The type treatment tho...
Finally a film that depicts my version of "ghosting": lingering listlessly in the crumbling foundations of a long-lost, abandoned relationship while exhibiting such an astounding inability to move on that that I travel thousands of years into the past for the chance to reclaim a mere scrap of closure.
There are achingly lovely moments in this film, but it also feels like it could have been explored more concisely in short form. But do I still get sort of weepy every time I listen to "I Get Overwhelmed" by Dark Rooms? You betcha.
I felt this film hum inside me for hours after the end credits rolled, warming me up from the inside as I walked down Sunset Blvd. at golden hour to get coffee. It didn't let up.
I’ve tried for a couple days now to think about how to express how and why this film touched me as much as it did, and to do so as simply and elegantly as it did. Alas, I am no poet, so this needlessly…
My 16-year old brother is a wrestler. Since he started the sport in the 7th grade, I have watched him transform, summer break to summer break, from a skinny, borderline-ADHD chatterbox into a wordless, muscled mass with eyes of steely resolve. Wrestling is what gave him focus and motivation at a time when he naively proclaimed school and most other things to be "useless", but where it granted him self-worth and purpose it has also taken away from the way…