For a year I had waited for the rainy season to return. Since Friday night the rain has not abated save for some patches lasting five to twelve minutes when the clouds just took some time resting before they poured again non-stop. It has been cloudy the whole day today. The glass wall of my office was made opaque by this condensing pesky humidity, the same humidity which for three months has overstayed its welcome. I could only imagine what’s in the other side. It reminded me of those pito-pito bold films in the 90s where directors, fearing censorship, veiled their badly done simulation of sex with perspiring glass doors.
I downloaded this movie by Lars von Trier around a month ago but did not find enough momentum and commitment to spend five hours watching the two volumes so I kept on postponing watching them until an opportunity arose–I became sufficiently consumed by boredom that I was left with no option but to begin watching the movie. The movie is watchable, if you’re a certain kind of viewer. If you have high tolerance for naked bodies, erect and flaccid phalluses (a lot of them), unorthodox tastes in sex, and long-winding conversations, then this film is for you. If you have a habit of associating meanings to anything, this film offers you enough objects of whose significance will make you spend your waking days figuring out. I quit figuring out after a while.
This film will not, I repeat, will not titillate.
But it’s a nice film, not the kind that you would let freshman English students watch, but good enough to give you a glimpse of the other side of the glass wall made translucent by that condensing humidity.
Thank God it’s cooler now.