Justin Timberlake Wrecked My Piano. And Other Dream Mysteries.

My subconscious is angry that I have only done one big NYFF write up. Last night I tossed and turned -- 3 hours of sleep tops -- and had one of those persistent dreams which recycles stuff you've just experienced. Each time you fall back asleep you return to it and in its relentless disturbance, it becomes a nightmare even though it's not scary.

It took place in a huge empty house in which I'm throwing a party. At some point I was doing an elaborate photoshoot with two actresses. Please don't stop to ponder why they were Franka Potente (!) and Meg Ryan (???) or why they were then Juliette Lewis* and Sandra Bullock. (Was this a 1990s period piece?) Everyone was angry when they discovered the shoot was in black and white. At one point someone wore a Princess Valhalla Hawkwind costume. My dad was suddenly there smiling with approval that I knew famous actresses (This was the "you're dreaming!" moment -- or like that bit in Inception where all the subconcious projections turn to look at you -- whoever the forger was, he wasn't as prepared as Tom Hardy. My dad would never do this.) I went out for coffee since the party was running low.

Then I'm in the atrium and I see Justin Timberlake and Jesse Eisenberg lowering my rented grand piano down through the building and all is chaos. The piano strikes a railing and begins to break into pieces. They claim they were trying to help but they've ruined my life as the cost of a grand piano will bankrupt me.

Then there is no party, and the dream is a mystery about some crime which keeps changing and to which I am not privvy and the detectives (Mills & Somerset, natch) keep asking me if David Fincher did it. How self referential! They also tell me they're investigating "Joe" and Abbas Kiarostrami** and I keep telling them I know nothing but everyone is sure that I do.

We know you've seen them! They were at your party

Nothing makes any sense from moment to moment in the dream's third act. It's all fractured clues, 2 second scenes, filmmaker name-checks. The last image is a shot of dusty footprints leading nowhere. I don't know who did it or what they were supposed to have done but I'm pretty sure that bastard Justin Timberlake who wrecked my piano is guilty.

My dream was edited with a chainsaw. The chainsaw had ADD. I hope your night was more restful and the celebrity cameos less willfully destructive and angry. Feel free to share.

*regularly makes cameos in Nathaniel's REM life.
** I assure you this is a first time appearance.

7 Word Review: The Social Network

Screwball sharp dialogue meets riveting bad behavior.
(A-?)

I'll get to a fuller review soon. Screened it at 9 AM this morning and I'm already desperate to see it again. The film has its big premiere tonight at the NYFF. Expect another torrent of crazed "buzz" to follow. That word is often used interchangeably with "hype" in Oscar punditry and online discourse -- I use it incorrectly myself I freely admit. But "buzz" is the real thing whereas "hype" is like buzz in vitro, carefully created. Buzz is uncontrollable and what results when something (pre-hyped or not) actually delivers. And The Social Network most definitely does.

 About the sordid topic of Oscar... Before seeing it, I had predicted The Social Network for five nominations: Picture, Director, Supporting Actor (Justin Timberlake), Adapted Screenplay and Editing. I have probably underestimated it slightly since Cinematography and Sound could well be in the cards, too. The performances are quite strong across the board but I fear it's the type of work that the acting branch will be the most resistant too, since most of the characters are "unlikeable" without being showy, and showy is the key modifier in clearing the unlikeable hurdle for awards voters... generally speaking of course.