A Wish for Less
I miss subtlety. I miss allusion, hints, intimation and mere suggestions.
This is not a moment of wistfulness that is unfamiliar to me, but what brought about this latest attack of longing for a light touch was watching the trailer for Let Me In, the American version of Let The Right One In. The Swedish original is so perfect that I did for a while rant about the ridiculousness of Hollywood always having to remake something that's already good, just because there might be subtitles involved (don't even get me started on The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series). And I wasn't alone - criticism about this boneheaded move abounded, until Let Me In came out and several critics whose opinion I trust retracted their rants. Sure, they still thought the first one was perfection, but said that the American version had, for once, respected the original and although reinterpreted it slightly, retained all its beauty, innocence and creepiness.
Admittedly, I'm not sure creepiness is the right word to describe that movie, but it'll do for now.
So… sure. I adored the original to the point where I want to own it, but given the unanimous thumbs-up decided I wanted to see it, too. Very conveniently, its trailer appeared on the recent rental and this is where I get to today's point.
Because having watched the trailer, I no longer need to watch the movie. It's been a trend for while then trailers pretty much tell you the entire story and Let Me In is no exception. Having watched the original, I can reliably tell you that everything, except potentially the very end, is in the trailer. There will be no suspense going into the movie, there will be no delicious jolts, no moments of catching your breath with the unexpected quiet tenderness, no unfolding of discovery that is part of the joy of watching a movie and especially this one.
Why must trailers now contain the whole movie? Not only that, they often also give away all the best parts and whereas I have no problems with a trailer giving me a taste of what's to come - an appetizer, if you will - do not feed me the entire movie in a minute and a half. This isn't fast food, people, it's a meal at a restaurant!
Which naturally brings me to perfume. Logical, innit? Bear with me, it will be in a moment. Because there, too, all subtlety is lost. Back in the days where I wore perfume - which I don't do anymore because of the asthma and yes, I know that using the phrase back in the days makes me sound as if I'm 90 - you dabbed a little on a pulse point or two as part of your toilette and moved on with your day. People had to get really close to you to know what you smelled like - you wore the perfume, it didn't know wear you. Now? Now it is apparently de rigueur to bathe in it so it enters a room a good couple minutes before you do and stinks it up for long time after you leave. Add that that more and more people seem to be perfectly comfortable applying it in hallways, lobbies and elevators, inflicting their scent even more on the rest of us. And I don't get why you'd want to bring your perfume with you in your purse, because if you wear that much of it, it's not like you need to reapply throughout the day.
Why must everything be so obvious? For pity’sake, leave something to the imagination!