27 Dresses

Image Courtesy: Google

It’s a great feeling when we watch a movie, read a book or visit a place that is already watched, read or visited by someone beloved. It is magical how we connect without anything tangible or logical, with the idea of getting into touch with the person we respect and love. It is metaphysical and transcending. The story is the same, feeling same, and depth, too; but behind the glottis, the feeling of a lump at the end. I watched a movie, which was suggested by James Patterson, one of my favorite word jugglers—I mean writers—am I getting too much allegorical? Oops!—27 Dresses. I watched it on my computer.

I had this rare opportunity to watch this movie on two consecutive days, like a serial. This, of course, owes to the lack of time to finish the movie on a single day. But on the first day, there was hardly anything in it that impressed me. Time is proportional to will. If I had the will I would have watched it on that same day. I felt that the movie was bleak and boring. Or at least not of my sort, even thought there was a writer character in it who, in similar situations aroused my interest in insurmountable fashion, but the writer here, in this one, visited weddings for the most part and wrote a columns in a news paper, needless to say he is a journalist. Kevin, the journalist in his first conversation with Jane, the female protagonist of the story, had confessed that he is a writer, even though he didn’t belong to that category of people who write books. Still, this statement had significance, because it kept his identity as a journalist covered up from her eyes, which later led to a crucial tension in the story.

I left the movie ride the first day in the middle and kept the rest for another time. The next day evening I came back home exhausted. A snick of the mouse, and I am back in 27 Dresses, though this time just to keep myself alive from exhaustion, since writing seemed difficult and reading equally beyond the energy levels I possessed at the time.

At that moment, what I expected to be a drab turned out to be an interesting movie; may be due to my situation. I observed each of the characters with empathy. Most of them, who seemed living out of reality and lifeless the previous day, all of a sudden appeared true characters, and drew my concern. They lived, hated, loved, ate, drank, separated and met again. And there was a moment, which I won’t tell you, when I felt my eyes wet. Happy Saturday!