Friday, October 19, 2018

The Bookshop

So many harmless ideas.

Why would anyone protest if you wanted to open a bookshop for instance, why would anyone critique sharing ideas and stories, generating dreams, nurturing imagination, long before even television was taken for granted, especially in a small town with no local bookshop?

Books obviously enrich the mind in ways that television and film can't, I simply mention the town's lack of televisions to emphasize how grossly realistic things must have been at the time, for those regularly searching for alternative adventures and fantasies, or sharp cutting-edge non-fiction.

It seemed logical to me, in my youth, that if you wanted to open a store and freely sell things such as books or pizza you would be free to do so.

The thought of living somewhere where the government suddenly banned thousands of books and ideas or forced you to consume specific narratives without comment is baffling and inherently self-defeating.

The Bookshop's set in Britain not long after World War II and I've always taken it for granted that the United Kingdom was rather open-minded at the time, not so naively that I figured there weren't social issues or endemic inequalities that prevented groups and individuals from flourishing, but naively enough to suppose that if you wanted to open a bookshop in a small town without a bookshop, on your own property, you would be able to do so without legal interference.

Bizarro.

Monopolistic tragedies.

Isabel Coixet's The Bookshop is a brave soulful examination of an independent chap's immersion in local culture.

She was so beautiful.

Where many scenes would have ended in similar films, many of The Bookshop's keep unreeling complete with clever added details/suggestions/conflicts/hopes that add so much more to the courageous narrative.

Phenomenally laidback performances well-versed in bucolic sophistication calmly yet severely manifest palpable joys and tensions, actors acting in a serious film as if they were acting in a serious film, cultivating their craft, intently focused on their art.

The Bookshop's like that small town gem you've heard about where you can buy the most wondrous things off the beaten track and they've never even considered advertising.

It's as modest as a Sunday school teacher yet as fiery as a proactive country priest/rabbi/reverend/imam.

Some scenes seem to have been included to simply celebrate life, notably when Florence Green (Emily Mortimer) and Christine (Honor Kneafsey) are unexpectedly showcased at ease playfully enjoying themselves while working, or when Edmund Brundish (Bill Nighy) and Ms. Green are unsure how to end their first meeting, propriety suggesting they part although neither of them wishes to do so.

I'm still terrible at coming and going.

If only life were always spent in the middle of conversations.

A must-see film overflowing with pluck and integrity.

I can't imagine having to shop for books exclusively online.

You can't browse the shelves.

Find the perfect book you never knew you were looking for.

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