| Tonight, in my "Philosophies of Love and Sexuality" class, we watched a film. The film, called Trust, was a low-budget indie film, written and directd by Hal Hartley.
The film followed the relationship of Maria, a pregnant teenager, and Matthew, a frustrated and erratic electronics genius.
I'm not going to get into the details of the plot. That's not what this node is here for. Suffice it to say, the film portrayed people working through significant insecurities and enduring hardship to find love.
Sometimes, I think I'm going crazy. Maybe even just temporarily crazy.
I cannot love a movie that doesn't either touch me with power or send me spiralling into madness, at least temporarily.
American Beauty was the first kind of movie -- I went to see it before it got nominated for all those awards. Back then, I saw the preview and said to my girlfriend-of-the-time, "Hey, I want to see that movie."
She couldn't be bothered, though, so I went without her. It blew my mind away. The world became perfect, for one night; and then, it didn't stop. I just stopped noticing. Needless to say, I became very pissed off when, months later, after the film was nominated for all sorts of awards, she comes to me and says, "Hey, I want to see that movie."
Benny and Joon is the latter kind of movie. So, I now know, is Trust. These movies make me hyperventilate. They make me walk four times faster than normal, my legs stiff and swinging frantically. My eyes grow wide with -- with what? Fear? No. Alertness? Not exactly. I guess frenzy. These movies will make me cry if left unattended.
Tonight was too cold for tears, but I sobbed when I got back to the car. It came in spurts. Heavy hyperventilated breaths, then sobbing, then talking to myself, then deep breaths through my mouth and nose, then hyperventilating again. Trust was intense. Very intense.
I'm an intense person, I guess.
And I like intense films. | 
