phoenix
New member
The purpose of this thread is not to give a critical review of the film I am about to use an example-OmegaFenix has already done a fine job of that in his thread.
The Magic of the Movies: for some it is more real than others.
I watched X-Men:First Class this afternoon. I walked out feeling as if I were a different person-at least as far as my state of mind is concerned. Let me describe how it feels:
At first, I feel detached. I am calm and unhurried as I walk through the weekend shopping centre bustle. Though I am aware of my environment, sometimes acutely so, it feels vaguely alien to me. I think of the illusory solidity of the floor I walk on, hold in my mind's eye the way the muscles of those I walk amongst tug against their bones, osseous girders that act as levers....I walk into a nearby book shop and, approaching my favourite section, am in awe of the knowledge on display, and of the ideas propounded by the authors of the books. I must sample that knowledge.
Things seem clearer to me. Decisions flow. Priorities fall into place. I feel closer to understanding what I need and what I can discard and to what it is that I must do. My world makes more sense. I barely notice the walk back home as I observe the world around, enjoy the local differences in air pressure and touch the bark of trees.
I know that this effect is brought about by temporary neurochemical changes in my brain, and may have something to do with being mesmerised by what I see and hear before a giant screen in a darkened room.
It doesn't matter.
As long as it lasts, I shall enjoy this nimbus of serenity. I shall try to keep a record of the thought that I have, and I shall try to find that elusive change.
The Magic of the Movies: for some it is more real than others.
I watched X-Men:First Class this afternoon. I walked out feeling as if I were a different person-at least as far as my state of mind is concerned. Let me describe how it feels:
At first, I feel detached. I am calm and unhurried as I walk through the weekend shopping centre bustle. Though I am aware of my environment, sometimes acutely so, it feels vaguely alien to me. I think of the illusory solidity of the floor I walk on, hold in my mind's eye the way the muscles of those I walk amongst tug against their bones, osseous girders that act as levers....I walk into a nearby book shop and, approaching my favourite section, am in awe of the knowledge on display, and of the ideas propounded by the authors of the books. I must sample that knowledge.
Things seem clearer to me. Decisions flow. Priorities fall into place. I feel closer to understanding what I need and what I can discard and to what it is that I must do. My world makes more sense. I barely notice the walk back home as I observe the world around, enjoy the local differences in air pressure and touch the bark of trees.
I know that this effect is brought about by temporary neurochemical changes in my brain, and may have something to do with being mesmerised by what I see and hear before a giant screen in a darkened room.
It doesn't matter.
As long as it lasts, I shall enjoy this nimbus of serenity. I shall try to keep a record of the thought that I have, and I shall try to find that elusive change.
