Back in the old days, right or wrong was clearly defined. It was when justice still did its magic by punishing those who committed wrongdoing and goodness prevailed gloriously. But it’s a different world now. A new rule has emerged: there are no rules. There are people who do evil things in cold blood without consequences following their actions. No regret or guilt bothering their conscience. So whats the point of it all when your fate is sealed by a toss of a coin? This is no country for an old man. I watched this movie six years ago, but it is today that I’m finally aware of its relevance, when I realize that nowadays people behave in unpredictable manner, that we all live in a state of chaos.
Deux moi
Someone somewhere
Two entangled particles we are
Separated by thousand miles of distance
Yet our destiny keenly intertwined
Your events affect mine in an instant
Vice versaHeartache or joyWithin the blink of an eye
Travels through the unseen thread of ethereal force
De mon âme à ton âme
The fallout of yesterday
The riot of today
Happened and exists for the wish of tomorrow
Patient, patient, wait and evolve
Hold on to someday
When we'll greet each other
Both as friends and lovers
For we belong together
Before Sunrise (1995) reminds me of my own story somehow. It’s about an american man met a french woman on a train, they talked, they connected and decided to spend one night together, just one night though because the man had to fly back to America in the morning.
I can relate to the woman, Celine. She’s smart, she’s passionate, she’s creative, she’s honest, she doesn’t tip toe around the matter. She’s realistic, she’s objective, but she still has some naivety and a glimpse of optimism in her. She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic though she’s aware of the depressing reality. She does overthink and make things complicated but then she can make a decision and take an action.
The man, Jesse, resembles someone I know, his cynicism and mannerism, the way he caresses a woman, only he’s much of a talker. He’s witty, he’s funny, he’s straightforward but never forceful, and he’s rational. It’s like he’s actually sensitive and can be surprisingly romantic, but he’s got beaten by reality. His heart is still warm from the breaking. He’s hurt so decided to take a different approach to view life. That’s how he’s wrapped in cynicism and always dragging people’s feet down to the ground before they get hang up on uncertainty, like some bullshit dreams, the disillusioned lies that will make them feel good about themselves only to be disappointed in the end.
His cynicism may upset her, and her dreamy naivety can make him frown. But other than that, they get along well, and able to fall in love with each other despite the very short time span they’ve spent together.
They talked about a lot of things, ranging from death, reincarnation, man-woman, also love. And it’s eye opening, quite awakening, to see love through different perspectives, using the same lens: experience (or in other word: reality). How we’ve got this idealism, this wishful abstraction, concept and theory about love planted, ingrained in each one of us, to expect the best, unselfish, giving, forever lasting kind of love. So we project this image of love unto someone, the more we know about them, the more we realize they do not fit in with the high standard that demands perfection in loving, we’re disappointed and we choose to leave, searching for perfection only to be disappointed again and again, because there is no such thing. Then we may get traumatized, distant ourselves, shutting our hearts, afraid to love. Because it’s not love that’s deeply flawed, it’s not love being such a stupid bullshit, it’s our perception of love that’s not quite wise.
Love is at the attempt, the attempt to get to know someone, understand them, and accept them. To acknowledge and be ready for all the shortcomings that may come, the aches, the trying and failing, and that it can end at any times. That’s where the magic is, not at the point A or point B or both, but the space in between. Perhaps love is not given, it’s not destined, it’s not a fate we shall do nothing about. Love is, mostly, human’s work.
Before Sunset (2004)
I don’t have anything much to say about the second movie. Aside from talking about the current state of the world, the depressing state of life in general, this movie is about failing to make connection with other after realizing we’ve found the one. It’s a hard task to love someone else, knowing your perfect half is somewhere out there in this world. Thus even though we’re with our lover, we’ll still feel lonely, because deep down we’re longing for that one that’s got away. And it’s possible to love someone and when space and time separate us from that person, we will never recover until we’re brought back together, because we know we’re meant to be.
Although here are some quotes from the movie yelled out by Celine that I find resonance with:
I mean, I’m really happy only when I’m on my own. Even being alone, it’s better than sitting next to a lover and feeling lonely. It’s not so easy for me to be a romantic. You start off that way, and after you’ve been screwed over a few times you forget about your delusional ideas and you take what comes into your life. That’s not even true. I haven’t been screwed over I’ve just had too many blah relationships. They weren’t mean, they cared for me but there were no real connection or excitement. At least, not from my side.
……
You know what? Reality and love are almost contradictory for me. It’s funny, every single of my exes, they’re now married. Men go out with me, we break up, and then they get married. And later they call me to thank me for teaching them what love is and that I taught them to care and respect women. I want to kill them! Why didn’t they ask me? I would have said no, but they could have asked! I know it’s my fault because I never felt it was the right man. Never. But what does it mean, the right man, the love of your life? The concept is absurd. We can only be complete with another person. It’s evil, right? I guess I’ve been heartbroken too many times and then I recovered. So now, you know, from the starts, I make no effort.
– Celine in Before Sunset (2004)
Before Midnight
Love fades eventually, even when we’re assured we’re with the one. This fact only affirms the last bit I wrote about Before Sunrise (1995), that love is mostly human’s work. If we want it to last, we have to ceaselessly work on it, revive the old flames we had when we first met, we have to put up with all the disappointment, the conflicts, and resolve it.
It only gets more complicated once we have kids. Our kid is almost like this invisible bound that can’t be cut off completely from our exes, especially when it involves marriage, you know, legal stuff. We still have to deal with our exes no matter how we hate each other’s guts for the sake of our kids. And our current partner maybe get dragged into this storm, and get hurt in the process.
Romantic love is a team work between the two parties. Making compromises, being the bigger heart to apologize first, being even the more bigger heart to forgive. This reminds me of a quote from a recent movie, Corpus Christi (2019), “Forgive means love, love someone despite their guilt, no matter what the guilt is”. I thought to myself, dear Lord that one’s going to be the most difficult part. Loving despite the guilt, putting aside our wounds, though it may never be healed we must cover it and accept that life must still go on. So it’s still possible for a man to mess around, having affairs or sexual encounter with another person, even though they’re with the one they love the most, like Jesse did. And added with some very complicated situation Celine was ready to walk away.
In Before Sunset (2004), as I mentioned before, Celine’s ideal of romantic love had been shattered by reality. And at this point, her definition of love is completely ruined, she no longer knows what love is. Her vision about love and the reality seems so distant, like they’re two entirely different things. And that’s when Jesse comes to remind her what true love is in real life, not some tales fed to us by some children entertainment. Here’s what he said to Celine:
What, that you don’t love me anymore? I figured you didn’t mean it, but if you did, then.. Oh, fuck it. Know something? You’re just like the little girls and everybody else. You wanna live inside some fairy tale. I’m just trying to make things better. I tell you I love you, I tell you you’re beautiful. I tell you that your ass looks great when you’re 80. I’m trying to make you laugh. All right, I put up with plenty of your shit. And if you think I’m just some dog who’s gonna keep coming back, you’re wrong. But if you want true love, then this is it. This is real life. It’s not perfect, but it’s real.And if you can’t see it, then you’re blind,all right, and I give up.
-Jesse Wallace in Before Midnight (2013)
This trilogy marks how important communication is in a relationship. That’s why throughout these movies we mainly witness this couple walking and talking, some may find it boring, but I think Richard Linklater is clever in keeping the conversation flows naturally while remain being fascinating to the audience. And to be honest I myself get hurt watching this movie, to realize that true love in reality is far from this perfect fantasy of living faithfully happily ever after with your perfect love one. But that’s life, we must accept it, take it or leave it.
Dark was the night, only the sound of the frogs and nightingales were broadcasted through the cold air after the rain washed away my town. Rain, lightning, and thunder had put everyone else to sleep. I found myself still awake, snuggling under my thick blanket, trying to protect my skin from the chilly atmosphere. Consumed by loneliness, seized by doubts, gripped by fear, smothered by anxiety. In moments like that I was hoping for a calling, patiently waiting for something to ring. Yet, there was only silence. All my senses witnessed was mere muteness which only highlighted the absence as it became more transparent, though my primitive instinct was not ready to surrender.
Of course I’m not the only one who ever feels that way. Ingmar Bergman had brilliantly summed up this kind of struggle in Winter Light. At the beginning we saw a communion with all its ritual. Then after that communion had ended a couple of husband and wife came to meet the pastor. The wife spoke to the pastor on behalf of her husband, since the husband seemed resistant to talk about his problem. The husband, Jonas, had been depressed. He was overwhelmed by the news about the Chinese with their hatred and seemingly inevitable atom bombs in the future. Jonas refused to talk by being quiet so his wife suggested that he should come back later alone to talk about his problem more freely. The pastor, Tomas, waited for quite a while before Jonas came back. When he did the pastor told Jonas about his own insecurities and battle with God’s silence.
Listen, Jonas. I’m going to be frank with you. You know my wife died four years ago. I loved her. My life was over. I’m not afraid to die, and there was no reason for me to hang on. But I did. Not for my own sake, but to be of some use. I had great dreams once. I was going to make my mark on the world. The sort of ideas you have when you’re young. I knew nothing of evil or cruelty. When I was ordained, I was as innocent as a baby. Then everything happened at once. I was a seaman’s pastor in Lisbon during the Spanish Civil War. I refused to see what was going on. I refused to accept reality. My God and I resided in an organized world where everything made sense. You see, I’m no good as a clergyman. I put my faith in an improbable and private image of a fatherly god. One who loved mankind, of course, but me most of all. Do you see, Jonas, what a monstrous mistake I made? An ignorant, spoiled and anxious wretch makes a rotten clergyman. Picture my prayers to an echo-god who gave benign answers and reassuring blessings. Every time I confronted God with the realities I witnessed… he turned into something ugly and revolting. A spider God, a monster. So I sought to shield Him from life, clutching my image of Him to myself in the dark.
Perhaps Tomas did that so that Jonas would find him relevant and relatable. But instead, his words backfired. It didn’t help, it only validated the purposelessness of life. And for those who are not ready to accept the reality that life is vacant of any meaning and purpose, it becomes so unendurable and hopeless that to end it is the way to be free of it. Jonas took his own life using a rifle, his pregnant wife was left alone with his three children. Although to think that God and evil, cruelty, violence, hatred exist simultaneously is even more horrid for me. It’s as if God chooses to be silence and ignorant of all our sufferings. Does He really intent to leave our prayers unanswered to test us? A being with so much compassion and mercy let his creatures hurt each other, destroying the planet, are too devastating. But still, despite the absurd, I can’t kill God within me.
But at the end of the movie, Bergman invited us to reflect and sympathize with Jesus Christ. That his pain was not only physical, but he was also tormented by his own doubts during the last moment of his life. He asked God why He had forsaken him. Even Jesus once felt the silence of God, he thought his heavenly father had abandoned him.
Beyond the story of faith and doubt, this movie also narrated the pain of an unrequited love. Marta was in love with Tomas but he hadn’t moved on from his wife. The day his wife died, he died also inside. It was painful to watch Marta threw herself along with her vulnerability at Tomas when he found her repugnant. She tried her best not too seem needy but still came off as clingy. Marta’s love and affection for Tomas were rejected stone cold.
Just like its predecessors, Bicycle Thieves (1948) and other works by no other than Vittorio de Sica himself that are the foundations and embodiment of neorealism movement in italian cinema during post war era, Umberto D (1952) tells life as it is without adding any drama or tearjerker moments to make us cry ourselves out. But still they never fail to touch and revive the humanity in all of us and thus left us with tears stream down our faces. And that’s what happens to me every time I watch a film beautifully made by Vittorio de Sica.
I’m not the kind of person who can cry in public or even in front of my close friends and loved ones during touching moments. I even find myself struggling to cry even when I’m completely alone and have so much sadness in me. Yet, watching Umberto D (1952) brought back all the feelings that I’ve been unconsciously repressed. One does not simply ignore the subtlety of the excruciating events that have parallels to our every day lives.
Acted by real people with a story that hits so close to a day in our lives, Umberto D (1952) never spoils any emotion explicitly to the audience. This is not like most hollywood drama movies that’s constantly bombarding us with exploding emotions in every way they can. Instead, we just watch Mr. Umberto went on living his not very special life, trying to survive, trying to resolve his problems. He just never overly showed his frustration and desperation, he never cried for help either. Of course now and then he would complain about his wicked landlady who tried to kick him out of his apartment. But just like our days, nobody really cared about what he was going through. He was a lonely old man with his dog, Flike, always being around him. Because that dog was all he had, he had no family. And people who could relate to him were just as old, miserable, and already stuffed with their own problems. So whenever he got the chance to talk about his struggle politely it seemed like people don’t understand so he stopped.
Throughout the film I was trying to read his emotions and feel them as if they were my own. How he was torn between being kicked out of the apartment while still having dignity and self-respect or giving it up and trying to get enough money by all means necessary, like being a beggar. There was this moment where he seemed desperate enough and he put out his hand but when a man was about to hand him money he flipped his hand like he was checking if it rained or not. Then he gave his hat to Flike and made him hold it and pose like Flike was begging for money but in the end he couldn’t let Flike do it as well. Right at that moment, seeing the innocence in Flike’s eyes, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling down. He tried to find someone to take care of Flike because it seemed like there was no other way out than killing himself (I knew he was about to kill himself when he looked outside the window, down at the road and the camera zoomed in the pavements) but no one could. So he brought Flike with him and trying to get themselves hit by the passing train but Flike resisted and ran. He was failed at his attempt and looked at Flike standing at the other side and followed him. He approached Flike but at first Flike rejected him. Then he played with Flike probably trying to not get Flike scared anymore, and there they were, playing, looking happy and the word “FINE” emerged on the screen telling me the film had ended.
I wouldn’t know whether he would inevitably be kicked out of his apartment or some kind of deus ex machina would save him and his dog. All I know is after that failed attempt of suicide Mr. Umberto played happily with Flike. This film ended just like a day in my life when I was faced with multiple problems all at once and was ready to give up, but even so, there were still elements in that day that could bring a little bit of joy and by the end of the day none of my problems was resolved but at least I felt better and less miserable.
This particular piece of writing was inspired by the masterpiece film Taste of Cherry (1997) directed by Abbas Kiarostami as art in its great form and the nature itself, for it’s the beauty of nature that I hold on to while surviving this life no matter how unbearable and depressing it is, and the key is to appreciate the details.
If it's not for your beauty My body would've been home to maggots If it's not for the way you move following where the wind blows I am weightless If it's not for the blues, beneath and above And the green around I'll be six feet under the ground If it's not for the brisk smile of the children and the elders Blood is shed If it's not for the electricity in the neurons The journey thorugh memories My heart will freeze If it's not for Vivaldi's four seasons All my senses will be numb If it's not for the sheer joy of laughter My lungs explode If it's not for the art and poetry describing how you look My goal is descending If it's not for the wonders of tomorrow While time stands still and so are you I am no longer
Dealing with loneliness for most of my life, I stumbled across this movie when I browsed “movies about loneliness”. Wendy and Lucy (2008) casted Michelle Williams as Wendy who owned a dog named Lucy. Williams’ acting was stunning in this movie, just as usual, she just came natural.
So, the story was about Wendy who wanted to move to Alaska for a job. She brought her dog, Lucy, along with her. She stopped in Oregon to get some rest. The next morning, a security officer woke her up and asked her to move her car outside of the property but apparently her car broke down. The garage nearby was closed that day and she ran out of dog food. She didn’t have a lot of money as she tried to press her spending as minimum as possible. Lucy was tied up outside of the store and Wendy went in. She got caught stealing a can of dog food. Wendy tried to defend herself saying it was a mistake, an accident, and the boy who brought her to the manager said something that was hurtful but also true: If a person can’t afford dog food, they shouldn’t have a dog.
Wendy was sent to jail, leaving Lucy tied up. When she got back, Lucy was gone. Long story short, Wendy was in a dreadful moment with a stranger in the night, her car could not be fixed, and she found Lucy in a nice house.
The most heartbreaking part of the movie was when Wendy came to see Lucy after getting a report that Lucy was found. At first, Wendy was really happy and relieved that it was indeed Lucy, her lost dog. But then, seeing the man who found her had a nice car, a nice house, and a nice yard, he must be taking care of Lucy well. Better than Wendy did. So, she decided to leave Lucy there, she said to Lucy, holding her tears: I’m gonna make some money and I’ll come back.
Money, the root of problems in modern life. Somehow life is much more miserable when you don’t have money. It’s like life keeps throwing punches at you. Every time you try to get up, life punches you again, harder than before. The closest we can do to beat life is to punch back at it at least twice harder, but that’s not an easy task in most cases.
Wendy and Lucy (2008) reminds us that life as hard. Life is a series of obstacles, especially when we’re alone and broke. Her first problem is her broken car, then the dog food, the missing Lucy, then the dreadful encounter with stranger.
That encounter was very terrifying, he could’ve raped her or murdered her, but thank God he didn’t. Right after the encounter Wendy ran and cried in the public bathroom. She said, either to herself or to Lucy, probably to Lucy: hang on girl, I’m coming. Either way, life is survival, we’ve got to hang on. I like how she added “girl” there. Whether it’s relevant or not to what she said and the way she said it, at some cultures (like mine) girls were raised with a belief that a man would always protect her. So some girls never learn how to stand up for herself, afraid of being on her own, that usually got them stuck even in a toxic relationship. But some girls are not “lucky” enough to have a man, or anybody else, by their side. That’s why girls need to be strong, we need to be prepared for all the worst that could happen. That when life brings us down again and again, we girls hang on. It’s just what I feel when watching that scene, strangely empowered.
Next, just when there was a glimpse of hope in sight, that was when she got the news that Lucy was found, a bad news came (that’s life!). Her car couldn’t be fixed, that would make it hard for her to bring Lucy to Alaska with her. So she got to let Lucy go. Turns out, having a pet is very similar to having a kid. If you can’t afford it, you should not have it. It’s hurtful but it has a point. We need pet/kid to get through life, they could give us company, a tender feeling, love and affection, they could be the reason for us to keep trying. But when we could not provide for them well, we made them suffer too somehow.
That’s why I say that this movie is a hurtful reminder of life. Life is about surviving, life have us make tough and difficult choices, life is not the way we want it to be, full of twists and surprises (both bad and good), and in life sometimes we have to let go.
The 400 Blows (1959) is a coming of age film written and directed by François Truffaut. The original title, in french, is Les Quatre cents coups. Based on what I read on an essay from the criterion website [1], it comes from the idiom faire les quatre cents coups which means to raise hell. The essay says that this film is rooted in the director’s childhood.
Spoiler Alert! I recommend you to stop reading if you haven’t watched the movie and don’t want a spoiler. But if you’re alright with that, you may continue ^^
This film focused on its main character, a teenage boy named Antoine Doinel. He was raised at home by both his mother and his stepfather. At first, it appeared as if the family was okay. We didn’t even know that the father was actually a stepfather. Both Antoine and his stepfather made a dinner for his mother who didn’t come home from work yet. As the story unfolded itself, we began to understand that things did not go well at home. First, there was always problem with money and he caught his mother cheating on his stepfather. The lack of affection and attention coming from his parents quite played a role in turning Antoine into this rebel, punk kid. He never paid attention at school, did not obey his obnoxious teacher and sort of became a mortal enemy to that teacher.
One time life seemed to get better for him. His mother finally realized her absence in nurturing Antoine’s boyhood. So she got an idea and they all watched a movie together. It was a happy moment. She also promised Antoine she’d get him a reward if he did well at school.
The opportunity came. He had an assignment at school to write an essay and he worked hard for it. He worshipped Balzac, and somehow when he wrote his essay he was deeply inspired by Balzac that his essay looked very similar to Balzac’s writing. The teacher then accused him of plagiarizing Balzac and he got kicked out of school.
He was afraid to come home and let his parents know he was kicked out of school. He looked for a way to live on his own and stole his stepfather’s typewriter but again he got caught and sent to an observation centre for troubled youth. He didn’t like it there and tried to escape. The final scene was that he was running away from the centre, and he just ran and ran and ran until he arrived at the beach, there when he reached the water he slowed down. He turned back getting away from the water and his face looked straight at the camera as if he was breaking the fourth wall. Just like that the film ended.
And now my part…
I never had a trouble with anyone when I was a kid. I used to be very obedient, despite all the bad things happening in my family. I shoved it all down my throat (until it messed up with me head later). But then I got bullied and that changed me.
Being bullied taught me to hate. Those wicked words coming from the bully infiltrated my innocence with hatred but not anger, not yet. I started to realize how bad my parents had been to me. But again, I buried it all six feet under. I tried to live like that at least until I reached adulthood. That being said, my teenage years were really plain. No anger, no confusion, no sex drive, no desire to rebel, but still full of insecurities.
But now, my life is falling apart. The troubles at home interrupt my thesis’ progress. I’m ought to finish this bachelor thesis before I can graduate. But right now, my life is full of escapism, to get over the ugly things at home. When most people my age had dealt with puberty in the past and start to figure out what they want to do in life, I’m stuck here. I’m angry, confused, and insecure. As if puberty just hit me now, late.
I fall out of other people’s expectation. I’m supposed to graduate earlier this year but I keep struggling with my life that I have no time to focus on my thesis. I let down my advisor. I’m jeopardizing my future for a bit peace of mind.
Just like Antoine, I ran and ran and ran. Running away from my problems. Running away from everyone, hiding.
Yes, I need to get out of that house living hell soon. In order to do so, I need to graduate and then get a job. But that house is keeping me from finishing my thesis ergo graduating.
Or maybe puberty doesn’t hit me late. It never hit me and I just go straight to quarter-life crisis. As much as I love The 400 Blows, I don’t want to be stuck in this movie forever. So, what I need to do right now is dealing with this crisis and try my best in finishing my thesis.
My life is currently The 400 Blows. But soon, I hope it will be a movie with another title. My life is a work on progress, despite all my sufferings, I’m lucky I have movies to accompany me getting through life.
It used to be books. At the corner of a library, lied there on the bookshelves, veiled adventures. How printed lines on papers, bundled in a dusty and ragged cover, sometimes with a smell of ammonia, took me places. My first love was books.
But then the internet era was sneaking up until it eventually ended the dark ages of limited information. A renaissance of the data sharing and mining. The reign of internet gave birth to unlimited access towards sea of knowledge. Also, my hometown’s public library took three years to be fully renovated. So, during that hiatus, my lack of adventures forced me to deal with harsh reality – rejection and alienation by society.
Growing up, it was rather difficult for people to understand me. I was way over my head. Raised in a dysfunctional family, bullied at school. Literally it was war zone, both at school and at home. My fondness of books stem from a very early childhood. No one made me read book. I simply grew reading so much books as soon as I could read. It gave some kind of utopia in my head, to escape the cruelty I witnessed at home, watching my parents arguing all the time. Not just utopia, it gave inexplicable euphoria as well as if I was in a manic state. Fueled with boiling energy, couldn’t wait to tell other people all the adventures I went through. As it turned out, nobody really cared. I was boring, nobody wanted to listen to me blabbing about some fictional stories I read in the book, let alone non-fictional ones. I sort of evolved into this weirdo, an annoying know-it-all kid. Although, I must admit, I was very naïve back then. Some people hated me for that, the rest of them just didn’t get it. How I could be so excited about those very impractical things in life. I guess I just have some delight towards impracticality. I’m always drawn into abstract concepts and ideas, trying to read between the lines, succumbed into ceaseless existential contemplation.
When book was temporarily out of the game, I made a quest, in search of another treasure. My sister introduced me to movies, blockbuster movies. Usually, when I got home from school, I’ll just turn on my PC and watched the movies I rented. I was really in the zone when I was watching movies. Movies blew another life into my lifeless reality. To me, movies were almost like books. It opened an escape door for me, to another world, less hurtful than the real world I was living in.
I got crazy about movies. Like a junkie, every time I finished a movie, I got impatient for another. Like a thirst wanderer on a dessert, movie was my oasis. So, I watched more and more movies. Looking for recommendation on the magazines and internet. What I really loved about the young girl I was who knew barely anything about cinema was that I had no filter. I’d watch every single movie in sight. Unlike now, I have certain attraction to particular movies and being quite cynical about the others.
Actually I’ve lost count on how many times movies saved my life. I think that from what I’ve found on my old journals, my depression started when I was very young. Although it was in my early 20s that I got diagnosed and medicated by the professional. Since then, it was always an on and off relationship with my inner demons. Books gave me shelter, enough to carry on.
The highlight of my depression was probably at my third year of college. When I felt the most alienated and detached. I couldn’t even tell what was real and what was not. It felt like a never-ending nightmare, even when I was awake, the nightmares continued to unfold. It was pretty much felt like I was living in a mere simulation, or that I was trapped inside my own body and lost control of it. I started hallucinating, hearing voices, like someone else took over my conscious. Everything seemed to be in black and white, I was on drugs that made me feel weak and drowsy all the time. In those darkest hours, cinema was the only thing by my side. Nobody could ever understand me, but cinema could represent my inner battles, my turmoil and angst very articulately.
All of sudden, I felt less lonely. It was when I started to discover classic foreign cinema that I began to accept reality as it was. I surrendered to the idea that perhaps life holds no meaning at all, and that’s alright, that’s alright. Through the depth of Bergman’s characters’ contemplation, the poetic visual of Tarkovsky, the morally awakening irony of Kieslowski, the bleak hurtful reality of Kiarostami and so many others, I realize that the only meaning that life has is the meaning that we give into it. We can’t control life, all the sufferings and the tragedies are beyond our power. But we may choose how we’ll give meaning to it. I understand that life is not just about me, but also about the very nature of human being, the inescapable parallels of our experiences, as the human race – humanity. For the first time, I no longer pushed myself too hard in fulfilling other people’s expectation of me. My life doesn’t have to be spectacular for me to give meaning to it. Every experience and feeling is valid for the owner. I started to make peace with my depression, trying to live with it. I stopped taking my meds without consulting with my psychiatrist. I didn’t like how the drugs temporarily put down my senses. I swapped amitriptyline with cinema. So far, it works for me.
Most people think that I get my pessimism from watching too many movies. Well, they’re wrong. My pessimism and depression had long existed before I even knew the world of cinema. And it’s the spirit of the cinema that gives me strength to carry on. It’s cinema that opens my eyes. Cinema introduces me to great art works in the history of human civilization, whether it’s literature, music, science, philosophy, history, or all those people who contributed in shaping our world today. It’s cinema that has saved my life multiple times. When no hope is insight, cinema sends me lights. I owe my years to cinema, I owe my life to cinema.
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