Recent days have been increasingly involved in prepping for the coming shift back to Madrid. Between that and getting house/land ready for Vermont's long winter, my little head has been swimming with details. Lists sprout up, I work my way through them, most everything falling into nicely into place. But still, an ocean of details. To the point that the last two mornings have found me awake far, far too early, gray matter working away at things that need to be done.
Yesterday: decided I needed a break, drove into town to the small local arty movie house to see a late-afternoon matinee of The Return, a first-time effort by a young Russian director that's scored good write-ups. A film I might have skipped, except that it's been compared to work by Tarkovsky, making me curious.
Visually beautiful, great acting. But a heavy, tense slog clocking in just under two hours and feeling SO much longer. Found myself sitting in my chair after the lights came up, my little battered brain calling feebly for comic relief. The theater was scheduled to show I Heart Huckabees a short time later, a film that's picked up wildly mixed reviews. (Examples: N.Y. Times -- "The film is a snort-out-loud-funny master class of controlled chaos." Washington Post -- "It's uncompromisingly bad, single-mindedly off-target." Huh?) Decided to chance it. Walked out into the falling darkness, Montpelier virtually empty of traffic and people, virtually all businesses closed up in normal Sunday evening fashion. The air cold, an unfriendly breeze blowing, the few folks out wearing winter duds.
Went and bothered an ATM machine, searched in vain for somewhere to sit with a cup of coffee, tea, soup or tepid water. Gave up, went back to the theater, found a seat, waited for the movie. Which turned out to be a hoot, dealing with the heaviest of questions in the silliest of ways. (Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin: god bless 'em. Isabelle Huppert: yowza!) Not for those jonesing after your standard Hollywood fare, though.
Worked for me, however. Sent me out the door happy.
In about 84 hours I'm out of here, and the date of departure seems to be rolling in this direction at unnerving speed.
Ah, well. A day at a time.
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One-of-a-kind residence: underground house -- Montpelier, VT
Madrid, te echo de menos.
rws 1:47 PM [+]
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