The Hours

Well, I can honestly say that I have never been as infuriated with any film I have ever seen up until I saw The Hours. Watching the lives of these three women play out on screen was an exercise in extreme patience as I listened to their plights and came close to screaming in agony. I’ve rarely ever seen such lack of interest in life in anyone. While I thought Julianne Moore’s story was the most infuriating to watch, it was the Virginia Woolf portion of the film that made me rethink my intentions to become an English major. A little while ago in another class, we asked the question focusing on authors of yesteryear. Was it a must to have a crappy childhood then go insane in order to become on of the greatest literary minds of all time? Apparently, and that is why I have such disdain for a lot of the authors we talk about in most English classes today. But this was different; this was the moment that made me snap with disgust. Towards the end of the film, she tells her husband that “someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.” This was complete stupidity to me. Death, of course, can be life altering, but if this film taught me one thing it is this: watching the sad and depressing lives of these women unfold on screen made me appreciate my life a lot more than I did right before I watched the film. To simply give up and let go, like several characters in this film did, a la Ed Harris and eventually Virginia Woolf, is something that really ticks me off. The will to live is a much more fulfilling goal and worthwhile battle, with surrender not even being an option. If I could have my way, I would avoid this film for the rest of my life…at least Meryl Streep’s story had a somewhat decent ending (or at least she had the same reaction I would picture myself having if I had a girlfriend as just watched this film).