I should never have mentioned the emaciated one and the hairy extension yesterday, Jesus, I wouldn’t mind but I even avoided tempting fate by saying that for the past couple of times Cunt has been away to visit the symptom of his lack of responsibility, it’s been for at least a month.
No such fucking luck, when I got home last night there he was, with ‘family’. I suppose the only silver lining in all this is that he’ll be forced into a regime of having to go to bed and get up like the rest of normal society -don’t get me wrong here I’ve no objection to people sleeping all day and getting fucked up all night (all be it on Carling, the fucking fairy) so long as they rock stars of a certain calibre and/or lotharios with at least one good book under their belts and more in the grey matter- and I’ll not be disturbed all night by his twatterings
Last night, then, it was surprisingly quiet save the occasional sound of an infant berk. Myfwt arrived home from work and took a bath while I prepared dinner, a from-scratch stir-fry with toasted tofu which was a lot more delicious than it sounds. Myfwt popped off to bed early as she was knacked but I stayed up to watch Open Water.
I’d seen it before but for some reason second time round was much more poignant. Apparently the film is based upon an Australian couple, Tom and Eileen Lonergan, who in 1998 were left stranded in the fucking sea following a scuba diving trip. As the film unravels we’re privy to the couples relationship, they’re a likeable pair and easy on the eye (she’s got a cracking pair of tits, incidentally) but even during the pre water scenes there are metaphors of the fate that awaits them, some more subtle than others; the swatting of a fly in the hotel room, a scene where one waits for other to spit toothpaste before doing the same thing. It’s gorgeously constructed.
By the time we’re introduced to two bobbing heads in the ocean I was so sympathetic to the awfulness of their plight I moaned ‘oh no’ loud enough to disturb the sleeping person next door. The feeling of isolation and the most unbelievable vastness of, well, open water, is only offset by the swarming predators in the depths below, occasionally the camera allows us to peak under the rolling blue waves, it’s physically shuddering awfulness. Obviously all that is imposed upon the couple is pure conjecture, no one knows the fate of Tom and Eileen save the fact that neither were found, though some equipment was eventually retrieved, but the script is a triumph on its own conveying the chop logic and psychology of two people who at some point are very sure they’re not going to make it. At one point the director cruelly shows us footage of people enjoying their holiday before cutting back to the silent ocean, towards the end we’re even shown the beginnings of a rescue attempt but the director mercilessly places us right back in the blue water. The film closes with one of the pair discreetly bleeding to death before she unclips her diving equipment slips under the waves, primarily to avoid being eaten alive by the now grinning sharks.
The reason I’m mentioning this here (and not on WWM, link right) is that the bastard film really got to me and caused me to have bloody nightmares about sea creatures. I went to sleep imagining being stranded in the ocean and got close to actually how I’d feel if I were in that position. It was dreadful, I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it and subsequently I’m exhausted today.
Dirty little secret, I like this…