Seeking to circumvent the pandemic psychosis that haunts us at certain times, I was about to revisit in Late Motiv the genius of that old and absolutely modern humor of Raúl Cimas and Javier Coronas (Buenafuente, his essential accomplice) when suddenly I was tempted to go elsewhere, find out what it was about Lulu on the Bridge. Yes. The film that Paul Auster directed two decades ago and that he had never seen and of which he had hardly any references, only that at the time it had had very rave reviews. “Cinema of now and always, real cinema”, had said, for example, Ángel Fernández-Santos in these same pages.
As soon as I started to see it and, although Auster’s commitment to the “cinema of words” was wonderful, I noticed that the story distressed me more than I wanted. I had already covered the quota of agonizing sensations that day and rather needed to find signs, however trivial, that other more encouraging moods were also possible. In fact, I thought and I continue to think that, in revenge for the minimal life to which the pandemic is condemning us, there are already many people in search of what we could call “an increased life”, some are going towards it by the bottled path of discotheques and others for that of thought. And well, the plot of Auster, on the other hand, was only gloomy, of a raised suicide: Izzy (Harvey Keitel), a jazz musician who suddenly (a bullet in the lung) was forever deprived of exercising his art, precisely the only thing in life that mattered to him.
I had already started to disconnect from Lulu on the Bridge when I was forcefully caught by the sequence that must have kidnapped so many at the time, the one starring Izzy and Celia (Mira Sorvino), two lonely beings, wounded, with nothing in common: two strangers who at one point are transformed by falling in love radically, thanks to the maneuvers of chance that lead them to find a singular stone that emits a hypnotic blue light that connects them with rare intensity to the Earth and discovers that “one does not become what one is until one is capable to love another ”.
In the optimistic sequence of the hypnotic stone I thought I saw the expected signal, the light at the end of so much tunnel and misfortune. He had not yet finished the sequence when, in addition, chance broke in in the form of WhatsApp on my mobile. From Paris a friend told me that she was at the Marmottan Monet watching the exhibition The blue hour, dedicated to the Danish great Peder Severin Krøyer, a contemporary of Vilhelm Hammershøi. I immediately looked for how long that sample could be seen that could lift the spirits of anyone and I saw that it would be until the end of September and that “the blue hour” was the meteorological phenomenon that precedes twilight and that can be seen especially in the north of Denmark. It is a unique light with an unmistakable witch air, visible at that time of day when everything collides and it even seems to us that it will finally be possible for us to enter a different life, a new life, and who knows if even increased.
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Augmented Life Diary | Culture