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A review by johnreadsthings
Nothing Deep by Richard Bolisay
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
5.0
Contrary to the title, Richard Bolisay went deep in his sophomore collection, deeper than where his brilliant debut led. Whereas Break It to Me Gently was focused on his wit in dissecting and critiquing films, mainly as an audience, a receiver on the other end, Nothing Deep had placed Bolisay, still as an audience but, in a much closer proximity to that of the artists and their processes.
Opening with an illuminating profile of Joel Torre, Bolisay's essays in this book are less film reviews and more centered on the people, the art, the exercise of filmmaking. And I find it much more personal, intimate even, for the subjects Bolisay profiled, but also for him. And by having him write about the behind-the-scenes, one can appreciate and perceive his understanding of the craft more, and also his love and respect for it.
Bolisay writes with sincerity and intelligence, something I truly enjoy and like about his works. These radiated especially bright on my favorite essay in this collection: the one he wrote about Lav Diaz and Charo Santos and their meeting and eventual collaboration. He crafted it with so much awe for the director and the actor that it translated as fully and as vehemently in the pages, and that I could not help but share that same sentiment.
In the book's Introduction, Bolisay asks, “When the act of writing disappears, what do I become?” It is a rhetorical question, but as one finishes the book, the answer is clear: someone who knows, respects, and loves films and the art of filmmaking—and someone who will always do.
Opening with an illuminating profile of Joel Torre, Bolisay's essays in this book are less film reviews and more centered on the people, the art, the exercise of filmmaking. And I find it much more personal, intimate even, for the subjects Bolisay profiled, but also for him. And by having him write about the behind-the-scenes, one can appreciate and perceive his understanding of the craft more, and also his love and respect for it.
Bolisay writes with sincerity and intelligence, something I truly enjoy and like about his works. These radiated especially bright on my favorite essay in this collection: the one he wrote about Lav Diaz and Charo Santos and their meeting and eventual collaboration. He crafted it with so much awe for the director and the actor that it translated as fully and as vehemently in the pages, and that I could not help but share that same sentiment.
In the book's Introduction, Bolisay asks, “When the act of writing disappears, what do I become?” It is a rhetorical question, but as one finishes the book, the answer is clear: someone who knows, respects, and loves films and the art of filmmaking—and someone who will always do.