Yesterday, I was jazzed to find in the program for PFA (UC Berkeley’s Pacific Film Archive, which shows movies nobody will show anywhere else) a film about Jose Saramago and his wife, journalist Pilar del Rio. So not only was I all set up to learn something about an author I admire, but as a bonus Jose and Pilar, from the description seemed, well, sweet.
Sweet, and it was Portugal’s entry to the Academy Awards foreign film category. It didn’t win. Watch the trailer. I command you. You can thank me later.
Perhaps it’s just a confession of my warped state of mind, but for all the dewy photography and mind-blowing deep thoughts, I left the theater nearly stumbling in a haze of both upliftedness and the pall of being possessed by Grumpy Smurf himself.
Yes, I am jealous of a dead literary visionary and a widow. And it’s not that I think of myself as a literary visionary and want to rain on anybody’s posthumous parade . I promise.