Life imitates art

Sunday night I went to see Babel. The theater was surprisingly busy. Lines formed outside many of the theaters, ours included. By the time the commercials and previews were over, the room looked almost sold out.

The film was tense. Characters through their own fault or through no fault of their own found themselves in situations that became more and more desperate with each scene. Brad Pitt spent much of the running time with the furrowed brow of worry permanently tattooed to his forehead.

After one particularly wrenching scene, a woman called out in the theater. "Help! Is there a doctor in the house?" Everyone stirred, but no one was certain what was going on. The events in the room eeriely echoed the proceedings on-screen. It was difficult to separate the truth from the fiction. The woman called out again. People leapt into action. I ran outside to alert the theater staff. People were already on their cell phones.

By the time I returned to the theater, the man seemed ok. A nurse had come over to help and soon others were walking him out of the theater. I asked what had happened but no one seemed to know. The man seemingly had revived of his own accord.

The film continued to play, the events in the room heightening everyone's awareness of the drama on-screen. The crowd murmured amongst themselves then fell silent as we watched to see what would become of the actors and their parts, and I wondered what would become of the actual drama that had played out before us. Posted by eku at November 28, 2006 6:37 PM