Tarnation

Why do I feel as though I've watched a young man masturbate in front of me for two hours while in a conference room filled with clergy or nuns? Andy Warhol free form new wave movies come to mind? Woody Allen on speed? This poor boy should be in individual and group therapy for the rest of his life.

I'm glad he made 'art' out of trailer trash surrounds but I guess I'm not feeling any pathos or empathy--just an urge to turn down the volume and/or walk away. It is the same sensation one gets while watching an accident or encountering a street person who didn't take his meds today--but for the grace of God,etc. Such experiences convince me of a godless universe and at the most a hope that some Buddhists are on the beam. My parents were both substance abusers (cocktail swigglers/50s style)and I left this film feeling my life had been slightly left of the Donna Reed Show. I know now why I fled NYC at the age of 32--too many actor friends and wanna bees who were cycling together in their own imaginary worlds. I remember feeling the need for a real dose of average behavior at the time. (Now that Bush got in again, I'm not sure that is a good thing either) Well, good for this young man and his ego that he got noticed. He makes Edith Bouvier Beale look bland ("This is the only costume for the day, I think." "What I need is a manager, but he's got to be a Libran!") except she was much more interesting thanks to the Maysles. Aaah, well, I'm getting old, I guess. I do wish I had that seven dollars and fifty cents for the matinée show refunded, though.