It's getting kind of hard to believe things are going to get better that I haven't mentioned La vita è bella here yet. I mean, it's been ages since I watched the 1997 Italian movie. Like, months. Or weeks at least. It was earlier this summer. Early summer, I think. And yet, I haven't written about it yet.
Well, that changes now. I will say something. I will say that I can't discuss the movie. I just can't. It's too much. All I can barely do is mention one scene, or rather, the scene that absolutely broke me.
At approximately 1:41:49, the protagonist realizes that he's looking at his son for the last time. But to show any appropriate emotion would break the spell, cause the boy to come out of his hiding place, and get him killed as well. To save his son's life, he cannot show the slightest hint of what he feels in that moment. So he puts aside his fears and the realization of the gravity of his fate and puts on one last show. Because that's what it means to be a father: your thoughts and emotions and fears mean absolutely nothing with respect to the life of your child.
The film is a flawless masterpiece. It is, in every way, perfect. I can't watch it again.
The look on the protagonist's face at the moment of the realization has still to stop haunting me.
