Carol

there’s something about this film that makes you feel like you’re intruding. like you’re peeking into something too delicate, too private to really be looking at. everything feels stolen. every glance, every brush of a hand, every word that says everything without saying anything. it’s the kind of movie that leaves you breathless, not because of what happens, but because of everything that doesn’t. therese and carol live in this constant push and pull of restraint, and it’s so unbearably beautiful that it kind of hurts. therese is all quiet yearning, and cate blanchett as carol, god damn, she’s impossible to look away from. she’s elegant, confident, but there’s this fragility in her that breaks through when you least expect it. i might be overexaggerating, but every shot feels like a painting, every color so deliberate it makes your chest tighten. but i’ll admit, it’s a slow burn, maybe too slow at times. it’s not the kind of movie you put on to pass the time. it asks you to sit with it, to let it wash over you, but there were moments where i felt like it was almost too careful, too composed. like, give me a little more raw messiness to hold onto. the emotions are there, but they’re wrapped up in so much restraint that it keeps you at arm’s length sometimes. still, it stays with you. it lingers in the back of your mind like the echo of a song you can’t quite place. it’s a love story that feels timeless but also so specific to the world it’s set in.