I was attracted to watch 500 Days of Summer mainly because of Zooey Deschanel. I’ve had a major crush on her since like, I dunno, Almost Famous? I really couldn’t understand why she took the role in The Happening, though. Anyways…
Another thing is that one day, I realized that 500 days actually is equal to 1 year and 4 ½ months. I had a relationship with someone which took about the same span of time. 1 year, 4 months and 17 days to be exact. And to be honest, it was the worst relationship I’ve had.
So I was attracted to 500 Days. The thrill of relating with the plot always excites me. Although, after I watched it, the plot did not even come close to that relationship. It was nevertheless a good movie. There was something fresh and charming about it. Provocative, in some levels, too. And the guy they paired with Zooey is a sign of good casting, which is always a sign of a good film.
I was particularly moved by its ending, when Tom met Autumn. For me, it was like of symbol of a new beginning, as if love is as easy as changing of seasons, or the swift the segue of night to sunrise. I felt that I was betrayed by its dishonesty, because every tissue in my body knows very well that it’s not that easy to start anew. Especially when the film clearly depicted how Tom was devastated when he found out that Summer is engaged. He resorted to drinking and he quit his job. I am aware that I’m mostly biased about this, but the fact that I’ve experienced first hand how it is to move on from one to another, I really could not sympathize with the way it played its ending.
Maybe it’s because I saw that Tom and Summer had something very special, and I couldn’t stand the fact that they did not work out. Maybe I saw them as a perfect couple, and I thought nothing would ever go wrong between them. Maybe I was too fantasized with the romance that I became sufficiently optimistic about what lied ahead of them. Maybe my own questions are resurfacing.
There’s a downside if you always put meaning to every event in your life. You may end up not wanting how other people perceive what had happened, more so if they dismiss it as just another insignificant chapter in their meaningless connection to your life. There are things I personally regard as important – things I don’t just take for granted. For me, it has to have meaning. I would look at certain events and ask myself, what is the bottom line? Why has this happened? What am I supposed to take away from all this?
If I pick out a random event in my life, say, when I shifted courses in college, I would remember how I processed the event in my mind and used to ask, why is this happening? Is this the start of something good or bad? Am I gonna regret this in the future? And then eventually when I realized that my transferring to another school has rekindled my love affair with writing, I automatically put meaning to why I was there. Somehow, everything has a reason – not necessarily a purpose – for why it’s happening. That reason, regardless of its benefits, is something I ponder on always, and seriously.
Here’s what I believe: There are things you don’t just throw away, things that were part of your life, and perhaps they still are. Throw away stinky, meaningless garbage, if you will. But not those memorable ones, those who have witnessed you become the person you are today. If you’re not willing to nourish them, at least keep them somewhere. Your closet, your treasure chest, your laundry bag. Anywhere but the trash bin.
When Tom and Summer accepted their fate of not ending up together, it wasn’t supposed to be a huge thing. People experience it all the time. They go out there, take chances, be miserable and then move on to the next. It’s a standard cycle. But to me, something like that awakens my melodramatic alter ego and protest that something I consider special should not end as if it were ordinary. People should at least give it some decency to go down in history as something worth looking back into.
Something special.
