We left in silence at the film’s end. But we carried different kinds of silences. Her’s was a silence waiting to be broken, once her grappling of her emotional response found its expression. Mine was a silence borne out of something else entirely. Much later, she said

I don’t know why I’m so disturbed by the film. The different perspectives of people, influences, how cruel life can be. Injustice, brutality, peace

I said

That’s how I feel and bring into most days

Post-script:

Better still, read Rochenko’s short piece on Fascism & Representation over at Smokewriting.

If you’re still hungry, there is also Matthew Crowder’s The Holocaust and Melancholia over at Saving The World

I don’t have any issues with its personality; indeed, I find Monday to be the poster child of the emo generation. However, just to confess: for the first time in a while, I have a genuine conflict of interest this Monday, one that will test – in a grimace inducing way – my entire value system.

The confessional aspect is that I am about to sacrifice my Monday night football (“soccer”) game, 120 blood-and-thunder minutes of the Beautiful Game (with its attendant adrenaline rush) for 129 minutes of “a Macedonia / Germany / Italy / Bulgaria / Spain” cinematic collaboration called Shadows.

It hardly seems fair.

Go to him.