Kurt Wimmer
Equilibrium

Imagine:

A dull, flat world where the heart beats only to survive. They have decided that in order to protect humans from self-caused extinction (hate, wars), emotions must be abolished. Everything that creates them is banned: music, art, books, beauty, colors, even windows are blurred so as not to see the landscape. Every day is the same as the other, like soldiers, you march to work and are obliged to inject yourself with a serum, prozium, that wipes out all sorts of emotions. In the cities, at home, all around echoes the voice of the Father centrifuging the brain, sending the same message repeatedly, day and night, always.

And you, called "rebel," live hidden fighting such madness and your refuge is filled with what you managed to save from the cleansing fires, every little object is for you an immense treasure. But if you are discovered, the penalty is death and the immediate destruction of everything. Cleansed, as they say, dying burned.

But even if at times you feel discouraged, it is by being moved while reading a book, getting chills listening to a song, or losing yourself in the immense beauty of a painting that you find the strength, the conviction that it is worth living confined, always alert, even losing your own life. You realize that living like them is already being dead.

A film that leaves much, that makes you appreciate our freedom and the wonderful little things that escape us because we are used to having them.

I won't talk too much about the plot to avoid spoiling the enjoyment, you may also disagree with me, perhaps some of you have already watched it and remained indifferent, but even if one person at the end of the viewing thought: "truly beautiful," I will have found one more person pleased by the production of this film.

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly
Because you tread on my dreams."

- William Butler Yeats-