Wiktionary gives the idiom two meanings: to leave somewhere for another place and to start dealing with something else. Again and again after tragedies far greater than break-ups, we hear the injunction by officials. Only ten days after the Sandy Hook Shootings, on Dec.
I would certainly not be the first person to say that as we lose our language, we lose our capacity to feel, which by extension is the capacity for the purest of emotions—compassion. That's why it's easy for us to get a gun and shoot each other, we don't feel for each other The two words have come to be a cudgel with various engravings and escutcheons on the handle, holding various resonances and connotative meanings like: grow up, don't investigate the issue further, there is no room for discussion, this is a no-reflection zone, and if you need to talk, go see a therapist.
Yet, the way many people better themselves therapy is such a remote event from our everyday lives and something done in private, out of view—necessarily so , anything resembling it has no room on the national stage. This idiom is trotted out in many break-ups, as often one or sometimes, inexplicably, both people will refuse to say any more after a certain point whether out of fear, grief, revenge, sanctimony, or an impulse to follow the lead of our paltry politicians, officials, and other negligible people who have greased and wound their way to a title.
Telling someone to move on isn't only an embarrassment to our supposed democratic souls, it's a flip of the finger to the culture and its capacity to feel and demonstrate the empathy that the Greeks and Shakespeare, among others, helped to create. A repression, it says. Don't learn. Don't emote. Love's not love that's not vulnerable —that's the line of a fine-toothed poem I pondered at an age when I tried to define the emotion, the same age as all the principals in the film.
Perhaps, I am not the best epigone of cultural critique when tallying the effects of the phrase move on , since some years ago it stung me. I'd become suspended in a ping-pong relationship that would break up and then quickly adhere like a snowbank in a blizzard.
I thought I'd wanted out, but I had nothing to catch as I fell away from the relationship, lacking a place to stay, and desperation fueled my days. Were we to continue, I said to her on our last day, could we stand a chance? I think you should move on , my former love replied, knowing as I didn't that she'd found a new man, and as the furies would have it, he happened to be a friend of mine for the past year and a half, and very privy to all our quandaries.
In any case, the directive haunted. The end of intimacy is the end of language. What should I do with my meagre two syllables? Move on. How is such an injunction to be taken?
Mind you, this was not a cop; she was a third-year surgery resident, but it sure felt like a cop's bark, though granted, the fearful preamble— I think you should— would have no store in police vocabulary.
Surely, she told me to move on because she had, and also the idiom was a slurring Swedish for, We're not going to get back together, though we have so often—even after I was convinced it would never work out and I took you into my body and said, I love you. Yes, well—no, not even after that.
Again, think being the operative word. Did she care what I thought or was it, like, more a unilateral thing? Like the scene with the close-ups of Lou demonstrate, when we break-up we truly begin to pay attention to language and individual words, and hence how we treat one another, because finally, our language colors our memories even if they are wordless moments.
We talk to ourselves about our pasts in absolute privacy. Our language is the only arbiter that can make peace between us, our spirits, and our minds. It points the way like lights on an airstrip, however bitter or sour the remembrances. It must be said that no break-up of a relationship taking a significant amount of time or intensity is the end of anything. It stays with one for a while, sometimes years and sometimes all remaining years.
Move on truly means, I or my organization have no way of having a discourse for whatever reason: fear, anger, loss, and thus, won't be engaging. And there the door closes. As in the above lines from Take This Waltz , there is no possibility to speak what we feel, and shockingly, to even not speak what we ought to say.
Margot or Lou gain no closure, even a year later, and the last thing Lou says is a stab at the one-upmanship of their old love threats. Who can know why it's so hard to communicate? This new language sickness was born sometime in the last twenty to twenty-five years, beginning with the rise of cable television and all those channels and with communication further eroding by the Internet and phones, there is more of everything, while there's less talk, less sharing, less intimacy.
So it must come back to how we talk to each other. Relationships are a nettling and funny business. The young get hamstrung over them because they want to be grown up—they are worried about their places in the world, even if they don't always known what the world is. The old treat relationships with a casual wave of a hand—if they've survived long enough with someone, they've become inured to what makes their lastingness last, and those alone, who've been through the cycle or cycles, often enjoy, on some level, their solitude, with their house kept in order by no one but them.
It is the most difficult fantasy because of the we involved. Yeats wrote a poem in It's short, it's sharp, and it shocks because it takes a few readings to unfurl it. It can't be pointed to a in resume, only alluded to in the after-hours of new love, when we trust enough to confess, enough to know we may have a better handle.
Rightly, this is the poem that would encapsulate the meeting of Margot and Lou or us with whomever we choose years on. This is what they will have to say, happily or not. They will have the conversation they couldn't and wouldn't have had in their early thirties.
There is a long silence for her in the cooking scene stretching to the circus scene. There are no words spoken. Her search begins and in the beginning there are a number of false starts—the mixed emotions overcoming Margot in the tilt-a-whirl.
She isn't moving on. Please sign up to add a new comment. Notebook is a daily, international film publication. Our mission is to guide film lovers searching, lost or adrift in an overwhelming sea of content. We offer text, images, sounds and video as critical maps, passways and illuminations to the worlds of contemporary and classic film.
Notebook is a MUBI publication. Contact If you're interested in contributing to Notebook, please see our pitching guidelines. The result is frustrating as only good movies can be frustrating: there's just enough that is true and brutal, with just enough nonsense getting in the way, that you can never decide if it's a flawed masterpiece or a generally unsuccessful work that keeps getting lucky.
Polley and cinematographer Luc Montpellier don't help matters out with a visual palette that leans much too heavily on the sun-kissed and the over-saturated, resulting in a film that always looks slightly garish in a way that the material can't support; and while everyone in the cast is frequently great, Williams especially is visibly not challenging herself this is so similar to, and so much less impressive than, her work in Blue Valentine , it's absurd , and Rogen frequently relaxes back to a more subdued version of his "I'm a dude" shtick, and Kirby frequently doesn't allow himself to reveal anything internal about Dan at all, just letting him be a tabula rasa for Margot.
The characters, then, are not as well-defined as they could be; this fits in with the theme somewhat it is a film about unformed people , but it's also a bit sloppy. And then, on the other hand, we have things like the final shot, which is flawless, or the use of a lighthouse motif that evolves wonderfully over the course of the film.
There's a hell of a movie in here, all right; I just wish Polley had spent a bit more time hunting for it. Categories: canadian cinema , domestic dramas , indies and pseudo-indies , love stories. Texas Chainsaw 3D View on Twitter. Alternate Ending Alternate Ending was formed when three friends realized they all shared a passion for movies. Our goal is to save you time and money by sharing our thoughts and recommendations on which movies to race to theaters for, which to watch at home and those to actively avoid.
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It's a place that believes that every great movie is a wonderful new treasure, whether you see it the night of its premiere or fifty years later. Learn more. What is the intended meaning behind the ending of Take This Waltz? Ask Question. Asked 2 years, 5 months ago. Active 2 years, 5 months ago. Viewed 2k times. Improve this question. Charles Even characters in your imagination talks to you.
I'm new to this but it was made clear to me that we must contribute to an accurate answer. Your comment is neither here nor there - have you seen the film, because it is very clear throughout, that every scene carries a heavy metaphorical purpose.
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