SIFF is happening this weekend. saw a mainstream shitty movie last night in a deliberate attempt to kill brain cells, which worked pretty well. the crash from that was not so good. woke up today and the day was gray and directionless. weekends are difficult.
what better antidote to fear and ennui than a russian film about death? (it is about more than that, because everything is. but i’ll admit that a film dealing with death and water was kind of what i was looking for today.)
a quiet film, slow. it is only 75 minutes and felt quite a bit longer. that was ok. i wanted to see a film that did not make demands of me every minute with sudden action or a lot of dialog. much of it is spent watching the two main characters from a distance – the characters not doing anything special, but quiet, vulnerable things: one pours water from a water bottle into the other man’s cupped hands, to wash his face on the side of the road.
there’s a lot of female nudity in it, most of it involving a woman who died. she is full-figured, plump even, her skin soft. i thought about the current western advertising ideal, the ideal that even i despite myself strive for – all muscle and bone, taut, hard, hairless, flawless, trim, no extra bit of flesh – invulnerable.
i thought about love while watching it. i don’t think i’m interested in falling in love again.
fire and water, all the way through.
walking out was like waking up from a dream when the film was over. still feeling the effects. out of focus. out of tune.