so i know i’m not supposed to do this, but i’m gonna waive international copyright laws because, y’know, it was the top hit on google (and it’s decent quality);
i’ve been meaning to see this film for ages. so thanks oprah, you’ve ignited something.
patterson was an insanely long poem written by american poet, william carlos williams. his lifes work. his five-book epic. it’s so full of humility and respect for the people who inhabit its world, it would astound me if i thought you could not feel the hippocratic oath feed its empathy.
i read quite a bit of williams a few years back, and this film finally is that perfect tribute. it captures his humour and eloquence, his humility and the deep empathy of his work just beautifuly;
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
and this is gonna sound odd. to me, williams is the opposite of ted hughes. william carlos williams is our main poetic reference, and the poems in this movie concrete that for us, in many ways. so today, with what i’ve been reading into ted hughes, following the recent plath publications, i’ve just become really opposed to him. today anyways.
in the same breath, i even caught a poor glimpse of byron in one of the papers.
don’t get me wrong, i can appreciate hughes. (i might even act on crazy thoughts of re-hashing crow one day). and yes, i can separate the art from the artist. with hughes you’re almost forced to. but within williams; within this poem of a film, i’m not sure i can. i’m not sure that i even want to.
if you’re gonna watch patterson this evening, or whenever, know it starts slow. give it a minute to warm. it’s a celebration of the slow. the small things, synchronicities.
it celebrates how pressure exerts.
i love how patterson’s pending publication plays on him, how it impacts upon the lovers, how even the small act of public speaking after his bus breaks down, went to work on him.
oh, patterson is a bus driver. williams was a doctor. this is a film about a bus driver. it’s a film about way more than a bus driver. but it’s still a film about a bus driver, an adam driver bus driver.
but more, it’s a poem about the act of creating. here, it’s focus is poetry.
one poem (all are written by poet ron padgett) is a poem you would try, if you were to write a poem.
another, (which isn’t one of pattersons) reminds me of when i was brushing ro’s hair this morning. how i caught it shimmer like rain when i was done. how another poem sparks a deep and lasting connection between the lovers (i say lovers, they’re a married couple, but to me they’re more than even that) over the match stick font.
others remind you that sometimes you never get to finish what you’re working on. and it seems to make that fine. but then that begins to resonate.
i makes me want to achieve that life goal of waking each morning without an alarm clock. i hope this is achievable. i kind of believe it is, so i’m gonna try it. i’ll be late for work tomorrow for once and for a very different reason than usual.
i love how their house, captured in one frame most of time, is their entire world. following a cinema visit, the cinematography has the audience feel the movie they’ve just watched could have been shown in their garage. just for them. and maybe it was.
how that almost-but-not ‘barfly-esque’ bar should calm, and doesn’t.
i love that little thing film does. it sells an almost achievable fantasy, oh so well.
i haven’t caught all of this years oscar winners just yet (manchester by the sea was great), but this one should have won all of them.
ock, it’s just done something i needed done this evening. so yeah. give it a go, if you need a minute slowed.
plus the score is great.
one, *small criticism? i felt it was a little unfair in portraying her art. misogynistic to a lot lesser extent than that of the hughes biographers, yet with that my earlier, and harsh comparison to another poet grows.
it black lines the captions (couple times), but that’s not so bad. disable adblock for the page, and careful with those pop-ups.