Pain,Gain, Loss and Leon.

This last month has been a strange one. Grandma passed away a week ago.It was what the nurses called 'a mercy',she had been slowly dying for some time,and after all the pain and confusion,the morphine induced sleep that took her was probably a blessing. Now,as anyone who has buried a loved one will know,there are always relatives who,while fairly distant during life for geographical reasons will appear after the death and have to then come to terms with sorting the estate etc. Much emphasis seems to be on ensuring valuables are safely passed down.By 'valuables' I mean jewellery. Now,it appears I am the owner of a beautiful opal brooch and diamond ring.They are lovely.However,they dont say 'Grandma' to me. I look at them and have no memory of the objects in relation to her.Now,the old manky stuffed owl who has been sat unsteadily on the living room shelf since I was a child,THAT says 'Grandma.' The pinny apron,the small pompom rabbit,they are things from my childhood. These I will treasure far more than the jewellery,which will sit in a safe somewhere for safekeeping.Now,having tried to give the pieces away to my cousin,I was told that Grandma had always intended them to be passed down,as they were given to her by her mother,and so on. For that reason,they will stay with me. I couldnt bear to sell them,Im sure they are worth a fair bit,but they have been part of our family history for generations,and no one should blithely give away such links with their past. So little is known about my mothers side of the family,so it is comforting to know that on Dads side there is a line which can be followed fairly easily. All we know about Nannas parents by contrast is that her father was a career soldier,and her mother was french,spoke with an atypical french accent,clearly influenced by some other language,and had almost indian colouring.Nanna remembers very little else,and records are scarce. If I had to guess,I would say she was an immigrant,possibly illegal,from somewhere like morocco or algeria. Grandmas line on the other hand is firmly rooted in England,Scotland,and a touch of Australia.
With the arrival of the family for the funeral,came my first glimpse of my favourite cousins first child. Skye is beautiful,and to see my cousin as a devoted father is amazing and very cool. On the note of new arrivals,one of my first loves is due to be a father in september. I am so happy for him.Quiet to the point of mute when we met,I am confident that fatherhood will change him for the better in that he will open up more,and connect his mouth and his heart,so that he will be able to tell those he loves what they mean to him. While there is always a small part that aches a little sweetly to see him take his own steps to parenthood,I am so happy that he told me,and I wish him so much love and luck with the new baby-just as long as he brings the little one to see me so I can get my broody mother hen fix without having to change a billion nappies!
I guess that covers gain and loss,now on to the pain...anyone who knows me will be aware that I have always had a fairly ahem,adventurous streak in the sense I will always be the first to climb the tree,skate the vert and perfect the pole move.While this makes for an interesting life,it doesnt do much for the back. Add about 16 years in retail,much of it in stockrooms and warehouses where,as the only girl you are obliged to show you can keep up with the boys,and the recipe for back problems is pretty obvious. I have trapped nerves,damaged ligaments,done strange things to discs and now it all comes back to haunt me periodically with a vengeance that makes me swear Ill do calisthenics for the rest of my life if I can just straighten up and get off the floor,please! It is usually triggered by a fever,strangely,in this case a minor cold which gave me 2 days of 38.5,which is nothing.The back pain it gave me however,way NOT nothing. I had to lie on the living room floor-and I dont recommend this because getting that close to the carpet just reminds you that you dont vacuum often enough-and take codrymol while doing the breathing exercises I hadnt needed during labour. After 2 hours,my toes all went numb,I was a little delirious,and so tired afterwards I could barely think. Theres only one thing to do when it looks that bad,reach for a movie...Having found nothing at the cinema we could agree on at our last date,long suffering boyfriend and I headed home to watch a dvd instead. Looking through his vast collection, we agreed on Leon because a,It has violence and action but is NOT about Vietnam *(dont start me on his obsession,I never want to see Full Metal Jacket again,and I like that movie!) b,because although I loved the original,I hadnt seen it for years,and neither of us had seen the directors cut,and c,Jean Reno. OH MY GOD. The ending still makes me cry,but having seen all the 'extra' footage that was cut to keep retarded american bible bashers from freaking out I cried twice as hard. That movie is beautiful. Yes,theres violence,explosions,hitmen,mob guys and a psychotically scary Gary Oldman,but there is also tenderness,depth and two of the most amazing characters I have ever witnessed come to life on the screen. By the end,we dont know much more about them than we do at the beginning,although we do learn,in the DC is how Leon became a hitman,and a little about his emotional past,but we care so much more for them by the end that when he is trying to force her to take the ventillation shaft and get to safety,when she cries and pleads not to leave him it breaks my heart,even though I KNOW how the bloody movie ends! I know there are those who are uncomfortable with the 'paedophillic' subtext,but there is actually no real eroticism,it is more of a tension,low key but kind of humming in the background. Leon,being emotionally immature cannot conceive of preying on Mathilda.Indeed,he rebuffs her every time she tries to make a move on him,although in the deleted scene where she offers her virginity to him and he refuses,he does not refuse because he finds it morally wrong,instead he tells her that he would not be a good lover.His reaction whenhe sees her in the pink dress he buys for her earlier in the movie as an innocent gift is also ambiguous,his soft 'I like it' sounding the way he would tell a lover he approved of something she was wearing,but he makes no attempt to make any advances on her,even when she firmly tells him from that point on they will sleep side by side in the bed.(Leon sleeps fully clothed,and lies flat on his back with only an arm protectively around her-which she arranges herself before rolling over and sleeping facing away from him.The line between parental love and a more sexual form blurs a little,but it is clear Leon would not do anything to Mathilda other than protect her. If they had more of a future,who knows? She will grow eventually,and with constant persistance she could conceivabley wear down his resolve,but we will never know. The goodbye scene kills me. He calls her baby,soothes her as one would a child,but he calls her 'mi amore' and the last 'I love you,Mathilda' is spoken without any obvious interpretation.I think in the end,that sums up the love between the two characters,it is not clearly defined,but it is real,it is something which bonds them deeply,and it is something unlike most other cinematic relationships.There is no clean cut line,but neither is there real perversity,or the suggestion that one character is abusing the other. If anything,Renos portrayal of Leon as a little slow gives Portman scope to be the dominant one in the relationship,which she uses to great effect. I still cant believe that she was the same ago as my daughter when she made that movie. It is mind boggling. Anyhow,Leon has been on repeat play for the last couple of nights while I wait for painkillers and try to keep sane.I am so glad that I rediscovered this film,I get so much more out of it now than when I first watched,especially with the DC,which is the ONLY one worth watching btw,and now Im rediscovering a load of other movies I have loved but since neglected.Wasabi,anyone?!