08 August 2008

Beau comme ça

Man on Wire

Crit

Christ, what a boring, empty, safe life I live. And I'm sorry, but if you're wasting precious moments reading this, the same is true of you. That being the case, thank Thoreau for people like Philippe Petit and thank the U.K. Lottery Fund for films like this.

Make no mistake, Petit was (and presumably is) a conscienceless, manipulative, singleminded, irresistible demon--or, as the person I saw this with put it, an artist. He is a master at getting people to do exactly what he needs to have done to facilitate what he wants to/must do, and while they later talk about what "we" accomplished, the first person plural does not seem to be in his vocabulary. To be fair, "we" weren't on a cable stretched between the World Trade Center towers a quarter of a mile above oblivion. But to be fair, without the logistical and emotional support of his girlfriend (about to become his ex-girlfriend), a few friends (apparently now all ex-friends), and a couple of new acquaintances along for the ride, he wouldn't have been there either. The astonishingly tawdry--understandable, but tawdry--fashion in which he thanks them gives a bitter aftertaste to a story you'd been able to convince yourself until then was all about uplift.

As for the Elephant in the Middle of the Living Room, well, as every review I've seen points out, 9/11 is never mentioned but always present. Most chillingly, early on we see a familiar scene of Ground Zero chaos--except that it's the site of WTC construction, not destruction, giving the sense of those wacky film-run-backwards sequences of the car uncrashing through the barn door or the egg reassembling itself and leaping from the floor.

Trailers

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