I was afraid to make a movie with a story. I've always hated Star Wars. Yoda unnerved me. I understand why people hate myths. You're an orphan. You go on a journey. You go to a swampy planet. You go to the desert for forty days. You find a muppet who speaks Esperanto. Angry, you are. Fear you have. Or else John the Baptist. You go to kill your dad. Or your dad kills you. Then, Redemption.
I am not dumb. I know that we're monsters. I know you walk into a story and leave your brains by the door like shoes when you go into a rich person's clean house.
I was afraid of making a lattice work of lies but Jay robbed me of this fear. We saw each other's monstrosities and loved each other anyway. Then, Redemption. Even though our love diminished, my fear is gone. I'm not happy about it. It's a theft. I want it back. My mind, my staff of life, is leaning against the door of a house I can't leave.
The politically conscious thing to do is to rope in history. In different eras, we were orphans. We went on a journey to a crowded arena. We found a leader. We burned people. Then, Redemption (or the anesthesia of time disguised as redemption.)
Our fake redemptions are appalling.
History melts off like hot wax from the wick. We're trapped in the burning moon-colored space between the candle and the flame.
But still the space between me and my future stretches and shimmers like muscles on a running horse. I'm glad I'm not dead.