I don't know about you, Reader, but I watch movies very rarely. And the ones I do watch are the fantasy type, the sort that are impossible in normal life, that require a suspension of reality, What are movies but a means of escape: to lose yourself in a fantasy land for a brief period of time When the credits finally roll, I take a deep breath and walk out the door marked with the green Exit sign. And when I'm walking out, sometimes it's gleefully, when the movie has inspired me to try something new, to apply something gleaned from it to my own life. And sometimes it's reluctantly, like I need more suspension time, like three hours weren't enough. But those realistic movies, the ones that try to imitate real life, I tend to avoid them like the plague. I get quite enough reality, thank you very much.
I don't know if I'm making much sense right now, Reader, I'm rather tired and confused. I realised this movie-watching fact about myself only today, as I sat in that darkened theater, reclining on my 180 degree seat. Oh but, whatever the movie: surreally fantastical or viscerally real, one really can't reflect too hard on it when reclining on a plush velvet sofa that at the press of a button rocks you to and fro at an almost reclining angle.