Notes on Carol, a new personal classic.

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Yes, I finally did it. I finished a proper (and boy, is it long, but in all honestly, it was never going to be short) piece about Carol. It’s a review of sorts and also a reflection. My love for this film is beyond something that I can articulate without any kind of personal input, its been too much of a moving, revelatory experience for anything else. I attempt to convey in some small way a fraction of the extremely large amount of admiration for and personal resonance I have for this film that is both flawless in design and has utterly captured my heart and mind. My writing on it is far from over, it’s truly one of those films that every time I see it or think about it I come up with something new, something previously undiscovered. That’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? When the wonders of a film are boundless, when it doesn’t diminish upon rewatch, but only get richer, revealing more meaning and just how endless and realistic the world it creates is. There are things about this film that I know, but cannot say yet, and there’s much, much more that is sitting there, yet to be discovered. But for now, regardless, enjoy this small slice that hopefully captures some of the magic and mastery, and get to your nearest cinema to experience it for yourself. I’ll be busy writing another million words on it.

Carol is in cinemas now, and was my favourite film of 2015

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The music swells, the camera pans slowly in. The end is near. You definitely know this, it’s not the first time you’ve seen the film. But that doesn’t change how it feels. You can feel it in your chest. It’s that ache, that knowledge that the dream is nearly over. It makes your eyes sting with tears. It lodges itself deep, feeling like the final moments before a sleep induced fantasy dissolves. You’re begging for it not to be over, for the lights to not come up, to not have to return to reality. You savour the last moments, drinking them in with your eyes, hoping to capture everything in your heart to remember it by until the next time you watch it. You know that you’ll never be successful. You’ll never be able to fully get to the bottom of what makes each viewing of this film such a powerful experience, be able to give full weight to the enormity of your love and admiration for it. Where do you start, and where do you end, when a film is such a perfectly constructed and personal experience from top to bottom, so much so you’re convinced you dreamed it? The right words, that ephemeral combination to describe what’s on screen just go, will always be slightly out of reach, something you’ll frustratingly never be able to achieve.

Read the rest over at This Is Film.

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