More Feelings #2: New Year, Still Watching

Illustration by Nick Bachan

My end-of-year viewing habits, just like my snack choices after 11:00 PM, are purely emotional. I dig into endless watchlists, follow curiosities more freely, and curate comfy escapes from the typical rhythms of my 9-5 work schedule. The collective impulse to slow down helps me ease into the imaginary reset promised by a new calendar year. 

Even though I anticipated watching and feeling so many things as 2020 came to a close, some of the standouts still surprised me and made me remember why movies are such a big part of my life.

CITY HALL Feelings

I recently watched Frederick Wiseman’s documentary CITY HALL (currently available on Austin Film Society’s AFS@Home platform) and found all 272 minutes (!) of it completely engrossing. It’s basically about people getting up every day to think about a community and its needs—in this case, the city of Boston.

While caring for the needs of any community through truly democratic processes is a platonic ideal, the work of it amounts to a plethora of mundane actions that may not necessarily seem cinematic. Wiseman’s lens makes those actions captivating in ways I found pleasantly surprising; he reminds the viewer that societies function or fall apart based on conscious decisions and actions.

The film’s mode of sustained observation turns meetings into set pieces that include all things conversational and procedural. Wiseman’s intimate reaction shots make everything feel more human and immediate. Whether it’s parade planning, community safety, eviction prevention, or “mitigation as resilience” to address natural disasters, it’s clear that action relies on slow, cumulative work done by real people.

In addition to imbuing mundane procedures with human depth, the film highlights several instances of person-to-person kindness. Meetings about contested parking tickets become opportunities for small misunderstandings to be cleared up. An exterminator’s conversation with a resident about his mouse problem becomes a chat about how his life is going in general. Public meetings about pay equity allow people to tell nuanced stories about their experiences. This also applies to a Veterans Day event during which the veterans themselves get a platform to speak at length. 

The officials and citizens at the heart of each quietly riveting sequence view their local impact as something that could ripple outward if studied and applied elsewhere. That spirit is what makes CITY HALL feel special. It’s something I will be recommending to people for a long time and I’m so glad I had the downtime to really sit with it.

“You Make Me Feel” Feelings

A scene in Julia Hart’s new film I’M YOUR WOMAN made me feel a very specific kind of joy. It involves two characters named Jean (Rachel Brosnhan) and Cal (Arinze Kend) that are on the run. When they stop at a diner in the middle of the night, they share a tender moment in a booth followed by an impromptu duet of Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel.” Jean charmingly emphasizes the “a-whoo” after each line in the first verse to show Cal how she sings to the baby her character is protecting. At this particular moment, the baby is asleep. Jean is singing the song so that Cal will understand something about her beyond their immediate circumstances.

The performances really sell the playfulness of the moment. Both characters are exhausted, in grave danger, and essentially strangers. When Jean starts singing, Cal looks over their shoulder. There is a self-consciousness to the gesture that stands out because Cal and Jean have a lot of reasons to be looking over their shoulders. This particular look, however, is based solely on the question “Can we sing in public?” They give themselves permission, and the result is a brief delight. Cal initially implies that Jean is too chicken to actually demo her version of the song: a few moments later, they are both reaching for something bigger than themselves.

The idea of just sitting across from someone in a diner booth is something I miss more than I ever thought I would. It’s very simple, but it’s also a way to exist in the outside world while still being tucked in, safe, and near some kind of comfort—even if it’s just eggs and bad coffee. Sitting in a diner booth is the kind of casual “going out” I can’t really imagine doing again for a long time. I got such a thrill seeing these two characters—in a movie that largely operates as a suspenseful crime thriller—get a moment that adds such visual and emotional depth to what’s playing out on screen. I even made a little video of the scene on my little phone and texted a friend because I just wanted to smile with someone about the whole thing.

Rizzo-Kissing-Gonzo-On-The-Nose Feelings

In A MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL, there is this moment when Rizzo the rat (hilariously credited as “Himself”) gives Gonzo (playing narrator Charles Dickens) a tiny kiss on the nose. Gonzo is glaring at Rizzo because he’s just done something annoying and/or irrelevant to the story they’re supposed to be telling. The comedic dynamic between these characters is mostly based on Rizzo running into, falling off of, and generally derailing things. 

Gonzo being annoyed with Rizzo is already a solid comedic beat; the kiss punctuates it in a particularly transcendent way. It’s as though Rizzo gains a more sophisticated knowledge of his powers as a muppet. I like to think about the kiss like an acting choice, something done during the fourth or fifth take to change things up. It approaches the absurd but it’s also tender because Rizzo just wants Gonzo to know they are on the same side. I see so much in the spirit of the Rizzo kiss that I aspire to in my own life. It’s weird and confident and kind but ultimately not something meant to provide further disruption. It’s a bold move that resets the tone while retaining a sense of whimsy. 

Closing Feelings

During a recent episode of Vanity Fair’s Little Gold Men podcast, I heard Cristin Milioti mention feeling “joyfully mystified.” I can’t remember the context because I’m sure I was trying to do 2-3 chores around the house while I streamed the podcast at full volume like a monster. In any case, the expression resonated because of how it embraces the unknown. I spent a lot of 2020 in a reactionary state, contorting myself based on a consistently shaky grasp of reality—in other words, anxiously mystified. I think my brief period of rest/watch/repeat has helped me approach a more joyfully mystified state going into 2021. See you soon and happy watching!