Neverwas

i am watching a film called Neverwas. it is a brilliant and magical film. it is the story of a man coming to terms with his father's mental illness and magical world he created. this film is quickly becoming one of my favourites. it has incorporated insanity, fantasy and a journey for truth, played out in the relationship between parent and child.

the line between insanity and fantasy is so thin, one mans delusion is another's fairy tale. it makes one think about the definitions of reality.

[warning- a pedestrian sentence...]

what is so great about the standard definition of reality. i so want magical realism to be real, and for me it is a good deal of the time, but i want to wholeheartedly believe in it in a way that i just can't yet. mostly because i am afraid if i do give in, then i will be disappointed in my imagination or ...well...committed.

what really got me up to write was the relationship between parent and child. in the film, the father [creator of Neverwas] was dealing with manic depression amongst a score of other things that go along with it. but the thing that struck me was the fight he was having against the black hole that was swallowing him as he fell deeper and deeper in love with his son. how does one balance that? balance what goes on in the deepest, darkest parts of ones mind, soul, psyche and the dependence of a child or loved one.

i wonder sometimes, why my fascination with mental illness. the easy thing to wonder is is it because i fear my own mind, do i fear what my mind is capable of...but in good moments i don't actually believe i have anything to fear from mental illness. an overabundance of thought, quite possibly. but sometimes i do worry if i let the thought run rampant, its course as i know it wants to, will i descend into madness? i also worry that i wont. that i dont actually have it in me. that i am utterly normal.

the film is diverging into a brilliant path. it is when reality clashes with someones delusion and what happens to those caught in the middle of it.

we could all do with a little more fantasy in our lives. more symbols, metaphors that become real enough to us to help us through when we deem life to be mundane. i think that is the reason for imagination. life is hard, cruel and cold at times. relationships between people and the relationship one has with the imaginary is the only way to survive with your soul in tact.

[i know i am going to look back on this and think, how trite but these are the thoughts animating my soul]

i so wish i could be more like G, fascinated by light playing on glass, bits and bobs floating in the air. i am this way, i just forget i guess.

the ending line is 'once again i lived as i dreamed'

i hope one day i can have the strength to do exactly that.