Tonight's (not Halley) movie

Letters from Iwo Jima was a doozy, though it was the first time I've looked forward to watching a war movie since Matthew Broderick in Glory (I know, I have weird celebrity crushes, don't bother me). I can't say that I didn't want to watch it entirely because of Nino, but I was glad in the end to have seen it. It was a good movie in its own right.

I watched it with Andrew. Originally I had convinced William to watch it, too, but he... still hasn't finished one of his finals... so he was theoretically working on that tonight. Andrew, though, has been a good boy and has been learning all of Arashi's names and characteristics. I said last night, "Tomorrow we're watching a depressing war movie because my favorite's in it." He nodded obediently.

And really, it wasn't as depressing as I was expecting. It was almost triumphant in a way I didn't think a war movie as seen from the losing side could be. But the entire thing was just so honest -- from the brutality of war to the writhing emotions of the characters themselves -- that in the end it seemed as if they accomplished something. Or maybe it's that the movie itself accomplished something in terms of what it's trying to say, whatever it is that it's trying to say.

It was a little annoying when we were interrupted periodically with Will's roaming around the living room and asking, "How's Nino?" ("Still alive," was my mumbled response, eyes glued to the screen as if in a trance.) After it was all over, though, we sat in silence and watched the credits roll until Andrew laughed when "Kazunari Ninomiya" came up.

I mean, I dunno. I'm sure I've covered it up well, what with my endless articulate wit and all, but I've always been bad at talking about things or critiquing things. "It was good. I liked it." Nino was really fantastic, no joke. They all were.

(Also, I hated that when Nino's character mentioned that he was a baker from Ohmiya, all I could think of was, well, Ohmiya. Having to squish down my fangirl glee took away from the experience a little bit.)


And then I came back to the internet and watched Arashi's latest Music Station performance. Cathartic reflection on war and friendship and family and the meaning of life, broken by the song and dance of a Japanese boy band, both featuring the same man. Yes. Good. This is my life.