In the last decade there have been three truly great vampire films: Tomas Alfredson's Låt den Rätte Komma In (2008), Neil Jordan's Byzantium (2012), and – I can now say – Jim Jarmusch's Only Lovers Left Alive. We missed this amazing film when it showed in Boston, and the once unannounced, unadvertised week it came to Providence, but last night we finally saw it. I'm not good with reviews. I can rarely move beyond a few superlatives. So, I won't belabor the point. Only Lovers Left Alive is brilliant, beautiful, funny, terrible, sorrowful, and smart. It shines from a shadowy place. It's like Eve's white dwarf diamond, spinning in the blackness of space, sounding out across the void like a gong. It's spooky action at a distance. It's one of those films whose every frame is a work of art. It must be seen.
The writing is not going well. I struggled yesterday with "Protoreaster nodosus (NYC 2014)" and managed 307 words. In a week, I've written only 859 words.
I have to hope that today will be better.
It's gotten cold here, and there's no sun shining. Why has no one sent me the gift of Oxycodone? I'll gladly give an address...and a reciprocal gift.