My Name is Gladiator...
Last Friday he came over and we proceeded to get mildly drunk down in the (mancave)basement office. Once we were appropriately soused, we put on Gladiator, the one with Russell Crowe. What an absolutely amazing movie. It hits you (or me, at least) on different levels. There's the male end of the movie - war, the arena fights - but in the most important ways I never feel like the savagery is glorified. A great example of this is a very quick scene during the first big arena spectacle in Rome. They're reenacting the battle of Carthage and it's just horrific. At one point Maximus (Crowe's character) hacks off a couple of heads and the camera cuts to Joaquin Phoenix (the emperor). He sticks his tongue out and clenches his teeth in this pure, visceral reaction that seems ENTIRELY sexual. It makes you pause in horror (or it did me, at least), and then, a second later, go 'DAMN Ridley Scott is a great director!'
It's a small touch, there and gone in a flash, but it makes you recoil. Perhaps you were like those in the stands, enjoying the fighting and the dying as a spectacle-once-removed. Then that tongue comes out and you go 'Oh, right, this is horrible!'
Why is this on a writer's blog? Inspiration comes from all kinds of places,that's why. There are also many different kinds of inspiration. In this case, I was inspired by the idea that a short moment could become such a sledgehammer. I thought about it off and on all the next day.
A single, well-placed thought can become an atom bomb or a black hole, if the context is right. I'm already considering how to use this in my current novel.
Speaking of which, Abandoned (the fourth book in the Smoky Barrett series) will be out at the end of this month. I'm looking forward to what everyone thinks.
Back to salt mines, which are growing colder by the day. Colorado is not California - nor should it be.