I watched Good Will Hunting last night and now I simply can’t stop thinking about it. It’s a minor obsession that will eventually fade away ( I suffer from those from time to time. They’re quite random. Oh and they also add unnecessary melancholy and drama into my life, a marvellous hobby to cultivate by the way.), but now it’s at its peaky and I am suffering, so I need to share.
Damn, what a beautiful script. I’m such a sucker for well written dramas that are meant to make you cry and ponder about your own life and dreams. It’s all very existential crises. And then there’s Robin Williams with those sad eyes and soft voice, saying the right things, being the mentor you never had but so wish you did. The story is, after all, about love. And isn’t everything in life about love? It’s everywhere you look and we’re all looking for it. It’s in every love song ever written and it’s in every book I’ve ever read, and it never gets old or predictable, because it’s love and it’s too complex and complicated to be properly put into words.
I first watched the movie years ago when I was just a kid, and although I’m sure loved it back then, I don’t think I quite understood what the whole thing was all about. After all what the hell did I know about love at 14?(or whatever age I was, can’t remember). Now this time around things were different and being the love expert that I am (ha!) I was screaming at the screen THIS IS IT!! multiple times but there’s one specific scene that got me: Matt Damon’s character is having a therapy session and he’s talking about this girl he just met; how she’s absolutely perfect, so he won’t call her up and end up finding out that she’s actually not that perfect; and that he is not that perfect himself, so he’d rather keep the illusion of what could be. Then Robin Williams just simply goes off script and improvises the funniest moment (by the way, you have to watch the scene. It’s on youtube) and follows up with this beautiful monologue:
“…little things like that. Ah, but those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That’s what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me too. She knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they’re not. Aw, that’s the good stuff. And then we get too choose who we let in to our weird little worlds. You’re not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense, this girl you met, she isn’t perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you’re perfect for each other. That’s the whole deal. That’s what intimacy is all about. Now, you can know everything in the world, sport, but the only way of finding out that one is by giving it a shot”.
We all experience love in different ways, but isn’t this the essence of love? Love is maddening, passionate, exciting, enchanting, tragic and wonderful, but in the long run I guess love becomes more a tiny bit about endurance than enthusiasm, more about stamina than intensity, more about consistency than passion. More about imperfections that predictable, boring perfections.