The Mysterious Canadian Short Film
I saw the most fascinating film this afternoon. The way I randomly stumbled on to this film and the way it was so apt to my situation, made me wonder if there wasn't something or someone looking out for me.
I missed the opening credits so I don't know the name of the film, or the director. I can't remember the actors' names. It was a Canadian, indie film featured on IFC's Short Film Collection I.
It was a wonderfully simple film about the last day in the life of a relationship. The first shot I saw was a grainy close-up of a woman hysterically crying. Not Hollywood, pretty crying, but really bawling. The view is from her video camera. She's taping herself watching her partner leave her. He's waiting in front of a cab for a "proper" goodbye.
She is not giving him one. She grows frantic, throwing her body on the hood of the cab and grabbing at his ankles. Her only request: one more day. She just wants one more day to relive and tape all the moments of their relationship, so that she can experience them as the last time. He agrees but says definitively, "We're not going to fuck."
They spend to rest of the day re-enacting the intimate moments and patterns of their relationship, all while the video camera rolls. They read the paper and argue over the articles. They sing silly songs together. They watch a hockey game, relishing in how much they hate their favorite team. She performs a crazy dance to make him laugh. He washes her hair.
We learn that he's leaving her for another woman, a calmer woman. Actually, we don't learn that the other woman is calmer. That's just me projecting. Throughout the film, he is clearly the more restrained one. We learn that they were pregnant, but had an abortion. We learn that he will miss her, but he does not love her anymore.
The most fascinating thing to me about the film was the transformation both characters go through. By the next day, she's okay. I mean, she's still sad...in fact, sadness is the pervasive emotion throughout the film. But she's able to say goodbye at the end and he's the one that's confused. He still leaves, though.
I didn't cry throughout most of the film, though the film was good enough to elicit tears. I didn't cry when she was crying from her soul in front of the cab. I didn't cry when they pretended that they were still pregnant. I didn't cry when they ended up making love.
I cried when he asked her if she would be all right, and she responded with "Yes. A least once in a while."
I cried for her pain and her strength and her honesty. And my pain and my strength and my truth. I cried because I realized I didn't cry through the entire film. I cried because that meant I'm letting Ex go.
I wonder if I'll ever learn what the name of that film is. I wonder if I need to.
I missed the opening credits so I don't know the name of the film, or the director. I can't remember the actors' names. It was a Canadian, indie film featured on IFC's Short Film Collection I.
It was a wonderfully simple film about the last day in the life of a relationship. The first shot I saw was a grainy close-up of a woman hysterically crying. Not Hollywood, pretty crying, but really bawling. The view is from her video camera. She's taping herself watching her partner leave her. He's waiting in front of a cab for a "proper" goodbye.
She is not giving him one. She grows frantic, throwing her body on the hood of the cab and grabbing at his ankles. Her only request: one more day. She just wants one more day to relive and tape all the moments of their relationship, so that she can experience them as the last time. He agrees but says definitively, "We're not going to fuck."
They spend to rest of the day re-enacting the intimate moments and patterns of their relationship, all while the video camera rolls. They read the paper and argue over the articles. They sing silly songs together. They watch a hockey game, relishing in how much they hate their favorite team. She performs a crazy dance to make him laugh. He washes her hair.
We learn that he's leaving her for another woman, a calmer woman. Actually, we don't learn that the other woman is calmer. That's just me projecting. Throughout the film, he is clearly the more restrained one. We learn that they were pregnant, but had an abortion. We learn that he will miss her, but he does not love her anymore.
The most fascinating thing to me about the film was the transformation both characters go through. By the next day, she's okay. I mean, she's still sad...in fact, sadness is the pervasive emotion throughout the film. But she's able to say goodbye at the end and he's the one that's confused. He still leaves, though.
I didn't cry throughout most of the film, though the film was good enough to elicit tears. I didn't cry when she was crying from her soul in front of the cab. I didn't cry when they pretended that they were still pregnant. I didn't cry when they ended up making love.
I cried when he asked her if she would be all right, and she responded with "Yes. A least once in a while."
I cried for her pain and her strength and her honesty. And my pain and my strength and my truth. I cried because I realized I didn't cry through the entire film. I cried because that meant I'm letting Ex go.
I wonder if I'll ever learn what the name of that film is. I wonder if I need to.
posted by L. Britt @ 5:41 PM
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