Wild Voices

I saw two movies this weekend. Both affected me rather deeply and unexpectedly. And I want you to see them. Now.

Where the Wild Things Are

I don’t really know how to talk about this film.

It’s like watching a surreal dream, all the while knowing the raw and painful details fueling that restless slumber. If there were a film genre called “bittersweet magic,” I’d spotlight this as its poster child.

It’s whimsy and art, heartbreak and anger and honesty, all carefully disguised as a nostalgic hug. It magnifies the human condition; that lonely, prideful place that simultaneously craves both being understood and having absolute rule over our lives. It pinpoints those moments when we’re out of control and know it and feel helpless when it comes to doing anything about it.

I want to be owner of my world. But were I owner of my world, my world would crumble.

Where the Wild Things Are is not a kiddie movie about monsters. It’s the sort of allegory that is superficially delightful, but leaves you ready to burst into tears at any moment.

And the dialogue. I’m not qualified to speak about such perfection. Intimidating.

I saw it alone. I don’t know if that was wise. Because I really wanted to hug someone when the credits started rolling. And the lady next to me didn’t seem open to such affection.

Voices From El-Sayed

I also saw Voices from El-Sayed this weekend. If you get the chance to see this little documentary about a unique Bedouin village in Israel, do so. It will challenge you. And encourage you. And make you utter crazy things like “I want a deaf Arab baby” at the end of the screening.

One broad-grinning deaf man signed that verbal communication is overrated. There’s a lot of hope and beauty and contentment in a world that doesn’t include all five senses. And watching young hearing children sign to their deaf siblings made me pine for effortless communication with those so often ostracized. Life is not easy. But they don’t live in self-pity. They just live.

I don’t know how I feel about medical intervention. Or lack of intervention. I don’t know how I feel about a lot of things. I’m one big confused and indecisive mess. But I don’t think those are the issues that matter most. People matter. I want to love, not assess.

I do know how I feel about arranged marriage, though. Not gonna happen. Although there are days when it’s tempting to let someone else figure this life out for me…. But that’s another blog post. Or two.