After months of being surrounded by movie hype, I took the time to watch a jewel last night: A Single Man.
Now ready, after all the information I had heard about this film faded away, to take it in, mind wide open.
It greets you with a soft touch of contemplation of blurs and slowly takes you through a series of modern symbols, struggling to survive, face-to-face.
What pops up from the mundane modern magazine lifestyle as unique is filled into lungs, rendering them heavy and obsolete. We see a man choose his moments carefully. When to stop and listen in wonder to what takes place in a few seconds, within a few steps. The film succeeded in presenting how everything could look so ridiculously perfect and wrong at the same time.
What we get to see, forming before our eyes, is the stain of defining moments left on the face of someone who knows the importance of what lies between his world and how we see it. What is invisible. What is met between passion and interest. What counts between desire and disenchantment. Throughout the film, we are directed down a hall of mirrors, which are actually passages to other mirrors. All of this emphasizing the moment when a definition is smashed into quiet, sober and rational revolutions, when one door must close for another to open.
This passage, between hyper saturation and fade to black, is worth revisiting.
Now ready, after all the information I had heard about this film faded away, to take it in, mind wide open.
It greets you with a soft touch of contemplation of blurs and slowly takes you through a series of modern symbols, struggling to survive, face-to-face.
What pops up from the mundane modern magazine lifestyle as unique is filled into lungs, rendering them heavy and obsolete. We see a man choose his moments carefully. When to stop and listen in wonder to what takes place in a few seconds, within a few steps. The film succeeded in presenting how everything could look so ridiculously perfect and wrong at the same time.
What we get to see, forming before our eyes, is the stain of defining moments left on the face of someone who knows the importance of what lies between his world and how we see it. What is invisible. What is met between passion and interest. What counts between desire and disenchantment. Throughout the film, we are directed down a hall of mirrors, which are actually passages to other mirrors. All of this emphasizing the moment when a definition is smashed into quiet, sober and rational revolutions, when one door must close for another to open.
This passage, between hyper saturation and fade to black, is worth revisiting.
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