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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
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Bibliography
The Great Little Hunter
Pinspired Philippines, 2022
The Boy The Girl
The Rat The Rabbit
and the Last Magic Days
Chapbook, 2018
Republic of Carnage:
Three Horror Stories
For the Way We Live Now
Chapbook, 2018
Bamboo Girls:
Stories and Poems
From a Forgotten Life
Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2018
Don't Tell Anyone:
Literary Smut
With Shakira Andrea Sison
Pride Press / Anvil Publishing, 2017
Cupful of Anger,
Bottle Full of Smoke:
The Stories of
Jose V. Montebon Jr.
Silliman Writers Series, 2017
First Sight of Snow
and Other Stories
Encounters Chapbook Series
Et Al Books, 2014
Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop
Sands and Coral, 2011-2013
Silliman University, 2013
Handulantaw: Celebrating 50 Years of Culture and the Arts in Silliman
Tao Foundation and Silliman University Cultural Affairs Committee, 2013
Inday Goes About Her Day
Locsin Books, 2012
Beautiful Accidents: Stories
University of the Philippines Press, 2011
Heartbreak & Magic: Stories of Fantasy and Horror
Anvil, 2011
Old Movies and Other Stories
National Commission for Culture
and the Arts, 2006
FutureShock Prose: An Anthology of Young Writers and New Literatures
Sands and Coral, 2003
Nominated for Best Anthology
2004 National Book Awards
Follow the Spy
Recent Crumbs
Blogs I Read
© 2002-2021
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Monday, January 04, 2016
10:01 AM |
Film Log 8: 45 Years
At the end of Andrew Haigh's quietly devastating
45 Years (2015) -- which stars Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling in a couple of tour-de-force performances that say a lot in measured dialogue but even more so in muted action -- I am reminded that the film's ambiguous finish has a lot in common with John Huston's
The Dead (1987), the late director's superb adaptation of the James Joyce classic short story (and also his last film), which starred Anjelica Huston and Donal McCann. Both are virtual ghost stories, and their conflicts begin to spin once there is a revelation about an unknown or unspoken beloved, now dead, but also now suddenly stirring from the distant past. Both films center around a lavish party; one begins and the other ends with it, serving as slingshots to the eventual confrontation. And both come to end with an epiphany about long-married couples:
after all those years, how well does one really know the one we profess to love? In Huston's film, the answer lies symbolically in the desolation of the wintry landscape outside Donal McCann's Gabriel Conroy's window. In Haigh's film, it is the ending of a dance set to the tune of The Platters' "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," and Rampling's Kate Mercer is thrust to an uncomfortable truth that comes unbidden: the present is lovely, but we will never be loved so ardently by our beloved the way they had with their beautiful, long-gone dead.
★★★★★
Labels: film, love, review
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