The Girl Who Leapt Through Time
I may or may not have (basically did) spend an entire half an hour weaping through the ending of an animated movie. Maybe I'm overly hormonal or something, but sitting through The Girl Who Leapt Through Time made me cry rivers upon rivers. I'm extremely thankful that I choose to watch it alone instead of with other people. (I had originally planned on seeing it at a film festival in NYC, but ran out of free time) I've been known to cry at the drop of a hat in movies, but I actually took a step outside myself and realized I was being ridiculous.
But honestly the movie was just that freakin' good. It made me laugh and cry all within an hour and a half of perfectly alloted time. Compared to the fact that all the movies I have seen over the summer have been forgettable blockbuster types (I'm still waiting on seeing The Waitress however), this thing, this simple child's movie, absolutely floored me. It was able to conjure emotions that I hadn't had a movie draw out of me in god knows how long. It made me feel. It made me think. It made me want to write. My god it made me want to write and that's the emotion that I clicks when I think that something has gone above and beyond inspiring.
It's only lately (and probably because I have free time after work on the train home) that I've begun to wonder about the crap that I'll have to feed my children (of the future that is) and call it entertainment. I refuse, absolutely refuse, to show them mindless crap like CARS and all of the rest of those god awful no thinking needed CGI movies in their early years. So instead I am left with the alternative to make my kids horrific hipsters from birth and raise them on movies like Totoro (I was raised on this early export from Japan from my father) and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. Then again maybe I'll be forcing too much at them at once, but I would love them to feel, to think, and to take in other things outside of their own little closed system that will be made for them other then annoying cars voiced by th likes of Owen Wilson.
I ask why can't America supply things like this? Things of substance and human nature and emotions for our own children? Instead my answer is given to me in the image of yet another mindless penguin movie whose trailers I am once again subjected too (they surf now apparently).
But if anything is true. You can not wait. You can not want. Because time waits for no one. And every instant, every gesture, every fraction of a second is exsistence. Why waste it.