a blog with cultural bulimia.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

"a benign fairy tale of solidarity and resilience."

 No, not the story of my life in the last few months...

That's what A. O. SCOTT wrote about The Terminal but I only read it just now, after watching the best movie I have seen this year. That could be why I couldn't stop crying after I left the theatre. That message hit home. Sharply.
Its etymology — termini were the local gods whose shrines served as boundary markers in the ancient Roman world — suggests a frontier between worlds, while its modern medical usage associates the word with mortality. To be trapped indefinitely in a terminal, then, without recourse to either flight or ground transportation, can be imagined as a kind of living death, a nerve-racking state of perpetual limbo.

Which makes it all the more remarkable that Mr. Spielberg has transformed this quintessential modern nightmare of interrupted air travel into a vision of earthly paradise.

I went to see the movie right after I finally got a call with a job offer.

I felt tired. I feel very tired. I felt like allowing myself to relax. So, obviously, I went to see a movie in the middle of the afternoon. ('Obviously' for the ones who know me well enough: movies are the ultimate source of pleasure to me.)

Maybe it was the lack of expectations. Maybe they are a winning combination, Spielberg and Hanks. Maybe it's just the transfer process. I loved the movie And I am still crying.

"A benign fairy tale of solidarity and resilience."


I was so close to giving up.