the loneliest planet
I’ve been watching Julia Loktev’s The Loneliest Planet this weekend and the central piece of dramatic action has struck a nerve with me. I can’t entirely recommend the film–it is slow as molasses–but it certainly captures the way a relationship slowly shifts once hidden priorities are revealed.
It reminds me of the relationship with my roommate. He just bought his own place in my building; in the long run it’s for the best for both of us, but in the short-term I’ll be exposed to more economic uncertainty. We are getting along fine and some playfulness is back, but after having witnessed a “me first” mentality in him, I can’t imagine things will ever be like they were.
A bit about the film:
This new movie wonders, with equally piquant existentialism, what happens when a stupid glitch or a selfish gesture upends your belief — be it romantic or religious. How do you go on? People will argue that Loktev is flirting with commentary on gender roles. There is that, but the movie is more sophisticated than a sort of feminism. Under similar circumstances, any relationship of any combination of genders would undergo some kind of self-examination. The movie captures a kind of tragedy of self. Who, really, are you under the X-ray of pressure and can that person be overlooked or forgiven?