Canicule
These are supposed to be the “dog days”, right? That’s supposed to be my excuse for writing less and relaxing more, for thinking only drawling, unfinished thoughts, for heading into the summer home stretch at only a shuffle’s pace.
Except the dog days have disappeared. Autumn’s chill is already blowing into town, cooling the nights and the sheets. It’s put me into the right mood to ingest more serious stuff than summer’s normal stock of blockbusters and beer. Allow me to share.
On the weekend, I saw Capturing the Friedmans, the intense and gripping documentary about a middle-class Long Island family torn apart when a father and one of his three sons are accused of child molestation. Nearly their entire experience was, yes, captured by one of the sons on video, and that footage, combined with more recent interviews by the filmmakers, lends the film perhaps unparalleled authenticity. As with all documentaries, there is a slant to the story, and it becomes hard not to feel sympathetic for someone that may have committed sodomy. I’m one of those weird people that enjoys being put in such moral quandaries. But the director also leaves enough room to keep you wondering throughout the film, both about the story, and about the personal motives of those involved. There are shots in the film where the subjects reveal more through a couple seconds of silence than in ten minutes of talking. The camera really seems to peek inside their souls.
Previously: I Almost Stole the Salt and Pepper Shakers
Subsequently: The Last Place On Earth
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