i watched the motorcycle diaries tonight for what i believe was the third time. its a gorgeous movie, haunting at times, and appeals to my leanings (however one would describe them). but its also the "intertextuality" of the film that makes me love it so much. for some reason its touched my life in strange ways.
to begin with, z-gil (the first of my anthro-gils) took me to see it in hopes of persuading me that latin america, not china, was a more fitting fieldwork location. the ploy worked. possibly too well. and here i am writing in a blog i started upon going off to perú.
secondly, most people know i have a soft spot for one gael garcía bernal. and seeing him always reminds me of that patrón party for cuarón where i hoped he'd be. alas, i had to settle for heather graham. and it was possibly the only time i "used" my NYRB credentials. but that was also the first time i met val. which is suppose is somehow significant. (note that despite a strong desire, i am not referring to her by the borat-inspired nickname)
its strange i suppose. the movie makes me remember places more than anything. lima and la paz (though i only noticed on this viewing that they never make it to bolivia-which is a shame, because 1952--the year they traveled--was also the year that land reform took place in bolivia). carbondale. jersey city. places that evoke strong nostalgia coupled with memories of unhappiness, at times. as the admiral wolye-holt would put it, the "kind of beaut[iful feeling] that hurts"
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