Yesterday I went into a movie. It was an Italian movie whose title I don’t remember anymore. I think I never knew it to begin with. It was about some guitarist guy who seemed to be in a midlife crisis sort of situation and therefore visited his family full of psychos and problems. After the movie was over, I left the cinema with my friends. But didn’t talk very much because I was puzzled.
About what was this movie about? This was the question that simply didn’t leave my head. It was in no way a movie with no story. It had one, I think. And it was not a movie without a conflict going on to tell its story. Because there was some conflict, no, there was a lot of it. In fact, it there was enough conflict for three movies: the family business was mere seconds away from bankruptcy, the brother who ruined the business close to a nervous breakdown, the parents unknowing of the situation and believing the sister is a lesbian, another friend closer to suicide than anything else, an illegitimate child and a dog who no one liked except the main character. The movie felt like an abstract painting with big bold strokes.
For some time after the last shot I sat there, went outside and tried to find the message. But I couldn’t. A good friend mentioned that this is life, it bites you in the ass when you least expect it. This is so true. At least, when life is focused and throws one big stone into your face.
Did I perhaps simply miss the point of the movie when the character did his stage diving in the last shot which clicked nothing in me, or is a focused storytelling really better?