I was always lost in a book as a child. Books honed and fueled my imagination which in turn gave me countless of hours creating the most fantastical worlds in my little attic like room. One of my fondest childhood memories was lying in bed, in perhaps the fourth grade, finishing a book that I could not put down even though it was Saturday morning and the sun was shining and the neighbor boys were throwing rocks at my window beckoning me to continue our work on the treehouse we were building above our street.
Here is Paloma, she, like me, sits in her room and lets her imagination rule her life. In a family where she feels isolated her imagination is her best friend. She is a little intellectual whose glasses always get stuck in her hair. From a wealthy family she is well aware of the ridiculousness of life, of wealth, of unaware people in an existential way. She decides she is done with it all but in walks her new neighbor and a new introduction to the building's concierge. They all share a love of books, of art, of great films and of eventually connecting with one another in a world where it seems no one is connecting.
It is a great film that I just saw last night. The audience applauded which is always a good sign. While walking out an older women, perhaps in her 80's, stopped her car and asked me if I had just seen the film, (perhaps she recognized my hat, I am rarely without a hat) and I said yes and she shouted. “Didn’t you just love it, oh it was just great.” There was a connection over the film between two strangers and new shared love of the film between my French prof and I.
See it or start with the book, it is one of those books that gets inside you and one of those films that stays with you.
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