From time to time, I’ll see a movie and then I spend hours – (actually) days thinking about it. It doesn’t have any real rhyme or reason behind it. Sometimes they are insignificant films: like Passengers, Baby Driver and Bird Box. And they aren’t like big geek features either. I’m not analyzing it. I’m not trying to figure out a theory of how the Avengers will defeat Thanos and get their friends back. Or why Luke just sat on a rock instead of zooming off in that submerged X-wing. I just replay scenes over and over again in my head. Perhaps, I’m trying to relate to the characters. Or maybe, I’m infatuated with the story. It could just fall under a simple fascination (like the colors in a sunset) to it all. And that, I can’t explain.
If anything, Bird Box kept me hooked. That could be the secret. I was exuberantly curious to know what happens next. I wanted to know if they would explain the “mystery”. Was it a virus? Was it a mind control weapon? (I won’t spoil anything here). Is this the gimmick to a great story?
It could have been: the premise of the plot is just plain bonkers! A woman and her 2 kids make a long and dangerous journey but must do it blindfolded. The thought of traveling through a forest or down a river; but not able to see where you’re going, is inherently a fear we all have. Is the movie a metaphor for taking risks? Especially in an environment – or activity – that has grave consequences. Am I subconsciously relating this scenario into my writing? I suppose I feel blindfolded in the outcome of this venture. What if no one reads it? What if I can’t find readers to buy it?
In the process of writing this post, I’ve done what I said I don’t normally do. I’m analyzing (over analyzing) the movie. Or more accurately, I’m analyzing myself in context to the it. Not sure which one is more troubling….