Babe on Film: Rust and Bone

Someone left a French-language only copy of “Rust and Bone” on the floor of my foyer and for some reason I fucking watched it and now I’m overcome.


You fall into her eyes and then watch everything fall the hell apart.  I don’t care about the bittersweet, true to life ending with its tenuous hope.  I just care about the utter devastation I watched for hours beforehand.  And there she is, looking more like an actual human being than her usual ethereal, slow-blinking cosmic being.

I often watch movies in an array of fucked up states – drunk, stoned, sleeping, bored – but basically, this movie fucked ME up.   Vulnerability was not the right state of mind to approach this with.  I can’t even think about “Rust and Bone” anymore.  The Oscars must feel the same way,  there’s really no other reason why Marion won’t have a second trophy this weekend.  That or they didn’t understand the French.

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