Saturday, 21 February 2015

Unfaithful - a film review

Okay! Here, to break the jinx of non-blogging for quite a while, I start again.

A film review, or rather a film evoked rants, to go.

Unfaithful!

So, as far the storyline goes, it’s known to most, and yet, worth a quick recap for the interest of some.
A wife, apparently well settled into an eleven years old marriage with a eight year old living proof for a boy-kid, busy and lonely perhaps just as most at her age and standing would be, steps into that infamous pit that society calls adultery. She bumps into this stranger one fine stormy afternoon, joins him for coffee, and thereafter for sex the next day and every other days thereon. Husband starts with getting an inkling, investigates, finds out, and then, confronts. No, not with the woman but with the lover. The confrontation that starts so well that it could even dig into the profound “why” and take the issue (no, not problem! Issue.) by it’s horn, however, unfortunately, rather, turns into a murder scene as the husband loses control over what he was meant to do and hits the guy on the head with a gift  that he gave her and then she gave him in turn. The rest of the movie becomes a matter of eventual mutual knowledge, that they know that they know, and of course, police. It ends with a note where a peaceful kid sleeps in the car backseat while the couple, musing over how their rest of life could be a beautiful escapade, both term as important, pulls up their car outside the police station and kisses passionately as the traffic signal goes from red to green to yellow, back to red.


Poetic? Maybe. 

Unresolved? Yes.

But, question remains. What about that bull that we did not take by the horn? Really, what about that?

Why did it happen? Why does it happen, that way?

Just the feeling of feeling special, that? That thing of being treated like not just a wife but a woman? Being told she’s beautiful? Being awaited, being looked forward to, being seen off, being missed? Being treated like she exists? Being taken interest in? Oh yes, perhaps!

Or perhaps, more. Perhaps, knowing that life holds more treasure than what ‘they’ hand out to you if you don’t ask. Perhaps!

No, viewer. You don’t have to wrap it up with a certificate, good or bad. Neither do you have to play safe to just say, yeah perhaps.. but no, not safe! Not judgment, not wisdom. Not the trap of security; not the courage to break free, either.

Just, accept. Accept that it happened. Accept that it happens.

-          It’s a mistake!
-          What’s a mistake? Either you do things, or you don’t.


PS: And hence, bear with me – A poem! - Mistakes, memories!