Showing posts with label michael clayton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label michael clayton. Show all posts

Saturday, August 08, 2015

Asshole of an organism

And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. And the stench of it, the stain of it would take the rest of my life to undo. And you know what I did? I took a deep, cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself, "As clear as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is as true a thing as I believe that I have witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time."And, Michael, the time is now.

The best part of my backtracking is running into stuff like this. Michael Clayton and especially this intro are crazy.
That I finally got over my indolence to restore its mp3 audio link is why I'm bringing it back into consciousness. To pick on the new, is the background track, so subtle and so in synch with the audio and overall emotion.


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Thursday, December 02, 2010

...Goes Away in the End

For once you see me not with the eyes of their eyes and speak to me not with the words they pieced for you. As terrible as you are, as unimaginative as you are, as goody goody as you never were, but it all works. There are things that stir, lips that form a smile, and a crescendo is reached midway - it could've worked no better, let me assure you.
For once I fly high into the air again, find that smile playing between the passing clouds again, come down with a friend in hand, raise hell across the lakes again, promise myself to care again, to share again, be beat in the sands, and lost in the currents again.

I could build a house around words tonight, or at least a plush toy that could also double for my couch pillow where I would occasionally fall asleep thinking of the long silences that kept things together. I could also try to reach out again, to press the reset button and give a fuck-all to these strange equations that torment as much as they dictate the course of things, just like once earlier.

And you know what I did? I took a deep, cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself, "As guileless as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is, as true a thing as I believe I have been expressed today, this is the moment that I start to forget. Time will wash away the sandy shores and dry away those placid lakes, where I once had my moments to remember."
And the moments tick by, time my eraser, as rest of the city sleeps.
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Sunday, September 28, 2008

Michael Clayton - the opening scene

Michael Clayton, the 2007 movie, starts off with the most potent of dialogue and voice acting - Tom Wilkinson's act sucks the audience in (and again in later scenes).

Here's the text to the audio. If I were a director, this is what I'd hand out during my auditions.

Michael. Dear Michael. Of course it's you. Who else could they send? Who else could be trusted? And I know it's a long way and you're ready to go to work. All I'm saying is wait, just wait, just...Just please hear me out. Because this is not an episode, relapse, fuckup. I'm begging you, Michael, I'm begging you. Try and make believe this is not just madness because this is not just madness.
Two weeks ago, I came out of the building, okay? I'm running across 6th Avenue, there's a car waiting. I got exactly 38 minutes to get to the airport, and I'm dictating. There's this panicked associate sprinting along beside me scribbling in a notepad, and suddenly she starts screaming. And I realize we're standing in the middle of the street the light's changed and there's this wall of traffic... serious traffic speeding towards us.
And I freeze. I can't move. I'm suddenly consumed with the overwhelming sensation that I'm covered with some sort of film. And it's in my hair, in my face. And it's like a glaze, like a coating. And at first I thought, "Oh my God, I know what this is. This is some sort of amniotic, embryonic fluid. I'm drenched in afterbirth. I've breached the chrysalis. I've been reborn." But then, the traffic, the stampede, the cars, the trucks, the horns...
...this poor woman screaming, and I'm thinking, "No. This is not rebirth. This is some kind of giddy illusion of renewal that happens in the final moment before death."
And then I realise "No, no, no, this is completely wrong" because I looked back at the building and I had the most stunning moment of clarity. I realized, Michael ... that I had emerged, not through the doors of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen ... not through the portals of our vast and powerful law firm but from the asshole of an organism whose sole function is to excrete the poison, the ammo, the defoliant necessary for other larger more powerful organisms to destroy the miracle of humanity. And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. And the stench of it, the stain of it would take the rest of my life to undo. And you know what I did? I took a deep, cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself, "As clear as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is as true a thing as I believe that I have witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time."
And, Michael, the time is now.

Here's the link to the audio, again at the end of this post.
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