I suppose it’s one of those questions of life imitating art or vice versa. I suppose it would be a bit of both if the head boxes were found to have been arranged in some cosmic type pattern; the murderous combination of style and substance. Alas, the criminals of Mexico have far too little imagination…which is probably for the better.
It’s jarring how “inside the box” Mexican drug cartels are. People keep telling me how creative they are, but I disagree. How creative is it to figure out “drugs need to go from here to there, let’s go. People are in our way, we will shoot them.”
This is the distinction between people like the Zodiac Killer, who was a perfect example of life imitating art, and the Mexican cartels, which operate with a bit more pragmatics.
The other night I fell asleep watching “Traffic.” When I awoke the movie was over and the news was on, and in my groggy state I failed to tell the difference.
Where does the truth begin and the lie end. When does Carlos Herrera become Steven Bauer? Where does the girl who disappeared from my classes become Erika Christensen? Where does the movie end with happy children playing baseball?
In movies, style is what matters most. More than storytelling, more than characters – it’s style.
Many people I talked to said they liked the first 45 minutes of Wall-E, where there is no talking, most. It’s style, with a complete disregard for substance. 45 minutes and all we learn is that Earth is polluted and there’s a robot putting stuff into boxes. The fact that the robot falls in love with another robot is incidental style at it’s most pure. It might be cute, but it doesn’t advance the story the way blunt substance should…and that is what makes it beautiful.
45 minutes of silence.
45 minutes of style.
45 minutes of existential bliss…it is what it is, and we know nothing else to argue with
Once dialogue starts, it feels like something is lost. A moment of beauty has passed. We now have to face the reality of a storyline.
And that’s the thing…
It’s all substance, all storyline, all dialogue, this Mexico thing.
And I find myself waiting for some style. I find myself waiting for some silence.