Last night I went to see the film Closer at the Midtown Arts Cinema with Emily, Jenn, Michael, and my Mike. It’s crazy when worlds collide like that–Jenn and Michael are new friends from work, Emily reminds me of my old Harverster youth group days, and Mike…well, Mike’s been with me through everything.
Anyway, it was with this group of people that I saw the movie, and I’ll have to say that the conversation afterward was definitely interesting. Infedelity, forgiveness, selfishness, love. Everyone’s different ideas about those themes and how they play out in real life. To my surprise, I discovered that I am an idealist when it comes to love. A naive (maybe innnocent is a better word), idealist about love. Me!
Yes, I like to pretend that I have a dark mysterious side, that I am tragically and unrecoverably damaged by life (what writer isn’t after all?), but then I find myself bubbling over with all these Amelie-like, goodie-two-shoes, loving everybody kinds of feelings, and I can’t help but feel depressed if others don’t have what I have. Love. It’s painful, it’s exaltant, it’s beautiful, it’s horrendous, it’s insane, and it’s itchy (like puting on a wool sweater sometimes. you’re grateful that it’s keeping you warm, but man can those things itch!). For whoever’s reading this, now you know my secret. I think love can work. I believe in love. I am a ridiculously loving and open person–if you can pry it out of me.
It’s kind of amazing that Closer could draw this admission out of me. I was on the verge of shooting myself after I saw it, but then, well, I got happy again. Mike helps me be optimistic about love. He inspires some crazy, stainless steel kind of confidence in me about the whole thing. I would love to talk more about the actual movie, but then I might ruin it, because it hasn’t been out that long. Go see it! If nothing else, you can just enjoy the beautiful people on the screen (I’ll have to say that I found Clive Owen infinitely more attractive than Jude Law in this one).