waiting a million years, just for us.

Excuse me while I fall asleep and dream about Australian babes disappearing into eternal bliss...

I've learned to accept and love the ambiguity some movies force us to interpret on our own. This actually use to bother me quite a lot, back when I was a Hollywood-driven movie-goer who desperately required concrete characters, concrete emotions, a beginning, a middle, and a reasonable end.. to every movie. Picnic At Hanging Rock seems to capture the opposite of all of these things, with the addition of being beautiful in cinematography on its own. This movie seems to draw two separate, very distinct crowds: those who are either in love with the soft creepiness and abstract detailing of events, or those who are livid with the boring tale they watch and see no more than pretty pictures and an unsatisfactory story line. It's almost a bit funny how drastic these two ends of the spectrum coexist from each other. PAHR is a movie I'd probably love a lot more if I'd seen it BEFORE Virgin Suicides, and I hate saying that because it's just so great. But I can't seem to pull myself away from how much these two films relate to one another. Obviously, PAHR is a lot more poetic and Virgin Suicides can be a lot more symbolic. Either way, I've been drawing inspiration lately from  PAHR, not only from the visuals and eerie vibes its haunted me with, but with this soft understanding and ambiguous way of interpreting supernatural occurrences I've categorized in my life.

"What we see and what we seem are but a dream, a dream within a dream."