Watched the movie 'Melancholia' last night. Some amazing visuals that will remain in my mind for a long time. The final sequence is stunning; the pity is that none of the characters who witness it will live to tell the tale. And at the end, you realize that unlike all other stories, there is no 'what happened next". The people didn't live happily ever after, they didn't live at all. Such a contrast to the way Hollywood likes to portray disaster, by concentrating on a few frightened people, rather than a cast of screaming thousands. One of the characters kills himself rather than wait for the end; I don't think I would do this. Even though I knew that I would not live to tell the tale, I'd still be curious enough to want to see it through. It's one of those movies that you keep thinking about long after the final credits roll. In fact, it almost seems like seeing this has changed something in my mind, as if I really had seen the end of the world. And it was terrible and glorious and sad and happy and brave.
But I've given up on my current reading "Sacrifice" by Karin Alvtegen. It's just too bloody depressing. The main characters are two deeply twisted, damaged women, for whom it's difficult to feel any sympathy or fellow-feeling. They've both suffered tragedies, yes, but have let these take over their lives to such an extent that they no longer function, or function abnormally. I kept reading bravely on, ploughing through the Slough of Despond just to find out what happened in the end, but the gloominess defeated me; I realised I just didn't care enough about them to finish their story. Unlike "Melancholia" which left me feeling I had experienced something special and profound, although dark, "Sacrifice" just made me feel dirtied, like a walk through a rubbish dump. Why did it get published? I'll never know.
Thank you. I had not heard of either the book or the movie. And yes, depressing can be valuable but not when the characters make you itch to smack them.
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