Maybe the happiest place of all for me, even though he (the character) has a sad end.
And lastly. This image, to me, is a work of art.
I’ve never really written about 2002, not specifically anyway, not what happened or who I became. I’ve approached it from the side, from time to time. And here’s a post directly about Moulin Rouge – which comes closer to talking about the horror of 2002. I’ve read posts where people scoff those who say “That movie saved my life! Reading that book saved my life!” And I suppose if every other thing appears to have “saved your life”, then you might not be taken seriously. Or maybe those who scoff have never been so saved or changed by a movie or a book, and they would rather scorn you – than try to understand. Whatever the case may be. In 2002, Moulin Rouge (and I hadn’t seen it in the movie theatre – for some reason, I missed it) saved my life. It was not pretty. And I had a roommate at the time, and whenever she brings up 2002 now, she gets kind of tentative, like she doesn’t know what to say. I don’t blame her. I started my blog in October of 2002, which was my true re-entry into the human race again. But that would never have happened without Moulin Rouge. And when I look at that last photo in my post, I remember. I have tears in my eyes right now, remembering. I remember where I was back then, and what it was like for me inside my head, and then I remember staring at the television, watching Moulin Rouge, and feeling, vaguely, like a bell from a distant mountaintop, like maybe I was going to be okay. Someday. Not now. But someday. That’s what watching that movie was like for me.
To me, it’s not a movie at all. I haven’t read one review of it, I have no opinions about it, I have nothing to say. I haven’t listened to any of the director’s commentary on the copy of it I have. It is sheer experience, and it contains health, mental health, to me. Truly phenomenal – I wonder if Baz Luhrman would ever know or understand that THAT is what his movie gave me.
Who knows. Look at that last image. It looks like what love should feel like. Or – what love actually is.
I love the idea of taking up blogging as necessary to mental health. It was my reason as well. I had a friend once who, when asked about a movie, if he liked it, would say, “It changed my life.” At first I took him seriously then finally realized that was his way of saying he liked it. But for some of us, films or books or paintings or simple life experiences DO change our lives. I took a bartending class years ago (never did become a bartender) but it changed my life. It really did. All because of the teacher and meeting him and talking to him. It changed my outlook on things from that point on.
I have a friend who, after seeing this movie with her husband of twenty years (two lovely daughters, the whole wonderful family thing), sat outside in the car in the dark for an hour after he’d gone into the house. And then she initiated divorce proceedings, saying that this movie had shown her the way things were supposed to be, pointed out the way things were not for her.
It stunned everyone who knew them. They’d seemed like the ideal couple from the outside. Pillars of the community, etc.
I tried to watch the movie on DVD shortly after that, just out of curiosity but I couldn’t do it! The beginning was confusing for me, sure, but I also think that I was scared. If it could have that much power over my friend, yikes! I had to turn away. So I have no idea…
Diana – wow. That is intense.
For me, it was the light at the end of the tunnel – which had completely gone out. I could not find my way back to life, at all, during 2002. Bah. It embarrasses me to even talk about it!
Jonathan – I like that snippet about the bartending class. Yes. You never know what will alter your experience of life, how you think, whatever the case may be.
In 2002 I couldn’t even write in a journal or a diary – my own inner life was closed to me – so by starting a blog, and talking to, uhm, the WORLD, (even though it was only 1 or 2 people reading me for the first couple years) was a huge huge shift. I’m surprised I didn’t crack apart from the change – but I didn’t. I also didn’t allow comments on the blog for the first year – which gave me, in looking back on it, a space of peace – to get going, and get used to being expressive again – without anyone weighing in, or being critical, or whatever. I wasn’t ready for the “conversational” aspect of blogging yet, I suppose.
But I look back on that one-two punch – Moulin Rouge, and starting the blog – as the 2 things that got me better again.
“For me, it was the light at the end of the tunnel – which had completely gone out. I could not find my way back to life, at all, during 2002.”
Oh, this I get. I have been there, spent a lot of time there. I don’t think I’ve ever had one big shining light at the end of the tunnel, though, as much as periodic smaller ones, each one leading me to it, where I rest until the next little light a ways up.
I’m never as aware of them as you are. As soon as I head for the next light, I fling the previous one behind me. I’m always in a bit of a daze about these things that save me. Another instance where Sheila’s blog makes me realize how I sleepwalk through my life!
I get what you mean – if only on a smaller scale.
I can’t say I’ve ever had a time when I needed to “find my way back to life” but I have had times where I, sort of, temporarily forget who I am – forget what’s important to me – forget what makes me, me.
And there are some books and some movies and some activities that will grab me and shake me and go, “Hey, stupid! Wake up! You’re losing yourself!” And it’s important to me to have that kind of snap back into my own life. Because I never really want to lose who I am. I don’t want to become someone else’s version of me. And I’ve had people in my life, in the past, who tried to do just that to me.
I know that’s different from your experience, but I understand the needing of a particular piece of art in your life as a touchstone, as something to bring you back a little…
Ricki – I definitely know what you are talking about, and have had similar experiences. I have a couple of books that can snap me back into my own life – when I’m feeling lost or unloved or invisible … I’m very grateful to my relationships with those books – they really have the ability to comfort me when times get rough.
Wow. I had no idea that that could happen to other people like that. It happened to me. In 2002. With that movie.
I’d just moved with my family (I guess I was technically a “kid” then – in between middle school and high school.. I’m in college now, though) across the country and I was so lost. I started ditching school, became a bit of a hypochondriac, started wandering the city during the day. And then one day I saw this movie on tv and I watched it. I can’t explain it, what happened. But the next day I went to school and watched it again when I got back. And I just kept going once I’d started.
There really aren’t any words for what changed, I can’t even pinpoint it. I’ve never even told anyone about that time in my life. No one knew because I forged notes to skip school. Maybe I needed something, anything, at that time. But this saved me. Literally.
I can believe Moulin Rouge changed your life… I couldn’t breathe for days after I saw it… I couldn’t watch it again for months…
It does have the power of showing you what can be… or what you can have… or painting in flashing glorious color the highest highs and lowest lows that make live worth living…
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