Crazy Heart

March 6, 2010 at 8:37 pm (film) (, , , , , , )

Let me start this post off by saying this: I friggin LOVED the movie Crazy Heart


Let’s face it, if you’re of a certain generation and you see Jeff Bridges with long hair and facial hair, you think one thing: The Dude.  If you aren’t of a certain generation, you don’t even know who The Dude is.  In which case, you need to rent The Big Lebowski and get ready for the ride of your life.  One of the things you’ll learn about The Dude is that he bowls.  He and his group are bowling fiends.  The first scene of Crazy Heart takes place in a bowling alley.  Really, guys?  When Bad Blake set down at the bar in the bowling alley, I almost seriously expected for the camera to pull out and show Sam Elliot sitting there.

My other beef with Crazy Heart was Jeff Bridges’ style of smoking cigarettes.  Fingers splayed wide, he grabs the cigarette in the web of his first two fingers.  I am pretty sure I’ve seen Mr. Bridges smoke this way in every movie I’ve seen him smoke in.  So every time Bad Blake reached for the cigarette in his mouth, I was taken out of the movie and started thinking about other Bridges movies.  That makes me sad.

But still, I loved this movie.  I already have the soundtrack and have listened to it 15 times.  When the movie comes out on DVD, I’ll have that too.  I don’t think Bridges will win the Best Actor Oscar tomorrow night and I’m not entirely sure I think he should.  But I will say this: I cannot WAIT to see Tron Legacy and to see him play “Rooster” in True Grit!

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A Fine Line

January 3, 2009 at 2:44 pm (Life) (, , , , , )

My dosage of Prozac was recently raised to 40 mg and then to 60 mg. Without the medicine, I cannot function in daily life. With the meds, something else happens, though: numbness.

Off my meds, I feel everything. At such a high dosage, I feel nothing. There’s a fine line between the two and I haven’t found it.

Yesterday, Jill and I watched Will Smith’s “Seven Pounds.” I thought it was a great movie and really enjoyed it…but. But everyone in the theater was crying at parts, except me. I could hear sniffling all over the place, but I was emotionless. Jill kept saying, “Don’t judge me,” when in reality, I was judging myself.

I kept thinking, “You know, normally you’d be crying along with everyone else.” That’s what was so disconcerting: I knew I should be upset but it never came.

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a crier. Not a town crier, mind you, just a movie crier. I saw “Moulin Rouge!” six times in the theater and never once had dry eyes when Satine dies in Christian’s arms. That goes for all the times I’ve seen it on DVD, too. The movie “In America?” Good gosh! I was sobbing in the theater! When she says, “He was our brother, too!” I lost it. I still do. I lose it even more when she says, “Say goodbye to Frankie, Dad.” Sometimes in the past, just talking about that scene would get to me. Now? Nothing.

Yesterday I sat in the theater feeling nothing but sadness at my lack of feeling. My numbness was something tangible, something I could physically feel. It’s upsetting to have an intellectual understanding that something should be affecting you, but isn’t. If I wasn’t on my meds, that knowledge might bring a tear to my eye. 🙂

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