Ruben Flores in his shop, U.S. Office Machines
Southern California gets a lot of monsoonal moisture coming up from Mexico in July and August. It makes for quickly forming cloud formations. I thought I’d capture the cloud movements with this time lapse.
"Two Years at Sea" is a captivating documentary by British filmmaker Ben Rivers that delves into the life of Jake Williams, a man who has chosen to live in solitude in the Scottish wilderness. Through stunning cinematography and a poetic narrative, Rivers explores the themes of isolation, self-sufficiency, and the human connection to nature. I’ll try to examine how the film portrays solitude and the insights it offers into the human condition.
Exploring Solitude in "Two Years at Sea"
In "Two Years at Sea," Ben Rivers presents a unique perspective on solitude, showcasing the life of Jake Williams, who has embraced a life of isolation in the Scottish wilderness. The film follows Williams as he goes about his daily routines, such as tending to his garden, chopping wood, and exploring the surrounding landscape. Through these seemingly mundane activities, Rivers captures the essence of solitude and the peace that can be found in a life lived apart from society.
The film’s slow pace and minimal dialogue allow the viewer to fully immerse themselves in Williams’ world, experiencing the tranquility and beauty of his surroundings. Rivers’ camera lingers on the details of Williams’ life, from the tools he uses to the food he prepares, creating a sense of intimacy and understanding between the subject and the audience. This approach invites the viewer to contemplate the nature of solitude and the reasons why someone might choose to live in such a way.
Throughout the film, Rivers explores the psychological and emotional aspects of solitude, hinting at the challenges and rewards of a life lived in isolation. While Williams appears content and at peace with his chosen lifestyle, there are moments where the weight of his solitude becomes apparent, such as when he listens to old records or gazes out at the vast landscape before him. These moments serve as a reminder that solitude, while often romanticized, is not without its difficulties and that the human need for connection and companionship is a powerful force.
Ben Rivers’ Poetic Portrayal of Isolation
One of the most striking aspects of "Two Years at Sea" is Ben Rivers’ poetic approach to documenting Jake Williams’ life in isolation. Rather than relying on traditional narrative structures or interviews, Rivers allows the images and sounds of Williams’ world to speak for themselves, creating a meditative and immersive experience for the viewer.
Rivers’ cinematography is breathtaking, capturing the rugged beauty of the Scottish wilderness in rich, textured detail. The film’s visuals are complemented by a sparse, atmospheric soundtrack that incorporates natural sounds, such as the rustling of leaves and the crackling of a fire, further drawing the viewer into Williams’ environment. This poetic approach to filmmaking creates a sense of intimacy and connection between the audience and the subject, allowing for a deeper understanding of the experience of isolation.
Through his poetic portrayal of Williams’ life, Rivers invites the viewer to reflect on the nature of solitude and its place in the human experience. The film’s contemplative tone and unhurried pace encourage introspection, prompting the audience to consider their own relationship to solitude and the role it plays in their lives. By presenting isolation in such a beautiful and nuanced way, Rivers challenges common perceptions of solitude as a purely negative experience, instead suggesting that it can be a source of peace, self-discovery, and connection to the natural world.
"Two Years at Sea" is a remarkable documentary that offers a profound and poetic exploration of solitude and the human experience. Through his sensitive portrayal of Jake Williams’ life in isolation, Ben Rivers invites the viewer to contemplate the nature of solitude and its place in our lives. The film’s stunning visuals, immersive soundscape, and meditative pace create a unique and thought-provoking experience that lingers long after the final frame. "Two Years at Sea" is a testament to the power of documentary filmmaking to illuminate the human condition and challenge our perceptions of the world around us.
Today was Saint Patrick’s Day, and there was a bit of spring in the air. So I picked up my point-and-shoot Canon and went for a stroll in the Village of Claremont.
Hi, folks. Tim Fasano here. The sun is setting on the winter solstice.
It is also the time of year where we celebrate the birth of the divine child and savior. Other civilizations throughout history have had a similar form of mythology: Horus in Egypt, Mithras in Persia.
All speak of a rebirth and a regeneration. All things that are born must die. All things that die will be reborn.
It is something central to human nature to tap into the mysterious and the universal. It is an archetype that seems to be consistent with all civilizations and all humanity. It’s okay in this modern world to believe in myths, to have strong belief in religion.
I mean, myth in the classical sense, not to step it on anybody’s religious sensibilities. It’s okay to believe. That is what makes us human.
I’ve seen this guy around town a lot. This particular video is from last Friday when I made a trip to the Village to take in the preparations for that night’s annual lighting of the Christmas tree. It’s odd that one of the women approaching from the right puts money in his collection urn but doesn’t linger to soak in the tunes.
In the freshly uncorked trailer for Focus Features’ “The Holdovers,” we see the wine-rich reunion of director Alexander Payne and his muse of ‘Sideways’ fame, Paul Giamatti. But don’t raise your glass just yet. Whereas “Sideways” swirled with notes of bitter introspection and merlot-infused comedy, this upcoming affair seems, at first glance, to be a lighter pour, a nuanced blend of the idiosyncrasies of New England prep life and the velvety undertones of human connection.
As the camera pans, there stands Giamatti, with his signature hangdog demeanor, playing Mr. Hunam — a prep school professor who seems more suited to a Truffautian world of contempt than a snow-covered New England haven. He’s the instructor you avoid eye contact with, the one whose reputation precedes him, manifesting in the subtle tightening of the lips of both students and faculty alike. His winter sentence? Babysitting the left-behind students during the break.
Yet, as the snow blankets the old school grounds, so too does a potential warmth creep into Hunam’s heart. When Angus, a young ember glowing with a rebellious spark from a turbulent home, and Hunam find their lives intertwined, it becomes an almost Dickensian exploration of two souls converging in the frosty twilight. “I find the world a bitter and complicated place,” Hunam intones, every syllable dripping with Payne’s brand of weary wisdom. “And it seems to feel the same way about me. I think you and I have this in common.” Ah, a seasonal brew of Yuletide redemption.
For those expecting another Payne-esque cynical jaunt, “The Holdovers” promises something more — not just a road trip through vineyards but a journey of spirits amid the winter snow. One can’t help but anticipate a tale that, like a good wine, balances its bitterness with notes of unexpected sweetness.
What’s The Holdovers About?
In the freshly unspooled trailer, the school’s waifs and strays left behind during the Holidays get tagged as “the holdovers.” Isn’t it just the aptest term? Those leftovers of society, of family gatherings, those uncorked and unfinished bottles left on the periphery. Mr. Hunam, played with a gnarly gusto by Giamatti, is a kind of holdover himself – perhaps not so much left behind as consciously avoiding, a self-imposed exile from yuletide cheer. The prep school, usually a bustling Eden of education, stands bleak and desolate during Christmas, and here we find Giamatti’s character, grumbling and stumbling in his solitude.
But Payne, ever the alchemist of human relationships, doesn’t let the man wallow for long. Enter Angus, a tempest in the teapot of a 15-year-old, played with raw, frenetic energy by the fresh face, Dominic Sessa. The lad’s fire juxtaposes deliciously against Giamatti’s ice, and one can’t help but be reminded of a moody New England landscape, painted in chiaroscuro. Thrown into this mix is Da’Vine Joy Randolph, the school’s head cook, marinating in her own tragedy — the loss of a son to the distant lands of Vietnam.
There’s an art to blending flavors, both in cuisine and in life. This film, it seems, will dish out both — sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, and always richly layered. Would it be too cheeky to expect a cinematic feast? One waits with bated breath and a palate piqued for intrigue.
Details
Last year, Focus Features, with their discerning eye, clinched the distribution rights at the celebrated Toronto International Film Festival in an expansive deal with the mighty Miramax.
Payne, the maestro of nuanced human tales, draws from the inkwell of David Hemingson’s script, an undoubtedly robust foundation. And one can’t discuss the film’s genesis without tipping their hat to the powerhouse troika of producers: Mark Johnson, Bill Block, and Hemingson himself, with the keen oversight of executive producers Andrew Golov, Thom Zadra, and Chris Stinson.
Mark your calendars and prep your critique, darlings: “The Holdovers” graces select theaters in the culture hubs of New York and Los Angeles come October 27. If you’re not in those epicenters of art, fret not. A limited release is set for November 3, crescendoing to a nationwide curtain rise on November 10. While waiting, satiate your cinematic appetite with the latest trailer just a click away.
Experience the mesmerizing beauty of our vast sky with today’s captivating 30-minute visual journey. Despite the sweltering heat, we were graced with the fleeting presence of a few clouds painting a picture across the azure canvas. The highlight? A high-altitude aircraft leaving a stunning contrail. Watch as this ephemeral artistry slowly unfurls and spreads across the sky, creating an awe-inspiring tableau that blends the power of technology with the natural world’s effortless grace. So sit back, relax, and lose yourself in this celestial ballet that marries the mundane and the extraordinary.
With all the students on summer break now, the campus is empty – just the way I like it for my daily stroll.
Two of my favorite landmarks on the college campuses.
Sandy and I rarely eat out, so this was quite a treat for us to have breakfast al fresco at the Village Grille.
Sandy did a great job steering me in the right direction toward the shoes.
If we’re going to assert that poetry is work, we need to go beyond the semantics and difficulty and consider how it’s valued alongside other types of labor. The movie Paterson and Jim Jarmusch give us the opportunity to compare the work of making poetry with material forms of creative work and the waged work of bus driving. By highlighting the contrast between Paterson writing at work and his wife Laura making things at home, we’re immediately confronted with the historically lopsided and gendered division of labor that takes place in the public and private spheres.
Political philosopher Hannah Arendt argued that the division of public and private realms is partially linked to the prioritization of intellectual over manual labor in classical Greek society. Arendt saw poetry, which is made purely of language, as the most human and least worldly of the arts. On the other hand, Richard Sennett saw craft as a merging of mental and manual labor, with the products representing the intimate connection between the hand and head.
However, the American philosopher Richard Sennett acknowledges that not all crafts are seen as equal, with parenting being viewed as different in character than plumbing or programming. Jarmusch defends the character of Laura against accusations of regressive gender roles, pointing out that she lives how she wants and is entrepreneurial, even if it’s in a domestic set-up. Jarmusch sees domesticity as a fact of how social structure works, but he also emphasizes the essential difference between the approaches to their respective crafts of the two main characters.
“River of Grass” is a film that explores the theme of insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe. Set in the Florida Everglades, the film follows Cozy, a bored housewife, and Lee, a gregarious stranger she meets in a bar.
After a series of events, the pair become convinced that they have killed a man and go on the run. However, their actions feel inconsequential against the backdrop of the vast and unyielding natural world. The film’s ending shot of freeway gridlock heading off into the distance further reinforces this theme. The characters in the film exaggerate their own importance, but Reichardt ultimately suggests that life existed long before they came along and will continue long after their drama has ended.
Director Kelly Reichardt is known for using natural space in her films to convey the idea that the world goes on regardless of human activity. This is evident in “River of Grass” through the use of the Everglades as a setting, as well as the film’s ending shot of freeway gridlock heading off into the distance. The characters in the film exaggerate their own importance. Still, Reichardt’s film ultimately suggests that life existed long before they came along and will continue long after their drama has ended.
While the meandering apathy of “River of Grass” can be a challenge for viewers, Reichardt’s wit and skill as a filmmaker make it worth a watch. The film may be a bit too ethereal for some, but this could very well be the point as it suggests that our individual experiences and struggles are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. If you’re a fan of Reichardt’s later work or enjoy films that ponder the larger questions of existence, “River of Grass” is definitely worth checking out.
I’m proud of this 8mm home movie I filmed last summer around the colleges in Claremont, California. Some of the landmarks I filmed ended up in the movie I shot this winter called Winter Dreams, which is now in post-production.
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