Bloody Sexy 70s Horror Extravagance

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Last week I got to (re)watch Nicolas Roeg’s The Man Who Fell to Earth in an art cinema surroundings, which means that I had a perfect chance to enjoy looking at David Bowie’s beautiful face and frail, boyish frame on the big screen. The 1976 weird, atmospheric alien drama made me think about my favourite decade when it comes to film. Hectic, violent, fun, perverse or politically incorrect, but often dealing with crucial problems that modern humanity faces – alienation and stupefying shallow materialism, without the gut-wrenching facade of useless virtue signalling I can’t seem to escape from lately.

Now, to get back to The Man Who Fell to Earth a bit, I need to mention the simple detail that I am always happy to see: naked women with unshaven bush during fun, unhinged sex scenes. To me those scenes seemed playful and liberating in the most essential way, funnily they brought the sense of normality (even though they were chaotic) when compared to today’s obsession with image and presentation (think of yourself as a brand! ) and the need to preach instead of just enjoying yourself with whatever art you’re creating, whatever life you are living…

That being said, it’s no surprise that the 1970s were a prolific decade for unique horror films, ranging from very weird to more conventional stories. Of course, I am a big fan of both. Some of the most beautiful, seductive, somewhat sleazy and erotic adult horror films can be found in the vampire horror sub-genre.

Daughters of Darkness (1971)

Faster. We must go faster than day.

In case you didn’t know, merely talking about blood can be an intense sexual experience. The whole movie is drenched with sexual tension, sometimes it’s over the top, but it helps the viewer feel the excitement through the pretty slow paced rhythm of the story. It won’t be boring though, if you just let it lead you into the night.

Finding the film can be confusing because of the original title: Les lèvres rouges (Red Lips), but it certainly won’t be tough to get across because of its cult status. If you’re not smitten with the costume, interior designs and lightening right away – you are watching the wrong movie!

Hungarian countess Elizabeth Bathory (played by Delphine Seyrig) is probably my favourite character from all of the vampire themed films because when you see her and get seduced by the velvety voice, good looks and charisma, you just know you would travel the best places and wear the most luxurious clothes in her company. It might get very lonely at times I am sure, but regular life and routine gets us down with boredom as well. Oh, and I hear vitamin D deficiency can be a bitch also, especially when you are not allowed to go out in the sun.

Scary and classy with a drop of excessive dramatics – a perfect combination.

Vampyros Lesbos (1971)

You’re beautiful when you’re scared, but even more so in death.

Probably the most memorable title of the genre, also the most prominent film from the erotic horror master, Spanish director Jesus Jesse Franco.

Just like its title, the film is (intentionally) highly suggestive, doesn’t let you connect the dots, but draws the whole picture under your nose right away. And you love it. Once you are used to that, the scenes become even more enchanting and the red details turn into an additional attractive part of this macabre, slightly comedic dance of seduction. Just not take it too seriously when it comes to the expectation of the genre, this is not a scary horror movie, but a trippy, atmospheric, chic fever dream starring gorgeous, often half naked women.

The sometimes ominous, sometimes sexy, all together weird atmosphere is achieved thanks to the brilliant ‘psychedelic rock from the future’ soundtrack by Manfred Hübler & Siegfried Schwab. After watching the film, I ended up listening to the OST on a loop for a week.

The Vampire Lovers (1970)

The trouble with this part of the world is they have too many fairy tales.

The first time I watched this one was when I was in my classic old vampire movie phase. Dingy castle, spider webs, cloaks, theatrics and mystery. You know, the more traditional story, period drama meets a vampire, they tend go nicely together as we all know. What I didn’t expect was such an alluring lead female character, Carmilla played by the amazing Ingrid Pitt. She exudes a very Sophie Marceau type of charm that makes the watching worth your while.

The other reason is plain – it’s fun! The perpetuation of familiar count Dracula myth (which I love), but with the atmosphere of subtle eroticism and less subtle seduction going on and characters in general who remain believable even when are too dramatic in their actions (the best example – Peter Cushing as General von Spielsdorf).

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Oh, and last, but not least – I had to double check and yes, all of these films were around 90 minutes long, which, for me at least, is the perfect length of a horror movie (and some other genres in general). Sometimes I wish modern filmmakers would take note from their predecessors in many aspects, but this one especially!

OVERREACTION – a short horror story

Sitting on the couch, holding a cup of super hot coffee, but suddenly there’s a disruption!

I need to sneeze and do my best to minimize the sneeze intensity while I start to panic. It’s too late, all in vain, there’s no stopping of the volcanic force from within once it decided to move. There’s no time to move the cup to a more stable surface, my body will have to deal with it. It’s a crime scene in the making. An absolute disaster.

I clench my fist first, the rest of my body follows and then I wait. Not my brightest moment, but I cover the top of the cup with the palm of my bare, free hand like I’m trying to drown a fly in a glass of stale juice on a sweaty July afternoon, but the time is not on my side.

When the sneeze arrives and sends after shakes through my body, it’s impossible to keep the coffee in the mug… woah, did I mention it’s hot? The drops are coming in swarms, they are menacing, tiny, but revengeful bullets aiming towards my arm and legs and less importantly, a blanket near me. They are all testaments to my stupidity.

Will there be scars?

Introduction

I’ve spent most of my teen and semi- adult years wondering what the fuck are we all doing here. Just like most people, eventually I had to come to some sort of a conclusion, even if the conclusion is that there is absolutely no meaning in anything we do or stand for. 

So, in conclusion, I also came to a simple conclusion that most people are very skillful at hiding their true feelings and passions (I can’t think of a better word) even from themselves. Often clinging to only a few crucial pieces that allow them to characterize their existence as meaningful and, of course, acceptable to fellow humans.

Like I said, I was confused since forever, but the good part of it  is that it made me curious about every aspect of life, not in an academic sense in which I am miserably mediocre at best, but in a discover it yourself without any judgement kind of way. Since I was a kid, I used to feel like most people wouldn’t listen to what I was saying, like they didn’t want to really participate in the conversation and rather waiting for me to shut up so they can conclude: ‘Oh whatever, you know, I think you’re just overthinking it.’  I knew that I was either boring or confusing or both so I had to look for answers somewhere else.

Art gave me answers and posed a bunch of new questions making my life richer and more exciting every day. With no particular talent or the need of expressing myself that would be considered artistic in a broader sense, like millions of people before me,  I started looking into works of other inspiring people. Whether it’s literature, cinema, music, photography, paintings or anecdotes about writers, painters, directors and actors… a lot of little stories and little obsessions that made me happy and allowed me to communicate my thoughts in a clearer way.

I don’t want to, but If I HAD to choose, I would say that my love for film is the most obvious and long lasting one, so it’s no wonder I feel the happiest when I can discuss film related topics. Combining this appreciation for the seventh art with my infatuation with anything from the strange, kinky and eccentric spectrum, I will keep writing here about weird films that have caught my eye and mind.

 

To be continued…

I Had a Dream

Literally.

Everyone dreams even though most of us don’t remember exactly what was it really about. For the last couple of months it seems like my dream memory is improving because almost every morning I vividly remember all the details which I find very amusing, but silly me, I would say to myself: “Woah, this was cool, I’m sure I won’t forget it this time!” But not surprisingly, if I don’t write it down right away, poof! It’s gone.

A year ago I could’ve sworn that I was a no dreamer, which is kind of sad when you think about it, not that dreams are always that interesting, but when you do the math (I didn’t, of course, someone did), in an average lifetime six years is spent dreaming. Not to mention the big range of artists who get inspired by dreams, breaking the line between what’s real and rational (at least by society’s standards) and otherworldly elements of human psyche, our behaviour, relationships and atmosphere in general. That is where the genuine, uncensored fun is born, but I’m going to stop myself from turning this into another David Lynch appreciation post. What I wanted to stress, everything can be dreamy if you want it to be, a ray of sun falling on the kitchen table, a bike ride, the view through the window, a cat sleeping on your lap… Just add a bit of filter – mental or through an app, it all counts.

I woke up this morning with a very detailed memory of a dream I had and I wrote it down on my cell phone and didn’t look at the notes since then, but somehow I still remembered everything, even the anxious atmosphere and the familiar, but also weird and unknown surroundings. So, now I’m going to get back to it and draw as much details I can to keep them here written until the world ends or until internet is down forever, which is the same thing.

The Projection

Winter time, or so I think judging by the clothes I was wearing. I got all dressed up to go to a very special projection in my favourite old cinema in the center of Zagreb called Kino Europa. This isn’t surprising because that place means a lot to me and in exactly a week it will be closed for renovation and no one really knows how long that’s going to take. There’s not even a guarantee it will be reopened as the same cinema again. But, that’s a story I’m not really eager to type into right now.

Before I entered the cinema I met a random high school friend, we awkwardly said hi to each other and that was it. He was standing next to some other guy and they were selling flowers.

I was wearing a huge, fluffy fur coat (real fur, but don’t judge, it’s my dream) and started feeling nervous as soon as I saw the line of people waiting in front of the cloakroom, my usual ‘fuck this shit’ instinct kicked in and I started walking towards the stairs, but someone stopped me, “You can’t go upstairs with the coat.” In real life there’s no need to go upstairs in this cinema and I realized later that my mind combined the interior from Kino Europa and Croatian National Theatre in Zagreb, which was a really cool mix.

It was finally my turn to hand in the coat, the woman working there mumbled under her breath: “It’s 10 lipa”. This is a ridiculously small amount of money, a 10 lipa coin is small, rusty and worthless. I gave her 20 lipa and said: “It’s ok, keep the change.”

source: rebloggy.com

The cloakroom situation doesn’t end here, instead of the usual routine of handing me the number that will connect me to my loving coat at the end of the night, the woman shows me a big piece of paper with everyone’s names on it. I had to sign it and somehow that will be enough. It didn’t make sense and I started asking questions making the woman rolling her eyes like I’m the biggest idiot ever. I’m still holding the coat and it’s very heavy, the woman takes it from my hands and marches to the back. I can’t find my full name on the paper, I’m getting very anxious at this point, I just want to sit down and enjoy the movie.

Another, younger woman comes back and shows me my first name on the list – Matea. “Yeah, but how do I know that’s me, there’s no last name. The woman nods her head, sighs, opens a laptop (I don’t know where it came from) and starts reading everything I ever put in my CV, but not the regular one, just the ones in Europass format. I have a couple of those in different languages written for different purposes so that’s a lot of information. Now I nod my head and pay 160 kunas (around 20 euros) for the movie ticket. I think to myself: “Well, this is quite expensive and yet so many people came.”

Finally, I go upstairs and enter the movie theater and sit down. I have no idea what movie I watched. I hope I got my coat back, though.

To Run In Disorder

Hello there, long time no see – I was busy falling down, creating scrapbooks, memories and friendships, having quite an unbalanced diet and dancing.

A big, messy pile of topics accumulates in my head every day, now it’s time to clean my mind shelves a bit, but not too much because cluttering is a lifestyle choice (clutter =to run in disorder) and I absolutely welcome it.

Imagine any  discussion – with family, friends, colleagues, random acquaintances, it doesn’t matter. The amount of  passion and determination I’ll put into the conversation depends of course on how interested I am in the topic, but mainly how well-informed I think I am. When you let yourself develop a certain level of getting away with words, you grow an ability to improvise along the way, it is supposed to be smooth and fun, like watching Fred Astaire’s  toe – tap dancing.

I don’t have a ‘go to’ topic I like to discuss, but movies are my safe place and well, fortunately, almost every topic can be analysed through movies. Now, *insert a jump cut* I want to talk about feminism and how the misuse of the word (and what it stands for) by useless campaigns and public figures annoys me, but even though I have a huge rant slowly pouring from the tip of my fingers, I won’t write about it. Let the movies do the talking this time. In no particular order, chosen because I’ve seen them in the past year or so, and also because they simply celebrate womanhood without fake spectacles, fireworks and ridiculous T-shirt signs.

 

Caramel

Even if you’re not a fan of getting out of the comfort zone of English-speaking film (but c’mooon), it’s necessary to sometimes give a chance to other parts of the globe.  How to start? My advice is to follow the sunrise and go east, it won’t be boring. I’m not sure where I found this gem, maybe it was an Instagram recommendation that caught my eye during a random scroll. It was simple, I was drawn to the title – Caramel, it just sounded yummy.

The plot is similar to the name – sweet, warm and easy to follow, acting is natural, the film’s down to earth atmosphere evokes a feeling that is getting a bit lost today in our constant thrill-seeking existence. Wise men say: the story doesn’t have to be extremely complicated to be intriguing. Often we crave simple pleasures, like caramel candy for example. You can quote me on that one.

Female director Nadine Labaki created a miniature world taking place in a beauty salon in Beirut where five female characters spend most of their time enjoying each other’s company. You may expect a lot of differences due to our cultural backgrounds, but relationships, struggles and desires are the same everywhere. Strength and fragility, eccentricity with a lot of humour can be found among these women of all ages. Everything is so familiar, yet unique. A silent Middle Eastern girl power anthem.

 

The Diary of a Teenage Girl

A title that guarantees a poorly written scenario and hysteric overacting is misleading to say the least. I wish I watched this brilliant story of growing up when I was in my early teens, awkward and uncomfortable with myself and pretty much everything else around me.

Different sexual relations, drug experimentation, dysfunctional family, a teenager dating an older guy… sounds like a dark, fucked up story with a predictable tragic culmination and a fluffy moral message in the end. Instead, it’s a smart, witty and incredibly creative film that stays in mind even if your teen years are left behind a century ago. The exploration of female sexuality doesn’t have to be vulgar and exploitative, it can be written into a direct, bold, yet unconventionally easy-going story.  This film proves it by celebrating youth and turning insecurities into exciting new possibilities.

 

À Nos Amours

Maurice Pialat’s classic has been on my watch list for too long. I guess I knew I have to watch it from my pretentious ‘lover of everything artsy and French’ side, but I didn’t now if I would like it as much as I think I’m supposed to. It’s ridiculous, I know, but the most important thing is that in the end I wasn’t disappointed, AU CONTRAIRE mes amis!

First of all I was blown away by Sandrine Bonnaire’s performance, it was her first movie appearance and the character she’s playing is a confused, but determined 16-year-old. So, it’s not an easy one to say the least. Basically, Suzanne is everything I wanted to be when I was a teenager, but didn’t have the courage. Don’t get me wrong, this is much more than a cheeky teen romance story, it is also a raw depiction of a family falling apart and young girl’s anger turning into rebellious acts to affirm her existence. Sex and seduction are powerful tools in exploring one’s identity which is authentically shown in the film, and just like in The Diary of a Teenage Girl, not at all vulgar or cheap.

Mustang

There are times when after watching a movie I keep thanking myself that I did it because what I’ve experienced actually improved my life a bit. Traditional values which lead to oppression of young women, stripping them away from what they appreciate the most – their freedom – this is how I would describe Mustang in the shortest way possible. An important topic to discuss, but oh so frustrating when you think about that is not just a screen fiction in some parts of the world.

Placed in rural Turkey, five young sisters are playing on the beach with some boys from school. Lots of laughter, fun and as innocent it can be, but considered inappropriate by the local conservative standards. After the incident, their lives change when family members start looking for candidates they will get married to. During the process of finding the suitable pairs for the arranged marriage, the girls become prisoners in their home. This is where Sofia Coppola’s The Virgin Suicides influence is clear, but this is not a copy or remake of the celebrated 1999 drama.

What washes off the bitter taste of this absurd situation while watching the film are the sisters, their unity and love for each other, thinking of  clever tricks to make cracks in the wall that is crushing their youth and trying to break their spirits. Emotional, beautiful and inspiring celebration of girl power when it’s the most needed, when freedom and emancipation are endangered.

Carol

This Todd Haynes’ subtle masterpiece wouldn’t even be on this list if I haven’t seen it again a couple of days ago. After watching it, I felt guilty that the first time I’ve watched it when it came out, I didn’t ‘feel it’ and told my friends it’s not really worth a watch. Now I want to print out ‘WATCH CAROL PLS’  posters and hand them out to strangers on public transport. In my opinion, this is the best performance the goddess in human form Cate Blanchett ever delivered, and we all know she has a variety of amazing roles up her sleeve.

Love is a tricky topic to present on screen, to use in all forms of art actually. It’s universal, familiar to us all in some form, but also always unique and the artist has to be careful not to cross the line from being honest to turning into a cliché.

This is a love story between two women of different ages whose lives spontaneously  cross paths and after that nothing is the same. You can say it’s love at first sight, emotions are thrillingly intense, but they remain calm enough to allow their relationship develop naturally. It just feels right and close to home.

I’ve always been a sucker for details in film, Carol is full of them, using them to boost up the film’s low-key but breathtaking aura. The element of society standing in the way of people’s happiness is also present since it’s the 1950s, not a great time to be openly gay and trying to live your life to the fullest. Carol is unapologetically being herself from the start until the end even though it means breaking the so-called social conventions. The story is set around the Christmas season which adds just a little extra magic to the atmosphere, and is also another reason why December is a perfect time to watch it. Maybe even turning it into a tradition.

– Tell me you know what you’re doing.

– I never did. 

Wisdom Teeth

Crying while watching a movie even though you’re not really sad means your soul just treated herself with a generous spa coupon.

I enjoy spending the nights reminiscing and being nostalgic about the things that didn’t happen and are not very likely to happen.

Artist: Ayham Jabr

Loving a track so much you get sick from overplaying it is as annoying as tearing a cuticle skin on public transport. Annoying, but inevitable.

Keep discovering my pleasure centers, but don’t be gentle, don’t be coy. Surprise is the magic word!

Complete anonymity is a rock made of gold, smudge some mud and shit all over so it doesn’t attract unnecessary guests.

Artist: Beth Hoeckel

Whole day – whole night parties should last for one day and two nights.

Constantly wondering what the other person is thinking kills your charm and clips your wings.

The reason why something is illegal is not based on its dangerous nature, but it’s owner’s desire to keep it for himself.

Once you go glitter, you never go back. I’ve seen it happen to the best among us.

Pants are great, but never forget that they are optional.

Anthony Hopkins was 70 years old when he was diagnosed with autism – there’s always time for finding the explanation.

It’s art if you decide so. Just don’t be afraid to making fun of it every once in a while.

Never reject childlike emotions with an ‘I’m an adult now comment.’

Keep your friends close, keep your friends who sometimes wear mismatching socks closer, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Never apologize for leaving lipstick stains on their pillow sheets.

Oversharing is not caring, but it sometimes has to be done.

If there’s no word for it – invent, mold it around your needs!

Onion Bulbs, Balloons and Sparkles

People I appreciate the most are those with complex inner worlds. Their mind is both cozy and scary destination where strong connections are being made, surfaces are reflective and the air is fresh. There are so many layers that a visitor can peel off slowly like holding a huge onion bulb.

Inner worlds mean stimulating thoughts, exciting ideas and bright eyes. Meeting someone for the first time, talking and looking them in the eyes, it’s easy – there is something unpredictable going on in the back, I caught the infamous twinkle, a spark in the eye. Literally and figuratively. It’s nice, we’re cool. Even though it sounds banal, the twinkle eyed folks are not very common (or are just not easy to find in typical environment), and the experts are not exactly predicting a sparkly future.

The arch-enemy of the spark is not just dullness of the mind, to be politically correct, oh no, I’ve seen many brittle minds being suffocated by the haze of an inflated ego. Self obsession can start subtly, we are all spending too much time in our heads over-analyzing unimportant events instead of building our own cities and countries, but once it spreads on other vital organs, it’s probably too late. Metastasis. The haze is addicting and the sense of judgement is fragile. Even the good, altruistic deeds now get projected into puzzle pieces that want to turn everything  about the person into something remarkable.

There are two platforms – the foggy, disproportionately big headed ego dances on the first one, and everything beneath is a stale waltz of the common folk.

When ego reaches its last stage and the head gets so inflated that the person can’t carry it around anymore, the body rejects the head and the amount of air makes it float away. It may be forever.

Next time you see a body looking, hearing and tasting its surroundings with its limbs, don’t be scared or feel sorry for it, it’s not a tragedy. Even a beaten up body is more useful than the most beautiful balloon head, the only problem we may need to worry about is the atmosphere being  cluttered with too many of those skipping up and down and bumping into each other. We could be encountering a new form of global warming.

 

Source: deviantart

 

The Dada Method

It’s been a while since I wanted to do this, I used to do it when I was a kid. With books. Everyone was angry when they found out, of course.

How to make a dadaist poem? Just do what Tristan Tzara, the inventor of dadaism says:

That’s exactly what I did, I found last weeks newspaper laying around, chose the first short article I saw at the bottom of the page in the news section and this is the result (not sure how I feel about the comment how the poem is supposed to be like me). The headline is added afterwards, it wasn’t created by random words I was mixing up. Of course the original was in Croatian since I used local newspaper, but I tried to keep it literal while translating.

 

School Break

formation of the Kentucky attacker

the state

because of the shooting Twitter reacted

the reasons are fought down

celebrities in the middle

shooting published shooting state

one federal governor wounded

it came tested middle

claimed

about rarity but in detention

school is to be more schools

real didn’t

agency published to school

across the police is

person one killed

the police governs them

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How to Kick Yourself in the Ass and Other Important Advice

In most cases I think being nice to people is the only possible way of being. The fact that I’m, just like everyone else, surrounded by rude, pushy, generally just very self obsessed humans doesn’t stop me from holding up the wall of niceness throughout the day. That wall isn’t built because I’m an amazing person, it comes from selfish reason. It’ s almost like self preservation even though I feel it damages me more and more in a subtle, but visible way.

I think it’s selfish because I don’t feel good when others don’t, especially if  something I may have said or done made them uncomfortable. I’m thinking of small stuff that happens in daily interactions with neighbors, colleagues, people you meet during the day, but don’t know them or you just don’t share a deeper connection.

Before writing this I spent a good 10 minutes unconsciously damaging the skin around my finger nails just thinking about situations when a person was being insulted, humiliated or just failing at something and me trying to smooth things up, calm people down or trying to give a humorous tone to an awkward situation. Again, I do it to protect myself from feeling anxious, hurt or most likely trying to hide from the horrible agony of second hand embarrassment. I invented cringe before it existed, I must have cringed at bad jokes and disgusting pick up lines on TV as soon as I could make sense of the words I was hearing. Or maybe even sooner, I was born in a floating balloon of cringiness that is too powerful to break down.

Be nice to keep things going without unnecessary trouble even if the lady at the bank is giving you shit. You’ll see here now and probably never again. Fake a smile or two, trow in a wink if you’re feel like it, it confuses people and gives you enough time to escape and let them think. Maybe. If not, still, you win by the score Universe is tracking.

This doesn’t mean I am against a good argument and heated discussion. I’m all about that, actually I’m not into people agreeing with me completely on every single subject because I can’t learn or improve myself from being around those people. Again, the selfishness is my hidden charm.

The lack of lashing out at people has its downsides because I seem to directly inhale all of the negative and passive aggressive energy I get thrown at and carry it around in my gut like a ticking time bomb until I can’t do it anymore and the only wish is to disembowel myself samurai style. The results of the bomb finally exploding is me being offensive and mean towards the people I love for a short period of time and then being incredibly mad at myself for much longer period.

Luckily, the explosion doesn’t kill me but makes me wait until my limbs are ready to grow again, learning how to crawl first and then getting up to walk slowly, rebuilding the fragile brain and body connections from scratch while replacing all the negative with clarity and hugs. Lots of hugs.

Final step means saving the energy for future battles because it is certain that they never stop completely. It’s much easier when you’re aware that all of this is bullshit with a casual ticks of fun – that’s what I meant by clarity.

 

P.S. Today is Virginia Woolf’s birthday, it’s time to celebrate so grab your balloon.

 

 

 

Sunday Clichés

Ideally, Sundays should be all about:

• sleeping in without feeling guilty for avoiding responsibilities
• breakfast + coffee in bed
• staying in bed for as long as possible
• cuddles and kisses
• showering is optional (depends on how wild your Saturday night was)
• brushing your teeth isn’t optional, but feel free to take your time
• deliberately missed phone calls
• writing haiku poetry inspired by random objects in the room
• fluffy socks
• watching this movie

• online food orders
• inventing new wor(l)ds
• being quiet
• being too loud
• more coffee
• screenplay ideas
• finishing a scrapbbook
• firmly deciding about painting over that wall even though you know it’s not going to happen
• laughing about it
• raindrops on the window that will all be gone by Monday
• uninstalling Pinterest from your phone
• the dogs taking themselves for a walk
• movie soundtracks
• serial killers/real life crime documentaries
• convincing everyone Lana del Rey is one of the greatest living artists
• having too long conversations about which numbers are male or female
• the same thing with colors
• and geometrical objects
• exploring Marina Abramović’s career phases
• crying a bit because you’re not Marina, feeling better afterwards because you’re at peace with yourself
• finally watch the rest of Jim Jarmusch’s Paterson
• going to bed early because you never really left it in the first place