Schultze Gets the Blues

That was the name of the movie we were watching as Baby New Year toddled into the room with his tiny arse showing. ~Schultze Gets the Blues~

Excuse me — "film," not "movie." My bad.

Yes, I prefer using the term "film" rather than "movie" for this type of production. This was not the usual sludge of action-packed movie fare made to set box-office records and cater to those with short-attention spans (increasingly prominent in our culture, sadly). Rather, this was an artsy-fartsy, European film that contained a "character study" (one of my favorite things!) of a man in search of a dream — Schultze.

Schultze was a man who lived in a small town in Germany all his life, followed the norms of society, worked hard all his life, and then had a revelation after his retirement of marching to the beat of a different drummer. To me, it was a beautiful, slow-paced, entertaining story showing "real" people, in "real-life" situations — things with which we can identify as human beings, rather than vicariously living at some on-the-edge fantasy level. I find stories of that nuture immensely rewarding and special.

So, there we were, he and I, snuggled in bed watching Schultze's tale unfold on the screen. Then my watch beeped. Midnight. Yes, I am an incurable geekette, who has a watch that beeps on the hour and does other cool shit, too. I turn over to look at his face, wish him a Happy New Year, steal a kiss, and then turn back to Schultze's life. Our lives, and Schultze's, intertwined, for a few brief moments in time. A cozy, happy New Year, indeed!


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