The Show Tell Project

For Seymour's Fat Lady

Letters from Limbo

by fyarlgiles

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I don’t know

if I am looking in

or looking out

of

that window in the middle of the sunset

but sometimes

my ears melt

into my teeth

and I am content

to be a thing

swimming

inandout

of

Oblivion

“Halfway to Heaven” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: “Fight or Fright” by Dessi Terzieva

Girls on Film: Re-evaluating Nostalgia in The Great Gatsby

by fyarlgiles

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Last night I attended Doug Benson’s Interruption of The Great Gatsby at The Cinefamily. I hadn’t seen the film, but had heard that it was a big, awful mess designed to win over young viewers with brain-numbing hip-hop music and party culture extravagance. I couldn’t wait for the mocking to begin. But something unexpected happened between Benson’s “Does this movie take place on Earth?” and Thomas Lennon’s “Can anybody tell me who that character is? For a million dollars? Anyone?”….

I became interested.


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Like a lot of people who heard about Luhrmann’s Gatsby before seeing it in a theater, I went in expecting to be offended by the off-base portrayal of the Jazz Age. Because I admittedly adopt the type of unfounded nostalgia that no person my age should. As the camera swooped into a lavish hotel room and the thumping bass of club music played over the speakers, my instinct was to say “Hey! THAT’S NOT HOW IT WAS! ” But I realized then, that I had no right to think that because all my ideas of The Jazz Age are based on images from Boardwalk Empire and Betty Boop.

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It’s true that the emotional nuances of the original story are stomped on by Luhrmann’s signature vulgarity. And it’s true that he made Gatsby’s house look like a rap music video, but when we strip it down isn’t Gatsby an excessively rich dude who throws parties littered with drunk girls, booming music, celebrities, and free booze?…  The interpretation isn’t exactly off the mark.

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Luhrmann’s movies are often panned, but I really think that he has a talent for showing that young, stupid people are young and stupid no matter what backdrop you throw them against. We want to believe that we’ve missed out on something. That superficiality  is just the oozy afterbirth of the 1980s and that our beloved Jazz Age was better than whatever we’re living in now. But the shallowness that we criticize without restraint in our own time, existed without question, in the times that we idealize.

It was not a tale of disillusionment ..or the hopelessness of time, but I left the film wanting to understand my attachment to worlds that can no longer be accessed and my need to believe that  the magic so absent in the world today existed decades ago.

Angie Hoover

A Wrinkle in Time

by fyarlgiles

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in the corner,

where the top lip turns into the bottom lip,

is a fine crease

that reveals the laughter

and devastation

of life already lived–

it is not red and tough

like the scar of a healed incision,

but gentle and strange–

and sometimes concealed

by

flattering lighting.

And although it is elusive

it is there to stay–

a faint reminder of the years

resting in lost

memories.

“A Wrinkle in Time” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: Valbona by Dessie Terzeiva 

Art Heap: All Mixed Up

by fyarlgiles

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Mental Traffic Sign by Filmout

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Sister by NIcholas Lockyer

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Spirit They’ve Vanished by Greg Seiber

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Saturn’s Guilty Conscience by David Delruelle

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Dif-02 by Hugo Barros