old question: should I include documentaries, or not? Generally I lean towards "not," at least for now. But I recently unearthed an error I made 6 long months ago: including two documentaries on my original list of movies to watch!
This failure, you might wish to tell me, is due to an error in my methodology. You're free to say so, but I'd simply have to disagree with you. One of the most important parts of this undertaking since the beginning is that I sit down to watch each movie knowing as little about it as is possible. Sometimes, that is impossible, as in the case of movies that I am rewatching, or if I happen to accidentally read one line too many on the film's wikipedia page as I search to confirm that Woody Harrelson is indeed a member of the cast. As I've said before, I think going into these movies as blind as possible adds a little spice, a little flair, and a little pizzaz to my project, and I love trying to guess how Woody will pop up. My commitment to the mystery, then, is to blame for my less-than-perfect list. I can't complain too much, though—I reap; I sow.
It does leave me, however, with the pesky little problem of not being able to know for sure that I'm halfway through—it's an exciting milestone, and one I would like to celebrate. Honestly though, it's probably okay. In the end, I view this blog as a living document. Woody has plenty movies ahead of him, which means I have plenty of blog posts and hat rankings ahead of me, even after I've viewed the original 79 films. This project will live on forever, never complete until Woody releases his final movie (something which hopefully will never happen). And as we all know, infinity has no halfway point, so it's probably best not to sweat over it.
The discussion of never ending projects like this one leads us naturally to today's movie—2017's The Glass Castle, based on the memoir of the same title by Jeanette Walls. My feelings about memoirs aside (I think they're generally self-indulgent and that the very act of publishing one (let alone getting a blockbuster movie made about it) (especially when it's so heavy on the poverty porn!) is kind of weird and a thing that people shouldn't do), one aspect of this movie really stuck with me. Woody's character, your run of the mill abusive alcoholic father with a heart of gold and pretty good politics who's often so caught up in his own whimsy that he forgets he has actual responsibilities but ultimately gets written as a good guy (I really do think this is a common type, and I don't really see why Walls thought hers was particularly worthy of being read about in bookclubs across the country), has one big dream—to build a glass castle. He spends his life drawing plans for the castle, planning out everything to the smallest detail. Walls makes the castle a metaphor (something I'd normally be fine with, obviously, but it seems dumb to force metaphors onto your real life and expect others to marvel at the poeticism of your life that actually happened (if you feel that strongly about it, just write a damn novel)) for the life her father dreams of, the one he promises to his children and his wife, and the one which they are ultimately never truly able to live so long as he is around. The foundation for the castle that he has his kids dig ultimately becomes a trash heap, and the castle remains unbuilt.
The way I see it, the Woody Harrelson Film Festival is sort of my glass castle, only with one key difference. I'm going to build mine. In fact, it's already half-way built. Kind of.
Comments
Post a Comment