So much to say, so little time ...

Feb 04, 2009 20:52

It's official. The world has ceased to make sense. Mickey Rourke made me cry last week. For those interested in a non-wrestling-fan's view of The Wrestler ... I liked it. It's not one of those movies I'm going to rush out and buy on DVD and watch over and over and over again, but I genuinely enjoyed it. It was beautifully subtle and gentle in its handling of the different story arcs, and, as mentioned, the bastard made me cry. This momentous event happened in the scene where he takes himself off to a match purely as a spectator. The look on his face was absolutely perfect for someone who's been told that they have to give up something that's been a defining part of who they are for a large part of their lives (because their body is no longer behaving the way it should, natch), and then tortures themselves by being a spectator to that thing.

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. He nailed it. Every nuance of how it feels to sit and just get to watch other people do what you used to.

Anyway, aside from that, the film did make the point that although the matches may be fixed, pre-arranged, choreographed, whatever, these guys are still athletes who care deeply about what they do and are willing to put themselves on the line if it pleases the crowd. It also tells a story that rings painfully true as regards relationships and the myriad ways we as humans contrive to fuck them up.

Also, Dustin Hoffman is a bastard for the following in Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (of all the movies in the world to also manage to make me cry, ffs):

When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.

In the context of last week, that did't help.

There's a medical stuff update to come - I head in for another camera-down-the-throat episode on Friday, so I'll wait til after that to just do a braindump.

FEBRUARY'S BOOKS

Witch Hunt - Ian Rankin
Twilight - Stephanie Meyer
On The Edge: My Story - Richard Hammond with Mindy Hammond
Lisey's Story - Stephen King (re-read)
The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat - Oliver Sacks

movies

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