A oner...
When I fly I tend to watch foreign films with reliable captions. Things resonate differently in the absence of audio. I notice color, often seek out where the light is cast and notice gestures and silences differently.
In the latest movie Sentimental Value, Stellan Skarsgård says something profound but relatable. He doesn’t hate theater, he just doesn’t like watching it. He gets me.
The real heart breaker is when a script written by Gustav (Skarsgård), the patriarch of the film, reveals a scene where the words, a prayer is an acknowledgment of despair is spoken. I don’t want to reveal any more but only to point you toward masterful story building, narrative arc and superb execution.
Trying to do what so many of us do with busy lives, the character Gustav shares with a friend that he isn’t good at the “between films” living. This morning as I prepared to leave for a conference and 2 speaking gigs I felt that familiar frenetic pang. Looking around the kitchen wandering if it will miss me spilling tea on the cutting board and leaving it to find its way down the side onto the butcher board table beneath. Curious if the plants will be watered signs brings a weird brand of melancholy. But as soon as the bags are loaded in the car and I am off to the airport, another version of myself emerges.
A chimera that adjusts the car play for the latest book in preparation for upcoming talks. My focus shifts to the best route to airport parking, negotiating efficiencies to increase my chances at airport lounge breakfast before boarding. In other words, my world splits in two. In one world my husband asks about specifications for a built-in cabinet as this phase of renovation winds down. Still negotiating a friend trip to DC and family trip back to NJ we are making decisions on the fly.
Work Bonny has to iron — gasp. If you know me well the only thing I do less than iron is mow lawns. My clothes are a jumble in the suitcase. Last minute decision to bring books to give away meant moving from carry-on to the dreaded checked bag. The more space I have the more entropy comes along for the ride.
This “between films” or between speaking engagements life is stressful because only when back home do they clash like King Kong and Godzilla. On the road or at least mostly — because my children are adults, I am not breaking hearts with my absence. If anything, Steve cooks all the meat that he can hold and queues up crime and war movies that I avoid at all costs. My sons live their own adult lives barely cognizant that a text or a phone call is pinging around the country when there are questions or concerns.
The one thread that remains among all of our busy lives is the analogy to a film. Our lives are single shot cameras or oners.
One single take that captures a moment in space and time — no edits — only the next frame.