Marty Supreme

The Doula and The Kibbitzer are in Tucson for their annual visit, and this year the sun is actually shining on them. We've been friends for more than 50 years. That's a lot of memories and stories to tell and retell, but there's one that always comes up first - the 2019 Oscar nominated Live Action Short Films at The Loft.  I wrote a post about it, and I think the title - Why? - says it all.

The Loft is Tucson's art house, showing films the chains ignore. I decided long ago that lunatics have never heard of it so I don't have to worry about intersecting with guns (cf Aurora and The Dark Knight). We three have seen lots of wonderful films there and I've seen some duds on my own.  But until Friday night, we've never seen one without a single likeable character.  

Not one, unless you count the Auschwitz survivor, and he's onscreen for two short scenes.  

That alone tells you something about the film in general, though there are lots of particulars to dissect.  The music is fabulous.  It tries to tell you how to feel, and, for the most part it succeeds.  That's important, because the unlikeable characters do unlikeable things and you're not supposed to smile at the silliness in which it's wrapped.  

Your eyes and ears are at war for two hours and thirty minutes.

Timothee Chalamet is a chameleon.  There was no boundary between the actor and the character.  He was totally believable.  Why anyone would want to inhabit that character is another story.  He is selfish and reckless and untrustworthy.  He's a grifter who avoids responsibility, invoking his talent and the respect he must show it as justification for putting his friends in jeopardy.  

And, it was long. 

Some of us liked it more than others, and all of us were glad that it wasn't about an abandoned kid on a beach; or a son, a father, and a shotgun; or quicksand.  Those 2019 films will live in our heads forever.