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Friday, Feb. 15, 2002 / 10:07 p.m. ~Apres Le Film~ The theatre wasn't near crowded, the audience not large, not too enthused, but I still love "Amelie". At least one scene made me shiver. Others simply amazed me. I concentrated on cinematography and sound this time. Little sounds. Cats. The whir of a video camera. The sound of that caramel crackling on the creme brulee. The script. The beauty of the language, even in English translation. The colors, the yellow wash of the film in general. The dog watching the chickens turning on the spits. The majorette's widow, wearing the same uniform. That fish swimming in the river, the stones skipping across the water. Amelie's hand reaching into the grains.....the feel of them between her long fingers, as if we can feel it too. And to kiss, gently on the corner of the mouth, the neck just below the ear, just above the eye and below the brow. That man with the peg leg, born unlucky, yet he dances, and the horse who desires to run with the marathoners, babies swimming underwater, the clouds a child sees, shaped like rabbits and teddy bears.....beautiful, sweet, sensual moments, all life affirming, all hopeful, yet small. The cat who loves to listen to children's stories, Amelie turning to watch the faces of moviegoers in the dark, and how many couples are having orgasms at this very moment?...... I leave this movie, each time, now the 3rd time, wistful, spent, lost in a cloud, a bit foggy, a bit sad, like there was this time spent with pure beauty, but it was only a fantasy and real life is nothing like it. I hope it wins for Cinematography, Sound, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Foreign Film, at the Oscars. And it should've been nominated for Best Picture. I don't know why it wasn't. Now, it's after 10:00, I'm not hungry, I never ate dinner. The music from the film is going through my head, sort of stuck there, a lilting melody, like carousel music in a minor key. Accordion in the background. And I can see Montmartre, that famous staircase with the lampposts, and Amelie finding love. A magical place. Cost of the War in Iraq
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