Bright Leaves

I want to start off by saying that I truly enjoyed this documentary, but maybe not for the intended reasons. It is one of the more accurate depictions of "stream of consciousness" I have seen lately. And that is probably its greatest strength and weakness. I say weakness because I do not believe that type of...delivery was Ross McElwee's intention. I'm going to break my review, for lack of a better word, into sections.
NARRATION/PERSONA- The sound and inflection of Ross McElwee's voice has to be an acquired taste. But to the virgin viewer it was annoying and riddled with pretentious remarks. Every line is said with dire consequence and breathless anguish. I remember thinking, "He must weigh 3 tons he's so full of himself." There is an blatant attempt to sound intellectual and deep, or at least impress those who are perceived as intellectual(and deep). However, due to the obviousness of his attempts Ross comes off as bothersome and obnoxious. Like the over-enthused freshman on that first day of college Ross cannot see how transparent he is making himself, "Look Professor! See how smart I am? I'm advanced and deep, you will benefit from what I have to say..."
CONTENT- As someone who writes, I feel that I sometimes become scattered with thoughts and ideas. The process of taking what is in my head, and scrawling it on paper is often tiring and clumsy. But I hold no candle to Ross McElwee. His documentary has roughly 15-20 individual stories, which are barely, BARELY tied together. The film starts off with Ross missing the south, then a reconnecting with his family, then an obsession with the (false)biographical information of an old film, then an obsession with tobacco, then questioning the impact of tobacco...I could keep going, but my point is made. The scattered and sometimes odd tangents are what makes this movie "stream of consciousness". That all being said each little story is AMAZINGLY entertaining! I want Ross to break each one down/apart and make them their own documentary. A mini-series maybe. One about his son and the urge to connect. One about tobacco farmers and their thoughts on the harmful plant. ect.
Again, I am very happy I watched this(with one of the best class/groups on the planet). The movie, for me at least, represents one of the many paths writer's/filmmakers can take in the art of refining their craft. Ross McElwee has attempted to string together the fragments and stories of his mind, and the end result speaks volumes on Ross himself, and little about the world he obsessively films.
~Zac

Sunset

The Sun is melting into the earth
Bleeding out for the nocturnal respite
The ending flickers strand scarlet ribbons in the sky
And as the encore plays, the Moon stirs awake
Splashing ivory brilliance on emerald hills
The shadows stretch out, testing their limits
Playing their shifting games of tag

~Zachary Webb

Morning

Morning

Slowly eyelids lift and light spills in
The smell of sweat and booze linger in the air
Joints pop and muscles stretch as my body reanimates
Breath is labored and the throat is dry
A burst of pain, white hot embers flare in my skull
A collage of images flood the mind
Distorted faces frozen in silent laughter Good night?
Maybe I don’t remember, never remember
Can’t keep doing this
I drink and call her, drink and call her
A cold hand runs down my spine, bringing me back down
She’s awake too
“Are you going?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Shouldn’t be doing this
Can’t move forward if I keep laying down
“Don’t go.”
Stop thinking with the want
Start thinking with the need
Can’t keep doing
this

~Zachary Webb

Don't Fade Away

I felt like posting a few more things to my blog. This is one of my poems. I wrote this while in my Robert Frost phase. I often enjoy writing poetry that rhymes, but there is a danger in that. Are you writing for the idea, or for the rhyme?


Don't Fade Away

There’s nothing left to linger,
Deep within my head.
The memories have all faded,
And soon they will be dead.
Black and white photos,
That once burned so bright.
Now only flicker,
Like matches in the night.
And when the mind decays,
The heart is sure to follow.
Yielding to the void,
Becoming frail and hollow.
Will I be no different?
When all is finally gone.
I’ll vanish like the moon,
In the light of breaching dawn.

Man on Wire

I enjoyed the documentary. It was invigorating to see someone spill there most inner joys onto the world. I was taken aback by Petit and his friends(or use to be friends) still discussing the event with fervor. It would be easy to think that the high-rise walk took place yesterday given their glee. Their excitement was contagious. Learning about the event of a man walking across the two towers without the documentary would have had little effect on me. But to see the joy in Petit’s eyes was marvelous. It made the story personal. That event was not just a publicity stunt it was man, or rather a group following their dream. There was one part of the documentary that really intrigued me and that was the notion of Petit’s dream ending the relationship he had with Annie. It was almost a story within a story. I was left wanting to know more about them. It is ironic that one love can fracture another. I was walking home after our viewing of “Man on Wire” and I thought to myself, “What is my dream?” What single event would I risk everything for? To be honest I was a bit jealous of Petit. He experienced a type of love that I may never know. Then it hit me, Petit was not the only one risking everything. He had an entire crew of friends and lovers who were helping him. I see no less glory in their work, no less joy. If it was not for those people in his life, he would have never accomplished his dream.
~Z