The Color of Time Page #3

Synopsis: The Color of Time is based on Pulitzer prize-winning poet CK Williams' collection of the same name. The film blends together adaptations of 11 of the poems to create a poetic road trip through CK William's life. The film takes us on a journey through several decades of American life from CK's childhood and adolescence in Detroit in the 1940s and 50s to the early 1980s: CK and his wife Catherine are married with their son Jed. CK prepares for a reading of 'Tar' in New York City, and spends his nights struggling to write new poems, haunted by memories of his past. As CK drives to his reading in New York City, he remembers central moments of his life: we come to experience and understand both his relationship to love and loss, and how he found his calling as a poet through the women in his life. The film takes us back and forth between past and present, punctuated by voice-over from CK Williams' poems, recreating the experience of memory and exploring how the fragments of one's man life c
 
IMDB:
4.5
Metacritic:
34
Rotten Tomatoes:
5%
R
Year:
2012
73 min
72 Views


- Yeah, I do.

- Buy an American car.

- God's sake.

- You're unbelievable.

Have you been to Lafayette lately,

Coney Island?

- What about it?

- It sucks.

Why does it suck? I was there last week.

It's cheaper. It's more expensive

and it's worse meat.

How can it be worse meat?

It's already bad meat.

I'm telling you, it's not the same.

I had a horrible heartburn

when I was there.

- And you don't normally?

- No.

From their chilli cheese dog

with fries on the side?

- Been at Woodward lately?

- No.

- South of Davidson?

- No!

- It's all screwed up.

- Really?

They tore it up,

torn up into a million pieces.

- Man. I got to go to Allen Park now.

- You ain't gonna get to Allen Park.

You're gonna have to go

all the way around.

- The gas is $1.20 a gallon.

- You got a customer.

- What can I do for you, sir?

- Just this and a cup of coffee.

- Okay. Cream, sugar?

- No.

That'll be 65 cents.

You guys are the only place

open around here.

I'll be here until the end,

until God tells me to pull the switch.

- I grew up around here.

- Where?

- Birmingham.

- Birmingham. Hoity-toity.

- Hoity-toity.

- Nice.

- Where do you live now?

- Paris. France.

- What the hell do you do there?

- France?

- I'm a writer.

- They speak French there.

- What do you write, French?

- Nah, just poetry.

Poetry. I'm a poet.

But I didn't know it.

But my feet show it.

They sure are long fellows.

- Alright.

- Not bad.

Mom!

You alright? Come on.

Come on in, fellas.

Will you shut that door behind you?

Okay.

So, here we are, men.

This is my humble abode.

My stomping ground, home, you know?

I'll tell you what, I'm really happy

that you guys decided to come along.

- We're excited.

- Yeah.

Do me a favour, man.

Usually we have no smoking in here.

- Can you put that out for me?

- Sorry about that.

Okay.

You fellas make yourself at home. I'll be

right back in just one moment, alright?

- Alright.

- Okay.

Baby, you up?

You been sleeping since I left?

Would you like me

to make you some dinner?

How many?

Two.

Put cheese in my eggs.

Listen, baby, I brought you some water.

It's right there. I'll be right back.

You ready? Hey. Come here. You ready?

$2.

Sit down.

- You ready?

- Yeah.

You don't look like you're ready.

Would you like something to eat?

Oh, no, thank you.

I'm not really hungry.

You're up.

Get off me. Get off me.

F*** this, man.

"A gas station, Route 22.

"I remember exactly... Route 22 curved.

"There was a squat, striped concrete divider

they'd put in after a plague of collisions.

"The gas station...

Texaco, Esso, I don't know."

Charlie.

Come on, man. We gotta go.

Charlie, come on.

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