It’s been a while since I’ve felt the urge to write down my thoughts. I just finished watching a film which has brought on a flurry of what if type thoughts. It is October and the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre is running its annual Toronto Japanese Film Festival (TJFF). In light of COVID-19 being with us this year, JCCC has allowed people to rent the films and watch them in the comfort of their own homes. Tonight, I watched the 4th movie from this month’s film features.
At the End of the Matinee is brilliant classical guitarist meets journalist. More than this, its a story of passion and intensity which endures across international borders and time. For those who intend to watch the film, I suggest you read no further.
As I watch the movie, I am continuously taken in by the soft and beautiful sounds of the classical guitar, which I have always found to be quite the romantic instrument. It is the perfect sound for serenading, possibly enhanced only words of love sung in a rich but moody baritone. The sexy baritone is just my imagination. I hope you don’t expect to hear any in the movie after reading this. As for our main characters, I can’t tell whether the guitarist captivates our leading lady first or the other way around. The movie itself feels a little longer than it needs to be, with certain parts of it simply feeling like too much. But what hits me in the gut is when I try to put myself in their shoes.
Parts of this film are set in Paris during the terrorist attacks. What would I do if I saw a close friend or colleague die or get injured right in front of me? It would be pretty shattering and shocking. I know people who were in the vicinity during these attacks and others. I am thankful they were unharmed and cognizant of the fact that many lost their lives. I can imagine getting trapped within one’s own thoughts of “Why did this happen to so-and-so?” or “Why is this mindless fighting happening?” The sad reality is that there are enough people who see a cause to fight for, otherwise it wouldn’t be happening. We simply need to take it one step at a time. One day at a time. We can only move forward by rebuilding when everything is washed away.
What about learning the truth about an incident several years later, without ever suspecting foul play? Learning it from the person who purposely misled you would feel like a nasty prank. As much of a calm and composed individual as I like to think I am, I think I would still be extremely angry. What I haven’t really figured out is whether it would upset me more to learn the truth at all by that point or to learn that I was misled to begin with.
And what about a fiery love that is so strong that you cannot help but to accept your fate and continue to move towards it with each breath you have even if you think you have moved on? I have always believed in moving forward. When I think about the star-crossed lovers reuniting after several years and many life events which are irreversible, it dawns on me that people must recognize a passion which exists in this world that surpasses rational thinking and behaviour. Is there really a love so great that you truly cannot control yourself and stop yourself from doing things that will cause ripple effects in other parts of your life? Are there people that are more susceptible to this love than others? That, I suppose, is the beauty of romance. Its dream-like nature, while occasionally gripping and scary with its intensity, ultimately gives people the ability to float about in the clouds and forget their woes if only for a moment.
nemo travels 