The room is not really empty, there’s a systematic mess of modern and medieval ideas hanging around, the stories that are in constant state of unfurling do not get killed by his words, rather they die. “What’s the desire?” “Umm, (Coughs) I never thought the world would be so peripheral, as it is now” he says with a curious smirk. Conventional modes in art were always to be questioned; rather it is what became commercial.
Information from an idea became an age; Phase; a horrific love story. Evolution from a horrific love story became a phase; age; an idea. For life and words share this very common idea of disjunct, this momentarily produced friction that evolves with time.
The idea of culturally commentating seems morally incorrect within a one-world perspective, It presumably shatters when the idea and possibility of different world comes into the equation. There’s an existential poignancy then to really understand the world. “What’s the desire?” “See, the world evolves and within that spectrum generations come, and they take your seat…They believe they’re the one! They are not, there’s chaos and then there’s dance.” The idea is new and interesting, it is everything everywhere.
Initially we were the only ones here, this very evangelistic idea could be considered to be the foundation of our destruction, could it not? The point is not just to be in the room but to feel that you truly belong into the room. “I’m much afraid of the consequences of my demise, than actually my demise. I’ve often thought about it, the world and my death and it’s disgusting”
While talking about the room and its emptiness, I remember introspecting aspects of cinema. People have their opinions designed on what true cinema is, on what Cinema is. The individual destiny of meaning of the word has now seen proof of its innate worthiness.
Artists are filled with discontentment; most of them are liberals…Elites, and their discontentment is of a generation tired: (Tag1- Bachchan- Angry Young man)
To forgive the process because of time is a sad thing. It is enticing to implant these films in their time, the films and their time in retrospect unrolled a butchering neat narrative. The evaluating quality of films decline in a soothing manner…There in our films, and by our I mean ‘bollywood’ we’ve always had an emotional connect to the human relationship portrayed.
Enter. Experimental (Tag2- Evolution through a moral bubble)
Why is it necessary to tell a story that is human, that is humane? Do we all watch films for the emotional connect? I would never give it a second thought. I think the ethos of these eras past will somewhere stop, where we won’t turn to movies for their characters, for their emotions, for their stories, but we’ll turn to movies, cause it would then not just be an act. We will somewhere in time watch films to not forget but to remember. We will somewhere in time watch films which would have no characters and no emotions. We will keep watching films, but that individual destiny of meaning of the word ‘Cinema’ might or might not change.
End. Hypotheses. (Tag3- End of the human moral bubble)
“The desire is to see, and not see. The impending doom is real, and the dance is poetic”
While writing I often find my narratives dying. Hopefully it helps when I’m creating something. Death of a narrative is good when worlds are building, when stories merge and collide and die and live again, it’s cinematic and dramatic, but for essays it bears no such creative owe-ing. It’s chaos, and it makes the room not empty.
The idea of melancholy is enough for you to sense the desire, as the trumpets sway up in the air; we understand that we’ve derived our understanding from music. Without these symphonies the film is nothing but a white screen…As the Russo brothers insert: Harry James and Helen Forrest, I come to understand movies and the magic of films. The room is not really empty, we’ll always have this room…
Enter.(Steve and Peggy are dancing to “It’s been a long, long time”)
