Rhymes With Classic

It turns out I have a very low tolerance for films that challenge me.

A more accurate statement would be that I have a very low tolerance for films that challenge me, and in doing so give me next to nothing in the way of figuring it out on my own. That happened last weekend, when I saw Enemy, a 2013 film from Denis Villeneuve and Jake Gyllenhaal that debuted at TIFF this last September.

I saw the film on Saturday, mostly because I had missed it during the Festival, and because I thought it would be a smart move to see it before I went to the In Conversation With the two of them the next day. I’m so glad that I did, because I have never left a film so confused in my life. And that was after a very, very thorough search for any and all websites that would explain to me what the hell I had just seen. Most kept it secret, either because they didn’t want to ruin it, or because it made no freakin’ sense. A few mentioned that Villeneuve has been very vague about the spider imagery in the film, and that, of course, is what confused me most. After reading a synopsis of the film this movie was based on, I was prepared to do something I never thought I would: I was going to ask a question in front of 500 people and reveal myself as an idiot.

Thankfully, someone else did it for me. About a hour and a half into the conversation, where Villeneuve and Gyllenhall were hilarious, self deprecating,and incredibly engaging, someone asked if Villeneuve could expand on the spiders. I turned in my seat and gave this man a Look, thankful for the prospect of getting an answer without having to ask for one myself. And Villeneuve was fairly candid, or as candid as he’s ever been, mentioning that a theme in the book was that of motherhood, and the connection for him in the film is the psychological representation spiders convey.

I won’t suggest that I knew exactly what he was talking about, but it helped – I at least feel like I’m closer to understanding the film, or maybe just closer to knowing that I’m okay with being in the dark. Either way, if Villeneuve and Gyllenhall want to make a third movie together, I’ll watch it – and be on the lookout for subtle yet disturbing maple syrup references.

There are days where I find it hard to write, usually because my brain is throwing itself in a million directions. Today is one of those days.

It’s been nearly 6 years since I graduated with my undergraduate degree, and this morning, I found myself taking the bus back to campus. Even though this time around, I’m here to work, I was still on that bus, backpack in hand, headphones in my ears, surrounded with students on the 7:20 express to the first day of their educational lives.

I had a teeny tiny panic attack.

It wasn’t so much the bus ride, even though those can get pretty hairy on a Monday morning when it’s done nothing but rain ice for the last six hours. It felt more like a collapsing of years: I was, suddenly, simultaneously 17 and 28, worried both about surviving my first 8am lecture and doing the math on what time I need to go to bed in order to work Job #1 the next day. I existed, for a moment, somewhere between the two, feeling like I hadn’t studied for a test and contemplating my RRSP, and needed to take half an hour’s worth of very deep, careful breaths.

I consider myself lucky, in a lot of ways – I’m a generally anxious person, prone to thinking over absolutely everything well past it’s limits, but for the most part, that deep thought has served me well. It guided my academic career, it gives me a unique perspective when I write sketches and do improv, and for the most part, it makes me deeply funny at the most inopportune but critically necessary times. It’s strange to think that, possibly, somewhere, there is a parallel universe version of myself that feels confident, stress free, and has no problem falling asleep on a bus back to where her life started.

I bet she drinks tea on the bus without spilling, too. Nothing like starting the day off with a tilty brain and wet socks.