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I sure seem to post a lot about movies. Maybe it's just because this is right after my thoughts on "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". These movies just make me think, especially about this big things like life, death and the happiness we are all grasping for in between. I will probably write more about other aspects of this film in the future, but here is the first theme that really got me going.



For some background information, this was Woody Allen's (praise him) first drama. He is known for his romantic comedies, such as Annie Hall, but he is really capable of capturing raw human emotion, human relationships and especially human drama. It's like, he draws you into this normal situation involving people you would see anywhere, there is nothing different about them at all except you can relate to them. Woody will tuck in the most beautifully phrased dialogue and narrative into lonely taxi rides or walks in Central Park. And if you really pay attention, the visuals usually mirror the meaning he is trying to send.
The scene that really dug into me started with Diane Keaton staring out of the window in her Connecticut home. The camera focuses on the dead tree branches, criss-crossing each other at sharp angles and harshly contrasted with the white snow. All of the colors, inside and out, are muted, bland and stark. She begins to sweat and walks downstairs to talk to her husband, stating:

"I just experienced the strangest sensation... It was as if I had a sudden.. clear vision where everything seemed sort of awful, and predatory. It was like, it was like I was here and the world was out there and I couldn't bring us together... I suddenly became hyper aware of my heart beating and I began to imagine that... I could feel the blood sort of coursing through my veins and my hands and in the back of my neck, ohh. I felt precarious, it was like I was a machine that was functioning but I could just conk out at any second..."

I felt that this was one of the main, although lesser, themes of the movie. The fragility of life, the realization of mortality and so on and so forth. Have you ever just stopped, listening to your breathing, stared and your hands and tried to wrap your mind around the fact that you are alive? It is uplifting and absolutely terrifying at the same time, because with life inevitably comes death. Without death, however, life would not be so beautiful. It is carefully balanced and incredibly fragile. Every moment is unique and can never be recreated. What you choose to do with your time is that much more fantastic, simply because that is what you chose to do with your incredibly limited time.

"I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we're moral, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." (from a movie that my roommate watched, not sure which one, but helps drive home the point I am trying to make).

So many people strive for a sense of immortality, especially through notoriety and fame. But the stress that ensues this futile searches makes it pointless. To live life fully, live it for the sake of living it. You are only given so much time, so do not waste it on things that do not bring you joy. This even includes the little things. A few days ago I decided to give up reading this Mark Twain book because honestly I found it boring. I thought to myself, "If I die tomorrow, I would have regretted putting so much time and energy into trying to read this long, boring book." So I picked up Hemingway's short stories, which so far have all ended in violent deaths. Interesting coincidence, but beside the point.

So, if there is something that is giving you trouble, do something about it. Reconcile your differences, shed yourself of your worries and simply do what you want to do. After the death of my friend a few months ago, it hit me that life is not a movie. What I mean is, there is no set beginning, middle and end. It all merges together a bit awkwardly, there is no clear portrayal of good and evil, not distinct problem and solution followed by a vignette and credits. Despite your plans, life often cuts you off, as if in the middle of a sentence. You think you have all the time in the world to get out what needs to be said when all of a sudden Death himself adds a period where a comma should be.



Sure, one day you will die and no offense, you will probably be forgotten. But by then you will be dead and you won't care much. So just get the most of it while you can, and, however grim it might sound, keeping the idea of death nearby is a good reminder.