Seven Pounds

My friend Nicolas gave us an old dvd and video player. That was a while ago now. Time passes, and he asks if he can have them back. 'of course' I say.

He tells me he's coming round, but he's watching seven pounds. Tells me its hard going.

I didn't really think much about that comment and carried on with the day.

Last night was the first time Seb and I have been able to watch tv without me needing to be in here researching an essay, some time to actually disengage university. Seb got an old x-box off the net and fiddled round with it so we can store movies in it to watch. He tells me I can pick one while he goes off for a smoke and snacks.

I scrolled through the menu and stopped at Seven Pounds. Didn't even know we had it, vaguely recalled that Will Smith was in it.

Sometimes, when you watch a film, it sneaks up behind you and bashes you in the head with a metaphorical piece of lumber. It was clear from the outset that seven pounds was going to be sad, but I didn't count on it tearing out my heart and dumping it in my lap.

It is hard not to be moved by the terrible terrible cruelty of irony. It is doubly harder when a movie is about suicide, and sacrfice, and change, and loss. Especially when suicide has been part of your consiousness.

I was distraught enough to continue crying, and I don't mean teary eyed, I mean full blown ugly faced sobbing for a good 30 minutes after it was done. Its not often a movie does that. I think it was all just abit too close to home, and even in my absolute resolution I was not really prepared to be slapped in the face by a reawakening of my grief.

But still, you should watch this film.