Synecdoche, New York
Во второй раз пересматриваю "Synecdoche, New York". Раньше я как-то не понимал этот дурацкий вопрос "твой любимый музыкант?" или "твой любимый режиссер?". Первый вопрос так и остается для меня дурацким. А вот с Кауфманом все сразу прояснилось. Пять лет назад был "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind". Было вовремя. Теперь вот это. Тоже вовремя. Тоже мощно и надолго. Все никак не решаюсь перейти к "Adaptation" (2002). Может сегодня.
Walk.
As the people who adore you stop adoring you, as they die, as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth,
as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn there is no one watching you and there never was, you think only about driving. Not coming from anyplace, not arriving anyplace, just driving, counting off time.
Now, you are here.
It's 7:43.
Now, you are here. It's 7:44.
Now, you are...
gone.
Walk.
As the people who adore you stop adoring you, as they die, as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth,
as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn there is no one watching you and there never was, you think only about driving. Not coming from anyplace, not arriving anyplace, just driving, counting off time.
Now, you are here.
It's 7:43.
Now, you are here. It's 7:44.
Now, you are...
gone.