First off, I'd just like to say, with regards to tonight's Gotham Awards victories by Craig Zobel and Ronnie Bronstein... let's see now, how should we say this... how about this:
More to come at the Spirit Awards, no fuckin' doubt about that. Tonight was a blast. I'll point everyone in the direction of my pictorial recap once I get that joint uploaded to Flickr. But for now, at this very moment, there are far more pressing matters to address. Or actually, there is only one matter to address, and that matter goes by the name of:
Yes, folks, in just over twelve hours, I will be sitting in a church, waiting to experience a live musical experience that is certain to fill me with epic tingles. That live musical experience is none other than Max Richter's first ever North American appearance. I can't believe, after this many years and sooooo many listens, that I'll be watching Max Richter's music unfurl in front of me, before my very own eyes. Life isn't as bad as I'd like to think it is. It's actually quite beautiful. Tomorrow night is going to prove that.
Since I crawled out of my timid, insecure ass and became a feature filmmaker, many incredible things have happened. But nothing has rivaled the day when I made nine out of ten free throws in my parents' driveway, walked inside, called Scotland, and spoke to Max Richter on the telephone. To have an idol, a hero--basically someone way up there--treating you as an equal, complimenting your work, giving you their blessing to incorporate their sparkling magic into your tiny vision... it really justified all of the debt and exhaustion and, okay, I'll fucking say it here because you come here for the truth and the truth is what you're going to get, goddamn it, the hemorrhoids... to have someone so far away all of a sudden be standing right there beside you... it's a feeling that doesn't happen very often yet it is one that I hope everyone will experience at least once in their tiny lifetime. So I am forever indebted to Max Richter for his generosity. I cannot wait to see and hear him playing the piano in person in just under twelve hours, releasing melodies that will fill me with nostalgia, that will inspire me, that will bring tears to my eyes, that will flood me with emotion, that will remind me of life's complicated goodness.
Here's a minor piece I put together a while back, set to Max's "Vladimir's Blues." It's pretty to me. I hope it's at least kinda-sorta-somewhat pretty to you...