nobody knows

I went late this afternoon to see NOBODY KNOWS. At the Landmark Sunshine Theater-- or whatever ridiculous name it is that is some variation on those words--we were lined up underground and it was odd because right behind me was a guy I knew years ago who wanted to date me and with whom I spent a couple of tense afternoons; he was an investment banker with an interest in music and art but was materialistic and uptight, too much so for me anyway. But I am not sure he recognized me and I just chatted with Yoshi and pretended he was not there and he was making himself very busy with his cell phone. (Which was, I noted, a very expensive shiny one. And then I remembered: once we had dinner and were taking a taxi downtown to go to a bar and he was rude to the cab driver and that settled it for me because I can't be around people who are rude to cab drivers; a cab driver's job is tough enough without the scorn of some passenger. So after a short time at the bar I went home, and I never saw Vincent--now I remember his name-- again. Til now).

As the movie ended most of the audience sat in total silence for the longest time, no one moving to leave the way people usually do at a movie's close. I sat in that kind of posture for most of the movie; it made me so tense and so deeply sad but the beauty of it was stunning at the same time. I will be haunted by it; I can't really say much about it any more now. It is something I won't understand right away. So many things: mud, flowers, a toy piano, noodles, heat, water, a bicycle. The utter realism of it, the dirt smudged on the wall. That little girl's face, her open eyes. Kyoko's red fingernails. Akira, when his sister asks him "What is wrong with your voice? Are you catching a cold?" And his eyes, which are unforgettable.