Books with "Cachet"

So last night, I did something I haven't done in a *long* time: I went and turned myself loose in Powell's City of Books for an hour and a half or so, then went and watched a movie with some friends.

There's a reason I stay out of Powell's -- and it's probably the most common reason to avoid the place. I have difficulty resisting the purchase. Here I was yesterday afternoon -- nay, *just minutes* before I left to go there! -- talking about how I am reluctant to get back into the whole material acquisition thing. And within 10 minutes of entering that fair temple of those who worship books, I had two tucked beneath my arms and was licking my lips over a third.

The third one deserved lip-licking, I should note. It's title: "On Kissing. Travels in an Intimate Landscape." Author: Adrianne Blue ... I stumbled on this succulent bit of anthropological prose in the psychology section while looking for something on the occurrence of and treatment for sex addiction. There was not a single book about sex addiction, but what there was in the sexual psychology section was a distracting enough that I didn't care.

I bought this book, along with three others (one on narrative therapy, one on women travelers and one on a cultural history of sex), and I headed into the cafe to pass the time while waiting for my friends to be done with their own browsing. I pulled out the Kissing book and started reading it, and because I *am* a fairly self-aware person, it was not too long before I realized my lips and tongue were doing all sorts of acrobatics while reading this text. (In fact, I would dare anyone who has ever enjoyed a kiss to read this book and not purse or smack their lips -- or let their tongue visibly loll around in the mouth -- while doing so.)

Anyway...

After Powell's, we went over to the Fox and watched "Cachet," which had gotten high marks from one of the more trustworthy local reviewers. He said it "creeps up your spine" rather than assaulting you directly. ... Let's just say it's a *subtle* French film and even though Juliette Binoche is still h.o.t., The Good Witch started snoring and I stared intently at the screen *waiting* for something to happen.

Then, suddenly and most unexpectedly, something does happen in that film. It's snoozing right along, with all its characters talking -- murmurring, actually -- and showing very little in the way of emotion (presumably because they're French and not, say, Italian), when one guy says, "I wanted you to be present," and what happens on the screen is such a tremendous shock in all respects that the entire theatre GASPED. Then, it returned immediately to the silence that permeates this film. But throughout the audience, there were many shocked comments that rippled out: "Good christ...." "I didn't see *that* coming." "Oh my word!" "Oh! Where did *that* come from?"

I myself both gasped and then, watching the fallout, was unable to suppress something of a snort. Perhaps it was a gag.

Suffice it to say, this moment is both the payoff for all the tension (without affect) that had been building in the film, but it is also no sort of payoff at all. The film continues along, its point just as mysterious at the end as it was at the beginning. When it was done, most of the audience just sat there, staring at the credits. Not in your average "credit-watcher" sort of fashion, either. They all just seemed ... stuck. And all of them watched the screen, as if waiting for something else to happen.

We walked out of the theater, and The Good Witch said, "Well, I feel like I've been suckered!" Cartman stared at the two of us, and asked, "Do you have *any* idea what that film was about?"

I think it was about ambiguity, I replied. But also, it was French. So, it was about French ambiguity, which is more acute than most Americans can tolerate and doesn't actually qualify as entertainment. But I kinda liked it anyway.

Cartman looked at me and rolled her eyes a little. "I didn't understand what was happening. Who was causing all those problems? How do you have a film where you can't tell who the bad guy is? And those people who were supposed to be the good guys? I didn't like them at all."

Not even Juliette Binoche?

"Well, her son disappeared and she barely got upset!" Cartman replied.

Oh, did you miss the part, I asked, where she went into his room and looked through stacks of paper on his desk? I mean, she looked through *two* stacks. That was high drama.

Cartman, who never seems to know when I'm being facetious, replied, "Oh, please. There was *no* emotion. I just don't get the film at all." And then she cursed the movie critic.

And The Good Witch said only, "Was I snoring *that* loudly? I hate when I do that."

Thank heavens I had been reading the Kissing book before I went to the film. It provided some amusing fodder to fill my mind during the lulls in the action. As if there was any action. Except for that one scene. That one scene which is both horrifying and yet redeems the film almost completely.