I saw the film "Capturing the Friedmans" on Sunday, and have had a hard time shaking the effects of it.
It's extraordinary, no doubt. But I watched it with horror, cold, sinking - like an anvil dropping to the floor. Terrible. On multiple levels.
There is no catharsis, no hopeful redemption. Whatever pain I experienced while watching it came from glimpses into profound and unexpressed despair. A fleeting glance on the father's face - a look into a moment so private that it feels like you are spying, that you should not be witnessing it at all.
There is something deeply sick about the movie. About the whole concept of the film. You want to take a bath. You want to forget what you have seen.
But somehow ... it won't let you go.
Posted by sheila | TrackBack