Diary entries forLooking for Mr. Goodbar
Looking for Mr. Goodbar
Really compelling. Keaton is superb here, an outstanding, and fearless performance. The finale still remains disturbing to this day, much credit to the actors, and the smart direction by Brooks. I’ve known of the content of this film for a long time, and I’ve always found it darkly humorous how often I used to see personal ads either of either a man advertising himself, or a woman seeking, Mr. Goodbar. Something tells me they hadn’t seen the film….
Looking for Mr. Goodbar
“𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺.” “𝘗𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦-“ “𝘕𝘰! 𝘕𝘰. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.” “𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” “𝘐’𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥.” This one sat with me for a few days. Is this considered a product of New Hollywood? Those who think is is sex-negative are prude. Is it homophobic? The questions run in vicious circles, but what I do know is that with the nimble gentleness of Keaton’s movements create a rhythm that matches the film, matches the fatal cuts that abstract the female form by the end. It’s a story where dream sequences made me blink twice, made me think, oh, that didn’t happen, but it felt like it happened, and for the days to rest for my mind to do so as well, I can’t decipher the difference between what happened and what didn’t happen because part of the grand experience of life is the toxic combination of possibility and actuality, to use both to remedy answers to understanding. And parts of this understanding is conforming, going against the grain, figuring out what works, what doesn’t, to fully become who you are. We see it. We do. How Keaton becomes her own kind of woman. Even outside of the film, do we fully realize who she in 𝘈𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭 within the same year. “𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘴.” ***As I wrote this, my next door neighbor is banging her head in the headboard with pleas of joy, sounds of suffering, pain or pleasure, it’s hard to tell in the distraction of writing this, but in the distraction of what pleasure is in the means of society now. What is social media? Do I even like sex? Who are the people behind the other side of the wall? Would I even like them? Sometimes you realize the great pleasure of life is the living of it. Be it sitting on the other side of the wall watching a film like this. Sometimes the uncomfortable shock of coming out of the film. And the reeling back to reality, with no one to really tell but to type out these notes in a furious manner, post them, walk out my front door, completely ready for the day, to meet, red in the face, the two subjects of pleasure on the other side of the wall. Baffled by it all, fumbling tracks of my own continuation. All in all, furious frenetic fatality. It moves like music, a true New York symphony. Unforgettable. It’s the kind of music that will happen again far off somewhere in your future. p/s: Keaton reading The Godfather at a dive bar with a glass of red only to find Richard Gere pickpocketing from a lady’s handbag is the pure decadence of this 70s soaked film. “𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭! 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦!”
Looking for Mr. Goodbar
Review was too long for this site just know it took 2 hours for me to write it.
Looking for Mr. Goodbar
I have not felt this empty in so long. Watching someone's world fall apart for over two hours, Jesus Christ. I love the contrast between Theresa's two lives, and how they ultimately collide. The occasional fantasy sequences are also great. One of the most disturbing films I have seen thus far.
