Midnight hustle

Park City remained far from quiet as midnight approached. The bustling and congested streets of daytime had settled, yet the silhouettes of numerous cinema enthusiasts still roamed the avenues. For devoted cinephiles, experiencing a midnight screening held a unique charm – even if it was just for a special encounter, a fleeting immersion into the cinematic realm.

On this night, snowflakes once again fell gently upon Park City, under the ethereal blue moonlight. The tranquil town gained a touch of chill, every minuscule sound seemingly amplified in the invisible expanse. The bustling commotion at the cinema entrance reverberated through the empty streets and atop the accumulated snow, resonating distantly.

Eli Wallah stepped out of the screening hall. The biting cold air that rushed against him sent shivers down his spine—one after another. He instinctively pulled his coat collar tight in an attempt to garner some warmth. Yet, the solitude and desolation that lingered in his brows couldn't be shaken off. His hands and feet felt icy, as if warmth were gradually draining away from his very core.

Deep within him, he knew that a frigid emptiness resided, as if warmth was seeping out from the depths of his soul.

Eli had finally achieved his wish, having fulfilled his desire to watch the film "Like Crazy". The daytime queues had been far too overwhelming, leaving him no option but to settle for the midnight screening. Even so, the attendance rate for this midnight showing exceeded eighty percent, a rarity even at the Sundance Film Festival.

However, he now questioned the correctness of his decision, unsure if watching this movie was the right choice. Bitterness filled his mouth, loneliness his heart. Tears welled up but refused to fall, screams formed in his throat but never broke free. Even within the cinema's projection hall, a sense of desolation pervaded the air.

Faint, muffled sobs reached his ears, heavy and stifled. Eli raised his head to find a girl standing resolutely, wiping away tears from her cheeks. Beside her stood a boy, softly consoling her, "In the end, they ended up together, didn't they? Despite all odds, they triumphed and embraced each other, didn't they?"

The girl shook her head, unwilling to speak. Her subdued weeping tugged at the heartstrings. She took two deep breaths, her voice trembling, "Do you know why I love this movie? I know you don't."

The boy attempted to interject, but the girl shook her head, cutting him off, "It's okay. I'm not upset."

Tears glistened in the girl's eyes; she bit her lower lip determinedly. "I love it not because I see our reflection in it, but because Jacob and Anna missed each other in the end. Physical distance turned into emotional separation. They still love each other deeply, but ultimately, they had to let go. Do you know why Anna flew to Los Angeles in the end?"

The boy lowered his head, sighing softly, "Because they both wanted to try again, because…" His sentence trailed off.

The girl nodded, tears streaming down once more, "Just like us."

Lifting her gaze, her tearful eyes locked onto the boy's, steadfast and resolute. Her gaze held a fragile determination, almost on the brink of collapse. The boy's eyes brimmed with a bitter sorrow. He enveloped the girl in his arms, holding her close, yet words eluded him.

Eli finally understood the nature of that bittersweet sensation on the tip of his tongue: reality, the sheer, overwhelming reality. So real that it induced despair.

Realistic films abound, not to mention those reflecting war, disaster, and crime. Even within other genres, there are movies that are even more brutal, blood-soaked, and terrifying than "Like Crazy". The scale of "Like Crazy" is but a drop in the ocean.

However, the authenticity of "Like Crazy" is unparalleled. It neither excessively dramatizes nor sensationalizes; its authenticity is complete and unadorned. This marks the greatest distinction between "Like Crazy" and "Blue Valentine".

"Blue Valentine" deliberately magnifies the intricate emotions entwined in marriage, placing them under a magnifying glass. Every emotional nuance becomes vividly alive, bearing a hint of cruelty akin to blood. Yet, this approach, somewhat artistic in nature, stems from reality while also departing from it.

"Like Crazy" is different. Its tangible realism is akin to a blade grazing against the skin, the icy edge and tingling sensation of pores all too vivid. This calls to mind the film "The Squid and the Whale". It isn't art, nor is it cinema; it is life in its unvarnished form.

Ironically, this very authenticity yanks the audience from the realm of cinematic fantasy, plunging them mercilessly into reality. The sense of powerlessness seeps through pores into the bloodstream, inescapable.

Just like... just like the couple before him. Eli didn't know their story, yet he sensed the bitterness that permeated their being, much like Jacob and Anna.

These films were never popular.

Because they were too real, as though mirrors reflecting their lives, reenacting their lives. No one wished to witness the disintegration and fragmentation of their own lives on the big screen. Nor did they desire others to peer into their lives. This brand of stark, irrefutable, and abhorrent realism turned the act of watching into an ordeal.

If films were like life, then why bother watching them? One could simply live life, couldn't they?

Eli sagged his shoulders wearily. He had never experienced a long-distance relationship, nor had he encountered a love that struck so deep but ended without a trace. Movies were like stories entirely unrelated to him. However, images of Jacob and Anna at the London party continually surfaced in his mind, for reasons he couldn't grasp. Jacob's outsider unease, his aimlessness, resembled a heavy punch, slamming into his stomach, almost causing him to retch.

Hence, Eli awkwardly took a seat on a nearby chair, hoping to catch his breath.

"Like Crazy?" A questioning voice came from beside him. Eli turned to find a man in his early thirties, scruffy beard framing his face, unruly hair, a beanie absentmindedly played with in his hands. His lips curved into a weary smile.

In that simple sentence, Eli comprehended the meaning behind it. He nodded in affirmation. The man chuckled lightly, yet his lips barely formed a curve. "I don't like this movie. To be precise, I don't like such melodramatic films. Crying, dragging, sighing—truly mundane."

Eli opened his mouth, intending to offer some counterarguments, only to find himself speechless.

Then he noticed the man's shoulders slouching, his voice disappearing. Yet, somehow, Eli glimpsed a trace of faint sadness on those weary shoulders. "But..." the man whispered softly, a hint of an arc forming at the corner of his lips, a touch of absurdity, a hint of resignation. "But it's exceptionally well-made."

Eli nodded in agreement.

"How passionate love is should reflect the same intensity. Over the long years ahead, each argument, each misunderstanding, each estrangement—these will chip away at the fervor. Before we know it, our embraces will have turned cold. Do you know why Jacob and Anna endured for so long? It's because they truly loved each other so much, a love that could melt everything. But someday, someday..."

The man's voice abruptly fell silent. The wind outside the cinema rushed in, carrying the whispering sound of snowflakes dancing. The air turned crisp.

Only the man's sigh resonated lightly, his face a portrait of lament. His words left unfinished, yet they held volumes. Sometimes, language could prove too feeble to convey.

"Haven't you ever considered that this is Jacob's fault?" A voice infused with sadness and indignation sounded beside Eli. A young woman in her mid-twenties halted before him, her eyes ablaze with unquenchable fury. "If Jacob had followed Anna to London to spend the summer, none of this would have happened, right?"

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of Eli's mouth as he nodded and sighed skyward. "Indeed. If things had gone that way, perhaps the outcome would be entirely different. Maybe they couldn't have endured those many years, their passion quenched by London's endless rainy summer."

"What makes you say that? Jacob's unwillingness to go to London is a sign of his lack of love! Men always demand women's sacrifice, women are always compromising. But why doesn't anyone condemn men's selfishness and self-interest?"

Rather than becoming angry, Eli nodded in agreement. "Exactly. When a relationship ends, we always seek the source. Would the outcome be different if we had done things differently at the start? If that incident hadn't occurred? If we'd chosen a different option when wavering?"

The woman stared at Eli, her eyes wide with fury, yet he remained unswayed. He continued calmly, meticulously excavating every detail of their relationship, scrutinizing each moment. "If, countless "ifs"... We often try to pinpoint whose fault it is, as if solving that mistake could mend everything. But is that really the case?"

The woman parted her lips, the word "yes" poised on her tongue, but it circled there, hesitant to be voiced, ultimately swallowed down. She slumped her shoulders in dejection, reminded of Jacob and Anna's arguments in the kitchen, reminded of every couple's quarrel.

"I don't like this movie. I think it's just a pointless moan! Just a couple of youngsters' love story, acting out their life-and-death struggles. Don't they have anything else to do? This movie is nothing but a waste of time!"

"I feel the same. Both of them are so hopeless. They could have made the right choices, yet they were always selfish and continued to miss opportunities. It's merely moving from England to America; that's not such a perilous journey. What about those Middle Eastern countries? Women there often don't even have the right to choose their husbands!"

"Agreed, it's really hard to like."

...

"But Renly's acting was superb, wasn't it?"