TumbledownDVD - 2016 | Widescreen version
From Library Staff
"Mewshaw's feature length debut has a fresh, original feel to it. I loved the British Columbia setting, the script, and the story of a woman wanting to keep for herself her deceased husband's songwriting legacy when a probing journalist/ fan tracks her down. The down-to-earth Rebecca Hall is... Read More »
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Right, and that's you? Associate Professor of Truth on your hog?
-It's not a hog. It's a cafe racer. It's European.
You know, there are many stages of grief.
Hannah's currently going through vandalism.
This crazy widow routine of yours, does that work on people? I mean, it seems a little over the top. Sorry. That's too much. ... Sorry. Um, hey, look. I've got respect fathoms deep for everything your husband had to say in those shattering songs, okay?
Well, I'm on my lunch break presently and I guess I thought a bird in the hand was worth me in the bush.
Opening song by Damien Jurado "Maraqopa:"
It's your oldest fear, that the love you can hear will go
It's a deafening sound, we become light on the ground, then soil
To be one with the sky, where the souls all collide, turn to gold
We are rain, we are rain
We are stones to be seen, in the meadows we are dreams to be free...
You know, when you're on, you're like a fanged wolf howling from a mountain top. But this is a toothless piglet lost in the woods.
Okay, McCabe. You got good taste in music. You got your theories about consumer blah-blah, but here's the deal. Any monument that gets built for him, I'm laying the bricks.
-Okay, will you-- hold on, all right? Whoa! Hey, easy. Look, I just want to say, man, I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry you want to just let him slip away for good.
-You know, I hope you get promoted or rich or on "The View" or whatever it is that made you haul yourself up here. Get off my truck.
You're condemning a genius to obscurity. Work on this with me.
-I am working on it, dickweed.
I scout three bands a week that are much more cutting-edge than Hunter Miles.
-I know that, honey, but that's what's so great about him. There's nothing cutting-edge about him. He's timeless.
This isn't quaint or kooky small-town charm. You know? And I got to be honest with you. I am sick of the forest and all the crazy little creatures who live in it. You drag me up here to write this book--
-Okay, Snow White. Nobody is holding you hostage.
There's not a soul in this town that wants to see her going with a flat-lander like you. You're going to crawl back into that exhaust hole you came from.
- and single-handedly keeps the deer population under control.
Oh, yeah? You make deer condoms, huh?
You want to know what I wished for? Off the record.
-Well, not if it's going to break the rules.
There are no rules to it, sweetheart. I wished to keep living in the present, to die just as happy as I was at my birthday party, and to be reincarnated as my granddaughter's cat.
"Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing," quoth Silvia Plath before preheating herself to 350.
-Yeah, well, enter the dragon.
She likes a good man. A real man. A man that smells like pine resin, not Pierre Cardin.
I've studied guys like him for years. You know, Hunter is pretty textbook. If you really, really listen to him...
It's like it hasn't occurred to anyone, right?
-Yeah, it never occurred to us. So thank you, oh, wise one from the island of tall buildings, for teaching us native folk how it is.
Hannah wrote a book?
-Mm-hmm. Seasonal motifs, poem stuff. It's a very long title. I can't really-- plus, she has two best prizes
for some reason. Yes, like she never did anything wrong.
-Mm-hmm. From Brown. Couldn't get into Harvard.
See, that's the good thing about being a hunter, Andy, is that even when the gatherers are up a creek
because they realize they haven't put away enough nuts and seeds to last the winter, a hunter, he can find himself dinner any day of the week as long as he can sniff out the right dung,
-You see, around here, everybody keeps tabs on everyone else, and everyone else is pretty sure I ought to be moving on.
You never thought about moving to New York? Manhattan?
No? Living in the big city? A change of scenery might help.
-No, it's not the kind of thing that you can take a vacation from. It's who I am now. I mean, you try to seem normal, right? But here's this thing that looms so large in your life you can't even see around it, you know?
Can't dress yourself because it's blocking your closet. I guess you could technically say that I'm depressed.
No. No, you are not depressed. That is not depression. That is just flat-out certified grief, you know? That's normal. That's natural. And it's not like you're waking up at noon or Skyping with your therapist
during office hours like me and half my colleagues.
"Lay me in the snow" doesn't mean "bury me." You're the one who's obsessed with death. My Hunter was obsessed with life.
Hey, Hannah. It's Andrew. I'm not sure where you are or ended up, but Finley and I are going to head to that maple syrup barn party thing that your mom invited us to.
Thank you for letting me in.
-I'll erase your brain later.
...but I guess that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night
Has its dawn
Just like every cowboy
Sings a sad, sad song
I mean, little things, you know, like having a bunch of smart-ass students that don't have a single original thought in their head. That's depressing. Big things? My dad passing away way too early. That's tough, you know? I mean, the smallest thing can set me off with that. You know, like the fall of light through a window or a stack of old newspapers.
Hannah, there is grief and then there is worship.
I paid you everything I had left. Take the money.
-I don't care about the money.
I put you up. Hell, I'm even putting out.
-And I'm rescuing you. Okay? I wrote that book so you wouldn't have to.
It's just a bunch of words. It'll never be enough.
You hear that sound? What is that? A pod of whales communicating?
-Lake whales, yes. I always thought God's belly after a burrito.
I don't know. Sounded like a warning.
-Just winter crying uncle. I love living in a place where you earn your seasons, you know? Tough it out, see the ice return itself to mud, slimy reeds... become hopeful again.
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