The OA (2012)
Note1: I used to read my favourite writers’ and artists’ biographies, seeking clues for their inspiration and success. More often than not, I had discovered that the genius of their work was inversely proportional to their real-life persona. It wasn’t so much the lyin’ cheatin’ hearts, the miserly ways or downright spitefulness; it was the discovery that some of my heroes possessed a rather unremarkable personality, or led the most humdrum of lives that disappointed the most.
I thought I have learned my lesson for good, but found myself breaking the no-snooping rule when it came to Brit Marling, the main star of “The OA”, who also happened to have created, written and produced the whole thing. This is what IMDB has on her: after spending a couple of years exploring the movie industry and being offered roles as "the cute blonde in horror movies", she taught herself to write, reasoning that the best way to get decent parts was to write them herself. She worked on two movies, simultaneously – one in the mornings, one in the afternoons – and eventually both “Another Earth” (2011) and “Sound of My Voice” (2011) premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2011. Impressive, no?
Note2: I don’t always get Brit’s work, for the simple fact that it disturbs my own idea of strange. Nevertheless, I deeply respect it, look forward to watching it, and ultimately, end up enjoying the ride.
Note1: I know this Brit is only supposed to play her character, Prairie (which speaks of freedom and wild horses and long blades of grass you could hide in from the world; I really wish someone remembered to give me a cool name like that), yet somehow I doubt there is a huge difference between Brit the real girl and Prairie the fictional character. Totally unlike Olga and me, then.
Note2: The story does get a bit stretched in places, so fill your eyes with incredulous compassion before you go anywhere near it. Like for example the idea of this crazy science guy who has a knack for recognising the near-death-experience survivors through the gift of genius they’ve brought back from the other side.
I meeeaan – what gift. You listen to Prairie on the violin, or Renata on her guitar, and you’re supposed to melt or exalt (which did rhyme inside my head). But nothing happened, except that I got a bit annoyed. Because, genius either is, or isn’t. Born, not made. Sorry, guys, but this emperor has no clothes. I could go on.
Note3: “The OA” stands for The Original Angel. I get that. I get how angels might well be walking this earth, their wings ripped clear off, no real power left to speak of, only the distant memory that tortures and burns. What I don’t get is why would any so-called Power That Be in his or erm her right mind ever allow for this to happen. Seriously, God: where art thou.