I Vitelloni

Yesterday, met up with my old friend and colleague from the Army days, one of the other commanders from my company. We went to watch The Dark Night, which, I have to say, is a splendid movie, deviously dark and disconcertingly cunning. It is remarkable how the writers could come up with such twisted schemes for the Joker, and yes, Heath Ledger plays a rather mean Joker, who comes across as perceptive and yet detached; he sees the terrible results of his machinations, but he just doesn't care. He is thus the ultimate anarchist, and in a way also fully in control of his own life's destiny.

The movie really is worth watching on the big screen, being one of the rare action films that actually have something new and interesting to say. The plot and the characterisation fully bring out the tension between good and bad, virtue and vice, resulting in a compelling melange of vested interests, hidden agendas and ulterior motives. It is unusually juicy for an action flick, and though I have never read a Batman comic before, the movie seems certain to be an accurate reflection of what the original graphic novelist had in mind.

But anyway, I digress. So I met up with an old Army pal, and we went to the movies, and then retired to a late and slow lunch in Paradiz Centre, taking the chance to catch up. It was a good reunion; this was one of the few professional relationships that crossed over to attain a personal aspect, largely out of the force of his will, I have to admit. I was lucly to have met him in the unit, because it certainly made life there much more pleasant to have someone to properly talk to. And I guess, after two years, it is only fitting to come out of it with someone with which one can laugh over the inept security guards in The Dark Night, and reminisce about all the crazy and scandalous things we did and encountered on our tours of duty.

And today, had lunch with YS since she'd come back to Singapore once again after an overseas project. Talked at length about university life and what it may bring, because it is now four weeks to the day (to the hour, almost!) to my own departure. She mentioned that I should get packing, but I really can't think of anything to pack that would require me to start a month in advance. Also pondered over the discrepancy between the idealised idea of college life that I'm entertaining now, and the reality of college life that she has experienced. Now, on the very cusp of August, I am really beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable about departing; a part of me definitely wants to stay in this state in which I can anticipate something incredible without having the prospect of finding out its accuracy hanging over my head. But, as she says, the thing is to approach this new experience with as open a mind as possible; expect nothing but the unexpected, and don't treat the experience as an entitlement, as if the university owed it to me to be a fun experience.

But equally, with the creeping reluctance to leave the state of inertia that I find myself in now, there is also an opposing need to leave that is also coming into clearer focus now. Meeting up with the two of them over the last two days, as well as the other meetings throughout the week, has made me realise how few people have remained the way they were two years ago. It is true that, among the people who I keep in regular contact with nowadays, the people who I can talk to openly and frankly with supreme confidence now form a larger proportion. However, that doesn't negate the fact that there are increasingly fewer people with which I can talk to in such a way. Increasingly, people who I had thought of as familiars have shown themselves to have become too different for the old certainties and trust to remain relevant. Or, equally, perhaps my priorities have shifted so much over the last two years that we no longer share the common perspectives of the past. It doesn't matter whose fault it is; the fact is that, people are moving on, as should be the case - and I risk being left behind if I don't move on myself.

Over the last year, August has approached like the dawn of a new era, filled with hope and promise. Now, as I can take a closer look at departure, it is increasingly becoming clear to me that August will also signify the end of another era, that the two periods of comparatively rich life are not in fact compatible with each other. The years since JC have been fun; have become less fun over time, but it is still beyond reproach. The coming years in Columbia, I trust and anticipate, will also be fun. But they will be fun in different ways, and the experiences are based on different assumptions and circumstances. And perhaps, to fully commit to one, the other must be allowed to fade away.

Also, just finished watching Fellini's I Vitelloni, a story about five men who've grown up in a small town and realised that they've outgrown the town. Life in the town has been reduced, for them, to a dead end, or rather a circle within which they can sustain childhood certainties while idly speculating about lifting themselves out of the rut. In the film, too, an era ends, but perhaps with nothing to take its place. The boys try to cling to old mannerisms, childish pranks and attitudes that sit uncomfortably with the grown-up responsibilities and positions that they are now expected to assume without complaint. Some of them try to cling to old assumptions and attitudes, and those assumptions and attitudes come into conflict with changed circumstances and hurt the people around them. One of them, after marrying the sister of one of his friends after impregnating her, continues to go around flirting with other women as if it were a game. Another uses childish threats of violence and parental intervention to try to prevent his sister from eloping with a married man. They seem to fail to see that the time for such behaviour has passed, or if they appreciate that fact, they are too scared of ending up with nothing to fuel their lives with, and cannot bring themselves to give up old certainties on a risky gamble with the uncertainties of the present.

And as I stand on the brink of August now, I find that Fellini's movie seems like an omen. I realise that by going away, some things will be lost; have realised for a long time. But only now do I begin to appreciate just how much of the past is at stake, how much it could cost to go all out in the pursuit of the promise of August. Maybe, when I am in the thick of it, and have found something, some people, to replace or substitute for what has been lost, I will feel the tradeoff has been worth it. But at this point, without the certitude that something worthy of taking the place of what I have now lies beyond August, I can only try to hold on as long as possible to what I have - or what we have, or what I believe we have. It is only natural.