A love letter to a film, because it has been awhile. 

Every time I write a review the chances of me becoming a professional film critic goes further, and further, out the window. And yet, I still write them in spite of the fact that I clearly lack any concise structure. My commentary is far from objective. On occasion, I’ll add a personal anecdote like I’m doing right now. Clarity and formality be damned. Sometimes I interject my train of thought with some quote that prides itself in its nostalgia or abstractness, somehow contributing to the overarching message of the film. 

My point is to say that, when it comes to these things, I’m not professional in the slightest. There are flaws in my writing, my ability to maintain a decent movie schedule, my confidence, and the list goes on. I am constantly plagued by the sadness of not doing enough, of never being enough, but I still show up anyway. I still show up anyway. 

I know that these feelings of nothingness and completeness will hit me all at once in some moments and other times never at all, but the one thing I realize is that I’m never really alone. There is always someone out there who shares a similar feeling and Our Souls at Night simply confirms that fact. 

I haven’t met my soulmate, and maybe I never will, but who’s to say Addie and Louis’ relationship qualifies as such. And to be honest, does any of that really matter?

We’re not bound to or defined by the limiting idea of living to find the one, and I don’t believe the movie tries to tell us otherwise. At its core, it celebrates human connection. It is simple. It is beautiful. It is worth it. 

There may come a time where I may never have what I had now or then (for instance, X moment of time at Y specific place). But at least in the suffering and rapidness of it all, I can remember the shared moments of closeness that I cultivated with others.