I have noticed a tendency in my projects that when I come across a topic with significant emotional resonance, I need to sit with it awhile, not charge through it. I put my “Severance” blog on hold because I was about to hit a key scene in the series, one where innie Mark shows his vulnerability for the first time. You can credibly argue that it’s the scene where Helly falls in love with him, although its done so subtly that I probably can’t make a case for it.
Likewise in my Veronique series, we just passed the moment where Weronika dies, which is difficult in its own regard, but it too leads to a key scene in this movie, where Veronique suddenly feels her absence.
I had a very similar emotional reaction in the “Drive My Car” series. I knew that the dinner scene was the turning point of the film. It felt weighty, I needed to sit in awe of its greatness before tackling it.
You might think that there’s difficulty or pain attached to these pauses, but it’s the exact opposite. There’s an odd sense of peace I feel letting myself stop, not going on, not rushing to let these important moments pass. As I put off my writing projects, I just binge watched seasons 2 and 3 of the HBO series “The White Lotus,” which I generally see as a combination of vacation porn, softcore porn and philosophy porn. And I say that admiringly. For a broadly popular show, “The White Lotus” oddly succeeds and for the most part is best enjoyed with as little analysis as possible.
But I do want to point out one moment in the finale I particularly enjoyed. Carrie Coon is my current favorite actress in the world, and it doesn’t hurt that she’s a pure Chicagoan. And she was given the show’s best speech, one where she proclaims that she doesn’t need religion or spirituality to bring meaning to her life, because time does that. It’s such a Montaigne thought, she might as well have quoted from “On Experience.”
I could describe it, but I’d rather just show it.
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