Amour

I am not a movie critic. I am not well-versed on cinematography, camera angles, the use of lighting and such. But, I do like movies. I like seeing movies in a movie theater. I like the darkness, the big screen...I like the popcorn.

Over the last month I have witnessed many losses. None were particularly close to me, but the cumulative effect has been profound.  Spouses, lovers, and parents of friends and family have exited this life. The hardest has been the death of a friend's child. Hardest to understand, hardest to find any words of comfort. I have thought deeply about how we grieve, about how to help, about losses my own, those from the past and those yet to come.

So perhaps it was not the best frame of mind in which to view the movie, Amour. Or, perhaps, it was the best.  What a miraculous film.  It is a story of aging, of decline, of loss, but, more than anything, a story of love.   A love that has lasted the years, and now faces its final moments. It was one of the most powerful endings to a movie I have ever seen.  Now that I have spent time visiting in the nursing home, the movie contained so many familiar scenes. The indignities of incontinence, the anguished cries of pain, the harshness of some caregivers.  But, I also saw the healing power of touch and of story. How a soft hand and gentle voice can calm. How difficult love can become and how powerful our memories can be.  Oh, and the music was great, too.  Go see it.