No Work, Millions, Vertical Limit Scene
Mar. 25th, 2005 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarcasticwriterMaybe I should come up with a new system for when to update my LJ, because updating five or six hours past "midnight" of the day I'm updating before, or in other words, right before I go to sleep, seems a bit inaccurate. Must think on this.
Anyhow...I sent a voicemail and an email to my boss after finishing an excruciatingly boring ESPN project on college basketball, canceling my other two projects since I was in too much pain to type. This is true - I was giving little whimpers as I was finishing the ESPN crap, and I simply did not have the mental fortitude to overcome my stiff neck and shoulders to keep typing.
It doesn't seem to be the end of the world, though. Michele the Supervisor just said to contact them when I feel better.
That left me today with no work, and no work hanging over my head for the weekend, either (except, you know, that whole pack-up-everything-you-own business). I kept trying to note to myself that I had typing to do, then remembering with a start that I didn't. Glorious feeling, I tell you, glorious.
Not that I did much with the day. I was up pretty late, of course, and spent some time in that waking-up daze. I bathed, made salad while dad picked up a pizza for dinner, watched some Punk'd, and so on. This meant I skipped what might have been a productive massage therapy session with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bongirl5, but hey, my fault for sleeping in and not calling her right away, I guess.
I did head out with her, though. Our first stop on the way to the movie theater was at Starbucks, so that she could buy a new lid for her defective traveling mug. As we pulled into the parking lot (with like 10 open spaces in front of the store, weird!), we noticed that Starbucks was swarming with teenagers. And as I pulled into a space, I noticed a woman and two or three kids carrying out an unconscious girl right past my car.
The woman was screaming all the while - "The hospital is right fucking there, what kind of people are you?" - as she loaded the unconscious kid in the car, backed out, and drove her the 200 meters to the emergency room. Bonnie says that she sort of overheard some girls saying that the unconscious one had passed out, and the woman was so unglued because the unconscious girl's friends were just going to ditch her. Now there's a set of quality people for you. What kind of person would leave a friend unconscious from drugs/alcohol/banging their head in a Starbucks?
Anyway, Bonnie got a few new cup, and we headed out to the movie, Millions. It's about two little boys who find a bag of a little over a quarter million British pounds, when it falls off the train. The older boy wants to buy real estate, the younger one (who is fascinated by and "sees" saints) wants to give it to the poor. Given that the younger boy is either receiving visions or has a wonderful imagination, the movie his just chock-full of whimsy.
It was nice. I use the phrase "nice" here deliberately. It was a nice little movie that wasn't out to frighten the audience with terrible consequences coming to the boys, although it kind of tried (really, though, how bad of a consequence can hit a motherless little boy who wants to give all the money to the poor? The savvy moviegoer would say, not much of one). But that also meant that it was hard to be really involved with the film. So, worth seeing, especially if one is in a tender mood, but it won't get your heart racing.
What will get your heart racing is the first 5 minutes of Vertical Limit, which I watched with Bonnie before heading home. If you haven't seen it, this scene starts with a father climbing a sheer rock face in Monument Valley with his two adult children. They banter and call up jokes to one another, clearly a close, loving family. Some inexperienced climbers above them slip, knock the father (the lead climber) and the brother (the second climber) off the rock, leaving all three of them dangling from the sister's anchor - an anchor that's slipping.
It's clear that the sister is not going to be able to anchor them with other equipment, and as the single anchor continues to slip, the father figures that without his weight on the line, his children might safely get back to the rock. He's dropped his knife, so he orders the son (dangling between his sister and father) to cut the safety line connecting him to his children, to let him die so that they can have a chance to live. This creates a brutal, well-acted screaming match as the daughter and the father both argue to save each others' lives (the father: "Do you want to kill your sister! You will kill her if you don't cut the rope! You will kill yourself and your sister!") - at the end of which, the son cuts the father loose.
The horror of the situation is so overwhelming that the rest of the movie can't possibly hope to attain the same emotional level of pathos. In fact, toss the rest of the film right out the window, for all I care. That scene is it. And for me at least (Bonnie had to cover her eyes, could barely be in the room as it played), I almost can't see it enough. It's one of my favorite scenes in film (one of dozens, before you get excited).
I remember seeing it for the first time in a movie theater and having tears stream down my cheeks because I was sitting with my father and brother and got it. Got it totally. Got it because my father is the type of guy who would have demanded that he be cut loose. Got it because I would have done the same thing as the brother, if I had to. I think about it and can almost feel my shaking hand slicing the rope in one quick jerk, can feel the resulting horror after the act.
I am in awe of any five minutes of film that can do that to me, and doubly so of five minutes that exist without any supporting framework. I'm glad I saw it tonight, because even though what I'm writing right now has nothing to do with mountain climbing or sacrifice or death, just being emotionally aroused (so to speak) helps. I just transfer the emotional energy elsewhere and write better.
Do I even need to say anything about Battlestar Galactica? I think you already know. So bummed there's only one episode left for the season. God help me if they end on a cliffhanger. If you hear a faint scream echoing across time and space next Friday night, you'll know who it is and why.
Anyhow...I sent a voicemail and an email to my boss after finishing an excruciatingly boring ESPN project on college basketball, canceling my other two projects since I was in too much pain to type. This is true - I was giving little whimpers as I was finishing the ESPN crap, and I simply did not have the mental fortitude to overcome my stiff neck and shoulders to keep typing.
It doesn't seem to be the end of the world, though. Michele the Supervisor just said to contact them when I feel better.
That left me today with no work, and no work hanging over my head for the weekend, either (except, you know, that whole pack-up-everything-you-own business). I kept trying to note to myself that I had typing to do, then remembering with a start that I didn't. Glorious feeling, I tell you, glorious.
Not that I did much with the day. I was up pretty late, of course, and spent some time in that waking-up daze. I bathed, made salad while dad picked up a pizza for dinner, watched some Punk'd, and so on. This meant I skipped what might have been a productive massage therapy session with
bongirl5, but hey, my fault for sleeping in and not calling her right away, I guess.I did head out with her, though. Our first stop on the way to the movie theater was at Starbucks, so that she could buy a new lid for her defective traveling mug. As we pulled into the parking lot (with like 10 open spaces in front of the store, weird!), we noticed that Starbucks was swarming with teenagers. And as I pulled into a space, I noticed a woman and two or three kids carrying out an unconscious girl right past my car.
The woman was screaming all the while - "The hospital is right fucking there, what kind of people are you?" - as she loaded the unconscious kid in the car, backed out, and drove her the 200 meters to the emergency room. Bonnie says that she sort of overheard some girls saying that the unconscious one had passed out, and the woman was so unglued because the unconscious girl's friends were just going to ditch her. Now there's a set of quality people for you. What kind of person would leave a friend unconscious from drugs/alcohol/banging their head in a Starbucks?
Anyway, Bonnie got a few new cup, and we headed out to the movie, Millions. It's about two little boys who find a bag of a little over a quarter million British pounds, when it falls off the train. The older boy wants to buy real estate, the younger one (who is fascinated by and "sees" saints) wants to give it to the poor. Given that the younger boy is either receiving visions or has a wonderful imagination, the movie his just chock-full of whimsy.
It was nice. I use the phrase "nice" here deliberately. It was a nice little movie that wasn't out to frighten the audience with terrible consequences coming to the boys, although it kind of tried (really, though, how bad of a consequence can hit a motherless little boy who wants to give all the money to the poor? The savvy moviegoer would say, not much of one). But that also meant that it was hard to be really involved with the film. So, worth seeing, especially if one is in a tender mood, but it won't get your heart racing.
What will get your heart racing is the first 5 minutes of Vertical Limit, which I watched with Bonnie before heading home. If you haven't seen it, this scene starts with a father climbing a sheer rock face in Monument Valley with his two adult children. They banter and call up jokes to one another, clearly a close, loving family. Some inexperienced climbers above them slip, knock the father (the lead climber) and the brother (the second climber) off the rock, leaving all three of them dangling from the sister's anchor - an anchor that's slipping.
It's clear that the sister is not going to be able to anchor them with other equipment, and as the single anchor continues to slip, the father figures that without his weight on the line, his children might safely get back to the rock. He's dropped his knife, so he orders the son (dangling between his sister and father) to cut the safety line connecting him to his children, to let him die so that they can have a chance to live. This creates a brutal, well-acted screaming match as the daughter and the father both argue to save each others' lives (the father: "Do you want to kill your sister! You will kill her if you don't cut the rope! You will kill yourself and your sister!") - at the end of which, the son cuts the father loose.
The horror of the situation is so overwhelming that the rest of the movie can't possibly hope to attain the same emotional level of pathos. In fact, toss the rest of the film right out the window, for all I care. That scene is it. And for me at least (Bonnie had to cover her eyes, could barely be in the room as it played), I almost can't see it enough. It's one of my favorite scenes in film (one of dozens, before you get excited).
I remember seeing it for the first time in a movie theater and having tears stream down my cheeks because I was sitting with my father and brother and got it. Got it totally. Got it because my father is the type of guy who would have demanded that he be cut loose. Got it because I would have done the same thing as the brother, if I had to. I think about it and can almost feel my shaking hand slicing the rope in one quick jerk, can feel the resulting horror after the act.
I am in awe of any five minutes of film that can do that to me, and doubly so of five minutes that exist without any supporting framework. I'm glad I saw it tonight, because even though what I'm writing right now has nothing to do with mountain climbing or sacrifice or death, just being emotionally aroused (so to speak) helps. I just transfer the emotional energy elsewhere and write better.
Do I even need to say anything about Battlestar Galactica? I think you already know. So bummed there's only one episode left for the season. God help me if they end on a cliffhanger. If you hear a faint scream echoing across time and space next Friday night, you'll know who it is and why.
