Hold Me and Never Let Me Go

A year ago, I was given a copy of Never Let Me Go in my SD card. It features Andrew Garfield, Keira Knightley, and Carey Mulligan. A cast of that power adapting a book by one of Britain's premier authors, Kazuo Ishiguro, could only perhaps make for a good film. So I hurried up home to watch the movie on my SD card and realized all too late that I've left it plugged on my friend's laptop.

Sadly, I never got to watch the film until last week. The film in itself is a bit drab, so to speak. The acting was good, but the storytelling was a bit too quiet for my own liking. It was like watching a sheep unravel wool. I don't exactly know what that means, but it was just too quiet, with pinches of emotions here and there. It was a tragedy and a silent type. As for the book, I haven't read it yet. I have had trouble looking for a copy to the point that I altogether got disinterested; and when I at last saw it again, I couldn't bare sparing money for it. But I digress. What the movie gave me is something.

It may not be altogether powerful to be basking in glory as with say The Wrestler or Drive or The Black Swan, but it was powerful as it was gentle. It brought me to tears, actually. Especially in the end when Mulligan was delivering her last lines as she stood on a field and imagining that her dead lover would eventually appear out of the horizon and be waving to her, or any figure she could actually displace as him. But none came, and all she had was tears and the wind. It was in here that she said that she was fortunate enough to have had any time with her lover and that she was thankful for it even if it felt like she never had enough time.

What I realized is that in life, we would always feel like we've had not enough time with the ones we choose to love: family, friends, lovers, etc. There would be things we would never be able to say, or acts we would not have been able to perform: a simple compliment, a brush of a hand, a hug for when they're sad. Things, simple or otherwise. But what the movie gave me is gratitude or the idea of being grateful for whatever time I've had with everyone I chose to love. Be it short or long: the ones I've loved and couldn't keep, and the ones who chose to walk a path opposite of mine. They've all contributed to what I am right now and the time I've spent with them is something that cannot be stolen.