Last Night

September 26, 2013

What does the Last Night portend to? Surely, a thing of the past. Something that is presenting an impression of superiority to the present? Perhaps.


Yet what is going so wrong with the main character’s wedding vows? Why are the wedding bands cracking? Where is the straining pressure coming from? Boredom? Or worse: doubt.


Uncertainty is a guarantee of life. Indeed it makes life worth living. To be presented with freedom is to be presented with choices that cannot coincide. Choosing the best choice is never certain. The certainties in life are in fact the dullest thing imaginable. No one anticipates in jubilee a routine Monday morning. Thus, the entire foundation of the hero is laid down, enabling the monument to man’s celebration of his control of his fate toward his maximal being found in the soul of every culture.


Do the characters who doubt the choice they made as being the best for themselves actually openly consider the reasons why they feel the way they do? What is it about their past that makes it so much more enjoyable?


Hindsight is said to be perfectly visible. Yet it also is shaped like the head of Medusa, freezing those who charm themselves into a nonsensical imagined world distant than the one they inhabit. It is that distance which is so soothing to the restless soul who seeks to be comforted with something that feels so much better and determined, even though it has the slightest chance of breathing the same air as what will whisk the face of the dreamer tomorrow.


Clearly these two characters are agitated about their future lives together. One has abandoned it altogether. Last Night does not ask what went wrong, or what causes the beginning of the end, but why do people put themselves into these kinds of situations?


Deeply scratched is a common answer in this age, and that is living a predetermined lifestyle over a self-examined one. Riding inertia because it is safe to do so as it lands one in a well-to-do one bedroom in a top global city and with an attractive spouse’s waist you can rest your arm around, versus risking oneself over the abyss of nothingness with the possibility of enduring torment and immobility in exchange for only death’s grateful smile, makes the logic childish. And yet amazingly we can see the natural organism that man is, no matter how far above the trees he builds his habitat. Underlying every waking day is life; underlying every chore there is the energy that moved him to where he is, to where he will be, and most importantly the galvanic charge that drove him to feeling an unusual anxiety and uneasiness about comfort and decadency. The animal spirit, that dynamic force that frightens those who do not harness it, drips into the storylines of every decadent chic destiny sooner or later.

Grade: B



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