In Which Our Heroine Considers Film...
So, I'm re-watching Water, a film by Deepa Mehta from 2005. It is one of the most moving films I have ever seen in my life, and with Schindler's List claims its place on a VERY short list of films that never fail to make me cry.
I didn't even really WATCH the movie the last time. I was sitting across the room, and couldn't even really see the subtitles. I just listened, but I happened to look up at the crucial moment. I caught one glimpse of a particular actress's face, and was drawn in. Nevermind that I hadn't really watched the movie up to that point. Nevermind that I had a paper to write. It drew me in, pulled me toward itself in such fascinating ways. I wept, wept like a baby. I have seen the movie five or six times now, and each time I find that I weep more rather than less. Many films lose their potency the more times I see them, once I know what will happen. Not so with Water.
There's something about the blending of images and music, the facial expressions of the actors and actresses, which is just intense and beautiful and moving...
It makes me feel sad that I am unable to really share this film with others. It's not the sort of thing my friends here would watch with me. Not if I weep. It's not the sort of film one watches for mere entertainment. It's an experience. It CHANGES you. I can only recommend it and let others choose to follow that light as they may.
As I grow older, I develop a curious taste for movies, following them not for what they offer me in entertainment but what they offer me in spirit. What they offer my soul. I pay them back in tears and laughter and joy and sorrow.
Perhaps I am becoming an artsy movie snob, expecting an experience from my films, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
I didn't even really WATCH the movie the last time. I was sitting across the room, and couldn't even really see the subtitles. I just listened, but I happened to look up at the crucial moment. I caught one glimpse of a particular actress's face, and was drawn in. Nevermind that I hadn't really watched the movie up to that point. Nevermind that I had a paper to write. It drew me in, pulled me toward itself in such fascinating ways. I wept, wept like a baby. I have seen the movie five or six times now, and each time I find that I weep more rather than less. Many films lose their potency the more times I see them, once I know what will happen. Not so with Water.
There's something about the blending of images and music, the facial expressions of the actors and actresses, which is just intense and beautiful and moving...
It makes me feel sad that I am unable to really share this film with others. It's not the sort of thing my friends here would watch with me. Not if I weep. It's not the sort of film one watches for mere entertainment. It's an experience. It CHANGES you. I can only recommend it and let others choose to follow that light as they may.
As I grow older, I develop a curious taste for movies, following them not for what they offer me in entertainment but what they offer me in spirit. What they offer my soul. I pay them back in tears and laughter and joy and sorrow.
Perhaps I am becoming an artsy movie snob, expecting an experience from my films, but I wouldn't have it any other way.