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normally, i don't see life mirrored through the cathode ray tube. hell, most people prefer unfulfilled sex, gunplay and explosions to reality, anyway. but, there'll come the occasional package of mood, story and harsh reality... in particular, *SixFeetUnder*. it's one of the reasons i bit the moldy-rerun bullet that *HBO* used to be, and subscribed. fucked up lives onscreen. unromanticised. uncomfortable. fallible. plausible. occasionally, transcendent. and then, the character that you see the most of yourself in... expires. the end. some sage on a forum invoked the name of FlanneryO'Connor (of whose prose i have no knowledge), summing up the plot in thirteen words: "just when you figure out what you have been looking for--you're dead." spot on. but, i think it's probably even more tragic to never have figured it out, at all. to have that one moment of clarity, purpose, satisfaction... like the sun coming out through thunderheads... ...yeah, it would be worth it. |
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