movie love

Just caught the last half hour of The End of the Affair--the Julianne Moore version--on PBS (Thirteen shows bare breasts! Highbrow New York public television!). I saw it in the theater when I was 19 and had pretty much the same impression of it I had tonight--terrific ideas, awkwardly assembled. But I was still so excited to find it airing at all, and impressed by the movie's intentions and storyline (too much to review here, but let's say it's a struggle between aggrieved adultery and reluctant faith). Here are real, meaty screenwriting challenges: to communicate faith, that most interior of feelings, through character and action, without making the character seem crazy or zealous; to counter that faith with desire in equal measure, and to figure out how to tow the line between melodrama and thinkpiece. Not that the movie is always successful at meeting these challenges, but it makes a concerted effort at them, and that's bold.

I forget how much I love movies. It's strange I don't watch as many as I used to--I guess I feel guilty these days for wasting time that could be spent more productively. But I spent a full day today putting off a writing project by answering e-mail and perusing menus before hunger finally drove me out of my room to fix a snack and turn on the TV, and it's only now, at 1:30 in the morning, that I feel inspired--though too tired, and too afraid of a worsened cold, to stay up and do so. If the feeling has dissipated by tomorrow, I'll finally have excuse to watch that Netflix movie has been sitting on my desk all month.