The Hours (Part 1)
So here I am now, with my own blog. As I write, the American/British invasion of Iraq rages on, and American troops have entered the Baghdad palace. While I do have a lot to say about this, I think I will leave it for another day.
Perhaps I will talk a bit about The Hours, a movie that I watched last Saturday (5th Apr). In truth, I had wanted to watch The Pianist, but due to the inconvenient screening times, my friend and I had caught this movie instead. Thus, I went into the cinema, not knowing what to expect.
The movie starts off with a morbid tone - a woman commits suicide by drowning herself in a river. That piqued my interest, and I thought I was about to be in for a good movie. However, I could not really connect with what followed, at least for the first half of the movie. Having not read Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway, I have to admit that I was pretty clueless during the first half of the movie. During this time, all I saw were three perpetually depressed women, depressed for the sake of being depressed. I had _absolutely_ no idea why they were so depressed. After an hour, I found myself snickering at the scene where Julianne Moore leaves her son with a friend and walks towards her car, crying. At that point in time, I began to wonder if it was a movie that only a woman could understand. I was ready to conclude that it was that time of the month .... for all of them.
(continued in second part)
So here I am now, with my own blog. As I write, the American/British invasion of Iraq rages on, and American troops have entered the Baghdad palace. While I do have a lot to say about this, I think I will leave it for another day.
Perhaps I will talk a bit about The Hours, a movie that I watched last Saturday (5th Apr). In truth, I had wanted to watch The Pianist, but due to the inconvenient screening times, my friend and I had caught this movie instead. Thus, I went into the cinema, not knowing what to expect.
The movie starts off with a morbid tone - a woman commits suicide by drowning herself in a river. That piqued my interest, and I thought I was about to be in for a good movie. However, I could not really connect with what followed, at least for the first half of the movie. Having not read Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway, I have to admit that I was pretty clueless during the first half of the movie. During this time, all I saw were three perpetually depressed women, depressed for the sake of being depressed. I had _absolutely_ no idea why they were so depressed. After an hour, I found myself snickering at the scene where Julianne Moore leaves her son with a friend and walks towards her car, crying. At that point in time, I began to wonder if it was a movie that only a woman could understand. I was ready to conclude that it was that time of the month .... for all of them.
(continued in second part)
