Carol

Carol ★★★★★

for the first time in my life I finally saw Carol on screen. the screening has around ten people and I sat at the front so my eyes could be blinded by its Lesbian brilliance. at the drop of its title card and Burwell's otherworldly Opening my hands were clutched together nervously—partly afraid its spell on me has gone, partly looking forward to Rooney Mara's dimple up-close.

"I feel I stand in a desert with my hands outstretched, and you are raining down upon me."

I cried. I was still bewitched. I was still in love. it was still as beautiful if not much more as I remembered it the first time I saw its screener with "Property of Weinstein Company Do Not Redistribute" on my dead 14-inch laptop 3 years ago and many other times thereafter. it was still the same soul-crushing, soul-satisfying film that has elevated itself as The Favorite (not a shade to Lanthimos' The Favourite which I have yet to see) amongst all the favorites. the portrayal of yearning has always been so palpable and delicate, silent yet fathomless in Carol. its romantic gestures of reading between the lines and restricted touches cup your face gently with a forehead kiss in the early morning as your eyes softly adjust to the sunlight. but nobody ever talked about its melancholy: the constant struggle of finding a place, a home, where you belong or the desire to feel less alone with who you are; not even the unfairness of love where everything but what you felt seemed wrong timing. it hit too hard tonight than I expected when Therese rode the train and cried quietly after visiting Carol's and seeing people's merry faces together. further, when Therese murmured on the phone with her eyes closed, "I miss you, I miss you” amidst knowing it would not reach the other end,  when Carol said "I love you” with all she had. I was shattered like I never knew what would happen. I doubted Carol was even a film for me at this point, I thought it's already an emotion. 

some people change your life forever. you did, I thought. I went home sitting in an empty bus, pensive, looking out its rain-drenched windows. Christmas and New Year's this season will be celebrated again with people I never felt particularly close with. I've never felt so shamefully alone. I thought how life imitates art. how I can't believe all this time Carol's impact remained undiminished. I entered my flat without turning the lights on and asked myself where's home. I guess it's this in the meantime. let me lie in bed with its soundtrack lulling me to sleep while my dreams whisper to me what a privilege it is/was to be in love. my angel, flung out of space.

("she wished the tunnel might cave in and kill them both, that their bodies might be dragged out together.")

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