Funny Ha Ha - Andrew Bujalski's Social Acne
By E.N.
The dickweed theorem coined by the guy who founded okcupid (which I learned about from this movie) is something I think about a lot.
The moment you meet a person in life, the moment you start a conversation, you know what happens? a whitehead begins to form on your body, the closer it is to your face, the more important this person is to you.. It fills with many thoughts and feelings, that's what puss is made of, and you can pop it in five ways: painlessly and quickly (Liz and Marnie), slowly and painfully (Susan and Marnie), wait for it to subside regularly (example not present), or try to let it subside and accidentally pop it violently while taking care of yourself (the entire film - Marnie and Alex & Marnie + Alex).
"This perhaps is a foolish thing to say" is a line said by Bujalski's character (Mitchell), sounds like a guy who graduated from Harvard, he looks like a Harvard guy too, wait... Why am I really attracted to Andrew Bujalski in this, I have no clue at all. he's like a loser but not in the worst way, maybe because the movie doesn't go into his hobbies. I mean, his entire interactions with Marnie are all him being oppressed by the air right now, probably the most fragile character in the film. something I've noticed through my many watches of this that none of the characters are fully comfortable in the frame, always hunched or angled in some way; I feel that the strongest with Mitchell's character, he's the least comfortable of the uncomfortable pimple squeezers. Part of me thinks Marnie would look like that if she wasn't the main subject of the film, a filmic and narrative application of real life, empathy and exposure. Marnie is so inconsistently confident, just like Mitchell.
I wonder if people like the concept of my existence more than my actual existence. Whenever I am pure text on a screen composed of pixels I feel people are more affectionate towards me; but, when we are looking at each other, the air lacks any energy transfer. The energy transfer one finds in handshakes or in sharing a meal is lacking when you stare at me in the face– if you stare at me in the face, you avoid it like the plague. My projected image is grimy and grainy. You only like the diluted analysis of it rather than the sequence itself. Are my flickers too harsh for your hazel eyes? Is the sound of the projector too quiet for your ears covered by your brown hair? What is it that you require of an image? I may not have the beauty but I have the mind, let me take your beauty and make it mine. Lay off of your idea of me and grab onto my arm, feel the blood flow and pulse on my wrist veins. Recognize the reality of I. I am not a machine or half a person. I am: the entree, the main course, and the dessert. Breathing is easier when I’m free of your grasp, it’s harder when your palm’s phantom touch lingers on my throat at night. Breathing is easier when I shine my light into people’s faces that aren’t you, it’s harder when you wear black and refuse to reflect any of my wavelengths back. So much color completely lost from you, none of that energy transfer I was telling you about earlier. Look at me, stare at me, burn my face into your retina and sculpt my face into your amygdala, just as I have to you. Kill the fear that moves you, and I’ll kill the fear that stunts me.
When you forget that what you’re doing has a purpose, my friend, that’s when your body becomes to your soul a furnace. Your life becomes a harsh sauna. A foul-odoured gentleman will stink up the whole place before you even figure out what a towel is made of. It’s a shame you missed out on life, it sure could have used you. Dialogic, diegetic, diabolic, or metabolic this energy will never bounce off of your head. Dense bowling ball falls and slips its way into no pins.