When you print your e-ticket for the Tribeca Film Festival, there’s loud print close to the bottom of the page, yelling “PLEASE ARRIVE AT LEAST THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE SHOWING TO GUARANTEE ADMISSION.”
You’d assume that they wouldn’t sell more tickets than they have seats for, so obviously, you’d be admitted–you might not just get the seat you want. But I got an awesome seat, despite missing the first fifteen minutes of the movie. Granted, if I hadn’t missed it, it would have helped me get the movie better. But the more I think about it, the more emotional the movie makes me. It’s just so good. And what’s funny?
It just didn’t seem that good to me at first. I guess it was just an initial thing. You know when you read reviews before you watch a movie? You tend to keep that stuff in mind, so you don’t really watch with a clear head.
But it was good, because I can’t stop thinking about it. Visually, we are watching a narrative not just with artistic value, but with character-driven writing. These are probably the stories that are most effective, because they’re the most true. Who better do we identify with than with characters, whether it be the protagonist, the sidekick, the antagonist, or anyone else in the chorus? A good storyteller does not touch you–they imprint. The most memorable way to do so is not with plot, but with those we can find ourselves in–with characters.
I’m listening to one of the songs off of the soundtrack. “I Never Loved This Hard This Fast Before” by Tami Tamaki. Warning: it’s a combination of cute and nasty, and I don’t know if it’s the composition, or the association that makes the song so emotional for me. But it’s so powerful, and honest to God, I can’t be sure why. It hits home.
This movie is gorgeous. It isn’t without its flaws of course, but it’s a real love story. It is not the cliched happy ending, but it is open. Love is so much more than just romance. Despite that the movie focuses on the love between two characters, we see the protagonist not only come to terms with herself, but come to love herself even more. Love is more. Love is so much more.
Love can be limitless, if we allow ourselves to bypass these limits. But there are walls even we cannot shake. I feel as if, within the movie Andreas has this constant, subtle fear of the woman bursting inside of our protagonist, self-identified Ellie. And there is nothing more painful, nothing more hurtful, when the person you love publicly, wants you to be unaware of your own identity. Don’t be, don’t do. Don’t do, don’t be.
But Ellie does.
Him wanting her to deny that? It doesn’t stop her. She loves him, so much, but he’s such a coward and she doesn’t rationalize his fear. She doesn’t make him a better person because he has to do that himself, the same way she has to transition herself. She loves him, but that won’t stop her from loving herself, even if it means she has to leave him.
There’s actually a lot about this movie, and I can really go on forever but–I’ll stop here. Any thoughts?