During my teenage years, I did not have much of a life. I don't have much of one now either. My time was filled, then and now, with work, words, and images. School has become a stressful mid-management position, but the words and images remain the same--slightly offbeat.
Unlike my friends and peers, I watched a lot of randomly selected independent films during adolescence. I'm not sure who else in my rural town was renting Cold Comfort Farm or The Funeral (maybe the video store owners). In any event, as a preview, I first came to know this tale of down-on-their-luck individuals in the vast emptiness of Reno. I loved the look of Philip Baker Hall and John C. Reilly. I fell in love with Gwyneth. I additionally laughed gutturally when the pack of matches in John's back pocket self-combusted.
Mind you, this was before I saw the movie.
Eventually, the video came to Hudson Falls, and I dutifully rented it, watching it one evening when my parents were out. I must admit that I expected a comedy (based solely, of course, on the pack of matches), but what I found was something better and something that left an indelible mark upon me for the rest of my high school years. I've come to appreciate Boogie Nights and Magnolia more than Hard Eight, but this film still stays with me.
There is terrible sadness in this film--in the eyes of the characters, for the most part--that you cannot escape. Gwyneth's mascara caked orbs haunt me to this day, as do the sacks under Philip's eyes. The one bright spot too comes from the ocular apparatus--that of John C. Reilly. Though he has come to play a similar role in many films, here is the first time you see him as the naive innocent. He performs beautifully, as does everyone else.
It's truly a remarkable, though minor key, film. Magnolia and Boogie Nights are epic, in a sense, but Hard Eight, with its slim plot and grim photography, is a sonnet of awful beauty. One is not blind-sided by the movie; you can see easily the direction it is heading. It's impossible to look away, even though one knows they are awaiting a train wreck. For all the (welcome to me) bombast in Boogie Nights and Magnolia, I am happy to know that PT Anderson has the ability to subdue his more manic and excessive tendencies, as he does here. This is a movie for those that love Boogie Nights and Magnolia; it might also be a movie for those that hate Boogie Nights and Magnolia.
Unlike my friends and peers, I watched a lot of randomly selected independent films during adolescence. I'm not sure who else in my rural town was renting Cold Comfort Farm or The Funeral (maybe the video store owners). In any event, as a preview, I first came to know this tale of down-on-their-luck individuals in the vast emptiness of Reno. I loved the look of Philip Baker Hall and John C. Reilly. I fell in love with Gwyneth. I additionally laughed gutturally when the pack of matches in John's back pocket self-combusted.
Mind you, this was before I saw the movie.
Eventually, the video came to Hudson Falls, and I dutifully rented it, watching it one evening when my parents were out. I must admit that I expected a comedy (based solely, of course, on the pack of matches), but what I found was something better and something that left an indelible mark upon me for the rest of my high school years. I've come to appreciate Boogie Nights and Magnolia more than Hard Eight, but this film still stays with me.
There is terrible sadness in this film--in the eyes of the characters, for the most part--that you cannot escape. Gwyneth's mascara caked orbs haunt me to this day, as do the sacks under Philip's eyes. The one bright spot too comes from the ocular apparatus--that of John C. Reilly. Though he has come to play a similar role in many films, here is the first time you see him as the naive innocent. He performs beautifully, as does everyone else.
It's truly a remarkable, though minor key, film. Magnolia and Boogie Nights are epic, in a sense, but Hard Eight, with its slim plot and grim photography, is a sonnet of awful beauty. One is not blind-sided by the movie; you can see easily the direction it is heading. It's impossible to look away, even though one knows they are awaiting a train wreck. For all the (welcome to me) bombast in Boogie Nights and Magnolia, I am happy to know that PT Anderson has the ability to subdue his more manic and excessive tendencies, as he does here. This is a movie for those that love Boogie Nights and Magnolia; it might also be a movie for those that hate Boogie Nights and Magnolia.