Capote

We have cable television here. Katrina and I don't generally watch television--Kat's more of the movie-watching kind. But tonight, I happened to sit down with a bowl of fresh carbonara and turned on the tv. And I found "Capote" on. The last time Kat and I sat down to watch this, the movie stopped halfway through and didn't proceed. I'm hoping this doesn't happen again tonight.

I first watched "Capote" in Boston with my roommate, Ben Jacobs. Even now, a few viewings later, this movie still sends chills up my spine. Perhaps it's the music. Of course it's set in Kansas--the place I call home. Why on earth would scenes of a cold, bleak landscape, the flat wheat fields, and a white farm house make me homesick? You know the classic line from "The Wizard of Oz"--so I'll say no more on that.

I think the feelings have a lot to do with my Mom's recounting of those murders. She was a teenager--and she recalls the terror that it struck in her family and her community. She grew up and lived in a farm house that isn't too different than the one in the movie. In Nebraska, a state above Kansas--but close enough for the Midwest.

"Capote" makes me feel a sort of nostalgia and sense of place. The desire to understand and comfort my Mom. The temptation to think that times were simpler "back then"--followed by the harsh reality of a cold blooded crime that made no sense. And this juxtaposed with an author's struggle with himself, his ego, his fame, and his feelings. All this is what brings me back to this film again and again.