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Art Colony: the must-see movie of the year
Saturday, May 14, 2005
› by victoria
people apply this label to a lot of movies, but surely the best movie I have seen in a L-O-N-G time is Princess Mononoke. This is no ordinary anime flick. I love Hiyao Miyazaki's movies--Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro--but Princess Mononoke has to take the cake. Any movie that makes me cry cathartic sobs for twenty minutes after the credits is a damn good movie. It made Biff cry too. If you haven't seen it, please rent it. It's a work of art.
Last night, after going to bed (post-cathartic-crying on Biff's shoulder) I had the weirdest dream ever. I was at a circus parade-type event, but instead of animals like elephants or horses they had buses and trams and cars. I was seated by the parade, and they were coming uncomfortably close to me. I went to this coffee shop, and all the people working there were slaves--although they were all different genders, ethnicities, even ages. The coffee shop owner worked them in awful servitude. This made me upset, so I decided to liberate them. This pissed the coffee shop owner off something fierce, so he decided to chase after me, which led to one of the coolest dream sequences I have had in a long time. I was running down stairs into an underground shopping center as they were chasing me--I was running through the mall, and then running into individual stores trying to lose them, ducking around maniquins and clothing racks and displays, jumping and running. I lost them, and snuck out of the mall into my own "house" in the dream. It was a pretty cool house--like a Victorian home, only entirely made out of jointed wood parts. It creaked as you moved in it, and smelled like old cedar chips; my pet cat in the dream, a large creamsicle-colored cat, was there. It was happy to see me. I was happy to see it too, but i had to leave town and get out of there while i still could. I was trying to sneak around quietly and gather my things so I could leave, and the cat was getting in the way. I went up the wooden stairs to the second story of the house: then I wanted to go up to the third story, the attic, where all my clothes and my bed were. The problem was that when I had left the house in the morning, I was a 10-year old, and now I was myself, a 20-year old. I had somehow doubled in age, and I was having trouble going up the kid-sized stairs; plus the cat had decided that he wanted to come up the stairs too. I squeeezed into my room, packed a few of my clothes, and ran out to the bus stop to join my friends the ex-slaves in catching a bus out of town.
Then I woke up.
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