I was sick for the last two days. Technically, I’m still sick. But I’m at work so it doesn’t count.
While I was sick, I watched a bunch of movies. I don’t watch movies very often. I usually don’t feel like sitting still that long.
Which is funny, because I can read a book for hours at a time.
But when I watch a movie, I either fall asleep or I pause it and get up to do something else.
I watched I am Sam, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and Cold Mountain.
Chris said they were all chick flicks. It’s true, I cried my eyes out at I am Sam. THREE kleenexes.
But I was most looking forward to The Unbearable Lightness of Being, because I’ve read the book. I love Kundera.
The movie was pretty good. Very sexy.
So I picked up a Milan Kundera book, The Art of the Novel.He repeats again and again, The raison d’etre for a novel is to do what only a novel can do.
And what is that, but to stack up words across a page, words to tell about life, what is and what might be?
I think movies don’t have enough words. That’s why I can’t love them the same way.