Sofia Coppola (2017)
A nation rupturing at its midsection. History would like to paint a tale of two opposing sides, but that is criminal oversimplification. An all girl's school rests just below the country's tear. A pocket of charm and tranquility in the midst blood-stained forests. A headmistress, Miss Martha, and her lone assistant, Edwina, have a meager five young ladies under their stern but gracious rule.
The bubble of the school mansion ferments a Confederate sensibility among the girls, yet a fateful addition to the household shifts the popular perception. The precious Amy scavenges for edible mushrooms, a delicate task requiring obsessive attention to detail. At the base of a tree lays a cowering man in the enemy's colors. He is also wearing deep crimson, and the stench of fear. The southern girl waddles the soldier to the hospitable school in hostile territory.
The coward is Corporal McBurney and he just might be the most fortunate soul in the whole war. The women of the house put the Good Samaritan to shame, and transverse foreign lands of medicine to save a man who is socioeconomically pitted against them. Then again, are they truly foes? Or has geography spoken for them?
The Corporal remains a prisoner of war. Not a prisoner of the Confederacy, but one of psycho-sexual tension. And so are the women who now must protect him. Envy floods the curving stairways, and jealousy pollutes the well. The Corporal becomes a possession, and in turn he begins to objectify the women who secretly scuffle over him. Demand regulates a commodity's price, and the price tag for affection in the house reach lottery heights.
Miss Martha is a firm believer in healthy compromises, and for this she sacrifices her right to be justified. While Edwina strolls about with a gentle defiance, seemingly impervious to cardinal desires. The levity of the former, and the stonewall of the later create an massive, contained storm system. The low pressure of forgiveness collides with the high pressure of stern standards, resulting in a swirling catastrophe.
Love is many things, but it is rarely kind. Genuine love is buried in the woods, inaccessible to those refusing to soil their clothing. Comfort is often mistaken as love. A warm bed mistaken as intimacy. The most dangerous game is not played with weapons; it is fought hand to hand with kisses and whispers.
A nation rupturing at its midsection. History would like to paint a tale of two opposing sides, but that is criminal oversimplification. An all girl's school rests just below the country's tear. A pocket of charm and tranquility in the midst blood-stained forests. A headmistress, Miss Martha, and her lone assistant, Edwina, have a meager five young ladies under their stern but gracious rule.
The bubble of the school mansion ferments a Confederate sensibility among the girls, yet a fateful addition to the household shifts the popular perception. The precious Amy scavenges for edible mushrooms, a delicate task requiring obsessive attention to detail. At the base of a tree lays a cowering man in the enemy's colors. He is also wearing deep crimson, and the stench of fear. The southern girl waddles the soldier to the hospitable school in hostile territory.
The coward is Corporal McBurney and he just might be the most fortunate soul in the whole war. The women of the house put the Good Samaritan to shame, and transverse foreign lands of medicine to save a man who is socioeconomically pitted against them. Then again, are they truly foes? Or has geography spoken for them?
The Corporal remains a prisoner of war. Not a prisoner of the Confederacy, but one of psycho-sexual tension. And so are the women who now must protect him. Envy floods the curving stairways, and jealousy pollutes the well. The Corporal becomes a possession, and in turn he begins to objectify the women who secretly scuffle over him. Demand regulates a commodity's price, and the price tag for affection in the house reach lottery heights.
Miss Martha is a firm believer in healthy compromises, and for this she sacrifices her right to be justified. While Edwina strolls about with a gentle defiance, seemingly impervious to cardinal desires. The levity of the former, and the stonewall of the later create an massive, contained storm system. The low pressure of forgiveness collides with the high pressure of stern standards, resulting in a swirling catastrophe.
Love is many things, but it is rarely kind. Genuine love is buried in the woods, inaccessible to those refusing to soil their clothing. Comfort is often mistaken as love. A warm bed mistaken as intimacy. The most dangerous game is not played with weapons; it is fought hand to hand with kisses and whispers.
final words:
WORDS WOUNDS, INTENTIONS KILL