Olivier Assayas‘ Summer Hours shows the simultaneously solemn, humorous, and emotional introspection that occurs when one has to decide how to deal with the belongings of a recently deceased loved one. It questions the true value of objects and examines attachments to material things. It’s a quiet, thoughtful movie that moved me so much that I found it difficult to hold back tears when recounting the story to a friend.

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Objectified, on the other hand, touches on sentiment, but focuses more on the utility, efficacy, and aesthetic of objects. Gary Hustwit, the design-focused filmmaker who aimed his camera at Helvetica two years ago, now turns his attention away from typography and towards industrial design. He speaks with some big names in the field who offer their historical knowledge and philosophical outlook on the subject. It was clever, enlightening, and certainly gave me a deeper appreciation for the potato peeler. (Seriously.)

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Since watching these films I’ve been absorbed with material objects. I’ve thought about my own — what I love, what I’ve paid loads for, what affection and memory won’t let me part with, etc.  This got me thinking about my friends and their possessions — particularly those whose interests have led to the accumulation of a lot of… stuff. So I asked them about it. And they told me about it…

Just as charming are the film posters for the movie, with the lovely type from the time period and (surprise, surprise) a lot of images of Nick and Nora Charles, my favorite detective team.

I’m no art critic, so this will not be a detailed review. I will, however, offer the highlights of our trip.

1) Mike taught me a thing or two about Cindy Sherman.

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2) There was beautiful landscape photography.

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3) Also, great images from then…

… and now.

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4) Mike fell in love with Larry Sultan’s work…

…and I fell in love with what looks like a Hell’s Angels fashion spread.

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5) Of course there were cowboys.

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It was certainly worth seeing, but watch out for highfalutin language.  We walked into the middle of a discussion about an “obtusely Keynesian” work.

The first time I heard this song, it was stuck in my head for days.  And now, despite multiple listens, it’s still happily lodged in my brain.  Maybe it’s the holiday-esque opening.  Maybe it’s Chrissie’s soothing voice singing ‘Kid…’  Maybe it’s all the fun flourish within the song. Maybe it’s the Fellini scene I imagine of a pouty child and an apologetic and hopeless parent.  Or maybe it’s because I could sing this to some adults and it would still apply. Whatever it’s got, I like.

It’s the perfect introduction to the film. The zither score contributes so much to the tone of this movie and is far more versatile than I ever imagined. The Third Man is about an American writer who travels to Vienna to visit his old friend, but ends up investigating this friend’s death instead — all this to the sweet playfully melancholic sound of the zither.  Like I said — versatile.

Other reasons why I enjoy this movie:
1) My infatuation with Joseph Cotten. We also share the same birthday, so I’m pretty sure that if fate did a better job of coordinating the year of our births we would have been an awesome match.

2) The sinister brilliance of Orson Welles.

3) The sharp and clever dialogue of Graham Greene.

4) The subtle and beautiful imagery of Carol Reed, reinforcing the emotion and mood at the core of the scene (a swinging door and a coat on the floor; fingers through a sewer grate; the twisted body of a teddy bear). I would frame the final scene if I could.

If you’ve seen this film, then you know that these are fairly obvious reasons and you understand why ‘The Third Man’ is now stuck in my one-track mind.

Third Man Theme by The Band

The story is about Joan, 64-year-old spouse of novelist Joe Castleman. On a plane ride to Helsinki, where Joe will be accepting the much coveted Helsinki Prize, Joan decides to leave her husband. The book retraces Joan and Joe’s relationship and examines their evolution both as individuals and as a couple. The characters are strongly developed and the tone is sharp, clever, and witty. Ms. Wolitzer reviews the role of “the wife” (well, of this wife) and all that it entails — the happiness, the sacrifices, the betrayals, the rewards. She raises issues about gender, including its impact on the characters (who shared literary aspirations) and their life choices. She also provides insight on the connection between two writers and shows how passion and talent can both bond and break people.

I have seen different jackets for this book, but this is my favorite. The M, the W, and the open book between the two letters could represent the author herself. But it could also refer to Man and to Woman — who, like the letters, share similarities, but are not the same — and to the ones in the story who were united and divided by the written word.

I want to shake my head for two reasons:
1) I’m totally digging the song.
2) I’m exhibiting both my disgust in and sympathy for the recipient of this message.
You should’ve known, man.  You should’ve known.

For obvious reasons, though maybe not connected, this song reminds me of various conversations I’ve had about the captivity and domestication of wild animals. Usually the conclusion is the same: it’s a tragic thing. Stories include movies we saw as children (Dumbo, Free Willy, ET); horrific news of animals gone mad (the one about the tiger; the one about the chimp; the one about the alligator); our own experiences with pets (my dad’s especially sad tale about a depressed tom cat he had when he was living on the farm breaks my heart).

Now off to my design assignment! All images associated with this post will either be clearly relevant to this song or will consist of elements that are only the tiniest bit significant, maybe even requiring some (or much) imagination.