I'm convinced that Bjork's new album Medulla just made me ovulate. I swear to God, it's comprised of the most fertile sounding music I've ever heard in my life. I'm nowhere near ready to launch an analysis in print just yet, but I couldn't let the week end without some mention of the fact that it hasn't left my CD player. After all, as the cute pierced guy at Borders said, "Ah, the release of the new Bjork album. It's like a holiday, isn't it?"
Also, Jacques Tati's Playtime is similarly stuffed with ideas--miraculously, without causing sensory overload. Had the extreme pleasure and privilege of catching it at the Music Box with CTA last eve on the big screen, the way it's meant to be seen. (As Jaime N. Christley said of Playtime in his "Great Directors" entry for Tati at Senses of Cinema Dot Com, "Playtime on video is the same as 2001: A Space Odyssey or Lawrence of Arabia on video: the television monitor cannot possibly suffice.") Again, I'm not exactly feeling up to the challenge to deal with it in print, but I'll just leave you with my thought on how the movie was divided: the first part of the movie says, "you may not be ready for the city," but the second part says, "but the city's not ready for you, either." Which inevitably leads to the most beautiful kind of breakdown, chaos, and improvisation.
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