Part 2: Perhaps We Will See One Another Again. But if There is No Tomorrow, I’m Happy We Had Today
The Phasing and Ideas Series - Entry 17.5
The Phrasing and Ideas series elaborates on the thousand-plus entries I’ve collected in a document by the same name. These entries have been scavenged over several years through plenty of different situations and mediums. Every article visits one of the entries and gives it additional context, from where it was taken from, what it means to me, who I was when I found it, how it has grown with me over time, etc. For more information on the ‘Phasing and Ideas’ series, you can click below.
A continuation of the last entry. Thank you for returning.
The Unreliable Narrator
An unreliable narrator is a character who tells a story with a lack of credibility. This not only happens all the time in media but can happen in our real lives too, perhaps you’ve committed the act yourself, I know I have. Unreliable narrators can have many reasons for their lack of credibility, it is not always deliberate. And if deliberate, it is not always self-serving. Sometimes they can be unconsciously altering the truth because it helps suppress the trauma endured from the actual event, a sort of self-preservation. Or they’ve deliberately told the story embellished or watered down for so long that that version of the story itself becomes canon, and goes from consciousness to unconsciousness when pulled out to tell.
Most of the time, however, the deliberately unreliable narrator is telling a blurred form of the story because the story itself either is not as poignant to serve the purpose of illustrating a point or is too depressing and sad to tell in full accuracy for an audience to see the naked truth of the experience. It is seldom self-serving or done to embellish a story and make the teller look mighty. Rather, it has more to do with consideration for the audience in mind. Perhaps that’s just me looking at justifying my own actions, however — as a committer of both these kinds of deliberately unreliable narrating.
The Real Gaps in Relationships, Cinema Time Relativity
These gaps in time and lack of the full portrayal of events are why I have such esteem for this time-interval genre. It so much mimics the real world and my real friends. The only difference is, in the cinema, the film cuts to virtually the next instance the characters meet, like in One Day, where a scene ends, and right away the next scene begins — the next July 15th. Or with the Before Trilogy, where once one film finishes, you can start the next one and watch the story continue on instantly.
Although you couldn’t actually do with the Before Trilogy in real time, as each film was released in the 9-year interval they were meant to portray — an added layer to its authenticity in depicting the theme.Whereas in the real world, life has to be lived before we see what happens next between the characters. You have to live the allotted time, away from the other person, and collect life experiences, memories, lessons, and abilities yourself… all without them.
And you won’t always know when you two will reunite once again. You might have some kind of control over it, like being able to contact them, but sometimes external variables prevent you two from meeting again, like busy schedules or traveling. And sometimes, the variables are internal, like depression and pride — or lack therefore of. Lack of pride as in feeling you didn’t do enough. Enough to warrant the reunion with the other in which you can speak on all the grand epiphanies you sprouted and all the growth you attained. Perhaps you’ll speak on the sights you saw too, the people you met, and the things you accomplished — all of the above! You hope you can recite all these things and more when reuniting with someone important to you after a long period of time.
But sometimes, it’s simply not the case. Sometimes life was stagnant in the interim, perhaps even depressing. Sometimes you don’t achieve much in the timespan or have much to show for anything. Sometimes you can’t speak much on the incredible journeys of character development you embarked on, because they didn’t happen. Or all the monsters you slayed internally and externally to get to the person you are now because they were never met. Perhaps all that was done was survive in the time in between.
And that’s a feat in and of itself. Although I can understand the point of view that an unreliable narrator would want to take: to deliberately water down the story to spare the heavy emotions it might elicit in its listener. But that’s the thing, life isn’t a movie. It can’t always be as eventful and charming as the story of Jesse and Celine, or the story in One Day. That version of July 15th that you’ll eventually come to have with someone endearing in your life, reader, can’t always be depicted as if it was meant for cinema, because it wasn’t. And while cinema can get close to capturing the essence and authenticity of life itself… it’s still able to edit, cut, re-shoot, and re-write aspects to make it more attractive for consumption. The same can’t be said with real life. That’s a one-take kind of deal.
The Editing Bay’s Imitation of Life
There is so much of life that isn’t depicted on the screen no matter how hard they try to replicate it. So don’t compare yourself to it. That anxiety that stems from reuniting with someone after a long interim and feeling like you have nothing to show for — is an ego trying to collapse and die before it has even made it to the battlefront. It’s pride thinking you’re too mighty to possibly have anything other than high highs; incapable of enduring low lows.
But we all have the high highs and low lows. Relative to ourselves, and only ourselves of course. And sure, perhaps you didn’t do the grand deeds and run the great chases in this time apart. Perhaps you didn’t slay the great demons and learn the grand truths. Perhaps you didn’t cast the grand spells or find the great treasures. That’s okay. Not every interval of life will be filled with incredible venture. Sometimes, an interval of life is filled simply with surviving and moving on.
That’s the part that the cinema can’t commit an accurate amount of time to. Those dull spurts of life can only command a few minutes of screentime at most for an audience to endure. Whereas in lived life, those spurts can be years in duration. The story always moves forward on-screen — one scene after the next. Life doesn’t imitate that fact. There can be a whole lot of bullshit in-between before the plot gets driven forward. Never forget this.
For Me and The Few
I’ll find myself back now. To the people I got to meet for one intense, wonderful night, thank you. We all knew the risk in gambling our potential tomorrows for one very special today. Perhaps I will find you all again… if not, I’m glad we had our time together. Those are immeasurably special todays.
And to those I’ve been dodging because I feel I have nothing to show for this period of my life, I’m sorry. I know life isn’t a film, and I don’t always have to have a great tale to tell. I’ll phone you all soon. I’m excited to hear from you all again.
Those last paragraphs were clearly just for me. But I hope you can take some lessons from them too, reader. Should they apply.
To read the next entry in the Phasing and Ideas Series, click below.