I did a shitload of reading today. 100 pages of cognitive film theory and neuroscience theory. This was done with the help of a hearty breakfast (apple sausage, scrambled eggs, and toast with butter), two cups of tea, and some digestive biscuits. Four hours later, and my hand is still cramped and sore from taking notes.

This has also been a week of phenomenal cinema:

1. The White Ribbon
2. Head-On
3. The Passion of Joan of Arc

Sometimes I wonder why people gush over Tarantino when there are directors like Fatih Akin. He's just as sly, if not (dare I say?) even more clever with his style, and he's got things to say. Akin isn't just interested in pop phenomena; he wants to be topical, and he wants you to suffer along with his characters, full well knowing catharsis may or may not come in the end. Much earlier this year (or was it late last year?), I saw The Edge of Heaven, which is a gut-wrenching look at contemporary German-Turkish relations. The least I can say about it is that it blew me away, but the most I could say is how it reminded me of why I love film. Head-On triggered that exact same feeling: I knew I was watching something so much more than what it was. I can't pinpoint it exactly–was it the nuanced performances? the balance between lush and punkish cinematography? the way Akin intertwines love and violence with devastating consequences?–but I know it stands out. The same goes for The Passion of Joan of Arc. How was this film even made in 1928? The techniques Dreyer uses are so modern (especially his use of the extreme close-up), it's mind-boggling. And Maria Falconetti's eyes–the entire film practically hinges on them. Her eyes really are worth the scant 82 minutes the film will take out of your day. Seriously. I just look at her and want to weep in solidarity.