ALBUM OF THE DECADE: “Cut the World” by Moscow Olympics (2008)
Why was it the best?
In the blog entry that launched this protracted and tedious project, I explained how I will always associate every positive thing about my childhood to a specific kind of sad, jangly British music. I also mentioned in the previous blog post how "Pet Grief" provided glimpses of those memories.
Well, "Cut The World" by Pinoy band Moscow Olympics took all of those memories and made them tangible again. It's as if they sampled every delicious ingredient of 80s British guitar-indie (chiming Railway Childrenesque rhythm guitars, New Order-y lead guitars and bass lines, Blueboy-like vocals, and shoegazer fuzz) and mixed them in a musical uber-blender. And this is as potent as any album can get.
In 10 years of (supposedly) new music, the album that mattered to me most is an anachronism. That pretty much sums up the decade in music for me.
What memories (real or fake) does it inspire?
No real memories are attached to this album. Listening to this album is like snuggling inside a time capsule, enjoying the blissful vaccum where outside, every post-80s heartbreak and disillusionment floated aimlessly.
MOVIE OF THE DECADE: “Lost In Translation” (2003)
My greatest creative Mount Everest of the decade by far was The Screenplay. I was able to finish one and co-write another. Neither of them got produced. All the frustrations and failures, however, weren't enough to erase the ideal movie in my head. It doesn't exist (yet). It's not written in script form. I don't even have a concept or a storyline (yet). But I'm absolutely sure what it would feel like.
I have a clear idea of this because I already saw the perfect movie: Sofia Coppola's "Lost In Translation".
Throughout the decade, all of my attempts at screenplay writing pointed towards something that "Lost In Translation" achieved almost effortlessly: a compelling narrative that could operate on visual-autopilot. And this is what I mean when I pertain to the film's "perfection". Every film geek or professor would always tell you that film is "a visual medium". It's the purest definition/description you're ever going to get. Based on that definition, one can argue that action movies are the "perfect" movies. But if you view film as having a purpose beyond entertainment and titillation, and sharing a purpose with that of literature, which is to portray the day-to-day realities of life and gain insight from them, then something like "Die Hard" is hardly perfect. The average person rarely finds himself trapped in a building hostaged by terrorists. It's not exactly a day-to-day life experience.
The number 2 movie on this list, "Before Sunset", deals more with familiar life themes: love, loss of love, the disillusioning quality of adult life, romanticism vs. pragmatism, and memory. I love it to death. But it isn't a perfect movie. Because of its reliance on dialogue, "Before Sunset" would probably be 90% as effective if it were a radio drama and 80% as effective if it were a short story.
"Lost In Translation" could only work as a movie. Any other medium would sell it short. This is as pure a movie as any can get. Bob and Charlotte do talk, but their dialogue is largely neglectful. They never say anything that's expository; they never say words that the plot warrants. Coppola lets them talk because they're just people who happen to talk.
The film isn't about what they say; it's about what they feel. And "Lost In Translation", more than any film than I can even remember, shows the audience what the characters feel. Coppola is able to make the "feelings" palpable because she projects it on the milieu; and the more Bob and Charlotte meander the streets of Tokyo, the more the feelings become what we see rather than what we hear. You could see the loneliness of their internal world because their external surroundings look overwhelming and alienating. With a film whose running theme is strangeness, Copolla is able to make Bob and Charlotte immensely meaningful because they're the only familiar elements in it. Not just to themselves, in their fictional world; but to the audience themselves, in their solipsistic worlds. The film shows how truly precious Bob and Charlotte's relationship is in a world that's becoming more and more impersonal and strange. This is the most meaningful statement you can make in the first decade of the 21st century. This is why "Lost In Translation" is both GREAT and IMPORTANT.
Coppola wasn't really concerned with plot. What she crafted was a mood. And this mood was so palpable that "Lost In Translation" appears to be operating beyond a "visual medium". Paintings are visual media. "Lost In Translation" is a medium of transportation, to a world that's becoming increasingly apparent in the 21st century, a world that is both overwhelming and alienating.
What memories (real or fake) does it inspire?
Of characters that I created in my head, characters that would likely stay there for good.
What does this list say?
Hold on...the answer to this question deserves a blog post of its own.
album cover from jeromevelasco.com; movie poster from collider.com
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