By the way, I've already written a lot about this movie in this blog:
- day 1072 - now that the niceties are out of the way
- day 1073 - and everything is more real than life
- day 1074 - everything beautiful's fiction
- day 1075 - when you don't know someone
- day 1076 - it’s a video, robert
- day 1077 - i think i’m back in the dream
- day 1078 - you can never do anything by half
- day 1079 - hitch a ride on a dream
- day 1080 - what tyranny could stand up to that?
- day 1081 - start up the time machine
- day 1082 - you're not happy being sad
- day 1083 - i often wonder what she's thinking about
And then, I'm just enjoying the movie, writing nothing.
I got to thinking about one thing though, you know, coming back to childhood--but not about movies, although maybe we watched movies; I don't know. When our parents would fight, that effort to avoid and ignore. Conor and Brendan and Ann gather in Brendan's room and listen to loud music. A scene that feels a little too real. Though this movie is ultimately so enjoyable for me, and it revels in the joyful moments, it is quite often very much in the "happy-sad" corner Penny describes. Melancholy and joy wrapped up together.
Same with Brendan's "jet engine" rant--that feeling that you wanted to be something more than you are, but dreams get lost. Doesn't mean life is a bleak landscape, but sometimes you are forced to remember, to imagine, that other future you used to envision, and it sucks.
The turn in tone from Conor's "As long as you're happy" to him refusing to tell her about the gig he's rehearsing for. I've been in conversations like that. Sweet and wonderful one moment, and all wrapped up in pain the next.
Saer, by the way, said the movie was beautiful, and she called it "wholesome" and said she wanted to watch it while it was raining and she has tea and a fuzzy blanket.
I get that. A movie like this is the fuzzy blanket, and the tea. It makes sense that this is the movie I've watched the most for this blog second to the titular one. It's comfort food, but occasionally in a painfully sad way.
And, today was an amazing day.
Doesn't mean life is perfect.
But, it also doesn't have to be. Perfect is not for life as a whole. Perfect is for moments. Perfect is for singular interactions with friends, with lovers, with kids, with movies, with whatever it is that makes your day. Like Penny sitting on the porch for those last bits of the day's sunlight, drinking wine and reading her papers. Like me watching a movie and writing this blog, nevermind how big the audience might be on a particular day. I mean, what do I care. If I make your day just one little bit better, whoever you are, reading this, that's for you. My joy is in the words. (And so, sometimes, is my pain.) My joy is in the watching, the picking apart, the tearing down, the building up, the praising, the... whatever. Taking this moment, this movie, and making it matter, letting it matter, letting all else fall away for a while. Or, alternatively, letting the movie be the trigger for a look out at the world, at life. Or, really, most of the time, both. Because, for me, even if just for this little blog, in this little corner of the Internet, the two are one and the same. The movie, whatever movie it is, is life, and life is the movie. And both are worth examining, both are worth embracing.
And, part of what makes them so good sometimes is that both, also, are something worth hating, fearing, crying over. The darker moments make the brighter moments even better. As it should be.