Maybe next Sunday I’ll watch Shoah.
The only other work I had seen by this director was Together, a touching movie about a commune in the Swedish suburbs set during the mid seventies, the twilight of the hippie era. It had an awesome ABBA soundtrack, which perfectly matched the sweet, hopeful message of the movie. I was, therefore, a little unprepared by Lilya 4-Ever, which was emotionally devastating. As I was sealing up the Netflix envelope, my face red and swollen, E inquired, “Awww, did you get a tear on the Netflix Envelope? Is that your ‘silent review?’”
And I replied, "Shut your face!"
When I first moved to Birmingham, my roommate and I had no cable and pitiful television reception. We both came down with a vicious stomach flu, and since we couldn’t watch TV, all there was to do to break up the monotony of vomiting was stare at the ceiling and cry for our mommies. During a brief window between bouts of vomiting Elka heroically managed to get to the video store. And what did she bring home? The Killing Fields, just what you would want to watch in that fragile condition, especially considering how the United States, in my opinion, was largely responsible for driving the entire country of Cambodia insane with our campaign of relentless, illegal, secret bombing. (Don't worry, I also blame the fucking French). Anyway, I should have learned about letting her choose the movies because a few months later we had a little pizza movie party and she presented everyone with Schindler’s List. Of course the pizza arrived right during the scene where the little children have to hide chin deep in the latrine so they don’t have to go to the gas chamber.
No one felt much like eating, and the pizza remained largely untouched.
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