Try

      

              There is one illustrious piece of artwork that still adamantly resonates within me even to this day.  In the year of 2008, I stumbled upon a Swedish short film entitled “Try” that was a notable fifteen minutes long.  Surprisingly, within such a small frame of time, the video captured an immense amount of psychological thoughts and simply got my mind reeling—artistically, emotionally, and poetically. Jonas Akerlund’s short film was initially made for the 90’s sensational rock-band The Smashing Pumpkin’s latest single, “Try, Try, Try.”  Together, along with Billy Corgan’s lyrics and Akerlund’s short-film, Try tells an intrinsic heart retching story of two homeless young lovers, Linda and Max.  

            The video begins by displaying a visual of a blazing sunrise.  The camera captures a bright, bulbous sun that makes the entire screen burn a crimson orange.  It gave me a sudden warm feeling, the type of warmth that has an efflorescence to make one shudder at its beauty.  Immediately, I thought of what a sunrise would mean symbolically. As a literary element, the sun symbolizes happiness, life, and spirituality.  It’s an emblem for glory and brilliance. At this sunrise scene, Akerlund presents a voice over of Linda.  Linda, the main character, shares a rather significant childhood story:

 “I remember this clearly; when I was a little girl I had a dollhouse. Hours and Hours I would spend putting my dolls through lifetimes: work, kids, play. All of it happened in that little house.  I remember that perfectly. The rest is a little fuzzy. See somehow, I left it outside for a couple of days. When I went back to play with it wasps came to build a nest inside my dollhouse.  It looked like a twisted apple or something.   Back then it was scary—terrifying.  But I remember thinking, in that little girl way, that just like my dolls, wasps needed a place to stay too.  When my stepfather came home, he burned it all. Everything.  I cried all night long.”

Akerlund’s content presented through Linda’s story will foreshadow the entire short-film.  Initially, I thought, through formal analysis, that the sun would symbolize the usual clichés of happiness, warmth, and brilliancy. I was wrong.  My perception of the sunrise altered the moment Linda said that wasps had taken over her dollhouse.  The dollhouse was Linda’s most treasured item and now it was infested with wasps, distorting it into what she described as a, “twisted apple.”  This happy image of a dollhouse and its pristine perfection was now withering away by a wasp infestation.  Throughout Linda’s life, we will see this correlation as the bigger metaphor of Akerlund’s shortfilm.  While Linda tries and tries to obtain a life that is as perfect as her dollhouse setting, she struggles as a homeless, pregnant prostitute, living a life that might as well have been infested with wasps.  The sun’s symbolism is continuously embellished in Linda’s story.  The fact that her father burned the dollhouse—her treasured hopes and artifact—

will foreshadow Linda’s burning fate in the end.  While Linda confesses her lugubrious experience, the beautiful sunrise scene slowly alters into a sunset.  That warm, fuzzy feeling I once felt and the illusion of happiness seemed as if it had been shattered.  Within a minute of the short-film, Akerlund had captured all of these thoughts and emotions.  I felt eager at first—warm and comfortable as Linda described her beautiful dollhouse—but towards the end, the feeling became ephemeral. 

            After Linda has shared her childhood memory, Akerlund captures the present scene of Linda and her lover, Max.  The scene is shot in an abandoned parking garage and the two homeless teens are lying on top of piles of ragged clothes, litter, and filth.  The walls behind them are tainted with graffiti.  Almost instantly, I knew that Linda’s life did not end up as perfect as her dolls’.  The lighting effect that Akerlund used truly eluded the entire lugubrious, melancholy, and dreary feeling.  The color scheme was a dull spectrum of navy blues, charcoal blacks, and cement grey.  It was shadowed the entire time and every scene that followed lacked Linda’s warm sunrise I had first fallen in love with at the beginning of the film.  Although, Linda will continuously refer to this evanescent sunrise. She is dying to see it and dying to feel its warmth; as am I.  Now, the sun will be Akerlund’s on-going metaphor.  Linda will state in this particular scene,

“It’s funny really—how a life works.   The things you try to hold onto, you try to remember, those are what you end up losing.  And everything you try to forget or throwaway, those are the things that stay.  Like I said, it’s funny.” 

Now, I was provoked with this idea of the hardships in life we are forced to endure.  I believe that Akerlund used this quote as a subtext to explain that life is a continuous, ineffable battle—one that we can never win.  My personal interpretation was that Akerlund was trying to convey that we must spend our lives trying, trying, and trying but essentially we will always remember the struggle more than we can ever remember the gain.  It is important to remember this particular quote because in the end of the shortfilm, Linda’s voice over will repeat these exact same words—over expressing Akerlund’s subtext in his work. 

            Akerlund will continue to show us Linda and Max’s life but will also capture some disturbing footages that will spark some ideological criticism.  Linda is pregnant and clearly a drug abuser.  She looks to be about eight months along with the way her stomach protrudes out.  The camera catches a side profile of Linda, really exemplifying the fact that she is far along in her pregnancy with the size of her dome shaped abdomen and then it shows her drinking straight from a wine bottle.  This was utterly disturbing but for some reason. I believe that Akerlund was not intentionally trying to make his viewers feel appalled.  I interpreted it as though Akerlund wanted to show the brutal, raw truth of a desperate situation and explain this fact—some people do not get to live a good life.  Akerlund showed some bold and blatant honesty in these scenes and for that, it has become my favorite work of art.  The film will continue to take us through Linda and Max’s life.  They are seen in a quick station, snatching and stealing what they can fit in a bag and hopping on subways and begging in stations.  All through these scenes the viewer can still hear the distant echo of the subway station noises, the murmurous introduction of the Smashing Pumpkins song and Linda’s voice over:

“I know the world is hard and cold, and can hurt you bad I also know it doesn’t mean to. It’s not personal. And I know you have to try pretty god damn hard not to take it personally.”

Immediately after hearing Linda describe how she manages to get by such a terrible life, I could see pass the ideological criticism of it all. Akerlund portrayed Linda to seem as though her way of managing her life was by trying hard not to let it control her.  Linda’s main motivation was to simply—TRY.  Now, my personal interpretation of the short film was to understand the beauty of an ugly struggle.  Linda will list the things she so desperately dreams about: a house, a bar, dishes, clothes, dryers, TV, internet, etc.—things that are so modern and obtainable for myself that it makes me feel unbearably sorry for Linda.  Akerlund will show that Linda’s own interpretation of life is simply “getting by.”  Linda will continue to explain her dream and hopes of the life she wants to live but the scenes will show the perverse reality of it all. 

            What really resonates within me was Linda’s courage and positivity.  She says, “It could get worst” whereas my interpretation can be, how worse can it possibly get?  Even more so, when Akerlund continues to provoke some major controversy by showing Linda and Max surviving off by prostituting themselves. 

            I believe the turning part and the most brutal scenes in Akerlund’s short film are Linda’s drug scenes.  The footage captures Linda and Max sitting in a filthy bathroom, using toilet water to fuel up their heroine needle.  In these scenes I had to embellish on some psychoanalytic criticism.  Akerlund capture’s Linda’s eerie high with vibrant footages.  The shots seemed to be stretched out and moving as if to make the viewers feel dizzy or sick.  It shows inure pictures of what we would imagine to be the perfect family with the white picket fences, a beautiful woman sunbathing in an American flag embroidered bathing suit, a family having dinner, and a young girl sitting peacefully on her bed.  In the background there is constant creepy giggling and sadistic laughter along with the splitting octave of a needle grinding against metal. Suddenly, Akerlund’s scenes are highly altered to show a different take on each image—a rather perverse take.  The perfect family living in the big, colonial style house is shot to death by the husband, the woman in the bathing suit is now in the pool slitting her wrists, the family at the dinner table is regurgitating their meal, and the daughter in her bedroom is now mimicking some rather pornographic explicit content.  These were clearly psychological scenes that made me feel uncomfortable.  It had the same dark, psychological drug effect that is continuously seen in Darren Aronofsky’s movie, Requiem for a Dream.   Besides Akerlund’s psychological effect in this sequence, what really strikes me was Linda’s commentary.  She compared the feeling she got when she was high and used it as an allegory for The Wizard of Oz—going from a world of white and black to a world of all color.  She described it as if the drug symbolized the tornado and this tornado lifted her to a high where suddenly “everything changes to color.”

            The ending heightens the significance of this Swedish short film.  Throughout Akerlund’s video I see what it is like to be Linda—homeless, sick, poor, unfortunate—and I’m emotionally linked to the character.  It pains me to see her in pain, it sickens me to see her sick, and it makes me feel helpless to see her so hopeless. And suddenly, I believe Linda was right.  We, as humans, believe the things that are most tragic is what characterizes our fate because we always hold onto the things we are trying to forget.  The ending scenes show Linda rushed to the hospital; she’s bleeding and is dying.  Once again, Akerlund features Linda’s voiceover, repeating the same quote she had shared with us at the beginning of the film:

“It’s funny really—how a life works.   The things you try to hold onto, you try to remember, those are what you end up losing.  And everything you try to forget or throwaway, those are the things that stay.  Like I said, it’s funny.” 

At this point in the film, I was crying so hard I nearly made myself sick.  I was well aware that the repeating scheme of this quote was foreshadowing Linda’s death.  In fifteen minutes, I had witnessed one of the most tragic stories. Linda ends the film by saying that she was right all along; she had finally found her place, “It was sunny. Like California,” all while the remaining footages captured her casket being burned.   

            Jonas Aklerund’s short-film, Try, is my favorite work of art because of how it affected me emotionally.  I always found it odd that I enjoyed reading depressing novels and watching sad films, but Linda, Akerlund’s main character, proved to explain why I had such a masochistic taste.  The most depressing, tragic stories are the most memorable ones.  Linda believed so and so do I.  Not only was I emotionally attached to the film, I was amazed at Akerlund’s bold context—he was brutally honest no matter how much controversy the video sparked.  This is what I consider to be “art.” 

Artist’s Website:

http://www.jonasakerlund.com/

Song of the day: Try, Try, Try-Smashing Pumpkins.

Greener without the scenery

It has been quite some time since I have written in my blog.  My tedious schedule has made it rather difficult to be able to sit down and lavish in such finer things---besides some blasphemous chemistry (and I say this with MUCH exaggerated sarcasm. Consider it my hyperbole for the day, literary fanatics!)  Thus, my creative outlet has become a mere measly spark in my everyday life.  That, surely, must come to an immediate end.  I love writing and therefore, I must be diligent with my time and spare some for save your scissors. 

I will note that the majority of my (mental) time has been fantasizing about New York.  I have had quite the “Empire State of Mind,” if you ask me.  After my summer rendezvous in this chaotic city, I have realized I have fallen madly in love with New York.  I have also realized it is the best metaphor for anyone that has had some outrageous ambitions in their life.

 The first place I went to in the city was NYU’s bookstore.  I was flabbergasted, to say the least.  Our bookstore at Pan Am can only occupy a fraction of NYU’s intellectual loveliness.  I wanted to simply engulf myself in every single book.   If I were to be asked why I am now applying to New York University, I would immediately reflect back to this timeless moment.  It may sound ridiculous, but it was then that I had another outrageous epiphany—when I purchased my first NYU patriotic banner—that I would be the idealistic NYU student.    I do not mean to sound narcissistic; rather, I simply believe that I would be an intrinsic addition to the student body.  It felt right and I had an irresistible urge to buy a few textbooks.  In fact, I contemplated whether if I should go on with my day pretending as if I were an NYU student.

As I go through this impending application process, I have been stumped on the essay prompt.  The Common Application, (torturous fragment of my memory can vaguely point out how much I despise returning to such tasks) has supplements for each university.  These supplements call for additional information that the university requires in order to postulate a more “rounder” perspective of their fellow applications.   The question I have spent some amount of time on, perplexed with the flippant amount of ideas I may have for such a vague topic, is to describe something that intrigues/inspires me. 

There are many things that “inspire” me to say the least.  But, in this case, I would like to turn this question around and write about the “inspiration” my absent father has indirectly had on my studies.  It is not the approach they are expecting—but then again, I’ve always had a tasteful, spontaneous approach to writing.

Here’s a brief synopsis of my “inspiration:”

When I was growing up, I would do anything for my dad’s attention.  I rarely saw him and the few times I did I wanted to make them count.  Unfortunately though, my cousin would always tag along on these scarce visits.  My father adored my cousin and I knew, even at such a young age, that my father loved my cousin Amber more than he would ever love me.   It is a very profound thought for just a child.  I hated being aware of my father’s lack of interest and I resented him for making it so believable.  

I was also aware as to why my father preferred to love my cousin rather than his own daughter.  You see, Amber had talent.  She could sing.  For the rest of our childhood, I would always remember Amber as his little, cacophonous song bird.   But my father saw Amber’s voice more than just mere talent—He envisioned Amber as a star and as a clear ticket to Hollywood where money was just an extra incentive.    Money was always something my father lacked and therefore, his only priority was to always have some sort of constant currency to help him get by.  Their living style was much dissembled.  I would not go into details—but I know now that my dad would do anything for easy cash.  

Amber would sing every time I would visit. She’d sing all day and my dad loved it.  It got to the point where I was absolutely desperate for my father’s attention.  I knew from experience that I did not have such talent. I could not sing and I could not dance.  So, I tried to find my own talent.  I was good at writing and I loved to read.  I was a good student and that seemed like the only “talent” I cared for.    

I was an ambitious little girl and I made it a goal to make straight A’s on every single report card.  By the time I was in middle school, I had received notable honors such as “Student of the Year” and “Texas Honor Student.”   I immediately found my success in school and my love for my studies to be the perfect way to depict my character as "talented.”

So, while Amber continued to sing, I continued to study.  Amber would go to Broadway and I would go to an Ivy League.  I remember the multiple times I abated a “normal” childhood and found myself maturing faster than I had ever intended.  When I was six, I had already read a flippant amount of books and had started my own book list.  When I was eight, I knew that I wanted to go to a prestigious university.  I was determined and I was positive that my father would see my determination. 

Sadly though, I suppose my father was particularly incredulous of the thought that being a good student could be a talent.  I would like to think it takes a tremendous amount of self discipline and perseverance to have progressed this much in my studies and I suppose that within it-self makes me a talented individual.  To be quite blatant about it all, I took my fathers’ indifference to our relationship to get me where I am today.

It may sound rather perverse, but my absent father was the one that inspired me for all the most absurd, infamous reasons.    Thank you, Dad.  I have made it this far because you, without knowing, gave me something to (still) fight for.

Song of the day: Buried Myself Alive- The Used.  I have been in love with this band since I was in middle school. Granted, I went through a long period of  loving grundge, punk, rock-alternative music, but The Used has been one of the few bands I have consistantly had a taste for since then.