the man who was not so sure


We are now  back to Holland. It was good to spend time with the fam.

Last night we all went to see the new movie, “The Favourite.” I was surprised that I enjoyed it so much. It’s probably good for me to have low expectations when I go see a movie. Eileen and I have difficulty finding movies that look interesting to us. This time I was glad to accompany my fam no matter the flick.

Image result for the favourite poster

The plot centered around three women, Queen Anne, her advisor, Sarah Churchill, and Abigail Hill… You can see them in the picture above. Hill is combing Anne’s eyelashes and Churchill seems to be measuring something in this photo (which does not come from the movie but I found intriguing).

The story is very loosely based on history. I would like to see it again. The actress playing the Queen (Olivia Colman) gives a stellar performance encompassing royal madness and decay.

Image result for olivia colman the favourite

I would definitely recommend seeing this movie. I’m still thinking about it and those are the movies and books and poems and music I like: the ones that stick with me. In the meantime, I am beginning to think one weak part of the movie was the ending. The plot ties together nicely at the end but the director cannot resist some artsy photography as the scene slowly dissolves and you begin to realize the movie is over. I think it detracts from the beauty of the rest of the film. But what do I know?

Related image

The answer to the question “What do I know?” for Jupe seems to be “less and less” even as I indulgently delve into the world of ideas and beauty. Maybe that’s part of aging for me. It’s part of my personality my therapist has pointed out to me: my lack of awareness of my own intelligence.

I think this lack sometimes helps me gain insights. As Leonard Cohen puts it “He was starving in some deep mystery Like a man who is sure what is true” (from The Master Song). I’m the man who is not sure.

Zbigniew Herbert (1924-1998)

The Trial by Zbigniew Herbert 

“… when I wake I don’t open my eyes
I clench my fingers don’t lift my head
breathe lightly because truly I don’t know
how many minutes of air I still have left”

I read this poem this morning and quite liked it.

Then there was this one:

This Little Island by James Longenbach 

“…you’ve been young for a long time,
An embarrassingly long time.
Look what you wrote!
Remember how much, despite
Your ridiculous behavior, you’ve been loved.”


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