I finally watched Carol on a long train ride. I took a train because I’m finally tired of flying. The little time you save by flying is wasted on getting to and from the airport, going through the security check, waiting at the boarding gate, smiling at your fellow passengers, saying Grüß Gott and Auf wiedersehen, making sure that your seat belt is fastened, being constantly disturbed by the polite flight attendants that offer you snacks that you don’t even need but feel short of attention when they are not offered, so on and so forth.
It’s not about lesbian love; it’s about love. As we all might agree, your takeaway from a movie (or a book or anything) depends largely on your own understanding of the matter in question. We can only see so much that our eyesight allows us to see. The quality of the movie on my computer was poor. At some points I almost made screenshots because the scenes looked perfectly like oil paintings. Well, impressionistic ones. I was somewhat disappointed by the last scene. Therese abandoned her party after all and went to look for Carol because she just couldn’t resist it, as every time Carol asked her to do something. She was standing in the middle of the fancy restaurant filled with smartly-dressed people, as if a lost soul that awaited her salvation. Her eyes lit up desperately when she saw Carol among the crowd, elegant and self-assured as always. Carol looked up, and a subtle smile spread around the corners of her red-lipped mouth. The end. I respect that movies try to end on a hopeful note. They loved each other, however flawed and doomed it might be, and they must end up together. It rarely happens like that in reality. A Carol cannot love a Therese the way a Therese loves and needs to be loved. Love is an exchange. In the case of a Carol and a Therese, it’s never the giving and receiving of the same thing. And Therese will have to learn to make peace with the lost so-called love that she naively believes to be the ultimate worth of living. And Carol will have to learn to acknowledge her weakness and cowardice hidden behind her armor that comes with age and experience but by no means impenetrable. Who do you think will be the sadder one if this love is gone? The sad truth is, the one who loved more. The one who believes in love fervently is the one hurt the most by the betrayal by love. And one day, Therese will become Carol. And Carol will no longer exist.
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