Denver, Los Angeles, New York, New Orleans - each gets its moment, and we linger, seeing the shapes of the buildings against the horizons, the cars moving neatly along the roadways.
#OBSESSED WITH CROSSWORD CLUE FULL#
The film is full of vast cityscapes, the kind you see when flying into town, all rendered in black and white. There’s a feeling of matching plaintiveness in this movie, too.
It recalls a past era, when more films were presented in grayscale - though films like this may be evidence it’s coming back, it’s a generation of filmmaking that’s gone. C’mon C’mon is shot (by the legendary Robbie Ryan) in black and white, a choice with two effects that hook into the story. That’s something C’mon C’mon - Mike Mills’s beautiful, decidedly non-sci-fi new drama - understands and celebrates and finds ever so slightly melancholy. And so the cycle goes.Įvery generation is living in the previous one’s science-fiction future, and as the pace of technological development speeds up, so does that cycle. Twenty years from now they’ll be in my seat, and the next generation will be chuckling at their own videos. TikTok’s teens, on the other hand, weren’t even born back then, and so the 2001 video feels like goofy, ancient history. Back then, 2021 seemed like far-off fantasy, straight out of some work of science fiction. (I was 17.) We lived in a micro-age of Xangas and LiveJournals and AOL Instant Messenger. Some song by Nelly or Avril Lavigne plays in the background.Įach video triggers a sensory flood and a visceral question: Were we ever so young? Yeah, we sure were. It goes something like this: The onscreen text says, “getting ready for your friend’s garage party in 2001” behind the text, a woman my age puts on an American Eagle tank top, then another tank top on top of that, followed by low-rise jeans, Ugg boots, and basically just everything we wore back then. My TikTok timeline keeps serving me a certain kind of video, probably because it knows I was born in 1983.
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