In A Sentimental Mood

Yesterday I cried in the end of a beautiful Brazillian movie called The Year My Parents Went On Vacation. Before I had massively cried with Venus like I said a post ago.

Today I felt deeply disturbed while I watched Allen's Interiors; it's not an usual Allen film, not at least like the ones I'm used to see. Allen's movies are always so filled with music and quick dialogues; Interiors however is agonizingly silent and shady. Geraldine Page is amazing as an interior decorator disturbed by divorce; it's amazing how she performed Eve's pale perfection with such a shouting silent sadness that you can't help feeling restless about it. Such feeling hangs on as we follow the lives of her daughters Diane Keaton, Mary Beth Hurt and Kristin Griffth; Hurt is especially mesmerizing as a daughter suffering from the mother's indiference towards her cares.

The movie's constant silence was so disturbing not only for the fact Allen mostly presents himself [in our minds at least] as a musical director [the opening sequence from Manhattan and all of Everyone Says I Love You are heavenly], but also because depression [something that most of the characters seem to suffer from] has exactly the anguish of the silence that precedes the scream, which made me particularly remember of an episode I had in Salvador, when in June Red stayed a weekend at my house and as he and his friends left I was consumed with a silence that, after hours of sleep, exploded into an eloquent cry. That probably just gave me this intense heartburn that hindered any real tears.

The film that really gaves me tears were the following one: The Purple Rose Of Cairo; which is really weird because it is a very cute non-tearjerking comedy, a beautiful love letter to movies. And to have before my eyes the explanation of why I love this art so much was emotionally overwhelming. Mia Farrow is orgasmically natural and thrilling that even the most of cynics can't help loving her sweet innocence towards cinema and life. Her final shot is breathtaking and heartbreaking in levels you cannot exactly explain, which is why I cried.

Later tonight I went out and though loads of laugh filled the atmosphere I still felt somewhat melancholic. When I got home I heard on the news that the plane wreck that happened earlier today in São Paulo killed about 150 people. I cried again.

What is it? Depression I know it's not. It could be the want of romance; or maybe an after-shock from all the latest experiences. Close friends know that it's not unusual for me to cry, but lately I've been running from the easy reasons of this posture. I'm definitely not sad, so why do these tears come at night?

[Song: All Is Full Of Love - Björk]