Some days you wake up with a resolve. To put things right and to bridge the gap from acquaintance to family. To marvel in sincity and hold wonder in abridging visions into a montage of feelings. Amidst cups of chai, coffee, smokes and some overdue Goa sand, S&I, found two moments of celluloid that would go down in the annals of Z’s history.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button for afternoon, with the hope of finding a faith in an uncertain tomorrow. What an incredible story – and how well extraordinarily told. A life of a commoner, a riveting tale, of life in the reverse. A blueprint reeling backwards, all portrayed in the graphic texture, rewound. Like Mr Gateau’s reverse clock at Louisiana Train Station. Or the boy, born with arthritis on the day the World War -1 ended, who dies of dementia as a one year old wrapped in a crocheted shroud. An ordinary life lived with an extraordinary gift and the ability to watch many dawns on the pier.
Milk, the story of a queer revolution that made you believe that fate can be altered if devotion and belief be by your side. Nothing could be more endearing than to hear the silent rumble of a many thousand rising in a single echo of recruited fervour. When boys were boys and handsome butt cleavage all too pretty!
Now back in my insulated ivory tower away from the great revolution, thinking of the 7th lightening and hoping for thunderstorms within the self. Thanks S, for the love, movies and the sand. Jim Carrey can wait a day. :-)