I love the rush of physical terror in an otherwise controlled environment - that brief clutching of the heart that seizes you without actually making you feel unsafe. There were a lot more outlets for this kind of thing before I developed a sensitive lower back (no more roller coasters) and a sense of my own mortality (no more thrill rides in general). Lately, I just loves to watch a lot of horror movies.
Yesterday, I went to see Mama, starring Jessica Chastain with black hair (spoiler alert: black hair looks sexy on her) and Nikolaj Coster Waldau, who proves to be just as handsome and intrepid as he is in Game of Thrones, though slightly less incestuous (frowny face). Without giving anything away, Mama is about a dead lady ("Mama"), who connects with her surrogate children via vagina-shaped holes in the wall.
To be fair, these holes are more like animate shadows that sort of breathe and spit moths, and the film itself is very scary. I had bruises afterward from jerking around in my seat and knocking my knees on the cup holders, and spent most of the 100-minute thrill ride with my cheek pressed into my companion's neck. Turns out there's not much creepier or more captivating than feral children skittering around like crabs. By the time we finally see Mama, we understand her -- we feel bad for her -- and empathy will make you less afraid of anybody.
Like Pan's Labyrinth, Mama has a bittersweet and unexpected ending, which you don't often find with horror films. But perhaps my favorite aspect of the movie (aside from the fact that it made me very, very afraid) is that it paints a refreshingly complicated and ultimately poignant portrait of female relationships; the women in Mama are grouchy and loyal and sensitive.
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| Seat 9 bersebelahan dengan amoi cun, hahaha :p |
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| A gift for my bestfriend. How can i send this? *sigh* |
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| A novel that i've been searching for a month :p finally found it and bought it. |
