The Soloist is a 2009 drama film directed by Joe Wright, and starring Jamie Foxx and Robert Downey Jr. The screenplay by Susannah Grant is based on the book, The Soloist by Steve Lopez. The film is based on a true story of Nathaniel Ayers, a musician who develops schizophrenia and becomes homeless.
Foxx portrays Ayers, who is considered a cello prodigy, and Downey portrays Lopez, a Los Angeles Times columnist who discovers Ayers and writes about him in the newspaper. The film was released in theatres on 24 April 2009[1] and on DVD and Blu-Ray August 5.
The Soloist is based on the true story of Nathaniel Ayers (Jamie Foxx), a musical prodigy who develops schizophrenia during his second year at Juilliard School. Ayers becomes homeless and plays a two-stringed violin in the streets of downtown Los Angeles. One day Steve Lopez (Robert Downey Jr.), an LA Times Columnist, meets Nathanial and decides to write a newspaper column for the Los Angeles Times about Nathaniel Ayers and his homelessness. An old woman takes sympathy and sends Steve a cello for Nathaniel to play. In attempting to help Ayers, Lopez is forced to grapple personally with the complex issues and frustrations surrounding the thousands of mentally ill who are homeless on the streets of L.A.
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What is The Art of Film Memory
The Art of Film Memory is my personal film blog. Call it "live notes" or an act of montage if you will. Basically it is a work of memory. Someone once said that to exist, to truly exist, was to exist in celluloid. In many ways I agree, since our flesh and blood bodies deteriorate and degenerate far too rapidly to for us to really say that they endure. But perhaps today to exist has come to mean something else, since it also means to exist and last in that universal "ethosphere" we now call the internet.
Memory, it should be understood, is also about forgetting, and at my present age I freely admit I now forget more than I seem to be able to remember. So to help me conserve myself, and in particular that part of my life which has been given over to the unashamed enjoyment of that seventh art, or simply to help me remember which films I have actually seen, I have set up this blog, or scrap book for my life.
Since I currently already find myself writing far, far too much, in these times of wanton economic crisis, even if I did have anything useful to say about cinema, I have not the energy left to say it with. So little of what you will find here actually comes from me - perhaps the odd comment here and there. What does come from me is the structure, the organisation and selection of the content, which is, at the end of the day, governed by that initial - or primordial - choice, of which films to see, and which to miss.
So in a sense, even if the words and images are not mine, this blog is a work of autobiography, in the most literal and mundane sense of the term.
So welcome visitor, to one of my more private and intimate areas of personal space. I hope that those of you who from time to time pass through this blog will find the act of reading/watching/gazing at the contents every bit as enjoyable as I, the machinest, found the task of assembling it.
Memory, it should be understood, is also about forgetting, and at my present age I freely admit I now forget more than I seem to be able to remember. So to help me conserve myself, and in particular that part of my life which has been given over to the unashamed enjoyment of that seventh art, or simply to help me remember which films I have actually seen, I have set up this blog, or scrap book for my life.
Since I currently already find myself writing far, far too much, in these times of wanton economic crisis, even if I did have anything useful to say about cinema, I have not the energy left to say it with. So little of what you will find here actually comes from me - perhaps the odd comment here and there. What does come from me is the structure, the organisation and selection of the content, which is, at the end of the day, governed by that initial - or primordial - choice, of which films to see, and which to miss.
So in a sense, even if the words and images are not mine, this blog is a work of autobiography, in the most literal and mundane sense of the term.
So welcome visitor, to one of my more private and intimate areas of personal space. I hope that those of you who from time to time pass through this blog will find the act of reading/watching/gazing at the contents every bit as enjoyable as I, the machinest, found the task of assembling it.
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