Love and Hate

Several lines and failed attempts later, I finally saw Michael Haneke's Amour.  I have no answer for it.  No easy summation or a line or two describing whether it's good or crap.  Which is so great to me because I'm getting tired of this thumbs-up/thumbs-down business.  I understand when a film is inspiring and hits me in my core, and I can recognize when a film does nothing for me.  But I'm getting sick of a concrete, simple "yes" or "no."  I only do it because it's easy and I know how.

I don't know, however, what to do with Amour.  This feeling isn't abnormal after watching a Haneke film.  I forget what his films do to me and how I perceive them initially.

Every Haneke film leaves me reeling and hating it.  I hate it so much because it exists.  Because someone had the idea.  Because a crew worked on it every day.  Because actors learned their lines and rehearsed and worked all day and editors snipped the film and one man oversaw the entire process.

Every film of his makes me ask, "Who would make this?  Who in his/her right mind would take the time?"

I can't speak for Amour now, but I do know these feelings have accompanied my watching his films.  I see they are now brilliant, and I should think I will regard Amour in this fashion in due time.

As for now, I can only feel the initial sting.  Haneke films are like poisonous lovers.  I can only love them when I am at a distance from them.  When I'm watching them, I want to be somewhere else.  When I'm not, I crave them.

No more movies for me today.