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.