I opted to see only one film so that I could go see my friend M play at Cafe Caffeine at 9. My eyeballs thanked me.Film #13 was Body of War.
'Support our troops' has long been a rallying cry for war proponents. But that glib phrase will never sound the same after you meet Tomas Young, the eloquent former soldier whose story is told in Body of War. Raised in Kansas City, Young enlisted in the Army full of patriotism two days after September 11, 2001. He hoped for a deployment to Afghanistan to fight those who attacked his country. Instead, he was sent to Iraq where he was shot and paralyzed. In Body of War, we follow twenty-six-year-old Young for a year as he undergoes an activist's education. He speaks with candor, humor and raw emotion, meeting war protester Cindy Sheehan near George W. Bush's Texas ranch, lobbying politicians in Washington and being interviewed by Mike Wallace on 60 Minutes.This project results from the collaboration of several extraordinary talents. Venerable talk-show host Phil Donahue met Young and felt compelled to tell his story. He joined forces with director and cinematographer Ellen Spiro, whose camera work delivers an incredible intimacy. The emotional heft of the documentary is underscored by two powerful songs, written specifically for the film and performed by Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. Beyond politics, Body of War reveals plenty about overcoming adversity. Young possesses more courage and resilience than most, yet his challenges are enormous. After his injury, he became engaged to his girlfriend, Brie. We see the strains his condition puts on their first year of marriage. Young's mother, Cathy, joins him in anti-war activism even while her husband remains a committed supporter of Bush and her other son heads to Iraq for his own tour of duty. Woven throughout the narrative are excerpts from the United States Senate debate of October 2002, in which the majority voted to hand over Congress's war-making powers to the White House. The juxtaposition between their rhetoric and Young's reality is profound.
The synopsis says it all. It was profound; an incredible anti-war movie. Tomas came out afterward to a standing ovation and answered questions (his mother, then Phil Donahue and Ellen Spiro joined him eventually). He's quite a ham. Someone asked about his health issues today (they were many and severe during the film, the first two years after his injury, which doctors say is the hardest time for the body, getting used to the accident); he said that he doesn't have to wear the ice pack vest to keep his body temperature regulated anymore and that he doesn't have problems getting and maintaining erections anymore. Some in the audience applauded. He said, "I'm glad y'all are happy about my ability to get it up!"
The audience was heavily peppered with classic Austin political activist types, hissing every time George W. or John McCain, etc. were on screen, cheering for some of the senators who voted against the Iraq war initiative, and cheering/hissing when Ron Paul was on screen.
***
Before the movie started I found myself sitting two seats over from a man I've seen around town a lot, at different theater events and running around near the UT campus. I think he's very handsome -- he has incredible eyes -- and I've always wanted to approach him, always wanted to talk to him, to introduce myself, get to know him ... but I've always been too shy or the situation hasn't been right.
I wanted to say something to him at the Paramount yesterday, something -- anything -- but I was unable to speak and he seemed preoccupied. I considered putting a note in his SXSW bag, while he wasn't looking, nothing revealing, just a little wink of sorts:
Hi,
I've seen you all around
town and I always want
to come up and say hi
but feel shy, so I thought
I'd stick this note in
your bag because it
is in the chair next
to me and you're in
the next chair over.
Is that weird? I hope
not too weird.
That's all, nothing major, nothing identifying; my plan was that the next time I saw him (and I figured Fate would once again play a part in this), I would say "I left a note in your bag at SXSW," and he would say, "Oh, wow! Yeah. I remember. I saved it. I made a short film about it. Would you like to come over and watch it?"
Yeah, right. (The fact that I was able to transcribed exactly what my little hopeful note to him said means that I didn't pull it out of my little notebook and put it in his bag! Probably for the best...)
He was on the phone telling someone where he was sitting, looking around, not engaging me at all. I figured his boyfriend would be arriving soon and my fantasy would be over. But he didn't. A woman appeared (a fellow UT film student). She sat next to me, told him there were two more people with her; she asked if the seats on the other side of me were taken, I said no. I started to move and she protested. I relented because one of the second floor theater boxes would've been in the way of the screen, and I didn't really want to sit any farther away from my future boyfriend than I had to. The other two friends came, a man and a woman. The man said, "I haven't met you before." I said, "No, that's true." He said, "Are you a friend of C's?" I said, "No, I'm just sitting here in the middle of your group!" My future boyfriend said, "We're all friends now." We all introduced ourselves. His name is K (ah! dreamy!)
Then he said, "You look familiar to me."
Come to find out, his feature documentary was in the Tampa GLBT Film Festival the same year S's (ours) was. I remember now sitting in that big old theater and meeting him -- at something else, not at either of our films -- and I remember now thinking he was dreamy with his dreamy eyes.
This probably would not have been the introduction I would have chosen for us, but now I know his name and I've found his website and perhaps I'll contact him through it once I get up the nerve.
At 9 I went to the South Side to Cafe Caffeine where M was playing. I saw so many people there from the Dance Group I used to go to all the time, people who still go, people who say they haven't gone in a long time. M's songs were amazing -- one song brought tears to my eyes because it made me think about R (goddammit!). But I also felt emotionally fragile among these people. In the drive home I felt an urge to cry. I examined it. I don't know what it is. All I could come up with was that I have such strong feelings for a lot of these people, positive and/or negative feelings. I like some of these people very much and I don't like some of them much at all, and I think part of that comes from the feeling that they don't like me, or maybe just as simple as feeling like they don't see me. Some of these people I've connected with in a very deep way, and others I've had the same opportunities to connect and it hasn't happened, and there's a sense of loss. Sometimes I think maybe it's because I'm gay. (I'm reminded of one woman who wasn't there but I saw her on the street on the way to the Paramount yesterday who was at mine & S's soup party a year ago or so, who said to me at the soup party, "I tell my friends he's too fine to be gay!" which she meant as a compliment, but which confused the hell out of me -- still does -- and I didn't know how to respond.) For the most part, I don't think those people know I'm gay, maybe because I don't express it openly enough. But others of them seem so naive as to glaze over when it has come up. It's a complicated thing. Some of the people I have love/hate relationships with (and hate is a bit strong a descriptor) saw me last night and said very loving things to me, things that made me feel good. One woman, who, when I first met her, wanted me to be the father of her second child, said last night, "You look good, very balanced." Hm... wow, I don't know if I felt balanced or if I was just a bit removed because of all the movies I've been watching.
I've seen you all around
town and I always want
to come up and say hi
but feel shy, so I thought
I'd stick this note in
your bag because it
is in the chair next
to me and you're in
the next chair over.
Is that weird? I hope
not too weird.
That's all, nothing major, nothing identifying; my plan was that the next time I saw him (and I figured Fate would once again play a part in this), I would say "I left a note in your bag at SXSW," and he would say, "Oh, wow! Yeah. I remember. I saved it. I made a short film about it. Would you like to come over and watch it?"
Yeah, right. (The fact that I was able to transcribed exactly what my little hopeful note to him said means that I didn't pull it out of my little notebook and put it in his bag! Probably for the best...)
He was on the phone telling someone where he was sitting, looking around, not engaging me at all. I figured his boyfriend would be arriving soon and my fantasy would be over. But he didn't. A woman appeared (a fellow UT film student). She sat next to me, told him there were two more people with her; she asked if the seats on the other side of me were taken, I said no. I started to move and she protested. I relented because one of the second floor theater boxes would've been in the way of the screen, and I didn't really want to sit any farther away from my future boyfriend than I had to. The other two friends came, a man and a woman. The man said, "I haven't met you before." I said, "No, that's true." He said, "Are you a friend of C's?" I said, "No, I'm just sitting here in the middle of your group!" My future boyfriend said, "We're all friends now." We all introduced ourselves. His name is K (ah! dreamy!)
Then he said, "You look familiar to me."
Come to find out, his feature documentary was in the Tampa GLBT Film Festival the same year S's (ours) was. I remember now sitting in that big old theater and meeting him -- at something else, not at either of our films -- and I remember now thinking he was dreamy with his dreamy eyes.
This probably would not have been the introduction I would have chosen for us, but now I know his name and I've found his website and perhaps I'll contact him through it once I get up the nerve.
***
At 9 I went to the South Side to Cafe Caffeine where M was playing. I saw so many people there from the Dance Group I used to go to all the time, people who still go, people who say they haven't gone in a long time. M's songs were amazing -- one song brought tears to my eyes because it made me think about R (goddammit!). But I also felt emotionally fragile among these people. In the drive home I felt an urge to cry. I examined it. I don't know what it is. All I could come up with was that I have such strong feelings for a lot of these people, positive and/or negative feelings. I like some of these people very much and I don't like some of them much at all, and I think part of that comes from the feeling that they don't like me, or maybe just as simple as feeling like they don't see me. Some of these people I've connected with in a very deep way, and others I've had the same opportunities to connect and it hasn't happened, and there's a sense of loss. Sometimes I think maybe it's because I'm gay. (I'm reminded of one woman who wasn't there but I saw her on the street on the way to the Paramount yesterday who was at mine & S's soup party a year ago or so, who said to me at the soup party, "I tell my friends he's too fine to be gay!" which she meant as a compliment, but which confused the hell out of me -- still does -- and I didn't know how to respond.) For the most part, I don't think those people know I'm gay, maybe because I don't express it openly enough. But others of them seem so naive as to glaze over when it has come up. It's a complicated thing. Some of the people I have love/hate relationships with (and hate is a bit strong a descriptor) saw me last night and said very loving things to me, things that made me feel good. One woman, who, when I first met her, wanted me to be the father of her second child, said last night, "You look good, very balanced." Hm... wow, I don't know if I felt balanced or if I was just a bit removed because of all the movies I've been watching.
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