I am a milkshake lover..♡
.. and you're my favourite flavor ♡
.. and you're my favourite flavor ♡
I dont know why but i have always been fascinated by the word "dream" and the dreamy atmosphere and everything that concerns being in a dream. I like the feeling of indefinite, not being and being, real and not real, i like the non-certain and the confused state of mind.
This explains pretty much why my favourite movie director is David Lynch ehe.
So, when it comes to ethereal, dreamy and uncertain non definite atmospheres i feel it's istant ℒℴѵℯ.
The other day I watched for the first time "The Virgin Suicides" directed by Sophia Coppola in 1999.
I guess so many girls can relate, in a way, which makes it the perfect movie about teenage to me.
The movie is based on the book "The Virgin Suicides" by Eugenides. The Book's main theme is suicide, which is something that makes people feel obviously uncomfortable. But the director makes it look like something who any of us might have thought about at least once during our teenage years, thus it's very touching and real even if very sad and scary.
It is a book about suicide by dull solitude and perfect indifference.
First Chapter, First Rows:
"On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicide - it was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Therese - the two paramedics arrived at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer was, and the gas oven, and the beam in the basement from which it was possible to tie a rope."
"It didn’t matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn’t heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house, with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death, and where we will never find the pieces to put them back together."
Eugenides is a very talented writer, whose main force is the mesmerizing storytelling technique, based in this novel on one hand on the subtle nuances of the “we” narrative voice, and on the other hand on the poignant descriptions, that parallel the human and the civilisation and even the nature decay, in a powerful apocalyptic vision of a corrupted universe, echoing with the devil’s laughter:
"They had killed themselves over our dying forests, over manatees maimed by propellers as they surfaced to drink from garden hoses; they had killed themselves at the sight of the used tires stacked higher than the pyramids; they had killed themselves over the failure to find a love none of use could ever be. In the end, the tortures tearing the Lisbon girls pointed to a simple reasoned refusal to accept the world as it handed down to them, so full of flaws."
"The Lisbon girls made suicide familiar. Later, when other acquaintances chose to end their lives – sometimes even borrowing a book the day before – we always pictured them as taking off cumbersome boots to enter the highly associative mustiness of a family cottage on a dune overlooking the sea."
Some silly direction effects I adore and I find cute.
While trying to solve the mystery of the suicide of the five Lisbon girls some twenty years ago, the collective memory evokes also a dead and forgotten house that belonged to a dead and forgotten town, without realizing that the house and the town used as a mere background were softly and more silently killing themselves too. Their death is in the end as offensive and loud as that of the girls, filling their absence with the liquid smell of the imminence:
"…as the house began to fall apart, casting out whiffs of rotten wood and soggy carpet, this other smell began wafting from the Lisbons’, invading our dreams and making us wash our hands over and over again. The smell was so thick it seemed liquid, and stepping into its current felt like being sprayed. We tried to locate its source, looking for dead squirrels in the yard or a bag of fertilizer, but the smell contained too much syrup to be death itself. The smell was definitely on the side of life, and reminded David Black of a fancy mushroom salad he’d eaten on a trip with his parents to New York."
Like in many other urban-gothic tales, the mystery of the Lisbon girls suicides remains unsolved. A refusal to take the “holocaust ride” is only one possible explanation. The social and genetic constraints could be another. But maybe in the end it is to challenge us to find the name of the last “two bullets” Dr. Hornicker is talking about:
“With most people,” he said, “suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has bullet. With the Lisbon girls, the gun was loaded. A bullet for family abuse. A bullet for genetic predisposition. A bullet for historical malaise. A bullet for inevitable momentum. The other two bullets are impossible to name, but that doesn’t mean the chambers were empty.”
I love the girly atmosphere, the fact that the sisters are so united, till the end.
I hope some of you enjoyed this post ♡
Let's all get lost in a dream~