 | My requests for a "light movie, something not too heavy" were disregarded and thus, about a year and a half after it's debut in theaters, I sit down and watch Cold Mountain. Preface: I've always inexplicably felt more tied to a place the farther away I am from it. Thus I found myself reacting strongly to the images of a Civil War South in ruins. I was, in short, mesmerized by a depiction of the South that I've never heard spoken but been made to feel and recognize as true. Does this make sense? |
I can't begin to explain how or why the Civil War has affected current Southern lives and its history, but it has. The movie seemed to point at the frustration that the people felt, the hopelessness in fighting for their lost cause, and the Southern pride that still thickens our speech. You can't help but grate your teeth at their fight for slavery, but their fight to hang onto their way of life, their culture, was both admirable and agonizing. You recognize easily the futility of it all: how to separate these two ideals without destroying them both?
I'm meandering. The main point is that this movie was beautiful, but in the way that a cold mountain is beautiful: icy, bitter, and with a view that stretches on for ages.
But there's no way I'm watching this movie again for a while.
