christiandoenges

[christiandoenges]

Edited in Final Cut Pro X 

[christiandoenges]

A Lesson in Death

     I first learned the smell of death from highways. On any highway criss-crossing the mid-western United States, one would see hundreds of corpses stiffly spread out on the side of the road. During a busy afternoon drive, the smell of exhaust and rubber masks the roadside’s foul scent. But on a lonely night, when one’s car is the only voyageur on the road, the smell gets the better of them. It is not quite so terrible that one has to pull over out of fear of sickness, the return of a dinner, perhaps, but it is also not mild enough where it escapes the attention of the traveler. As the stench is carried through the crisp night air and into the presence of the driver, one is forced to think about its source. The thought of death is not one that most people would like to think about while piloting a two-thousand pound machine capable of destroying anything soft and flesh-like in its path, and also occasionally wanes on protecting its passengers. And yet as we send these metal monsters down the highways, going speeds that would be simply incomprehensible to travelers two-hundred, and even one-hundred years previous, the idea of death is juxtaposed right next to us, and yet we may not even notice it. This was where I first learned the smell of death.

     Although this idea disgusted me, there was a feeling deep inside of my being, a morbid, animalistic curiosity passed down from generation to generation, beginning when we were only animals, not yet quite so intelligent. This idea, this curiosity, it stirred in me. Whatever social mores existed at this time told me not to indulge in this fascination, but, deviation is natural in a society. The second time I learned the smell of death was in my own backyard. As a child, I lived in a mid-century brick home with my mother and father on a half-acre plot in Medina, Ohio. So, although a city-planner may not call the area of land that I wandered technically my backyard as much as they would describe it as unused property, I made up my mind at a fairly young age that those woods were mine. I was not a hunter. My father was not a hunter, nor was his family before him. I had no interest in hunting, per-say, but instead was captured by the idea of turning life into death on my own terms. As I would walk among the trees and brush on cool autumn days, I would see the occasional dead robin or squirrel, and wondered how those animals ended up there. Did they starve to death? Were they mauled by a predator or some sort? Or was it bad luck sent by the universe or God? The idea of death was very esoteric to me at that time.

     I consciously took my first piece of life when I was nine. It was an ordinary day, normal in almost every way. My mother was inside resting, while my father was away at work. On days like these, I retreated to the woods. My safe space. My haven. As I ventured down the makeshift paths, curving and cutting between hundred-year-old oaks and unkept shrubbery, I gazed upon a nest. I was surprised, because this nest was on the ground, and not safe among the hidden tree branches, where predators cannot easily invade. At first, I kept my distance. My heart began to race and my hands became clammy. Nervous energy pulsed through me at a dangerous pace, and my mind was racing. Timidly, I took my first step. And then another. And another, until I found myself toe-to-toe with this nest. Mother was nowhere to be seen - off to gather food, more than likely. I stared into the nest, where three baby birds were resting, completely unaware then me. I was not an expert on avian life, but my nine-year-old brain guessed that these babies couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old.

     I looked around, scared that someone, or something, was watching me, even though I knew deep down that this was not the case. Looking back, maybe I was wanting someone to be there. Hoping for some divine intervention. I’m not sure how long I stood beside the nest, observing it and trying to sort through the overload of thoughts in my under-developed brain. Then, with a force that scared me on a primal level, I stepped on it. I stomped on that fucking nest and obliterated the three baby birds that were inhabiting it. My leg pumping up and down for what felt like forever, until the nest had broken into pieces, and I had corpse on my Converse.

     I crouched down, and gazed upon what I had done. If someone were to stumble across this, they would not be able to recognize what had gone on. There was no life left in this nest. No bodies, no semblance of consciousness from these baby birds. Although their lives had not been as complex as mine, it was still life. And I had taken that away in a matter of minutes. They simply did not exist anymore, completely due to my hand. This idea was the most horrifying and exciting thing I had experienced up to that point. Adrenaline was surging through my veins, I felt power unlike anything I knew before.

     Then, in an instant, it all came crashing down. Shame is a funny thing, because it comes at the most inconvenient times. I went from feeling like god to a shell of a person in seconds. Tears began to form, and I could not stop them. I lifted myself up and dashed through the woods toward my home. I only stopped to attempt to scrape the membrane off of my shoe soles, to no avail. Horrified, I yanked them off and threw them far into the trees. The thought of wearing something like that tore me apart, and I needed them as far away as possible. I continued the rest of my journey home barefoot, sticks and pine needles scraping and impaling my small feet as I ran to safety.

     I emerged from the woods, red faced and feet bloodied, and snuck inside. Even though no one had seen my actions, I was terrified that I would still be found out. As I opened the sliding glass door in the rear or my house, I peaked my head inside and searched the living room, confirming that no one was there before I stepped inside. As silently as I could, I slid the door closed and retreated to my room. I lay on my bed in a cold sweat, attempting to process what had taken place that afternoon. The adrenaline was still there, but a different kind. This was not fight, this was flight. I had been running for my life in those woods. As I lay there shaking, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Mother.

To Be Continued. 

[christiandoenges]

“Wood Lizard”

Adobe Illustrator 2019

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“Clam Trouble”

Adobe Illustrator 2019

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“Glasses” Adobe Illustrator 2019

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“The Cowboy EP” Adobe Illustrator 2019.

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“Sticky” 

Adobe Illustrator 2019

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On Fashion (2016)

     I bought my most expensive shirt for $80. It is a Surpeme tee from last year’s Spring/Summer collection. I don’t know when I started thinking paying $80 for a t-shirt was normal, but here I am, continuing to buy expensive shirts and $300 boots. I used to be happy with any of the clothes my mom bought me, but now those seem so sub-par. I’ve become so obsessed with fashion that I have multiple apps downloaded on my phone (that I check very frequently), I visit many forums for shoes and clothes, and have planned my days around trying to buy a limited release. Considering I put so much time, effort, and money into buying the clothes I like, you wouldn’t think that I had so many problems with the industry. However, there are many flaws with the modern fashion industry, but instead of doing something about it, I find myself continuing to cycle through it.

     My biggest complaint about modern fashion is the resale market. I am unsure as to when this market began, but from what I’ve seen, it has really boomed within the last decade. For those unfamiliar, the resale market is people selling much-wanted fashion pieces for exorbitant prices. The most notable example of this, and one most people would be familiar with, is Kanye West’s collaboration with Adidas, the Yeezy Boost 350.These shoes retail for $200, and the newer V2’s for $220. If one were to search on any resale site, such as Grailed or GOAT, they would find dozens, maybe hundreds of listings for these shoes, people selling them for more than double the price. $600, $800, sometimes even going past the $1000 mark. All for a pair of shoes that were originally priced at $200. This is absolutely insane, but the thing is, people still buy them, even at these outrageous price-points. I believe that there are two bad guys here. First, being the resalers themselves, and second, the supplier. Reading threads about the latest release reveal people discussing their plans on how to “cop”, and what the resale may be. People often buy pieces solely to flip them for a profit. Buying size 4 Yeezy’s to sell, or a XXL Palace tee. Within this resale market, the mechanics of buying clothing presents many problems as well. Because of the articifial hype caused by limited supply provided by suppliers, people looking to buy must beat the competition. This has lead to bots (lines of Python code that checkout for you), cart services (company gains carts, and sells them to individuals i.e. Yeezy Mafia), among other issues. Buying streetwear in 2017 goes against everything skatewear set out to be. Creating unique clothes that people wanted to wear, and didn’t have to sell a kidney to buy because Supreme suddenly only sells a fraction of the amount they used to. As someone that cares more about wearing cool clothes than making money off them, I am offended by the resale culture that has developed. This market is bleeding the industry dry, and is only going to get worse.

     Another complaint I have goes hand-in-hand with the issue of hype, and is the unoriginality that is seen in streetwear today. Many brands are in the middle of their Spring/Summer collection, and these brands could, and do, slap their company name on a hoodie and sell it for $100+, because they know people will buy it, no matter design, all because of the hype surrounding it. A notable example would be Anti-Social Social Club, who came under fire last year for printing their logo on a standard Gildan tee and hiking up the price. This is bullshit. The hype breeds unoriginality, which then carries onto other smaller brands stealing those stale designs, and then coming under fire for that. When this happens, though, many people miss the bigger idea. Oh, H&M stole a design from Thrasher? That’s shitty, but what about the fact that Thrasher is still putting out mostly logo hoodies and tees? That’s the real problem here. There’s no more innovation in the streetwear industry, and this has lead to companies putting out recycled designs with a new colorway or something (see Yeezys), and people buying them up, and heading straight for resale.

     Frankly, I haven’t been into fashion for long, and I am already sick of it. I’ve only been able to get one shirt at retail, and have had to shell out extra when I buy things from Grailed and such. I firmly believe that if there is not a big change in the industry soon, it will collapse. Eventually, more and more people will catch on, and won’t be paying $800 for a Supreme box logo hoodie anymore. And when this happens, the companies will suffer, and will be forced to create new and innovative products. The first step in this process, however, is getting rid of the resale culture. It does nothing for the industry, and defeats every moral that streetwear was built on in the first place. Only then will streetwear belong to the streets again, and not the Internet.

[christiandoenges]

Kevin Smith, The Continuation of Style, and What it Means to be an Auteur

     In 1994, Clerks debuted at Sundance, jumpstarting the career of young filmmaker Kevin Smith. Made on a shoestring budget, this grainy, raunchy, quirky comedy made its way into the spotlight, and quickly became a household name, thrusting Smith into the Hollywood scene. In the years since his debut, Smith has made many films, on both independent and Hollywood budgets. Die-hard fans of Smith have stuck with him over the decades, even when his big-budget films are critically panned at the box office, such as his 2010 effort Cop Out. However, despite the critical acclaim or disdain Kevin Smith may receive, he has a distinctive style when creating his films. This paper sets out to explore how Kevin Smith crafts his films, on both low and high budgets. This includes how he writes his stories and characters, along with how he shoots his films, while finally answering the question ‘Can Kevin Smith be considered an auteur?’.

          Clerks debuted in the midst of the independent film boom of the 1990s. The film’s grainy, black-and-white style, matched with minimalist shots fit in perfectly with the do-it-yourself feeling that was present during this time. Clerks is not a complexly-shot film; most of its scenes are shot/counter-shot conversations between two characters, or one camera pointing at characters during dialogue. Smith has even said this himself; when asked if he is a stronger writer or director, he had this to say: “A writer. I just don’t think I have a directorial instinct. I think it all comes from writing and that’s why the films don’t have a fantastic visual style to them. In fact, there’s no visual style to them. There’s a lot of banter and a lot of talk.” (Smith).

     However, for many people, this is what made Clerks so interesting and cool. It didn’t pretend to be anything more than it was, which is representative of Smith, too, in a way. While researching Kevin Smith, I found that ever since he was a kid, he has been infatuated with comic books, and writing and drawing them. In fact, Smith writes his films similarly to the way one would write a comic book series. Many of his movies take place in what he refers to as “The Askewniverse”. This “universe” contains the characters, cities, and events that happen in most of Smith’s films, just like how a comic book universe, like the Marvel Universe, would contain all of its superheroes and worlds. This approach to writing films feels very organic and personal, with Robert Ebert describing it as a “...great invention, a natural feel for human comedy, and a knack for writing weird, sometimes brilliant, dialogue.” (Ebert) in his review when the film was initially released. When watching Clerks, and listening to the dialogue written by Smith, the viewer gets a sense that he is writing about experiences that he is very familiar with. This gives the dialogue a genuine feel to it, since Smith seems to know what he’s writing about, like he has actually experienced these situations he is putting on the screen. However, it can also feel amateur and immature after some time. This way of writing is fine for Clerks, since it was Smith’s debut, and therefore it couldn’t be compared to any other works of his, but as one continues through his catalogue of films, a pattern quickly emerges when looking at Kevin Smith’s dialogue choices. Clerks, Clerks II, and Mallrats all share a common theme of raunchy, immature, and frankly gross dialogue that is entertaining in Smith’s debut, but quickly grows tiresome when that is all the viewer is exposed to. The writing in Clerks, albeit focused on gross topics, is still smartly written, and comes off as witty, without trying too hard. However, if one was to watch a clip from Clerks II, they would recognize Smith’s characters, because frankly, they don’t grow at all between the two films, and neither does their writing. Clerks II takes places ten years after Clerks, and yet the writing did not age at all.The raunchy humor loses its wittiness, and instead feels forced in Smith’s later films. Most of his big-budget films do not take place in his “universe”, and yet the writing feels like it could. In Cop Out, for example, Smith relies heavily on jokes involving raunchy descriptions of sexual innuendos, and continues with the vivid bathroom humor, both elements that audiences were introduced to in Clerks, 15 years prior. Die-hard fans of Smith may appreciate this continuation of style, because it fulfills their expectations that they have built-up over past films of his, but new viewers may not like what they hear.

     Smith himself has said that he is not much of a director, and instead focuses on the writing aspect. This actually has lead to him developing a style of sorts. This style is very simple, often medium-long shots of characters talking to one another, and close-up shots of action. The former example is littered all over Smith’s films, and really is what the rest of the film is built on. An example of the latter is in Clerks when Dante is opening the store, Smith uses close shots of him snipping the string holding the newspapers. This simple way of shooting scenes shifts the focus of the film from the visuals to the dialogue, which is what Smith wants. By giving the audience nothing of much interest to look at, he forces them to listen to what is going on in the scene, playing upon his strengths as a writer. While this is a clever way to direct your shoestring-budget debut in 1994, it is surprising that Smith has decided to carry this practice on in his later films. This could be an answer as to why Smith’s big-budget films always seem to be critically panned at the box office. While his quirky style may work on the independent circuit, large audiences are not satisfied with barebones shots of two characters talking. It is simply not entertaining anymore after he has used the practice for so many years. Again, Smith shows consistency in his work, giving the feeling that he is always creating these films exactly how he sees them, and not giving much thought to what a larger audience may desire.

     Over the course of his career, Kevin Smith has certainly developed a personal style, but does this carry over into being considered an auteur? By definition, an auteur expresses great creative control in their films, and this leads to their styles being recognizable. So it is this creative control that really becomes the deciding factor for whether or not someone makes the cut. Smith surely shows a continued style in both his writing and directing, but how do these translate into control? His writing, although consistent, does not show much merit. What began as snarky, witty dialogue that dealt with gross topics, it transitioned into a lazier style, but still dealing with the same topics. For his directing, Smith began his career by relying on shot/counter-shot, and medium shots on subjects’ conversations, and he has stuck with that method since. Cop Out, which was made on a much higher budget than Clerks, is certainly flashier than its predecessor, but the muscle memory that Smith has for shooting scenes is still there. We continue to see shot/counter-shot, and simple shots focusing on dialogue throughout the film. It could be argued that this completes Smith’s style of creating films, when in reality, it is more likely that this is simply a crutch that he has developed over his career. When discussing Smith and his style, Andy Williams states that “...usually his [Smith] films are distinctive; his style is that he has no style.” (Williams). Just because a filmmaker expresses consistency in their work does not make them an auteur. Smith misses the mark for holding this title at a fundamental level, simply because he lacks the creative control of other directors. Directors such as Wes Anderson utilize familiarly-styled shots, such as his perfectly-centered scenes, but use them in ways that are refreshing and fun to watch. Compare this to Smith, who still uses familiar shots, but not in a dynamic way like a true auteur would. Kevin Smith’s career has been built on him taking an uncompromising approach to his work. He writes characters he finds funny, in worlds that he has created and continues to populate with weird, uncomfortable stories. In an article featured in The Guardian, Dave Schilling has similar thoughts on Smith’s career: “If there is one constant in his [Smith’s] career, it’s a marked lack of interest in servicing anyone’s taste but his own.” (Schilling). There is a certain amount of respect that can be given to Smith and this approach, however, this may be overshadowed by the many grievances fans and critics have of his film career. Realistically, Smith will continue his career with raunchy, simple films, continuing to carve himself into Hollywood history as a would-be auteur.

[christiandoenges]

“brothers”

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social media art done for underground printing ann arbor 7/7/18

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hi jack

what's up youtube welcome to my channel smash that FUCKING like button

[christiandoenges]

Watching the Elephant in the Room: How Gus Van Sant Creates Reality

Elephant is the second installment in Gus Van Sant’s “Death Series”, and captures a day in the lives of multiple high-schoolers, and the violence that takes over that day. The film isn’t flashy, it isn’t filled with action sequences or heroes saving the day, and it isn’t a happy end to a story. However, Elephant did not set out to do any of those things. Van Sant’s vision with Elephant was to capture a realistic slice of an American teenager’s life and the things that they go through. He does this through the way he tells Elephant’s story, the way the film is shot, and ultimately with the message that Elephant shares with the viewer about a problem that we all deal with as a nation.

Elephant begins with John’s father drunkenly driving him to school. With this scene, Van Sant immediately drops the viewer into this world with little explanation of what is going on, and forces them to observe. After John, the film cuts to Eli, then, later to Nathan, and this style continues throughout the whole film as we are introduced to even the most seemingly insignificant characters. As the film progresses, and we learn more about these characters and subplots, Van Sant likes to show some specific scenes out of order, or show them multiple times. The scene where John and Eli greet each other in the hallway as Michelle runs to class is seen three separate times, from three different perspectives. The conversation between John and Eli is fairly meaningless in the grand scheme of things, and we barely see Michelle while they are talking, and yet Van Sant chose to give their perspectives all equal representation in the scene. Van Sant does this in order to continue to drive home the idea that Elephant’s story, its characters, this school, are all boring, they’re banal, and yet they all feel real. By creating scenes around these insignificant events, Elephant feels like it could happen at any school with any kids in the place of the film’s characters. If Van Sant had chosen to create elaborate scenes with complex dialogue tailored specifically for Elephant’s characters, it would have jeopardized the entire atmosphere and mood that the film carries.

Along with Elephant’s story, Gus Van Sant creates a realistic film with the way he chose to shoot it. A majority of the film is shown through long tracking shots that follow the characters as they make their way around school, going about their daily lives and interacting with their friends. The way the camera is set up to simply follow the characters is very passive, and gives a feeling of separation between the viewer and the film. While watching Elephant, the viewer is like a fly on the wall. Merely observing what is going on, unable to change anything. Along with this idea, the shots and camera movements are not flashy. Van Sant did not want to create a film full of quick, action-packed cuts that glorified this event and created a story that was not applicable to real life. Instead, the shots are simple, and do what they need to do: follow the characters. Similar to the aforementioned dialogue and scene structure, anything different would have completely changed the way it feels to watch Elephant, and what the film says.

Like every film, Elephant carries both explicit and implicit ideas and messages. With a story involving a school shooting, first-time viewers of Elephant may have expected the film to force an agenda upon them at the end, addressing America’s school shootings. However, it seems like Elephant does the opposite of address something. Over the course of its one-hour-twenty-minute runtime, Elephant presents information to the viewer about these kids, their lives, the school, and the tragedy of what happened to them, and then simply ends. There is no closure. There are no answers for a wondering audience. Elephant simply ends. So, in a way, this is Van Sant’s effort to discuss the problem America has with school shootings. In a Hollywood action film, there would have been a clear solution that a protagonist would have attained, the day would have been saved, and the problem plaguing the people involved would disappear. However, that is far from real-life. Upon further thinking, it would not make sense for Elephant to end any other way than it did. The film is a body of work that is applicable to real-life, and in real-life, there aren’t always easy ways for the hero to save the day. When the shooters are in the school, we see John outside, warning people to not go inside. Although he is trying his best, he is helpless to the situation. The only pay phone we know of is inside, and not many people, let alone kids, carried cell phones at this time. This is very contradictory of what we as an audience would expect from a protagonist in a film like this. We expect solutions, not helplessness. Van Sant is forcing viewers to confront the fact that there is a crisis in America that needs to be addressed, but admits that the path to fixing it is convoluted. That is why the ending of Elephant is so harsh, and leaves people feeling empty. The lack of closure, and reminder that this is actually happening around us, is a lot to take in, and it simply feels unnatural for a film to end without giving us the answers we desire.

Elephant is not the type of movie that one may regularly watch. Its story is unusual, the structure can be confusing at times, and its message is not exactly welcomed by viewers. However, what Gus Van Sant does with this film is very important. With Elephant, he creates a very realistic idea of a world for the viewer to observe. He does this through the way he writes the scenes, the way he shoots the film, and with the ending.

[christiandoenges]

by me, 3/13/18

[christiandoenges]

“A Realistic Struggle for Redemption: A Theme Analysis of Fruitvale Station”

     When searching for a theme, the ultimate goal is to find that universal idea that the audience can connect with. There are many ideas at play in Fruitvale Station, but the overarching theme is redemption. Fruitvale Station follows Oscar Grant in the final 24 hours of his life in a dramatic retelling of a real-life incident that occured on New Year’s Eve of 2009. Oscar is a tragic figure, whose past affects the present throughout the film. Oscar is constantly trying to better himself in various aspects of his life. Throughout Fruitvale, the audience sees Oscar trying his best to redeem himself with his mother Wanda, his girlfriend Sophina, and finally with himself. It all begins with a quote by Oprah: “It only takes 30 days to form a habit, then it becomes second nature.”

     In regard to the relationship with Oscar and his mother Wanda, Fruitvale Station utilizes the use of flashbacks in order to give the audience context. This editing allows us to see how Oscar’s relationship with Wanda used to be while he was in prison. In a flashback scene, we see a conversation between Oscar and Wanda where Oscar enters the scene calm and welcoming of his mother. After agitation from a fellow prisoner and rival gang member, Oscar becomes hostile toward both the prisoner and Wanda. Soon, though, he flips the switch again and goes from being hostile to begging for his mother to come back and say she loves him. This flashback shows a stark contrast to the way we see Oscar and Wanda interact in the rest of the film. In the present day, we do not see Oscar use that aggressive, hostile attitude toward his mother like he had in prison. In fact, to the contrary, instead of making her life harder, he is constantly trying his best to make her life easier. There is a scene early on in the film where Oscar is driving and receives a call from Wanda, who, upon Oscar answering, immediately asks if he has his earpiece on. Oscar doesn’t have his earpiece. Now, Oscar has a few choices in this situation. He could lie to his mother and say that yes, he was wearing it; he could flat out say no, he wasn’t wearing it, presumably to her discontent; but instead, Oscar shows an initiative to please his mother, and even though he didn’t have exactly what she wanted, he was going to make it right. We see Oscar pull the car over, and tuck the cell phone into his beanie. This scene provides an early look at Oscar’s attempts to make his life better. He has good intentions, he wants to put the earpiece on, but things always seem to get in the way of that and he must find ways to overcome, like putting the phone in the beanie.

     Along with his mother, Oscar is continually trying to repair the relationship with another important person in his life, his girlfriend and mother of his child, Sophina. Fruitvale Station definitely does not try and convince the viewer that Oscar and Sophina have a perfect relationship. Multiple scenes in the film show them fighting about current issues, along with past problems that still affect them to this day. Oscar has been caught cheating on Phina, he went to prison and left her to raise their daughter T alone, and on top of all that, he had just lost his job. The connecting idea between all of these issues is that even though Oscar may not know the best way to deal with them, he is trying his best to fix it. He reassures Phina that “That shit is over. All I want is you and T. Forever.”, but never wants to fully accept what he had done in that relationship by cheating. When confronted about money, he admits to losing the job, but says he threw away the bag of weed he intended to sell. Now, in Oscar’s mind, this decision was a good one, because he is now deciding to do something honest and legal with his life. It is a very optimistic approach. Phina, on the other hand, representing the more realistic side of the conversation, scolds Oscar for throwing away their only immediate potential source of income. Once again, we see Oscar trying his best but still somehow getting messed up along the way. Finally, near the end of the film, Oscar meets Peter, who is more similar to Oscar than we may have initially expected. Peter explains that being broke is a bad excuse for not marrying someone. Through their conversation, we can see hope for Oscar’s future with Phina blossoming.

     Most importantly, Oscar goes through the whole movie trying to cleanse himself of his old ways and become the new man that he wants to be. The whole movie is set on New Year’s Eve, so the audience is constantly reminded of this idea.of resolution and change. We see this literally early on in the movie when Oscar takes a shower, trying to wash away his past. When Oscar goes to the grocery store where he used to work, he talks to his old manager Emi about getting his job back. Oscar presents himself in a respectful way by taking off his beanie before talking to Emi, and calmly talks to him. However, Oscar’s old habits and personality leak through the cracks just a little bit, and when he doesn’t get the answer he wants, Oscar becomes desperate and hostile, grabbing Emi’s arm and cursing at him. This behavior is similar to what we see in the flashback to Oscar’s time in prison. This reinforces the idea that he is trying his best to change, but he can’t shake some of his old ways. We see intense metaphorical imagery in the scene where a pit bull is hit by a car in the street. This whole scene compares Oscar, and black men in general to the pit bull. Both are stereotyped as aggressive, when in reality they are much more than that. The dog is hit and killed in the street, therefore showing the prevalence of black men being killed in the street, while also foreshadowing Oscar’s death. The dog, like Oscar, wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was just minding its own business. In the end, though, despite their best intentions and because of forces out of their control, both are killed needlessly.

     Fruitvale Station is such a relatable movie because no matter the race, class, or sexuality of the viewer, we can all relate to that central universal idea. Oscar is a tragic figure to us, because all he wants is to redeem himself and change for the better, and yet, we see repeatedly that it is simply out of his hands, and that is heartbreaking to watch. Fruitvale Station shows that redemption is not an easy thing to accomplish, if possible at all. Do my past transgressions make my life and less worthy than someone of different circumstances? Fruitvale would say no.

[christiandoenges]

“word of the day”

[christiandoenges]

video I made a while back