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Tag: Movies
While You Are Watching Netflix
he is pondering the sound of crickets, he swims outside every night, listening to the rubbing of wings, chirps, we call them, mating sounds, darkness attraction, he has noticed the transition from october to december, dissipating insects, a little less with each cold night, moon fattens, sheds light, then gradually disappears, grows full again, & all the while you are indoors, scrolling through trending & top picks for you, top 10 movies, looking for answers, a way to kill time, exist, alone, or with ice cream, your screen escape, watching drama, violence, comedy, night after night, hoping for something good, something that matters, meanwhile, he’s outside contemplating dusk, counting stars as they appear in the sky, you ask, why? he pauses to reflect, each evening is different, is his reply.
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
all white faces at new trier high school, john hughes film trademark, vanilla chicago, the only actors of color that i can recall were the two guys who took the red ferrari for a joy ride, but this isn’t a political poetic meandering, only painting the picture, backdrop if you will, matthew broderick, that envious grin, i always win, and rooney, who always loses in pursuit of bureaucratic justice, pick and choose your nuance, warm gummy bears, sausage king abe froman, voodoo economics, student drool, these are ornaments, but the narrative throughline wears a redwings jersey, we are talking about sickly cameron, neglected cameron, angry cameron, by product of capitalism gone too far, this part gets dark, like that molly ringwald/judd nelson tension, like collapsing into a pool, like killing a car, and perhaps this is the whole point of the film, have fun, enjoy wealth, but if your kid is sick, urge them to wrap a hot towel around their head, shows you care.
Barbie
proportions have been measured, false construct, loved by all, hated by many, icon of what was and will never be, songs sell her, pop is her culture, warhol and gerwig, paint and project her, money made her, throw her away and she comes back, plastic american boomerang, life after death, like monroe, immortal it seems, a dream and a nightmare.
The Screen Reaper
The screen reaper has taken all the books away. The ones we used to read by the fireplace, or on the rug, or in bed, or underneath a tree. The screen reaper doesn’t care about your memories or narrative works assembled on page after page, plots, characters, all those stories shaped in your head. No, instead it offers the everything/nothing, of videos, tv shows, movies, colorful clothes draped on dancing bodies, never-ending updates, snap maps, instagram images, and tiktok temptations. The screen reaper wants it all, all of you, your eyes, brain, mind, and time.
And most of us never fight back, we open the computer, clutch the clicker, scroll with our very own fingers, authors of our demise. The screen reaper has taken all the books away, and yet we let it stay, perhaps forever, it will be this way.
Stanford Theatre
Stand by Me
We wanted to follow
railroad tracks and sleep
under stars, maybe cook
up hot dogs without
a strict parent seeing
us wipe the grease
on our jeans. This
was 1986 when Polo
shirts were everything, not
following dreams or watching
morning deer, or thinking
about writing, or what
friendship could mean. But
Stand by Me let
in a little light
so we could remember
who we really are.
Who Was Judd Nelson?
St. Elmo’s Fire, now obscure
80’s movie, song, stuck in my head
I imagine myself ninety two
like my grandmother once was
humming lyrics, words
Bye Bye Blackbird
in a room full of people
with blank faces
Judd Nelson long forgotten
Daniel W. Polk 