Scenes from memory

There is a theory that says with movies, there exists individual parts or segments which are far greater in value than the sum they eventually form.  That there exists scenes or moments which breaks free – from the medium that defines them/from the context they’re forced to comply. Moments which represent our deepest, most sincere (and oft cliched)  desire to make happiness last forever. Moments when art stops imitating life, starts flexing its muscles; showing life its power to create endless possibilities hitherto thought impossible.

The other day I was talking to an acquaintance about T2 and he said something like ‘I remember each and every scene of the film’ and then went on to describe a couple of scenes. Later that evening I was checking my movie collection and chanced upon the T2 folder. Curious to know how ‘accurate’ my acquaintance was, I played it. Sure enough the scenes he described… he didn’t get them right. This, for a person who’s claimed to have seen the movie 40-50 plus times.

Now I wouldn’t go so far as to imply that my acquaintance here was lying (maybe he was in the strictest possible sense) but maybe his willful suspension of disbelief at the time of watching T2 didn’t translate to a faithful reproduction in memory. Maybe the mind cheats by rose-tinting a perfectly mediocre scene with projections of our own (I have no way of proving this; even repeated viewings enhance this bias rather than diminish it). Maybe all we see are our projections. Who knows such shit! In other words, there is no objective way of looking at a scene and yet end up liking or disliking it. Of course, this thought snowballs into this whole bunch of stuff which I don’t want to get into.  Not at least in this fashion.

Therefore what I set out to do here( before losing my way and meandering around for about 200+ words) is to list out scenes that have remained in memory as wet as love-stains.  Errr….let me try that again. What I intend to do here is to regurgitate some of that visual dumping from my mind’s ‘underbezhy’ in hope of tasting a flavor long  craved for.

Ah… forget it. Read on if you’re still reading this.

The rationale being that such a regurgitation *may* help me find a pattern amongst the general dissonance or lead me to an epiphany containing a subtler truth (as if ..) or if worse comes to worst, simply just help me while away some time.

So… here I go.

Withnail and I [1987] :

A film close to the heart.  For those of us who’ve learnt to love and lose (or just lose),  Withnail is not just another  figment of imagination. He is an embodiment of all my quarter life blues. Someone who I can relate to with the least bit of compromise. My goto tragic hero in times of sorrow and despair. Great many number of times I’ve tried writing about this movie. I’ve failed almost on every occasion for the lack of worthiness (“idhe pathi yosichi paarkayile kavidhaiya vaarthe kottudhu, ana ezhudhum bodhu dhaan…. Abiraami! Abiraami! Abiraami!).

The best I could manage was this.

Brings back such memories of Oxford! Oh Oxford!

Though I love the soliloquy at the end and the building being demolished to the ‘All Along the WatchTower ‘ (a motif that’s oft reiterated in the movie – all things old and romanticized are fast coming to an end), there is this louly little sequence where we see the 3 principal characters taking a walk through the country side.

Uncle Monty, a 50 year homosexual who sees these two ‘boys’ of the 70s as hip, flamboyant (his assumption) and all too ‘forward’ which must’ve been a great contrast to those Oxford years of his youth. His homosexuality then must not’ve been taken too kindly by his family and the society in general (my assumption).

All through the scene we see him reminiscing things gone by, glorifying them with flowery French words.  But underneath that babble lies a deep sense of disappointment and dissatisfaction (which is later expressed a bit more through his farewell letter) probably with himself for not being able to break free of  (self-imposed?) suppression.

The first time I saw the movie, the scene appears quite innocuous but its hard to find a scene which so subtly does  such a strong character establishment without a hint of contrivance.

8½ [1963]:

Nothing left to be said about this movie that hasn’t been said already. By which I mean, there are heaps and heaps of analysis/reviews/reviews&analysis on the interwebs. Best not to dwell on stuff already stated.

This is a movie filled with scenes I simply adore (blame the ridiculously brilliant cinematography and a cast filled with too MANY gorgeous women). Therefore hard to pick one scene.  But I will.

I will pick that one scene which I’d rather forget but cannot.

  *That* one scene where Guido, in his dreams, finds himself wandering in a cemetery, finds his dead-in-real-life dad and pleads him not to leave. Yet his dad slowly walks back to his grave (awesome touch with Guido himself helping his dad down to his grave). Guido, then finds his mother before him. They both embrace which is quite common, given the nature of the sorrowful situation they find themselves in.

….and in a sudden moment of madness (or love or lust or whatever the fuck) she kisses him on the lips passionately. He forcefully breaks away from her grip  and finds that his mother had transformed into his wife .

No

…And that is how, within a couple of minutes, Fellini completes teaching us an advanced course in male psychology along with an intricate view and workings of the Oedipal complex.

 (In related true story, I had to take a 30 min recess after that sequence just to get my head together)

ps: The ‘cigarette burn’ sequence in the Fight Club reminds me of this scene.  Theater le azhuvura andha sinna payalum, manasule irukkura indha sinna payalum sameguy thaan.

Sleepers [1996]:

In hindsight this wasn’t a remarkable film and if not for so many stars, most people (by that I mean “I”) wouldn’t remember it. But the film’s ending is a thing of beauty.  Bunch of friends sitting together in some secluded corner of a bar, joking, singing, having a good time in general; unaware that this will be their last night together. Unaware that life ahead will be shit (Glimpses of which, we’re shown).  But the scene doesn’t dwell on “what will be” but keeps coming back to “what is”.

The Last Supper

It blew my mind away when I first saw it. Not the content, but the way the scene was handled. It is one of the best interpretation of the ‘Happily Ever After’ ending I’ve ever seen .  Yes, there is no such thing called ‘happily ever after’. But one can choose the ‘wheres and whens’ of his film’s ending.

The film ends in a happy place because happiness is a choice.

…and that is(was) an essential learning.

(hopefully will continue)