Errata is a web journal written by Robert Davis who has neither spent a night in a ghost town nor pulled a turnip from the earth. He doesn't even know if turnips grow in the ground. Perhaps on trees, like candy corn. Therefore, Errata is a non-commercial project.

Observation #1: It may be appropriate, when leaving a movie theater, to say "mysterious."

Observation #2: It may be appropriate, when leaving a movie theater, to say "mysterious" at the top of your lungs. Bring your eyebrows together before you say it. Effective!

Observation #3: Same for books. Even at libraries.

There is a prize for people who correctly guess the thing about Metropolis, Nevada.

Except where the text specifically states otherwise, Errata's vagaries are indicated vaguely and its authors are indistinct in the traditional way of the Internet, except where the authors lay claim to their work. In some cases Robert Davis lays claim to work that is not his own but has been abandoned like so many ghost towns. Except where held presently, fistfuls of dirt are suspended via dispersal, or dispersed via suspension (in the air), and thus their dissolution is their transcendence, or their transcendence is their dissolution. And yet our eyes tear, and our vision is impaired, demonstrating for the umpteenth time that one entity's gain is another's fit of sneezes. Except where indicated, storms shall outlive the clay upon which they rain, unless storms are improperly delimited by their clouds, which dissolve, rather than by their inevitable return. Thus the clay loses, unless the clay is said to own the storm, to use it to make itself heavy, to make itself cling to white garments, refuse dispersal, cake upon the facades of abandoned buildings, and sit like Man [sic] upon the earth where it is pelted by a storm that it owns. In which case the clay still loses, if you ask us.

Some of the above is legally binding and should be considered a mental contract between Errata and those upon whom it acts. The bit about the prize should be considered an overstatement insofar as prizes differ from dirt and prize dispersal differs from dirt dispersal. Please recall that ownership is a weight and, therefore, hope that you do not win the prize.

One day Errata or its representatives will call upon you for a favor. It is expected that you will hop-to without delay.

You may contact Robert Davis by email unless it's about the rock that was thrown in anger. The rock is more properly called a clod. Why do you continue to raise the topic?

16 September 2003

Hopefuls

A few movies I've been looking forward to, just because of who made them:

Lost in Translation: A recently-seen hopeful, Sofia Coppola's second movie is one of my favorites this year, which means so far I'm one-for-one on this list. I know — I'm setting myself up for disappointment.
Fog of War: Errol Morris's interview with Robert McNamara is due out around Christmas. In a year with a lot of good documentaries but none that quite measure up to those of Errol Morris, I'm hopeful that the man himself can rectify the situation.
Coffee Time: It probably won't play in the U.S., well, ever, except at some festivals next year, but news of a new movie by Hou Hsiao-Hsien is reason enough to be hopeful. This time he stops downplaying the Ozu similarities and jumps fully into an homage, just in time for what would have been the Japanese director's 100th birthday. (This news comes courtesy Cahiers du Cinema, as relayed by Masters of Cinema.) Now if I'd get off my butt and finish my essay about Hou's Good Men, Good Women I could remove that stupid "coming soon" from Errata. Hey, I'm busy.
Zatôichi: I can't honestly say that I'm a fan of Takeshi Kitano having only seen Kikujiro, which I liked but also know is not representative of his violent movies. But Zatôichi made a lot of noise in Toronto recently. I suppose I'm more curious than hopeful.

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