muffled audience and muffled singer (audio cues as tone and time rather than
gold-white-red light shift matches bass drum
drummer as a choice - relevant career consequence or to explore the relationship between disability and artistic vocation?
decibel mag. big mixing table and loudspeakers on the RV counter.
dripping, whirring, whizzing almost sound waves on the blender up and down.
use of camera focus to sight and touch and strings of sound.
supportive of others’ struggle with disabling conditions.
music and dance as a common ground for comfort. busy hands.
Jeff Goldblum in the fly :)
BLACKGAMMON the band.
focused image = sitelen kiwen vs. ko for fuzz/blur
gauge sticker
hand covering the up and down of the whirr blender upon hearing loss!
close-up vs wide shot
ruben STONE (ruben etym?)
gorgeous shot overlapping the dissonant reflection from the ORLG onto him through the cabin
Cigarette burn Chekhov’s gun of self destructive sentences kept at bay by taking care of others
Lou resorts to practical steps, Ruben resorts to emotional comfort for both self and others
Wishing for a different past breaks serenity? But what about the present, or the future?
My body language is very similar I think
Window as blurry raindrop no sound waugh
Outside shot going from conversation to PURE SILENCE
saturated blacks and reds. sudden white flashes. de-saturated green vs. brown - WHAT ELSE IS BROWN — HEROIN AND BEER
big pitiful eyes? not fearful. pitiful. preemptive grief. imagine my funeral.
I need a gun in my mouth. I need to wreck speakers.
I love the way the parting is framed as a healthy but incredibly painful choice, the stakes of double harm are hard but they’re real. It very often is like that. It’s not healthy but some people operate better under them.
I love the way they use the frame of the taking off of the shoes. The hard soles, the fuzzy socks, like sound.
darkness and sound, light and silence, darkness is silence if you can’t hear, light is image is meaning.
Blurred sign language, too. No understanding. No sounds of banging. Wide shot adds sound. Ruben as a dark close up of silence.
OWL EYES REAL (spts for alt meaning?)
how is B fingerspelled in ASL i missed that
I like that it’s addiction as coping
FUCKING PROTONMAIL? LEFTISM.
Have a peek at Joe’s tattoos.
Get military disciplin’d ??? Can you sit the fuck still (oh dear god) (nightmare scenario) (at least he can write)
NO DRAWING? writing. why?!
body doubling. writing. if it gets hard - the words? or the sitting? or the living?
Break it apart, put it together. You can put a loudspeaker together but you don’t want to.
You can yell freely without bothering anyone which is pretty awesome. It does feel infantilizing. The fucking idiot is himself? Hip hop to heavy beat?
OH THE WEIRD KID ACQUISITION. OUCH.
Drums as play, beat as play, beat the table, beat the playground, beat the drum, it helps. Sometimes you have to converse in beats. Your hands become a speaking tool but it’s through beats, not words. He feels the vibration, you make it. And it goes both ways. Hand shots over face shots. wide shots of no sound when the vibration feels so loud on the hands and the cheek.
He’s not a child but he needs to learn the basics and he needs to play as an outlet and he can lend a hand.
god I miss LSE. i want language to be social and fun.
not shaved. YAY BUTCH
subtitles coming with Ruben’s understanding
oh he knows how to tattoo
he’s teaching drumming
so the no drawing rule was to cope with loss… oh dear god.
he can sit. he can contemplate the lack of birdsong. he will see a bug. LIKE IN HIS NECK TATTOO. SAME BUG. WHAT BUG IS IT.
feeling old. night owl. early morning. night owl becomes early bird. darkness is darkness, light is light.
he gets a pack of cigarettes and an actual ashtray.
crickets are louder than lou’s video at dawn, the shot is wide, the world is lit up. but it’s an horizon line. not all is clear. you have to get rid of the sound equipment. that’s not your life anymore. but the drum? you feel the drum. you feel the drum. it’s in the light of day. no flashes. it’s just you at dawn.
you sell it for her. is the money for an implant? or for her to eat and live as comfortably as you do now? she’s your heart. you need other organs. it’s pretty nice.
Restless boy real. Piano is too. Melodic. Not the kind of richness one needs. I love hand shots vs. wide shots. vs face shots side-3-quarters
He’ll be back tomorrow, no worries. I feel like it’s a massive act of care towards others that ends with him walking back, soaked, fresh out of surgery.
Saving your life is going back to the past. I have nothing. Does it matter, it just passes? Like, the past? If I disappear no one cares because that’s life, life passes.
The world moves and it can be cruel, but the stillness, the SILENCE is the kingdom of god. And it’s in you and it will never abandon you. Stillness is the kingdom of god. Deaf culture is heaven on earth.
All of us need to be reminded of it every day. Trust in the belief that silence can be peaceful. Trust that you will not go behind your back to get surgery. To get a fix. To get fixed.
Rehab. Education. Boot camp. What is broken? What’s the fix? What’s not broken and doesn’t need fixing? Are we responsible for our addictions? We are responsible for our support.
It’s high (but you lost your lows) - and your brain is not very good at pitch, where your ears are.
Wide shot of plane vibration and following the plane visually where the stereo sound goes.
In the stillness, the kingdom of god. Turn off the damn implant if you don’t feel it’s making something easier.
Wild how all of the middle aged men in this movie are somewhat carbon copyish. Nose. Eyes. The tone.
The paralleling of her waking
No scratching. You look different. No track marks.
Oh the party… oh, communication in noise. In silence? What’s the party for? Dad bday. Also language, french-english, you can’t lip read a language you don’t know. Song has no melody, no words, just the misery in her face. Their face, they both look profoundly sad and Ruben watches, distorted, distorted. Music is sadness. It’s a rotting past. A suicidal mother. A world you can’t go back to.
Twilight dark-light, mixed light as noise, dawn with the crickets, this with the static from the poor implant input. Darkness must become silent again, light is capacity to read lips and
The room is in muted greens and browns. It’s gentle and well lit, it’s duller, less intense, fuzzy
The things your memory holds onto without you knowing. Like sound. Like music.
All of us are going forward. None of us are going back.
PLEASE KILL ME tattoo focused.
It’s okay if you can’t go back to the way things were. You saved my life. We both changed. You made my life beautiful.
We saved each other at our lowest, we don’t have to go back to our lowest to live.
noise wide shot with stereo movement when he’s in the french bench, loud noise becomes disquieting (ha)
turn that shit off. stillness is the kingdom of god. not the church bell ringing. not the church. the park and the children and the struggle and the flipping. the light, not the shadow, the trails and echoes, not the plane engines.