Incidental Acts of Spontaneous Cerebral Violence

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Before Sunset

Most of the time I truly feel as if I am merely biding time in this life. Allowing the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months & years to roll by, numbly going through the motions. Neither happy nor unhappy. Just empty.

This film exacerbated all of this. I hated this film for how it made me feel. Yet I loved it because it made me feel. Never have I been as miserable as I was at the end of this film. Yet, I was simultaneously thrilled. Never have I been as entranced by what was occurring on screen. Yet, my mind was racing with introspection.

A 90-minute film documenting a conversation should not have this effect. It is not the power of the movie itself. Or of the screenplay. Or the actors. The resonance is all circumstantial and somewhat metaphysical. And it certainly is not universal. Hell, ego wants me to believe it is purely idiosyncratic. Jessie & Celine are both around my age. And they were my age 9 years ago. In the interim, they have lived surfacely successful, yet unfulfilled lives. Their connection, both in '94 and now, illustrates their deficiencies. And helps to highlight my own.

There is no magic answer. And no pithy revelation forthcoming. I guess I'm just lonely.

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