A good cry

Jun. 5th, 2025 07:17 am
enuja: Marker sketch of an abstracted human form (me), in yellow, stretching, with a solid red background. (Default)
I don't cry enough any more. When I was a child I cried all the time. I'm not sure exactly when that stopped: it was, I think, a gradual process over the years.

Last week, while I was suspended, upside down, in the air, at a public Rope Jam, a Cure song I hadn't listened to in a long time came on, and I started bawling.

One of the last coherent conversations I had with Charles was after the first time I was in a mermaid tie. It's been a year since he died, and the anniversary, along with the song, and my desperate desire for Charles to be alive, again, when I got rightside up again conspired to give me a very cathartic, excellent crying session.

But, since then, even listening to several songs which have caused me to bawl before, I haven't been able to make the tears flow. I have been able to feel sad, but not to get a good cry.

A lot of it seems to be surprise: the rope jam featured an 80s playlist, but I wasn't expecting that specific song. Maybe each Cure song provides me with one really good cry? If so, I'm very glad The Cure has a very extensive back catalog.
enuja: Marker sketch of an abstracted human form (me), in yellow, stretching, with a solid red background. (Default)
Sinners, 2025 Directed by Ryan Coogler

I absolutely adored this film. Sinners is absolutely excellent. You should go see it, and you should avoid as many spoilers as possible before you go see it. This is a spoiler-free review.

Is it perfect? No, it is not. At one point, Smoke, one of two characters played by Michael B. Jordan, pulls the pin of a grenade with his teeth. That sort of small error, questionable directorial choice, or distracting issue happened quite a few times: this is the third quibble I've written, trying to find one that I know is wrong, not just wrong for me, and isn't too spoilery.

But I want to talk not about my quibbles, but about what I loved about this film, which was a lot of things. It is a stuffed, maybe even overstuffed, film, but in a rich, sumptuous, beautiful way.

After a voiceover introduction with beautiful textile illustrations, in the opening scene Sammie, aka Preacher Boy, staggers into his father's church on Sunday morning, the absolute picture of deeply traumatized horror film survivor. And that church! It is a small white painted wooden building with a large door as the main entrance, and a small door on the opposite side open to perfectly frame the preacher against the beautiful day. The choir of children up front and the worshipers are wearing white, in striking contrast with their deep black skin. There are black crosses hanging up on the white walls of the church. Only the preacher wears black, silhouetted against the bright sky behind him. Think stereotypical black sharecopper church. This film is not subtle. It starts with the most stereotypical, symbolic, emblematic, iconic images and ideas, and works from there.

Then the we go back one day in time. Sammie is picking cotton with other sharecroppers, early in the morning, but he skips out quickly, because he's finished his quota and he's got things to do. He greets his mama, gets lectured by his father in the church, and then gets picked up, in a car, by the Smoke Stack twins, both played by Michael B. Jordon.

There are probably 20 minutes of shots of cotton fields in this film. There are dirt roads, a chain gang, a segregated Main Street in town, extreme poverty among sharecroppers, beautiful live oaks, a train station, every icon of the Delta.

Personally, I adore beautiful films, and this is a beautiful film. Go see it on the best screen you can. I regret not having chosen the IMAX option, and I'm seriously considering going to see it again, this time in IMAX. I am a new fan girl of the cinematographer, Autumn Durald Arkapaw. But, essentially, this is a film about music. It's a film about everything, but especially about Delta blues music. So the sound matters. The score, by Ludwig Göransson, is breathtaking, and this movie may made me want to listen to a lot of blues.

Generally speaking, I am neither a huge music fan, nor a huge horror film fan. But I am into music: it's just that I'm not as much into music as my late ex-spouse was, nor many other people around me. I do like listening to the same albums and songs over and over again, and this movie is obsessed with music. So it felt strange to be taking a group of four people to see horror film about music, but it felt very good .

As I wrote in my last post, Wobbegong was the one who told me to see films for most of my adult life, including films that I saw with other people. I've been the one dragging people to see films, because Woobegong told me to. I don't have Wobbegong to tell me to see films anymore. But I do still have the Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast, and my other friends, and I am so glad I dragged three other people to a theater last night.

I also don't think of myself as a fan of horror, but I realized last night that three of my favorite films (not my three very favorite films, but definitely three of my top 15 films of all time) are The Babadook, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, and now, Sinners. All horror films. I was somewhat distressed by the abundance of horror film trailers at the beginning of Sinners: they were trailers showing too much, both too much of the plots of the movies they were advertising, and too much gore for me. I can handle quite a lot of gore, but it is not my favorite thing in films. Horror can be a fantastic way of saying important and interesting things, and Sinners uses horror to say important and interesting things.

So go see it, friends, and let's talk about it afterwards!
enuja: Marker sketch of an abstracted human form (me), in yellow, stretching, with a solid red background. (Default)
I have a spotify playlist I’ve entitled “For Charles, In Memory”. In my music listening, I have a long history of simply playing the same album over and over again, whether it was the bluegrass CD I picked up at a used music sale when I was teenager, right after I bought my household’s first CD player, the Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack in college, Janelle Monae’s Dirty Computer for about four years of a bike commute, or The Cure’s Songs of a Lost World as soon as it came out last November.

Listening to Songs of a Lost World was very much a “for Charles” thing: we saw a bunch of Cure shows together in the 2000s, he’s always loved The Cure, and he had seen The Cure live before he died, while they were touring on this un-released album, so he already loved many of the songs, even though he didn’t live long enough for the actual album to come out.

But I don’t actually love every single song on the album equally, and there are many other songs which remind me of Charles, so I decided to make a playlist. And I’ve been listening almost exclusively to this playlist, as I have historically listened almost exclusively to a single album at a time.

This playlist has gone through quite a lot of changes; early on, I put TLC’s Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls, because Charles used to sing it himself while hiking in mountains (which may have waterfalls). He was quite aware that it wasn’t about that, but still enjoyed singing it to himself. However, I don’t believe I ever actually heard him sing it, and Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls is quite the ear worm, it was getting stuck in my head, it was getting annoying, and it didn’t go with anything else in the playlist.

The playlist currently starts with “Alone”, by The Cure, and is followed by “And Nothing is Forever.” These two songs are how the album “Songs of a Lost World” start, and they are the best two songs on the album, I think. For quite a while, my playlist started with “And Nothing is Forever”, because this is the song that I most closely identify with Charles: it isn’t about him, of course, but to me, it is. But not having “Alone” on this playlist felt like a mistake, and because Robert Smith thinks these two songs, in this order, are a great way to start a listening experience, I’m going to follow his lead.

The third song is “A Forest” because that was a song The Cure often played live while we were seeing them together, and it’s therefore another song that makes me think of Charles. After that is 10:15 Saturday Night, which was the first song from The Cure’s first, 1979, album, Three Imaginary Boys. Charles (like Robert Smith) felt that the whole album is a bit poppy and suffered from recording studio interference, but The Cure’s early poppy work has always been my favorite, so I’ve got this on the playlist. Because this playlist is as much about me as it is about Charles: it’s about the experiences Charles and I had in common, about what I think about when I think about Charles, so in goes 10:15 Saturday Night.

The fifth song is Night Shift by Lucy Dacus. It’s a bit of a stretch to put this one on the playlist, because, while I think I probably talked to Charles about this song, I’m not sure if he ever listened to it, and it certainly wasn’t one of his favorite songs of all time. But it is about the best breakup song ever written, Charles and I did break up, and, crucially, it’s in part about walking all night, a thing Charles and I did several times, and remembered very fondly.

The sixth song is Mr. President by Janelle Monae. Charles preferred Monae’s political songs, while I prefer her joyful, pleasure focused songs. So this is Monae at her most political. Followed by Turntables, a Monae song that Charles actually told me to listen to (it was from a TV show, not from a album), and I might not have noticed it if Charles hadn’t told me how good it was. The third Monae song I’ve included on this playlist is Make Me Feel, which isn’t terribly political, but I needed an up-tempo jam if I’m going to include any Monae, and it’s Monae’s song which reminds me most of Prince, and Charles did enjoy Prince, so it’s here.

The ninth song is Lazarus, by David Bowie, off his 2016 album Blackstar. Bowie died two days after releasing the album, although he had already released two singles, Blackstar and Lazarus, complete with music videos, in December of 2015. The music video for Lazarus is clearly about death, and Bowie died of cancer (only made public after his death). I had seen the music video for Lazarus, and was quite struck by its theme of death, but I couldn’t watch it, or listen to the whole album, again after he died for at least a year, maybe more. I have since become much more comfortable with death, and Blackstar in general and Lazarus in particular is no longer difficult for me to listen to. But it absolutely makes me think of Charles. In particular, after the terminal, stage 4, diagnosis, my boyfriend Dan mailed Charles equipment to make electronic music. Our hope was that Charles would be able to use his impending death as a reason to make music again, or that making music would be a useful emotional outlet. Unfortunately, Charles was intimidated by this new tech, and wanted to just use the same stuff he’d used in the 1980s, and he made only a very little bit of music after his stage 4 diagnosis. So, after Charles died, we mailed the music stuff back here to Chicago, and it has actually gone on further to other people who want to make music, already. But, yes, Lazarus makes me very much think of Charles.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-JqH1M4Ya8

Directly following Lazarus, I put the also death-themed This Morning, which was initially released only on the vinyl version of The Cure’s self-titled 2004 album. Charles and I were living together at that time, and we didn’t have a record player, but my dad did. So Charles and I listed to the album together one day, while my dad was not home, holding the album sleeve and reading the lyrics. And I was immediately struck that This Morning was about watching loved ones die in the hospital. Charles initially disagreed with me, because so many of Robert Smith’s songs are about romantic loss, but we quickly learned that, yes, This Morning was about Robert Smith watching his wife deal with the death of one her parents. At the time, my own dad, whose house we were in, had been diagnosed with cancer. Happily, my dad didn’t turn out to have cancer (just a pre-cancerous syndrome that has not, even now, 20 years later, progressed to actual cancer), and Charles died of cancer first. Not at all what I would have predicted at the time. But very much a song that makes me think of Charles.

For my 11th song, I put Fiona Apple’s Heavy Balloon. Because after two super-sad death themed song, I needed something about perseverance and strength, and Heavy Balloon is about thriving even though you’ve got clinical depression. I stuck with Fiona Apple for the next song. In 2020, Apple put out Fetch the Bolt Cutters, and it was a perfect lockdown album. Charles and I both greatly enjoyed it, and talking about it quite a lot. I don’t know what Charles’ favorite song was on the album, but I do know that in 2022, while we were together on a flight to Norway, Charles was listening to this album, and when he came to the song Newspaper, he raved about the lyric “wearing time like a fiery crown.” I had listened to this album at least 50 times, and the lyric was completely unfamiliar to me. I realized I had just completely ignored the most metaphorical language, because I’m not usually hugely into metaphors. It was a very funny moment, and I have (mostly) payed particular attention to this lyric since.

And then, for the 13th song, and the end of the playlist, I play Endsong, the last song on Songs from a Lost World, and a song very much about death and endings.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4YkuBnTiRgva1GVPWVL4ZO?si=W2-FXeUeTfmxMupqGADlKQ

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