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a soft night descends on a day haply spent
each redolent breath being heavenly sent
yet minds will conspire to question the love
mistaking for ravens the snowy white doves
the illusion of distance is seemingly vast
from ocean to sea, between future and past
but let go your worries; relinquish your frets
give up on your wagers, forsake all your bets
remember your smallness, recall well your place
a blue marble rider in limitless space
a warm, sunbathed planet upon which to roll
release your concerns for you’re not in control
From colonial villages comes forth the call
Cross goldenrod meadows in breezes of fall
The stage has been cleared and the hour is set
We’ll toast to the thrasher, we’ll feast and we’ll fete
From his oceanside home the cardinal flies
By ribbons of scarlet he knows he’s arrived
And jolly the happenings there to be had
Hats off to the thresher, a fine young lad
When mention is made of her, contrast is stark
He’d long since lost touch with the faraway lark
But right here she is where she’s been all along
In the robin’s red breast and in homage, his song
The cardinal smiles at such earnest young love
And calls upon blessings to rain from above
He wings his way home through the blackest of skies
The moon his companion to witness his sighs
The raven’s call rings out on every side
Bids softly the angels close tight their black eyes
His mind tumbles back on her soft swirling dance
The heat and the flame of ill-fated romance
The song of the shepherd sufficient to hook
His black sheep’s heart in its cradling crook
His thoughts fly away to the lands never seen
Their history ancient and playas serene
For the quetzal’s resplendence his heart doth yearn
But she sings in a language he’s not yet learned
when days are short
when the sun departs
just as you greet him
when the long forgotten cold
and drives warmth underground
away from the cracked surface
when forty million kilometers
is two light minutes
what does it mean that your galaxy
is three million light years distant?
the very fiber of language and thought
a thousand miles is far
but across the reaches of space?
long falls short
I cannot conceive of our separation
if fondness is a function of distance
try to fathom my love for you
I see a lot of movies. No, seriously. A lot. I’d estimate it at about 90% of major releases. One in ten I will refuse to see on principle, but even then, I see a lot of stinkers. And lately, I’m becoming more and more disturbed by violence in movies. Not that they’re getting more violent, which is arguable, but perhaps that I’m becoming more sensitive to portrayals of violence. Every day it becomes harder for me to see the artistic merit in or believe any justification for abusing the suspension of disbelief and inserting powerfully negative images of human depravity directly into the minds of millions of viewers.
Regardless of whether it’s something they “want to see,” or it’s “a reflection of the way things really are,” or “it sells popcorn.” But I digress.
I don’t get to see art films anymore. I saw as many as I could while at school in Knoxville, but now that I live on Merritt Island, the closest arthouse theater is nearly an hour away. I guess east Tennessee isn’t so backward after all, huh? I used to be 15 minutes from a theater that had ten art and independent films going at any one time. Take that, Orlando. But I’m digressing. Again.
All of this is to say: I love film. Really, really love it. I am passionate about it. I sometimes avoid previews so as to experience a movie fresh, with no hype or preconceptions. I use movies as motivation to get in a six-mile bike ride. I put up with a lot of dross just to make sure I don’t miss the gems. I would write reviews if someone paid me to do it. I’m giving you all this lead-in to prepare you for what I’m about to say.
If you haven’t seen Steve Carell and Juliette Binoche in the new film “Dan in Real Life,” go see it. NOW.
I could wax poetic about the soundtrack (Sondre Lerche!), the setting and cinematography, the script, the acting, everything. But I don’t want to spoil it for you. Trust me when I say this: this is the best romantic comedy of the past five years. But even to pigeonhole it into that category is a disservice. It’s also a family movie…but no. It’s more than that. This is one of those movies that defies genre. This is film at its best: a reflection of life. What it is, and how we want it to be. Projected. Right there on the screen.
This movie is real. It makes me want to have family gatherings like that. It reminds me of the good times I’ve had with my family. I couldn’t stop laughing at the sometimes delightfully subtle humor throughout the film. I nearly cried three times. But most of all, and I’m being completely genuine here: this movie gave me hope.
I don’t own many DVDs. I don’t watch many movies more than once. Maybe 1 or 2%. This is a film that I will add to my small library. This is a film I would want my children to see.
Go see it.