Opening Night NYFF

Opening night. NYFF

NYFF in the center of the center

In the center of the center of the New York Film Festival was a moment transcendent.  As the scenes in of 'Of God and Men' moved from the monk's contemplations into the roar of engines and war machines, someone pushed the 'play' button.  Into the monastery's dining room came two bottles of wine and a recording of  'Swan Lake'.  The monks were transfixed and the moment was sacred.  Not god, not man, but art lifted their spirits.  As we watched each face; each face was moved to tears---tears of joy, so of course, we knew now they would die. 
It was similar to the moment Mark Zuckerberg bonded with Sean Parker in 'The Social Network' over the shared notion of 'coolness'; the moment that the small goat found refuge under a tall tree in 'Le Quattro Volte'; it was the prostitute throwing the money back at the driver in 'My Joy'; the Christmas carollers at the door in 'The Tuesday after Christmas'. 
[Kinda the bicycle ride through Brooklyn in 'A Kinda Funny Story'.]
In these moments, a film wins an audience. It is never the 'bound motif' that shows the art of the artist, but the 'floating motif'.  What is unnecessary and so the only reason for the film to be.  For these moments we go to the movies.

The American

[Use of the Romance Genre, and a musical nod to the past.]

Everyone wants to live in a Morricone film. George Clooney is no exception.  As soon as his Fiat hits the winding mountain roads in Abruzzo, a soprano sings over a bed of violins bringing us to the ‘Once Upon a Time’ land of Ennio Morricone.  As always with the maestro, the music leads us straight into a landscape of heartbreak.  Who cares if at this point, it’s imitation Morricone?  Herbert Gronemeyer’s score with strings, and soprano knows what it is doing.  Creating a Romance. Action-Thriller be damned.

But after setting us up for heartbreak, the genre makes us forget it.  So, the minor characters arrive bearing humor. We are introduced to a small mountainous town where Eros is alive, ironically, through the village priest--- and his son, the garage owner.  Their philosophies pepper the proceedings to remind us the ways of the heart are never predictable. Clooney’s protagonist, will spend the movie in denial—not of the flesh, but of Eros and the power it wields when one fully submits. This is the journey of the film: the protagonist must learn the lessons of the lover, and of course, the clock is ticking.  His hair is graying. With time running out, the object of desire gains depth and appreciation and is therefore, more desired.  These two people must be together, this genre tells us, ahhh, but only when it is impossible, the Romance promises.  Only then.  Clooney seems especially suited to this genre’s overriding tenet: love will never be achieved.  But before the impossibility is ‘just out of reach', we come to understand a man who could be the perfect lover; a man who tips large and whose hands craft a specially ordered rifle with fingertip control.  With hands like that, we know he’s good in bed. Tick. tock.

Before the heartbreak, there’s a bit of a romp, again courtesy of Morricone. When Clooney visits the Italian café,  ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ plays on the television above the tables.  The last image we see of that Morricone-themed movie, is of Henry Fonda smiling--- a moment when the bad guy is winning.  A hint to everyone that the bad is not something that can be overcome, but the journey is all.  Something Ennio Morricone knew with every note. [ See ‘Se Telefonando’.]