Thursday, July 08, 2004
The little man enters in usual fashion, looking busy, yet pleased with himself. He doesn't utter a word, but fiddles with a couple of videotapes and a DVD of Meshes of the Afternoon. A woman asks a question which he ignores, whilst still looking introspect. When complete silence finally ensues, he looks up - pause - and bids his welcome.
The woman in front, right, has brought smelly cheese pops and hot chocolate. The woman behind, right, is half asleep. The man, back centre, keeps popping out to the loo, carrying his rucksack. When he is present he continually speaks, leading some to believe he has been doing his bit with the old charlie. He also speak in a strange faux posh accent, about Gene Hackman and Anne Bancroft and UCI as if it was the most alternative cinema(chain) ever seen.
Clips from Fahrenheit 911 are shown. The little man is very excited about this, as it is an important film, which tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
(One interesting point that came across was that Michael Moore seems to deliberately have dumbed down/sentimentalised his language in order to accommodate an American viewer.)
Discussion ensues. People seem to agree.It is an important film that tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The little man is pleased with himself. Suddenly a person, a Swedish person, no less, dares to imply that this is not an informed objective discussion, but rather a perpetuation of agreement, a back-slapping, vomit-inducing, self-congratulary, didactic affair, given that none of those present have ever seen the entire film, the little man included. A near-riot. Uproar. How dares she. We are the righteous, with common sense and Michael Moore on our side, better people than the entire Bush administration (but equally democratic). This is the point where the girl, middle row right, gets up and leaves. She probably should have raised her voice and lent backup to the poor Swede, but life is too short and liberation is at hand.
After The Book Group and The Smoking Room and The Office, The Evening Class should be next in line.
The woman in front, right, has brought smelly cheese pops and hot chocolate. The woman behind, right, is half asleep. The man, back centre, keeps popping out to the loo, carrying his rucksack. When he is present he continually speaks, leading some to believe he has been doing his bit with the old charlie. He also speak in a strange faux posh accent, about Gene Hackman and Anne Bancroft and UCI as if it was the most alternative cinema(chain) ever seen.
Clips from Fahrenheit 911 are shown. The little man is very excited about this, as it is an important film, which tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
(One interesting point that came across was that Michael Moore seems to deliberately have dumbed down/sentimentalised his language in order to accommodate an American viewer.)
Discussion ensues. People seem to agree.It is an important film that tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The little man is pleased with himself. Suddenly a person, a Swedish person, no less, dares to imply that this is not an informed objective discussion, but rather a perpetuation of agreement, a back-slapping, vomit-inducing, self-congratulary, didactic affair, given that none of those present have ever seen the entire film, the little man included. A near-riot. Uproar. How dares she. We are the righteous, with common sense and Michael Moore on our side, better people than the entire Bush administration (but equally democratic). This is the point where the girl, middle row right, gets up and leaves. She probably should have raised her voice and lent backup to the poor Swede, but life is too short and liberation is at hand.
After The Book Group and The Smoking Room and The Office, The Evening Class should be next in line.
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