No. 175 - Six Films, Two Days, No Carry-On

I had an unusual day of business travel last week.

I departed Atlanta at three in the afternoon, which set forth in motion a leisurely sojourn – the likes of which I had never experienced.

The airport was a ghost town – even the TSA folks were smiling. An air of tranquility was curiously present in an otherwise chaotic environment. Of course, the problem with flying out in the middle of the afternoon is you lose a day. But as a middle-aged man whose life resembles that of a gypsy, I basked in the nothingness.

I went to a confectionery shop, ordered a Boston cream and a black coffee, and enjoyed not caring what time it was. Days like this, moments really, seem out of reach as you get older. So when they appear, I take a deep breath, put up my feet, and enjoy them.

I eventually got to the airport and had a few hours to kill. Since I was only traveling with a briefcase (not even a carry-on), I chose to board last, buying another half hour of “Brad Time.”

***** TRAVEL TIP *****

If I’m only traveling for a day or two, I pack a change of boxers and that’s it – I buy toiletries when I arrive. All I bring is my laptop, iPad, and tobacco. That said, this only works in casual cities, like Austin. In New York, where I’m in a suit and tie, it’s a different story. But if you can get away with tailored jeans, loafers, and a button-up, what’s the use in bringing a carry-on?

Further, if need be, you can ship whatever you need to where you’re staying, like I did with a sleeping bag and tent in Jackson Hole last week. To me, a carry-on isn’t worth the headache, or worse, backache (my carry-on is a Patagonia backpack).

With my coffee gone and a few hours still to burn, I opened Criterion and found two collections that caught my eye.

First, which is the more obvious of the two, was Directed by Robert Altman. I’ve been a fan of his work for a while, and even though Nashville is his undisputed triumph, I’m a bigger fan of The Long Goodbye. Hell, if we’re being square, I enjoyed all eleven episodes of Tanner ’88 more than Nashville (and how can you not love a Garry Trudeau mockumentary that inspired Aaron Sorkin to write The West Wing).

Anyway, I figured I’d have enough time to watch three films en route to Austin and three on the way back to Atlanta (by way of a lengthy layover in Denver). So I picked McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Brewster McCloud, and 3 Women, and I picked three from …… are you ready for this … Bigas Lunas. Never heard of him? Nor had I – and this is why we spend ten bucks a month on Criterion: to be exposed to films that are impossible to find.

Lunas was an interdisciplinary Spanish artist who was a bit obsessed with erotica. I did some research and found three of his films – Jamón jamón, Golden Balls, and The Tit and the Moon – are called the Iberian Trilogy.

Having never seen his work, or, as I said, even heard of him, I opted to watch the Trilogy on the way to Austin.

My first day of travel and film unfolded as follows:

9/5/25: Thursday – Bigas Lunas Films

Atlanta Airport – Jamón jamón with Academy Award winner Penélope Cruz in her first film. I watched it before takeoff and enjoyed it immensely. I like scripts that have no chance of making it to an American multiplex, but are screened, with tremendous pride, at film festivals and barely gross enough to cover expenses. In other words – real art. I like uncompromising directors who don’t care about economics. Even though it launched the career of Penélope, Jamón jamón is an indie.

Flight 4211: Atlanta to Austin – Golden Balls with Academy Award winner Javier Bardem. If it were possible to enter the testicular brain of a Spanish man who is plagued with every machismo insecurity, but is equally ambitious and lacks a moral compass, this is that man’s biography. Full-bore masculinity – moving faster than a speeding bullet – with no guardrails. I enjoyed it for the same reason I enjoyed Jamón jamón; it’s unique (to an American audience) and captures the vision of an esoteric storyteller.

In my room on San Antonio Street in Austin – The Tit and the Moon. This is a VERY odd film … very, Very, VERY odd. But I liked it very much. There’s no way to explain this one. If you want to see a Best Screenplay winner from the Venice Film Festival, check it out. Like I said, I enjoyed the hell out of it.

All of Lunas’ films are brimming with nudity, sexuality, and dump trucks worth of Spanish machismo – so much so that a sensitive type may suffocate. Again, I’d never seen anything like any of these films, and that’s something I enjoy immensely. I’ve quoted it before, but I’ll do it again – on a signpost in Aspen I read the following: I love the art I don’t understand. Lunas will push you in that direction.

9/7/25: Saturday – Robert Altman Films

Flight 1778: Austin to Denver – McCabe & Mrs. Miller is, without a doubt, one of the best films I’ve seen in 2025. Warren Beatty is brilliant (as usual) and Altman’s take on a Western is so “Altman” – as the kids say these days, “If you know, you know.” Brilliant film.

Denver Airport – Brewster McCloud. Where do I start? What an epic failure. Just a horrible film from start to finish. Quentin Tarantino said it best: “It’s the cinematic equivalent of a bird shitting on your head.” Absolute disaster. The movie is so atrocious it almost makes you angry when it’s over. And yet, it’s so strange you can’t look away – even when you know it’s going to fail – partly because Altman’s fingerprints are all over it. I’ll never watch it again, but it was worth seeing once, if only to remind yourself that even the greats strike out.

Flight 2399: Denver to Atlanta – 3 Women with Shelley Duvall and Sissy Spacek. Yet another extraordinary Altman film – one that came to him in a dream. I’m addicted to films that have stories so unique that they can’t be copied – even though there are fingerprints from Persona (which is one of my favorite films of all time) all over this one.

Six films in two days is a lot. But when you’re alone on the road, sitting in airports with shit coffee and having to decide between aimlessly wasting time or getting lost in art – be it a film or a book – I choose art.

I complain about travel more than I used to, but the truth is, I love it. I love all of it. When I’m not traveling I’m restless. I could do without the planes, trains, and automobiles, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too. So these days I get absorbed in art when I’m on the road.

It’s not a life for everyone. Most people need schedules and routine – I need a shot of chaos.

If I had to look at the same skyline every day, or visit the same museums, walk in the same parks, or eat the same cuisine, I’d lose my mind. I like the anonymity of being on the road. No one knows me. No one knows my story, my failures, or my successes.

Everyone I meet and every experience is a potential story – and that’s impossible if you’re in the same place every day. Routine has no place in a writer’s life – at least in my life.