I’m Always Home. I’m Uncool.

I agree with Robyn. I think that, in Fast Cheap & Out of Control, Morris is saying that we can discover our own consciousness through others. Or at least try to discover our own consciousness/self/whatever you want to call it. Morris tries with his Interrotron, and the other men try to make sense of their own lives through each of their own individual pursuits and interests.

Now, I’m not sure if the film, and Morris, is saying that these men are succeeding in this search, or if it is ultimately unknowable. Or if the film is not saying one way or the other, but rather showing the human nature/need to figure ourselves out. Actually, now that I re-read that last bit, my money is on the latter idea.

Additionally, because each man is using a different medium to define and understand his life, does that mean that they all have different conceptions of consciousness? I know that seems like a rather obvious question with a rather obvious answer, but I’m going to ask it anyway, because what if we all have the same consciousness? What if we are all basely the same but differ in only the way we can define ourselves individually is through a different understanding of consciousness? In other words: what if all those four men are the exact same, but differ (to themselves and to us) only by the way they can define their own consciousnesses?

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Fast Cheap and Out of Control. At first I was so excited about making the connections between them and their subject matter that I never realized the huge, gaping difference between the stories they were telling. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I can see the differences. The main difference I saw that I thought was very interesting was the difference between the George (the topiary gardener) and the other three men. The other three men seem to be making these sweeping statements about their particular professions and human nature, and the human condition, and God, and life, and all that good stuff that the film is about. But George… well, correct me if I’m wrong (after all, I have only seen the film once) but George never really talked like that. All the speeches I can recall from George (easily my favorite of the four men) are him talking about his former boss, the old women he used to work for.

I don’t know exactly what influence this has on the film (again, I’ve only seen it once) but I just can’t help but feeling a little sad for George. Here he is, this older gentleman, who worked for years and years for a woman who is now dead. He still spends his time in her garden, and is basically just biding his time until he dies. He had no successor, and when he dies all the history and funny stories about that garden die with him. Morris should make a film just about George and his former employer, and this garden that has taken shape over thirty years at the hand of George. Again, I’ve no idea as to the significance of all this. If someone thinks they know, please tell me.

Seriously, I think I might make a shrine to him in my dorm room.

I agree 110% with (oh I wish I knew which blogs belonged to whom) the post on the blog All I Could Say Was about Fast, Cheap & Out of Control. I just can’t wrap my brain around it… yet. Let me watch it about nine times or so before I really get to know what I’m talking about, but until then, we’ll all just have to deal with my incoherent ramblings about one of the best films I’ve ever seen.

Morris uses a number of interesting movie effects in this film: canted camera angles (nearly every other shot is canted), black and white juxtaposed with color, extreme close ups, slow motion, fast motion, and… oh-my-god, the score. To what effect? I don’t know. Did it affect me? Why yes it did, a whole lot. I felt that out of all the Morris films we’ve seen so far, this was the most cinematic, I guess you could say. This felt to me like more a “movie” than a “non-fiction feature film.” And I think I know why. Morris is making this film about all these people talking about life. We have the wild animal trainer, the topiary master, the naked mole rat expert, and the robot scientist. All of these men are creating, discussing, observing, philosophizing, and living life. But the lives that they talk about are all drastically different, and at some point in the film (due to the heavy overlaying of one theme on another, great sound bridges, some graphic matches, and even a few sight gags) the lines between these drastically different lives seem to merge into one. That line between those separate realities begin to blur. Just as our perception of reality is being blurred and manipulated by Morris. Suddenly, these men aren’t talking about naked mole rats, robots, lions, or topiaries… they are all talking about humans, and human existence. ::please allow for a slight pause while my brain explodes from the absolute brilliance that is Errol Morris::

There’s so much more to say about this film, but first I need to watch it about a million more times. Oh, I can’t wait for class tomorrow… Until then, go to Tyler’s blog for some ideas that will help to convert you to the new religion I’m starting which will revolve entirely around Errol Morris.

I don’t think I am cut out for philosophical debates. In the middle of them I tend to find myself screaming inside my head: “what does it all matter?”

Like today’s discussion. Is there truth or isn’t there? Is there meaning? What if meaning doesn’t turn out what you thought it would be? To all of those my only response is: what does it matter? Does it really matter if truth is real or not? I suppose to the people debating it is. What about those of us on the sidelines who aren’t fighting one way or the other, have no opinion, or don’t care? How does this debate affect us? I don’t think it really does, save giving me a rather nasty headache. I suppose I could use those arguments for any type of debate, not just philosophical ones.

I don’t know… this whole class debate has gotten me into a philosophical/existential/self-reflective way of thinking that I’m not sure I dig. It’s harshing my mellow. Debates are important, yeah. But they are important when they matter. Ah! When do they matter? When someone cares about them. Ah! When does someone care about them? When they matter.

I really do feel like I’m perpetually stuck in Waiting for Godot with Estragon nagging at me that “no, we haven’t been here before” as he struggles in vain to take off his shoe, and I sit there, for eternally, trying to convince him otherwise…

Ever since I first saw Gates of Heaven I have been thinking about Errol Morris, human nature, truth, and details.

Actually, watching Morris’s films has gotten me thinking about Stephen King novels. I have always been a Stephen King fan, and I can tell you exactly the reason why: his characters. I don’t know if any of you have read a Stephen King novel, but if you have, I know you’ll agree with me: his characters are amazing. There isn’t a single flat character. Every character has some sort of significance, even if they only say one word, and you forget them half a page later. They are all vivid, realistic characters. Granted, Stephen King doesn’t always portray humanity in the prettiest of lights, but that’s what I like so much about him: humans aren’t pretty! We are sometimes base, gross, disgusting, strange things. I think this is a memo that Stephen King and Errol Morris both got that most of the rest of their peers did not. Morris’s character just like Stephen King’s: a little strange, kind of bizarre, sometimes pretty depressing, and very, very true to life. These are real people! These aren’t actors; they don’t know how to be anyone other than themselves.

I don’t know about you guys, but I find myself more unnerved by true people, and the truth that comes with them, than any made up character in a book or film.

I think that the last line in Vernon, Florida is supposed to be very important… I’m just not sure how. The film ends with us out on the lake (pond, river, some type of body of water) with the gentleman who likes to hunt turkeys, looking at trees filled with buzzards. As he, and the rest of the men in Vernon, leaves us, he gives us one last pearl of wisdom: “I wish there were more turkeys than buzzards.”

In my mind, that statement should be leading to some kind of higher cognitive thought about the fact that maybe we are all a bunch of turkeys, waiting to get picked off by the next hunter or buzzard. I don’t know. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it yet.

I do know this: with all the very old men in Vernon, Florida, it sure looks like those buzzards are waiting around to some type of purpose…

I was thinking about what Dr. Campbell said about Errol Morris and his films, how he referred to them not as documentaries, but as non-fiction feature films. Now, I don’t know the exact description of a documentary, but I think we can all safely assume that they are real life events filmed exactly how they naturally occur in real life, peppered sometimes by interviews, and are more often than not rather boring. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the History, Animal, and Discovery Channel as much as the next guy, but there is a point when you feel rather inundated by history, and bored to tears by the monotone voice over man that I’m convinced is the same man who used to give lengthy speeches ay my Grandpa’s Elk’s Lodge…  Errol Morris, doesn’t film documentaries. He is in a class all his own. I agree when he says that his films are “non-fiction full length feature films.”

My first hint that this was way more than a documentary? The opening credits. As the credits begin to roll I thought I could hear birds, but it was way to fait to tell. I strained my ears trying to hear them, then suddenly the Sound Mixer’s name appeared on the screen and I could hear the birds and other outside noises loud and clear. Coincidence? I think not. Errol Morris obviously was meticulous about the way he filmed and edited his film. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a documentary was trying to tell me something other than the obvious message of the film. I do feel like Errol Morris is trying to tell us something more important than this, rather simple, story of a pet cemetery. When you think about it, this film could have been so much shorter. It is, in fact, a really simple story. Guy starts pet cemetery, cemetery goes bust, they move pets to new cemetery, and cemetery flourishes. End of story. Not the case with Mr. Errol Morris.

I agree with Dr. Campbell, I now need to watch this film about ten times over, to get what it is trying to day to me.