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Oct. 4th, 2005
(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2005 03:37 pmI watched Il Postino over the weekend, while folding several loads of laundry (and why is it, after all that laundry, that I can't find clean shirts for the boys for school this morning, I wonder).
What a very sweet, touching movie. Beautiful scenery of an Italian coastline and an old fishing village. But so sad, too. Something was bothering me a little bit though the entire movie, and I finally realized something. The lead actor, Massimo Troisi, was supposed to be a young man; yet, he moved as if he were very old, almost infirm. He reminded me of my grandfather, the way he moved. It wasn't until I started listening to the director's comments and watched the accompanying documentary about it, that I discovered he was very ill during the making of this movie and died of heart failure the day it was finished. He was younger at the time than I am now.
The film also reminded me that while I tend to skip over written poetry, it is far more effective (to me at least) in spoken word. Maybe I ought to go to more poetry readings.
What a very sweet, touching movie. Beautiful scenery of an Italian coastline and an old fishing village. But so sad, too. Something was bothering me a little bit though the entire movie, and I finally realized something. The lead actor, Massimo Troisi, was supposed to be a young man; yet, he moved as if he were very old, almost infirm. He reminded me of my grandfather, the way he moved. It wasn't until I started listening to the director's comments and watched the accompanying documentary about it, that I discovered he was very ill during the making of this movie and died of heart failure the day it was finished. He was younger at the time than I am now.
The film also reminded me that while I tend to skip over written poetry, it is far more effective (to me at least) in spoken word. Maybe I ought to go to more poetry readings.
(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2005 03:37 pmI watched Il Postino over the weekend, while folding several loads of laundry (and why is it, after all that laundry, that I can't find clean shirts for the boys for school this morning, I wonder).
What a very sweet, touching movie. Beautiful scenery of an Italian coastline and an old fishing village. But so sad, too. Something was bothering me a little bit though the entire movie, and I finally realized something. The lead actor, Massimo Troisi, was supposed to be a young man; yet, he moved as if he were very old, almost infirm. He reminded me of my grandfather, the way he moved. It wasn't until I started listening to the director's comments and watched the accompanying documentary about it, that I discovered he was very ill during the making of this movie and died of heart failure the day it was finished. He was younger at the time than I am now.
The film also reminded me that while I tend to skip over written poetry, it is far more effective (to me at least) in spoken word. Maybe I ought to go to more poetry readings.
What a very sweet, touching movie. Beautiful scenery of an Italian coastline and an old fishing village. But so sad, too. Something was bothering me a little bit though the entire movie, and I finally realized something. The lead actor, Massimo Troisi, was supposed to be a young man; yet, he moved as if he were very old, almost infirm. He reminded me of my grandfather, the way he moved. It wasn't until I started listening to the director's comments and watched the accompanying documentary about it, that I discovered he was very ill during the making of this movie and died of heart failure the day it was finished. He was younger at the time than I am now.
The film also reminded me that while I tend to skip over written poetry, it is far more effective (to me at least) in spoken word. Maybe I ought to go to more poetry readings.