Weekend crept up
on me. I went into the movie not expecting much—although I am a fan of romance,
I had never found a gay romance I could truly connect with, probably because I
was unable to easily see myself paralleled in the films, which, admittedly, is
important for me when considering romance. And the beginning Weekend didn’t do much for me—I didn’t
really like Russell, the protagonist, and I felt the cinematography was trying
too hard with it’s shallow depth-of-field and reliance on mirrors to depict the
divisive life of the modern gay man. However, as the movie progressed, I found
myself forgetting my dislikes. In Russell and Glen’s short-lived, weekend-long
love story I found more depth in the character of Russell; realized that the
quiet, watchful shot-composition brought us–the viewers–into a closer
relationship with the characters, as if we were leaning in and they were
whispering to us; and realized that Weekend
was not a gay love story, it was a love story. Well written, beautifully shot,
truthfully acted, and—most importantly—emotionally pure, Weekend depicts love as what is should be: blind and un-ruled by
the backwardness of society.
This poignant, truthful and soft-spoken approach to this
sojournant love story bears resemblance to Lost
in Translation, which is high praise indeed, especially as Weekend defies being merely imitative
and branches out into new ground in it’s refreshing and truthful approach to
love. Weekend is a movie that
deserves to be seen.
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