The Fountain

Did you know that The Fountain is one of my favourite movies? Absolutely no one I have shared it with has liked it. It is completely beyond me why. I love it.

I love how it opens. Hugh Jackman is praying. He’s thinking of a woman. He’s looking at a ring. He crosses himself and prepares himself for battle. He’s at a Mayan temple. There’re skulls on pikes and the men with him are screaming with fear. He declares how he won’t die and races into the fray. The Mayans kill the men with him, but throw him on their shoulders and take him to the temple. There he climbs all those ungodly stairs (sorry – joke from Howl’s Moving Castle) in his dark brown leather pants (hehehehe). At the top he meets a priest who is wearing a headdress that is made up of at least five human spines. They fight, but the priest gets the advantage and Hugh’s got a knife in his chest. He pulls it out and it breaks on the floor.

And my senses come alive.

It’s a story about a man whose wife is dying. It has three specific settings. One is the content of a book that is written by his wife. The second is a story written in the future by the husband (the back of the movie lies and tells you that it is the future, but I never mind spoiling things – I think that’s the moment when real interest is peaked). The last is the reality of right now.

The sound track is to die for and the cinematography chilling. They take such careful care as to what colours are shown. They range from white to gold to red to brown to black. Blue and purple are forbidden. They are so careful as to when they show the sky. Mostly it’s night and the way they show the stars makes me feel like I can finally see them.

I never shy away from writing violent scenes when the moment comes. I think the violence in my work and in this picture is symbolic of determination. I love determination.

And of course, a two hour movie hardly has the capacity to move me anymore. I mean, no matter how heart rending they can try to make a movie, unless it touches something that I am particularly sensitive to – I won’t cry. To me, love has eternal dimensions. It’s holy. I don’t think I get out of this film what the writer intends me to. I don’t care what he wants me to see. I see what I want. And there is nothing more gratifying than seeing exactly what you want. I see sacrifice for love. Imagine being willing to die for the one you love? Forget pain. Think of entering by the way of that forbidden curtain of night to see what lies beyond. Thrilling.