•
Rating: I have always had an unbridled passion for surfing, I still have it inside me. I have never practiced it. I have dreamed and fantasized a lot, like someone who has never seen the sea but feels the call of the wave.
I was about to buy myself a board and sleep next to it, but I settled for an antique Buchara hoping it was a flying carpet. I substituted beach volleyball for surfing with excellent results, but the wave has always remained in front of me. Doing the "tube" is my amniotic hypnosis, my yearning.
I have consumed I don't know how many films on the subject, Milius the "Viking" is on the crest. Kitano's film is inside the crest, Kitano’s film is a point break that shatters ego stabilizers and sweeps them away, without the need to rob banks.
I've been sleeping with Hokusai's wave painting above my bed for decades now. I find myself thinking about the cold ocean, I've never worn a wetsuit. A Scorpion Bay of sought-after suicides foams transcendence in the exaltation of conquered balance that sends back the childish seduction and caresses the shark.
I use wax to polish shoes and the floor, I launch myself into a slide from one wall to the other of the room. My style is impeccable. The characters in front of Kitano's sea disintegrate me, the bland sound of lazy waves is the soundtrack of eternity, the hypnosis provoked is tangible.
The first collaboration with Joe Hisaishi determines a music sometimes à la Satie that completes the state of existential bewilderment. My ears stick out like Takako's, how can you not love her? The colleague street cleaner when holding the trophy won by Shigeru is the happiest man on earth.
The unexpected tragedy is only a dream of reality, everything remains harmonious in the final array of everyone's smiles, everyone's victory.
The human comedy is no longer a representation, Takeshi captures the essence by not telling and lets the "everything happens" flow without considerations, it's up to us to get impregnated by this stardust and seek an osmosis with Silver Surfer, in spite of the polluted sea of Yokosura. It requires faith.
The feelings shown are not abstraction, they are purity: I cried, so emotionally strong was the vision. Expressing things with simplicity is the most difficult thing, the haiku of the original title has this magic: "That Summer, the Calmest Sea".
I love you, bastard of a Kitano, who's going to peel me an orange?
Loading comments slowly
