recalling how i spent valentine’s day last year: gathered with my housemates to project this movie onto the wall of the upstairs common area of our housing co-op.
when it ended, i felt empty just as i felt the first time i saw it, only slightly less so. it rendered so many feelings and questions, and my feelings were legitimized by my certainty. i was certain that everything in the film was real, in that it simulated experiences not dissimilar to those of so many people. and that makes it REAL. real enough.
it deserves to be lauded for exactly what it is: a kind of film that doesn’t coddle its viewers. instead of obscuring the most terrible aspect of human intimacy, it magnifies and prolongs it. because the most terrible aspect of intimacy and romantic relationships is not the ending. it is not the sex or openness that once was but is no longer. and it certainly isn’t the act of breaking up itself, however difficult. no, the worst part isn’t so concrete. it’s the slow-burn that begins without being detected somewhere between the beginning and end point, and the excruciating succession of cues we willfully deny. the disintegration of something that is *not unsalvageable*, but becomes broken beyond repair after looking the other way for just enough time to ensure you are far too exhausted to try saving it now. erosion. and worse, the speed at which all of this occurs. like a goddamn glacier.
in other news, this was a good scene / the ukulele is nice.
was just given a package of Pears soap, which led to my scratching the surface of the (racist) history of “the world’s oldest continuously existing brand” of soap.