It’s been a while and I apologize for being in a self-imposed coma for the last two months. My dopamine is as rare as adrenochrome these days and the extraction of it, exhibited so poignantly here is just as fearful a procedure.
Anyhow, after recovering from a four-day migraine and vomiting about fifty times, I’ve concluded that I might as well put up a fight against the fate that so eagerly awaits me.
2 am on this morning, having only just woken up from whatever depressive psychoses overtook me I’ve decided upon writing about Buffalo ‘66, a film recommended to me by somebody now long gone from my life – but herein immortalized by just the simple implication.
I’ve watched a lot of films in my life and have many to re-watch and write about, but there are just as many that I haven’t appreciated yet and I wish I could look at things with such optimism with clear blood running through my veins.
Over the course of the last two years of what I barely remember and don’t care to reflect upon all that proudly I place this film in my top three or four. Scratch that, this is no place for statistics – other than those still visiting this page each day, which comes as a pleasant surprise to me, and I appreciate it. Especially those of you attempting to character assassinate me.
Anyhow, after this lengthy, self-indulgent rant I’m going to begin watching this again and maybe convince you to try and watch it – it’s hard to take recommendations on board, but when you do, you often find yourself glad you did, assuming the person suggesting the film to you isn’t an absolute idiot, which accounts for most people I try and avoid these days.
I’m somewhat in love with this film and it’s difficult to write too much about it, especially with my usual syntax. This film’s all about parental alienation and following the worst kidnapping attempt of all time, I’m more inclined to make note of the photographic, nostalgic transitions that occur occasionally in this movie – and just how perfect the casting is between the two main characters; the film – it wouldn’t have worked any other way and would have fallen victim to cynicism and evaluations regarding Stockholm Syndrome had it not been composed so methodically well.
For once I’m enjoying watching something again and my inclination to write along with it is wavering, nor is it necessary, given I’ve already seen it.
What’s most notable to me, returning to writing this a day later is all that Billy goes through on behalf of protecting an incredibly unreciprocating family – this film speaks of a great many societal issues in a subtle and comedic way. It can to some extent be regarded as what makes (and can prevent) someone from becoming murderously suicidal, the value of love – and all the other sorts of philosophical points I’ve made about films in my blogs preceding this one.
There’s a charm and majestic element to the cinematography of this film – especially considering it’s regarded as one of the best independent movies ever made that will stick with me for life – it impacted me a great deal at a much higher point in my life, but to distinguish between the highs and lows is as obtuse as it gets anymore.
Christina Ricci’s ambivalence to everything, from her gaze to her flirtatious actions (little appreciated by an incredibly alienated Billy) in this movie is excellent and this film is the definition of cinematic alchemy, in my opinion.
The inner child that’s so often a part of Billy’s vocal intonations throughout this film and just how highly everyone thinks of him (except himself) are elements that perpetuate a lot of introspection. The things that are left unsaid or obscured in Buffalo ‘66 aren’t integral to why it’s so great, but they certainly made the second viewing almost as enjoyable as the first.
Am I back? That’s yet to see.