Finished the mini-series yesterday. Took eight months to watch six episodes because they are so heavy and so sad, but not so much I didn't want to find out what all happened. What a tightrope walk, to know when it was a good idea to engage. At times watching this man's pain gave me a lift of gratitude. Compared to his well of anger and sadness, I suddenly floated. Other times I was right down there with him, a child smashing things just because, or insisting on painting a house despite swollen wounds. "Look how terrible the world is," the images told me. "You thought things were looking up, but not for Mark Ruffalo."
By the end, when there has been even more trauma, it is still the end of a piece of art. And so there is brighter light and lighter sound and some movement toward something better. But then I wonder how Mark Ruffalo really did it. Was it somehow a let go of grief? Was it a let go in general? Is this just how it always is? You simply decide. I will think about this story for a long time.
No comments:
Post a Comment