I do not think it is often than one watches a movie and thinks about it for more than maybe 15 to 20 minutes after it is over, then moves on to the next agenda for the day. But 'bright star' has simply left me in awe. There is no scheming or drama, no action or thrill, no glamour or glitz. It was simple and raw.
John Keats (1795-1821), lived a short life, unfulfilled, and died thinking himself a failure. On his request, his epitaph was inscribed "Here lies a man whose name was writ in water". Quite on the contrary, Keats has been compared to the likes of Byron and Shelly and often surpasses them in his reputation as a romantic poet. The movie, Bright star focuses on a short excerpt of his life, preceding his death, where he meets and falls in love with one, Fanny Brawne.
The emotions Keats is able to convey with just a few words, the musings he states so simply makes me think for hours about things that would not have otherwise struck me. The poetry is beautiful, describing love and desires, admiring nature and overlooked nuances, seeing and imagining things that would not seem viable in todays context. But so much has happened since then to the world, that i do not think one can find a genuine contemporary romantic poet without feeling him to be somewhat of a sham. There is to much death and destruction and cynicism and cliche' that fill the world today so that to actually admire a thing of beauty in hopes that it would last forever is futile for alas, it would pass into nothingness and possibly be replaced by a steel and glass concoction often found at a shopping mall or the shopping mall itself. He beautifully says in one of his letters to fanny, that he almost wished they were butterflies and would live but 3 summer days, for three such days with her was worth more than 50 dull years without her. Today, I would take the three days of summer as a butterfly because even 50 exciting years would not be satisfactory. There is something lovely about having a limitation or a deadline that makes you want to enjoy yourself and take full advantage of the little time. Too much time seems to me like a curse. If you have time, you have opportunity to delay for 'later'. And by missing out in hopes of later, a thing of beauty could pass into nothingness before you have had to opportunity to feel the joy of actually seeing it.
The love between Keats and Franny is epic. In the movie, it is appreciable to see Franny's side to it. The waiting and wondering, the anxiety of not hearing from him, and the thrill of receiving one of his letters is completely unimaginable and abstract to me. I think it is, in fact, the distance and lack of constant contact and communication that makes the story all the more sad and so much more romantic. To see the effect he had on her, slowly turning into an obsession of sorts, is a new experience all together. I am not sure what has intrigued me more, Keats and his poetry or Franny and her fascinations. Their relationship was exactly the definition of romantic. Sweet and soft and sad. The moments the share when they are together and the things they say to each other are so organic and honest and true, and so lacking in today's world where everything sounds like a 'line'.
All in all I would say it is a must watch film for all the romantics and closet romantics (much like myself) out there. It is a movie that has in-turned hooked me on to the subject of the movie, Keats. It made me want to know more, read more and learn more about Keats, which is not what I can say about most movies. So i leave you with a quote and a link incase you want to see what I'm talking about!
Bright Star
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art -
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors -
No - yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever - or else swoon to death.