I got in the movies a little late but I am always on time, or early. In fact I am early most of the time. To all events.
The theatre was empty and I chose my favourite row. It is the one not too much on the higher part of the theatre, but not to low neither. It is on the perfect high, the one you can see the screen without too many heads in front of you and you have the feeling that the room is small enough and the screen big enough. Or maybe is a feeling that you are home, with a big screen, you don’t see much of the room. I was alone on that late sunny afternoon. It is always sunny here on the sunshine coast, no kidding.
My heart was heavy so I was at the movies. Art in general seems to help with my rampages of depression and desperation. I sit in front of a paint, a photograph, a music, a movie, and it feels that it all makes sense, it is ok that there is no sense. They have it all figured out. And I keep moving.
And I was alone at the movies until a guy walks in, curly hair (was he blond? I couldn’t see anymore), popcorn, coke? He walks as if there are rocks on the floor, is he afraid to stumble? I am not sure. I wish for a moment he would walk pass me, sit very far because I don’t appreciate popcorn eating noise when I am at the movies. In fact I can barely handle any noise at all at the movies. But he walks in rocks and sits beside me (perhaps we share the same preference for middle row seats?). He should be at the beach I thought. But heavy hearts are heavy hearts after all.
I can see his eyes and they are black, and his hands are light and feverish. But I pretend I don’t see. I pretend he is not there and I am not there neither. Could I just silently move to another seat or that would be too mean? I decide to stay because the movie is starting, and I don’t like noises in the movies. (I think he doesn’t like it neither, although he has popcorn).
The movie is so beautiful that I forget everything. I forget he is too close, so close in fact that I can feel his arm touching mine. I forget I can see his eyes crying, son regard, son regard qui veut. He wishes so many things. Untouchable things.
He cries beside me like we were forever friends. And I cry too, but I hide it, I hide everything.
He cries because it is beautiful. Is the beauty that hurts both of us, is too much, too unbearable, too unreachable, too beautiful.
Life, the big unknown. All our emotions are so important, including the fears – perhaps most importantly. Fear is also such strong feeling. Is it what keep us moving? “Emotions is all we have left”. And love.
I left before the credits. I usually stay until the last word, but not this time.
The movie is called La giovinezza. And it ends with this song,