cowboy like eely’s review published on Letterboxd:
“are you happy i came here?”
“i would kiss you if i could.”
first love is the most fragile thing in the entire world. it exists alongside eggshells and eyelashes and counting your footsteps in the middle of the night, but it’s also almost entirely made up of subtleties, of the most infinitesimal moments and glances that only two people in the entire world will ever take note of or remember.
first love exists in the wide expanse between “because i thought you should know” and “because i wanted you to know”—because feeling something honestly and turning that feeling into words and speaking those words into being is like taking a leap. and the first time you do anything is always the scariest, but first love is different because no matter how many people tell you to dip your toes in slowly and let your body adjust, you know deep down that you have to jump right in. that it is always better to speak than to die.
and even though a thousand songs and films and books exist about this very feeling, this movie stands out somehow. it creates an atmosphere so isolated and picturesque that it’s like this story has always existed. i think that’s why the experience of watching it feels so much like coming home to me.
not only is it comforting to be submerged in this atmosphere for a little while, it’s also familiar in an almost painful way. it’s like visiting a home i used to live in and seeing the marks i put on the walls and the line in the carpet where a bed used to be, all the while knowing i have to leave soon.
this movie makes you think about the pieces of yourself you gave away the first time you ever loved someone: something as simple as your shirt like a gift or as meaningful as your name like a secret, and how those pieces don’t belong to you anymore, and realizing for the first time that there’s far more beauty in that exchange than there is sorrow. that’s what this movie is to me.
“i remember everything.”