About feeling empty...

Being that it’s been a few weeks since we’ve watched “The Empties”, I find myself trying to recall the events that stuck out most to me. I remember the story line, the marriage, the tic, the unhappy relationship, the train, and the bottle machine. I remember the symbolism in it all, too. However, what my mind keeps reaching for is the end.

The final scene: that typical, majestic scene with the balloon ride above the water, the catastrophe of the sinking basket as the balloon loses helium, and then it’s miraculous inflation as the husband strikes a match to rekindle the flame. As the couple floats back up into the clouds the wife grasps onto his shoulder as they float on and land safely, but firmly onto the green field where the two still hold each other so closely in the basket of the balloon. Fade screen.

Sigh.

You can cry- weep, for that matter! Wish your life could be just like it. Feel the symbolism of the whole thing whisk you away, and realize that life is like that balloon and love is what keeps us together.

Lame.

Okay, so for the movie’s sake, it was well done and the symbolism really did a great job of embellishing the strife of feeling trapped or stifled by a monotonous life. But seriously, that end scene- I wish they had died in each others arms in the basket.

You can call me cynical, but if the movie was going to make a lasting point with its sudden fade out sans any last words, there shouldn’t be any question about the rest of their lives. Because without something tragic or extravagant in the end, it was just… sappy. The filmmaker obviously wanted us to reflect on their struggle for love, this incident of dealing with a loss of control, and then let the viewer make up their own mind about what happens in their future after they have shared this common experience of fear, doubt, and uneasiness together. But, honestly, it’s just another relationship feeing the strain of sharing a life with someone, and the difficulty of avoiding the infamous “rut” we may fall prey too as we get older; no one wants to be inauthentic, and that concept is nothing new. If the rest of this couple’s life was more satisfactory after this scene, then it almost makes me wish I had a way to manipulate some kind of situation like this in my next relationship so that I know we’ll have a similar outlook on the curveballs in life we have coming at us in the near and distant future.

At any rate, I don’t want to say I don’t like moving films, nor do I want to become to consumed by too much cynicism (of course, a little is always healthy), so I will say that the movie was well written; it played the heart strings of the human soul. It had quirky scenes of the husband lusting after beautiful young women in his dreams, scenes of true bonds made between the husband and his customers, disappointment for him when the bottle machine replaced his manual work, and mishaps that wouldn’t let you forget that he was aging and I almost felt trapped in there with him (think of the plastic tea kettle incident). After all, who doesn’t want to feel safe in someone’s arms, to find a true companion to share life with, to feel independent but enveloped by love? You can act it out, you can write about it, sing songs, or begin pilgrimages of the soul to find it. It’s still just a worldwide, timeless inquiry.

So, my conclusions: In the end all we can really do, in the words of Biggie Smalls, is “Spread love, it’s the Brooklyn way”. *

*Please note, my affinity for Biggie and his understanding of Brooklyn love. Even if it is continuing the trend, he's just tellin' it like it is.