polyanna-ish fantasies

Turns out our business idea has been approved. It's hard to contain the excitement, but there's still a few stages left before we get to the mother lode -- fifty thousand freakin' dollars as capital to start out with. Fifty thousand reasons to toil zealously towards pitching our idea in front of a panel of judges. Fifty thousand jumper cables to infuse some motivation into this sad, lackadaisical creature. Fifty thousand steps closer to a permanent vacation in Italy.

And the best thing about it is there are no strings attached. We could take the $50,000 and spend it on handmade, overpriced kitchenware from Lithuania and no one would mind. (Well, anyone in their right mind would but they won't be able to do anything about it!) It would be ours to keep and do with it as we please. *Cue hyper-maniacal laughter and gleaming pearly whites*

Then again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Way ahead, because right now we've only been short listed in the top twenty out of the three hundred entries they received. Which means our business idea is viable, workable, and potentially profitable (music to my ears!). In the next stage, they'll cut the list to ten and then subsequently to the final three. Hopefully, we'll be there (major disappointment if we don't, but we'll probably find other avenues to realize the idea).

Right now, we have to etch out the perfect business plan to seduce the judges and coax the fifty big ones out of them. This involves actual numbers in copious amounts, which I'm really bad at. Stuff like projected revenue, accrual basis, retained earnings, start-up costs, franchise, statement of cash flows, tangible assets, current assets, working capital, balance sheet, revenue recognition, financial statement, matching principle, net income, present value -- you know, the stuff they come up with to complicate everything because everything is not complicated enough as it is.

As well, there is the morality question that won't quit bugging me. For example, is it purely greed that is motivating me to do this? And if so, should I feel guilty about it? Will it have negative repercussions on my state of mind? Should I care? I don't know, but all this crap is making me nervous and I'm not entirely sure why (it's not even that much money to begin with, plus we're splitting it three ways).

So on one hand, I'd be terribly disappointed if we don't get the cash and on the other, I'd feel tremendously guilty if we do. This anxiety, this gut feeling that I don't deserve my share of the spoils and that I won't do anything good with it anyway must surely be my conscience trying to tell me something; I just wish the message was clear. But if I had to decide between the two, would I rather feel tremendously guilty on my way to the bank than be terribly disappointed and broke? Why, a resounding ¥€$, of course! Was there ever any doubt?

PLAYLIST

Main Offender -- The Hives

Hella Good -- No Doubt

Flood -- Jars Of Clay

My Favorite Game -- The Cardigans

This Is A Call -- Foo Fighters

*

do not talk about

"The liberator who destroys my property is fighting to save my spirit. The teacher who clears all possessions from my path will set me free."
--Tyler Durden, Fight Club

painting the swing

Or: "I'm finally doing something productive!"

We have an outdoor swing set on our front lawn, given to us as a gift from my aunt several years ago. It's large enough to seat four small-sized adults (or six children, whichever group came running to it first). It came in dull maroon, which was ghastly but it was a gift so we didn't mind. The last time I painted it with my cousin was three years ago, in metallic silver, because it was beginning to rust and the paint was peeling off. Now it was beginning to rust again.

In part one of our home improvement project, we decided it was time to re-paint it. This time, in white and gold to match the gates. And this time with my sisters. So we bought the paint, the paintbrushes, the thinner and a few chocolate bars (mostly for my little sister) and set out to do what we set out to do. Here's a chronicle of sorts.

day one
Seemed like a nice day to start -- a cloudless, sunny day. We laid out the paraphernalia next to the swing, and decided to paint the ornate parts in gold and everything else in white. I tilted the swing to one side while my sisters inserted newspapers underneath to prevent paint dripping on the carpet grass (suitable for golf, if only the lawn was big enough to accomodate). We did the same on each side, and I told them I was already tired from the heavy lifting and needed a break. No mercy from them, so we proceeded to stir the paint a little to homogenize the color, and we started dipping the paintbrushes... but we hadn't bought gloves! We applied the first coat of white paint, covering almost half of the swing in an hour but covered almost all our hands as well. I started sweating within the first ten minutes because it was so hot in the sun. We thought it was a job well done for a day's work.

day two
My sister found several pairs of old ice-skating gloves in the store room, so we're saved! The hardest part was painting the slats; so many hard to reach places. We went around, under, over, spilling paint all over our clothes in the process. Whew! Not as easy as I thought it was gonna be. And there was still so much to be done. And it was still hot as hell. We thought it'd be better to do it at night the next day. Then it started to rain! All the hard work down the drain.

day three
We resumed the paint job at half past midnight. A lot cooler now, but the humidity was just the same -- I was soaked not long after. Almost done with the white parts, so one of my sisters started with the gold paint. It was starting to look real nice! Had an argument with the little sis (as usual), and she thought white would look good on my shorts. Really funny stuff.

day four
Too lazy. I let my sisters do it instead. Maybe tomorrow.

day five
Yay! It's looking spiffy! The second coat of paint was already dry, so I just touched it up a little. The gold areas were difficult, because now I had to be careful not to paint over the white parts. But there were so many nooks and crannies where they met, I just couldn't resist! I kept a mental note to touch those up when I'm done, but then the inevitable happened. We ran out of gold paint. And it started to rain again. Not having much else to do, we packed it up and considered it done.

So yeah, it's not finished. If this was a murder case, it would be classified under 'unsolved' in the filing cabinet of an FBI agent. If it was a patent awaiting the stamp of approval, it would still be pending. Maybe some other day.

PLAYLIST

California -- Phantom Planet

I'm Looking Through You -- The Beatles

Summer Romance -- Incubus

1985 -- Bowling For Soup

I'm Only Sleeping -- The Vines

palestine

As I'm writing this, they're showing the funeral procession of one Yasser Arafat 'live' on just about every news channel you can think of. The scene is bewildering -- thousands upon thousands of Palestinians have gathered at the Muqataa in Ramallah, chanting praise for their late leader (perhaps the only leader they've ever known), waving flags (Palestinian, Iraqi, Saudi, Syrian, Jordanian, even the Canadian flag can be seen held aloft amidst the swarm of people), firing shots into the air (probably from beyond the compound, as the only ones that can be seen carrying rifles are the soldiers), pulling at the coffin as it makes its way slowly... stopping now, the coffin slanting to one side, almost dropping off the hearse... on its way again.

The soldiers pushing, the crowd pulling... I wonder what those people are thinking. Are they thinking it's time for reflection, a time for peace that has eluded them for so long? Or will their discontent, and their frustration in knowing the only person who stood for their cause is now dead, boil over into violence again?

In a way, it is a microcosm of the peace process there that's almost non-existent. Ever since it stalled four years ago, partly due to the very person they're paying their last respects to, no progress has been made that can be seen as promising. Add in the volatile Palestinian militants and the draconian methods of the Israeli government into the mix, and the future seems even more uncertain, the cycle of violence seeming virtually endless.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly where it all began. Was it when the state of Israel was declared, against the counsel of the United Nations and the British government, before a demarcation between the two was even drawn? Did this trigger the Palestinians' refusal to recognize the state of Israel, inciting the Arab-Israeli war, leading to the guerrilla warfare between the Palestinian factions and the Israeli government that hasn't abated to this day? Was it the prejudice of the Arab nations, their inability to compromise, that led to this? Or was it before any of that happened, when the British government, in its presumptuosness, decided to take matters into its own hands?

Well, that's all semantics now. I believe both sides have been in the wrong, and so both sides have to make it right. It's ironic how the word 'diaspora', once used to describe the Jewish people around the world, can now be used to describe the Palestinians (refugees and second-class citizens even in their own lands); ironic how the belligerence of the Palestinian militants and their sucide bombers have led the Israeli government to respond in kind for the sake of its nation's security.

The state of Israel has the right to exist, and so does the state of Palestine. I'm really hoping they can work together towards that end. After all they've been through, they deserve a happy ending at the very least. Now that Arafat and his legacy have been laid to rest, they should let bygones be bygones, look forward and strive for a brighter future -- one that was promised but never delivered.

In an edition of National Geographic, I read that a hundred years ago the Palestinians and the Jews co-existed side by side as neighbors, sharing celebrations together, and harboring no ill-will towards one another. Wouldn't it be nice to see that again someday?

the incredibles

Gonna catch the latest Disney/Pixar animated feature "The Incredibles" as soon as I get the chance. Is it any surprise I can't wait to see the film? Having been a life-long comic book fan (okay, not really; my first comic book reading experience was at the age of four), nothing beats watching superheroes come to life on the silver screen. I love movies that celebrate comic book culture and this one especially is going to bring the obscure world of comic books to the kids again (those who, for some weird reason, missed out on the Spider-Man and X-Men films).



I find comic books (or graphic novels, as some like to call 'em) to be a great medium for fiction and non-fiction alike. It's a powerful blend of the visual and the written, words and pictures coming together to create magic when it's done right. It should appeal to a subsection of society that enjoy movies and also read books, which should cover just about everyone.

Somehow, though, it doesn't. Maybe because it can be an expensive hobby (and these are economically uncertain times), or because the comic book market is dominated by superheroes (which shouldn't be a problem, actually, as the films I've mentioned above drew audiences from all walks of life -- though the variety of genres like crime noir, sci-fi, romance, drama, comedy, etc. are clearly there if one looks carefully enough), or because they're not widely available (that should change pretty quickly, since bookstores like Barnes & Noble, Borders and Kinokuniya have their own comic book sections these days).



Whatever it is, at least it's regaining popularity again. It'll probably never be restored to its former glory (way back when, comic books sold in the tens of millions every single month), but at least it's part of the mainstream again. It's hip to be square again especially if you're a comic book square like me. If you haven't been bitten by the bug yet (pun intended), go check out a comic book or two from your local library; I'm pretty sure you won't be disappointed.



Anyway, back to film... the trailers are fun, funny and irreverent. Deconstructing the superhero philosophy, with all the strings attached -- like the stereotypical, mad scientist villain for starters, and the multitude of costumes and super powers that will occupy the imagination of comic book geeks like me for hours. I just can't wait; I love being a kid again and "The Incredibles" will definitely bring out the inner child in me.



Sure, they're gonna make fun of the subject (the inanity of the stereotypes is exactly what makes it so fun in the first place), and absolutely no comic book geek will be spared from the cracking humor that permeates such Disney/Pixar releases (nor should they be spared; Lord knows there are quite a number of oddballs in our ilk), but its family values and coolness factor will endear to the hearts and minds of children and adults all over the world, and pretty soon the meek shall inherit the earth and all will be well again.

Alright, then. Gotta go. Might miss dinner tonight on account of saving the world and stuff.

an idle mind

Feeling kinda upbeat.

Not sure why, though. Maybe because the exams are over (for the term, at least) and there's finally time to relax. Maybe because I don't miss the things I've lost as much as I thought I would. Maybe, and here's a thought, things are finally going my way. Who knows, who cares, it probably won't last anyway; someone or something is bound to mess things up for me again. But you should always count your blessings.

Should start writing the songs I've put on hold, read the books I've been meaning to read, spend some time with the people I've neglected, discuss that business idea we had, put pen to paper for that screenplay I was supposed to write, catch a movie, help clean up the house, learn a few songs on my guitar, do something productive.

Though I'll probably be lounging around and doing nothing most of the time. I'm a very lazy person. It's rare to find anyone lazier than yours truly. Just need something to motivate me so I can get off my ass. Fame and fortune might be just the things I need. So if you're reading this, and you have more money than God himself, then drop me a line and we'll work something out.

PLAYLIST

Let's Misbehave -- Elvis Costello

Roses -- Outkast

One Thing -- Finger Eleven

You're The Top -- Cole Porter

I Can't Win -- The Strokes

the interrogator

Is it really that bad?

I prefer to think of myself as a scientist, or a journalist. Seeking out the truth wherever it may be found, understanding the logic behind everything, finding out and verifying, analyzing, testing, dissecting, asking questions along the way. I like to know things, grasp the fundamental ideas, appreciate how the world works and seize the meaning beneath its smoky veneer; every word, every gesture, every nuance, every suggestion or implication or hint; every little thing including the ones that don't concern me (but especially the ones that do).

I am curious. Curiosity may have killed the cat, and will probably kill me one day, but at least it died for a good cause. Having an inquisitive mind, it gives me a sense of satisfaction when I'm able to take something apart (both literally and metaphorically) and figure out every single element, making the sum of the parts all the more intriguing. It's true the more you know, the more you realize that you actually don't know much of anything.

And since Mr. Know-It-All doesn't know it all, I'm constantly searching for answers. I may not ask all the right questions, though, which is something I'm trying to work at. The intention is not to interrogate (as those who know me call my method of questioning), but to learn. As I've said before, I can be disconnected from everything. Living in my own world exacerbates the need to know more about the outside world; isolation leads to the perception that you're the center of the universe (making your fall from grace a lot more painful than it's supposed to be). Keeping your head in the clouds makes you high, but you can no longer walk in a straight line and you're beginning to see things that aren't there.

My refusal to let go might actually be an attempt to cling on to something real, something tangible, to keep my feet on the ground -- a boat lost at sea needs an anchor before it can get its bearings right. I'm no psychiatrist so I don't know for sure (really, I'm just making this stuff up). I do know I need reassurance, and the truth does it better for me than anything else. I just need to be sure, that's all.

To think I've rubbed almost everyone I know the wrong way by questioning everything; best friends, relatives, parents, God, acquaintances, even the kids I teach tuition to -- the other day one of them asked me why I keep asking her "Why?" every time she answers a question, and I told her that it's because she keeps saying the dumbest things (relax, she knew I was kidding so she laughed and took out her .32 Magnum but that's not the issue here).

I may hurt some people along the way, and for that I apologize. I'm pretty sure it was unintentional; sometimes I even forget that communication affects both sides of the equation. I've learned not to open my mouth when it's not needed, but sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me. And at times it makes me wish I was more sensitive to feelings other than my own. Thoughtless words are usually the most trenchant, and I'm guilty as charged. Forever blurting out things that I'll regret later, but I guess that's just me.

PLAYLIST

Foolish Games -- Jewel

Do You Realize? -- The Flaming Lips

You Were Right -- Badly Drawn Boy

Maybe -- N.E.R.D.

The Ballad -- Millencolin

the little things

I'm quite the neurotic when it comes to a lot of things, especially the minor, nitty-gritty details. You could say I tend to appreciate the little things in life in a very big way. In fact, this quibble of mine is a little too much sometimes. It preoccupies the mind a little too much; takes a little too much of my time; I indulge in it a little too much; a little too much of something I don't need. Not just a little bit of an obsessive/compulsive streak runs through me, probably.

One little thing leads to another, like the tiny neurons connecting in every direction all at once, until the brain stalls trying to process this sensory overload and forces the visual cortex to gloss over everything as a defense mechanism or the person risks being immersed in an enraptured stupor every single moment of its waking life.

So in a way, without warning or any conscious effort on my part, I am automatically disconnected from my surroundings. Much like the way your computer stubbornly refuses to allow you access to the Internet when it somehow feels obligated. On these rare occasions, there's little choice except for introspection. A little solitude doesn't hurt, but the problem here is there's just too little of it.

Little things like a fingerprint on the outside of a drinking glass, or a barely-noticeable stain on a piece of clothing, a blemish on the skin, a crease on the cover of a book borrowed from the library, a greasy smudge on a page of one of my comic books, a typographical error on a piece of manuscript, CDs stacked in a messy pile, a waterline mark on the wall, the discolored seats in a bus, a scratch on the face of my watch, a carpet rolled up improperly, a book that won't close completely anymore because it's been opened too wide and too many times, a magazine with dog-eared pages, a speck of dirt on the tiled floor, a question on last week's test that I didn't know the answer to, a coffee mug stain on the study table, books stacked together that are disproportionate in size -- these things bother me to no end. They drive me nuts!

But I also enjoy indulging in the little things. The harmless little things that no one hardly ever notices. Like arranging pillows on the floor when my little sister sleeps on the couch, in case she tosses around too much. Like keeping the pages of the newspaper crisp and in line, and rearranging back the sections in the correct order for my Dad because he likes it that way. Like keeping orange-flavored soda stocked in the fridge because it's my Mom's favorite drink. Like carefully taking off my sister's glasses and putting them on the bedside table when she falls asleep with them on. Like holding onto Grandma's hand longer than you usually do. Like kissing your lover's cheek while she's sleeping so you don't wake her up. Like sharing a pint of Ben & Jerry's with the ones who need it most.

So there's a flip-side (like most things do) in keeping attention to every detail. It's an unhealthy obsession that can consume your every thought; where everything you see has to be arranged a certain way or it becomes displeasing; where nothing is ever satisfying to your eyes. But when you think about it, the good it does -- you can almost imagine the quiet smile on everyone's lips without knowing why it's there -- it's well worth it.

PLAYLIST

Southern Girl -- Incubus

More Life In A Tramp's Vest -- Stereophonics

Born Too Slow -- Crystal Method

Tiny Dancer -- Ben Folds

Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground -- The White Stripes

the afterglow

bush or kerry

You decide.

There's little else to say. I hope the voter turnout is high; there seems to be an indication it's gonna be much higher than in the previous elections. This is good, because all the complaining doesn't change anything if you don't go out and vote. Change is good. Politics is becoming a passion again, especially among the younger voters -- the indifference is still there, no doubt, but it's becoming a rarity. There also seems to be some controversy over absentee and provisional ballots and malfunctioning polling machines. I just hope every vote is counted because that's what really matters.

Preference? What can I say; having a largely liberal outlook on most things I have to go with Kerry. Change is good, especially with the specter of a second term with Bush hanging over our heads (and not just Americans, mind you, but the world over). For every person who agrees with my views there's another person who doesn't, so I won't go into details. Except that I don't think Bush has done a lot of good for the people in America and the world.

As I said, I won't elaborate much -- whether you grant my premise or not only reveals where you stand among the issues in contention. Everyone is biased in some way, especially in politics. I usually reserve my opinions after the fact, and having seen what the Bush administration has done in four years I can't say I have much confidence in him to change things for the better. If anything, it seems almost everything is a lot worse than it was before.

The American economy, the unemployment rate, the deficit, the inalienable rights of the American people, 9-11, the situation in Iraq, the sovereign rights of other nations, Osama bin Laden, homeland security, accountability as President, transparency of government, Iran's nuclear capabilities, health care, foreign policy -- you know, whatever. As far as I can tell, the Bush administration made a mess of these things (and more, at the very least).

That's not to say they haven't done anything right. Afghanistan is almost free from the Taleban, women's rights are finally being established there, the world's largest exporter of opium is being held in check, and they recently held their first ever elections --the first step to self-determination and a democracy-- to choose their own government (although the fact remains that the country is teetering on the edge of oblivion, so there's still a lot more to be done).

Saddam Hussein is in chains, which is a plus (probably the only plus in invading Iraq). I'm adamant the means to that end was wrong and dishonest, and quite reprehensible -- lying to the American public and the world to serve their own agenda, for instance, does little to instill confidence in this government and I don't think it would be out of line to say it borders on being a criminal offence -- but at least we can all let out a sigh of relief that the madman has been rendered inert.

Don't let that sigh out too long, though, now that Iraq is a terrorist playground. A terrible thing to do, letting them fill up the vacuum in Iraq when Saddam's regime was toppled. It shows a lack of vision; fools rushing in where angels fear to tread. The gates were left exposed (because the invading forces were, you know, busy securing the Iraqi Oil Ministry -- the very first building they occupied upon touching Iraqi soil. Which is understandable, you know, they probably needed time to lay down the red carpet for when the Halliburton contingent arrived. Who has time to control the borders, anyway, the country is so freakin' big!) and now all hell is breaking loose, with soldiers and civilians dying by the thousands.

According to latest estimates 100,000 Iraqis have perished. A hundred thousand! Bringing the war on terror there was one thing (terrorists had no place under Saddam's totalitarian rule, and in fact he and Osama were the worst of enemies), but allowing this to happen is just indescribable. More than a thousand American soldiers dead (the worst since Vietnam), and counting. Can you tell what Bush was referring to when he said mission accomplished? I can't.

Well, I thought I wasn't going into details. But then again... Still, whatever the outcome of the elections it's good that more people are deciding for themselves. Whatever the outcome, it's gonna be big and it's gonna be affecting all of us one way or another. It's good to see democracy at work. Every vote counts, and ultimately that's what matters.

PLAYLIST

Hysteria -- Muse

This Fire -- Franz Ferdinand

In Bloom -- Nirvana

All Of Our Hands -- Joseph Arthur

Mosh -- Eminem

tempus fugit

animus fuggedaboudit.

I was supposed to mention 'Before Sunset' in my last overbearing diatribe. The intention was there, the film was still fresh in my mind, and to say that it left quite an indelible impression would be an understatement. But I guess I got carried away with this narcissistic preoccupation with... well, with myself and by then the post was getting nauseatingly protracted and it left me in a foul mood. Next to Charles Dickens, I am an understudy in the school of prolix but I think I'm getting there. Nowhere near as good at it as he ever was, though.

Nevertheless, I went to see the recently-released sequel with the only other person I know, besides yours truly, who loved the first film as much as I did (and who is --in part due to this-- one of my favoritest people in the world). Jun, you know who you are. She didn't like how it ended, and I have to admit it took some adjusting for me as well. It took me approximately 1.0000087 seconds in total, give or take a nanosec. But in the end I fell in love with it just the same.

I might spoil the movie for the hardly here who haven't seen it, so if you're hardly here and if you haven't seen it then it goes without saying that you know what to do. But seriously, you should experience the movie for yourself; it's very much open to intrepretation (you'll know it when you've seen it, stop asking too many questions!).

The original film was... well, very original. It got me hooked from the beginning, because I hadn't seen anything like it before (haven't seen anything like it since, in fact). It blew my mind away. A "romance flick" built almost solely on the intellectual repartee between two young and very talented actors, but also on the emotional frankness of the film. What was left unspoken was just as important as what was said, and this nuance was testament to director Linklater's deft handling of the story and Hawke's and Delpy's acting abilities. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two main characters; both very unassuming and very natural in their own roles. There was no denying they were just being themselves, and this was integrated into the sequel with the actors writing a very large part of their real lives into it. It didn't hurt that the entire movie was shot in Vienna (I've been there only once, and yes it's as beautiful as they say it is).

The ending of the original film really got to me, and in a way reflected a lot of what I was feeling at the time (and what I would feel years later, as well) just as every teenager did at some point in their lives. It ends on a very poignant note, especially when the film takes you back to all the nooks and street corners of the previous night. The camera lingers on every landmark reminding you that they were there for a very brief period of time, but no more. And you just know, when they promise to meet again and when they board the different trains, that it is unlikely they will ever see each other again. It ends with a longing, a yearning for something that is no longer attainable. A sense of nostalgia, of wishing things were back to what they used to be. Very familiar feelings to anyone who has ever fallen in love.

I believe I was fourteen when I first saw it, and back then I was an oversexed kid dealing with the onset of puberty and very addicted to comic books and everything testosterone-filled or -fueled. 'Before Sunrise' must have been something special for me to have stuck around in front of the TV screen; I was riveted the whole time. It was something special, which was why I fell in love with it in the first place.

I guess nothing much has changed about me, except heady puberty has been offset with a certain down-to-earth maturity. Which in a sense is what the sequel is all about. It's amazing how everything falls into place perfectly, including the timing of these films in relation to my life. The premise of the two films is simple, the script brilliant, the story honest, but the timing is just perfect. A concoction of pure magic, some might say. Funny how things work out that way, but enough about me.

Whereas the original dealt with young love and, in some ways, teenage angst (the two are almost interchangeable terms), the sequel revolves around the fallout from such naïveté of youth and the responsibilities and commitments of growing older. The maturity is apparent here, both physically and acting-wise. The attraction between them is more subtle, the words spoken and the physical cues are handled more gracefully compared to the youthful brashness in the first film. Unfettered romanticism versus low-key pragmatism (and indeed the maturity and the almost telepathic understanding between the two leads allow for the ending to be what it is).

Jesse and Celine are no longer who they used to be; not as explosively passionate as they once were, tempered by level-headedness and quite a bit of disenchantment. Their optimism is diminished by a certain world-weariness, but they still cling to remnants of their past and so the changes are not as drastic as they seem to be at first. Emotionally, the sequel comes through as truer than the original. Everything is just as raw when the old wounds are opened again, and the actors shine during these moments of emotional fragility.

In fact, towards the end we can see that Jesse and Celine have hardly changed at all. Their lives are not as care-free and unpredictable as they used to be and there is a tragic aspect to their lives, but they're just as playful and flirtatious as before. The weight of their individual realities did little to change their lightness of being; they were just hiding it from view all this time.

Hence, the laid-back approach to the ending complements the maturity of the sequel because there is no rush -- the teenage angst that gave them so much trouble in the first place, that kept them on their toes and teetering on edge is long gone. It may seem abrupt at first, but I think it works to continue the mystery that the first film had woven. The uncertainty isn't there anymore, but there is just enough mystery to keep the audience captivated long after the movie has ended. The softer, more subtle approach to the ending goes hand in hand with the characters as grown-up adults. They are mellower, more seasoned in some ways and so there is no rush.

Unlike the first film's ending, which was to put it simply a crowd-pleaser in the mushiness scale, here we're given just the right amount of information to know everything there is to know and the sequel ends right where it's supposed to. A happy ending (that is to say, they get back together) is merely hinted at for Jesse and Celine, so if you're the pessimist you'll invariably miss the subtle cues put in throughout the film to point us in the right direction but not show us exactly the destination.

'Waltz For A Night' is the perfect culmination for this mesmerizing film. That must have been the climax. How do I know? Well, I felt the tears swelling up in my eyes (of course I hid it, being a guy and all) listening to the song midway through. An exquisite and gentle song, for an exquisite and gentle film. Equally as good as the original, and could have surpassed it if perhaps the film wasn't so short -- I'm now having withdrawal symptoms. Maybe they should make another.

PLAYLIST

Who Is It -- Bjork

The Past And Pending -- The Shins

Obstacle 1 -- Interpol

Against All Odds -- The Postal Service

Leaving New York -- R.E.M.