Black Thorns Scare Me

Tsk, tsk, Hammer Museum! As Stephen Colbert says, a wag of my finger to you (previously, it only recieved a tip o' my hat). Instead of leaving the venue with an expanded, uplifted mind, I ran away with a splitting headache. The lack of audience members and use of the smaller public program space should have immediately tipped me off. Had I been in Sherlock Holmes mode and analyzing my surroundings, one glance into the designated room would have sent me back to the bus stop.

Hammer Museum, you let me down. This is strike one.

Experimental films never appeased me in the way they do film students. When 15 minutes of a previous film course I took were dedicated to viewing a piece of tape with parts of dead insects roll across a camera lens, I knew it wasn't for me. I like cinema that entertains, not cinema composed of scenes likely to creep into my dreams and cause irreperable mental trauma. The film clips in the Hammer screening put on tonight fell squarely into the latter category.

The confusing event title "Black Thorns in the Black Box" misled me. By the description on the website, it sounded like it was a documentary about metal music. As I would soon discover, that was not the case.

hammer.ucla.edu

I met my friend in the screening room where we could barely hear ourselves speak over the eerie metal music. Once again, something which should have tipped me off that this would be a weird event. "Watson, what kind of events do this music genre generally precede?"Had I been thinking logically, that is the question I would have asked. I still had to give the Hammer the benefit of the doubt.

The event began at the typical five-minute-late mark of Hammer events. A woman came up and informed us that she would show three sets of short films. Vague. Should have been another warning sign. The first short film began with a nature scene. Cut to creepy, sallow-faced old man who possibly uses meth. Cut back to other nature scene. Cut to weird angle of a much younger sallow-faced man who appears to have already developed cataracts. Cut to some elk grazing. And so on for 9 minutes.

Thankfully the next clip ran only about 3 minutes. Filmed by a camera man who seemed to be having a seizure, I would not have been able to last any longer than that. The third clip convinced us to leave. The screechy guitar acting as a "soundtrack" to a visual string of events I cannot even attempt to describe, I ran out of the room clutching my ears. 

Torture: Let's Talk About it and Then Have Coffee

Tonight I added another successful outing to the Hammer Museum to the growing list. Tonight's event title was far from inviting: "Reckoning with Torture". An audience member suggested a change to this depressing moniker prior to their next forum. When you are as desperate to get out and do things as I am, even titles like that don't phase you. When your mind is open to the possibility that you will be surprised, you often are. That sounds like a "hippie" philosophy- must be a side effect of the Bikram yoga this morning.

I find it increasingly inexcusable that I'm not a Hammer member. I attend almost all of their public programs and can't even dole out the $50 yearly membership fee. I take advantage of the naive venue similar to the way a creepy old internet predator takes advantage of unsuspecting teenage girls. Yikes, I just compared myself to a creepy old internet predator. Never once did I pay to see the exhibits, and I admit that if I do visit the Hammer to see the art as opposed to attending an event, I will do so on Thursday when there is no admission charge. Go ahead, criticize away. Peg the title "unsupportive of public programming" on me.

The "Reckoning with Torture" event combined film clips, discussion from a panel and audience questions. The description of the talk on the Hammer website said:

Co-presented by PEN Center USA

The film Reckoning With Torture and the book The Torture Report present eyewitness and first-person reports by victims, perpetrators, dissenters, and investigators of the CIA’s White House-orchestrated interrogations in secret prisons around the world. Writer and activist Larry Siems, author of The Torture Report, and former military interrogator Matthew Alexander lead an evening of screenings and discussion. Learn more at thetorturereport.org andreckoningwithtorture.org.

There, that just saved me from summarizing. The film mentioned in the above blurb, Reckoning with Torture, features a series of readings from people of all ages and walks of lives reading excerpts from court memos recounting dialogue from interrogators and detainees. After the discussion, the audience was invited to participate in these readings which would be included in the film. Still seeking my 15 minutes of fame, or in this case 15 seconds, I volunteered first. So, check out the website to see my Oscar-worthy performance. 

As a strange ending to the evening, the speaker urging us to participate in the film also invited us to treat ourselves to coffee and cookies in the lobby. I must say, it was some of the best decaf coffee I have tasted to date- the deep, dark tones in the flavor were unreal. Wish I knew where I could get my hands on some...

If You Want to See Where I Saw Ruby Sparks...

You have to go see Ruby Sparks. As it happens, there is a scene filmed in the auditorium at the Hammer Museum, which was packed to capacity Friday for an advanced screening of the film. I erroneously assumed that my arrival one hour prior to the film would allow for sufficient leeway in addition to a guaranteed front-row seat (to see Paul Dano up close). I naively thought that I would be one of the few weirdo celebrity-stalker types motivated by the promise of seeing Paul Dano, Zoe Kazan and the directors of Little Miss Sunshine. Then the revelation that I live in Los Angeles hit me square in the face.

Though, the majority of those behind whom I was waiting in line were not creepers like me just desiring to be within 100 feet of Mr. Dano. The majority were drawn there by the film and their desire to appreciate a new potential cinematic masterpiece.

The Q&A after the film had me suppressing a few giggles. That is, after the ability to giggle restored itself when my respiratory system came out of arrest brought on by Paul Dano taking the stage. My favorites were the audience members who initiated their question with "I want you to know that I loved that. It was so deep," or something of the sort. My mischievous inner-self wanted some bold individual to say they didn't like it. Because let's be honest, no one is going to critique a movie in front of those that poured their heart and soul into the project. Myself included. Now, however, I am no longer in front of them and I therefore plan to critique away.

For those of you who haven't seen the preview yet, the plot focuses around Dano's character, a Los Angeles-based writer named Calvin. He is a washed up author past his prime and still living on profits earned from his novel written years ago. Experiencing major writier's block, Calvin goes to his therapist for help. He leaves the office with a writing assignment which, along with a dream about a girl, launches Calvin into writing a new novel on an antiquated typewriter. One day, to his astonishment, the female protagonist of his tale, Ruby Sparks, manifests herself out of thin air in his apartment, which he attributes to an "overactive imagination".

The rest of the film follows their romance and its ups and downs, often caused by a visit by Calvin to his typewriter in attempts to control Ruby's growing independance. The film is laced with themes, both subltle and otherwise, pertaining to relationships. Despite its best intentions, he story fails to captivate after about the first 30 minutes. Certain scenes seem out of place or lacking in purpose. The film is a completely conventional "indie" film, echoed in the music, the not-so-subtle placement of soy milk on the breakfast table, and the quirky personality of the protagonists who are both, of course, artists.
Ruby Sparks was enjoyable enough, yet more so for me given the circumstances of the showing and the attendance of the main cast and directors.

When I am in the Same Room as Paul Dano...

...I tend to get a little crazy. The mere knowledge that he would be participating in an audience Q&A along with Zoe Kazan, Chris Messina and the directors from Little Miss Sunshine guaranteed the advanced screening of Ruby Sparks at the Hammer Museum a spot in my agenda. Not penciled in, either. I wrote down that event in Sharpie. Apparently I was not alone in that sentiment. Even arriving one hour early proved insufficient, and I found myself waiting in the second twisty-turny line in two days for a film. I now see why people say you wonder how you ever lived sans smart phone once you have one. Thankfully the Hammer has free WiFi.

I feel like I am taking advantage of the Hammer by not becoming a member. As a venue, it opens its doors to me and welcomes me warmly, and I look down on it condescendingly and laugh- PSH, you WISH I would give you money! I feel like the guy who turned down Oliver Twist when all he wanted was a little more gruel. I mean, $50 a year for membership is basically gruel. Maybe I could justify it if I get a job.

The kindest thing the Hammer has done for me thus far- introduced me to Paul Dano. Now I feel like I'm livin' the LA dream. Somehow, I could handle being in the same space as Brooke Shields like a champ. Not the case with Paul. As the Brits say, I got a little bit "mental" when I saw him. My expectations were just that- I would see him on stage and our enconter would end there. However, after the Q&A I some strange wave of courage overcame me and I decided to be "that fan" and ask for a picture. Perhaps provoking this uncharacteristic gesture was the fact that I was in the front row, so only about 2 feet from him. This proximity, and other individuals asking for his autograph (a request to which he humbly obliged) eventually brought me to his side. Then I made a huge idiot of myself.

Me (tapping Paul's shoulder): Um, hi, could I be the annoying fan and ask for a picture? (not having considered that I had no one to take a picture for me)
Paul: Yeah, no problem at all
Me (handing phone to closest person): please take a picture of us!! You just hit the button...
(She gave me a weird look)
Paul: So what's your name anyway?
Me (a name?? What's that?): Uh, Marisa! I love Little Miss Sunshine
Paul: Well, thanks a lot!
Me: K thanks!

I found it difficult enough to stand on wedges when I wasn't under a celebrity induced shock. After shaking his hand, my legs turned to play-doh. After the crowd thinned, I recognized someone I had met at a prior event at the museum. That guy has been in the biz for awhile, so he greeted all of the actors with total ease. It's going to take me a long time to be able to do that. Eventually, only he and I and the actors and some of their friends remained. I had ample opportunity to continue conversing with them, but I found my thoughts limited to "I just met Paul Dano" on repeat.