Stranger Than Fiction

If you know me, then I have probably mentioned to you that I LOVE the movie "Stranger Than Fiction" starring Will Ferrell, Dustin Hoffman, and Emma Thompson. The characters are lovable and bizarre, the filming is poignant, and the philosphy is not sappy, but moving. I love that they never explain why Maggie Gyllenhaal's character knows the words to that obsure Monkees song. I watched the movie again last weekend, and I love it more. I have discovered that people seem to either love or hate this movie. I love it. Ben loves it. My Mom hates it.
The pic to the right is a still following this conversation:
Dr. Hilbert: Harold, you don't control your own destiny
Harold Answers: I know........
Harold is beginning to realize, that his death is inevitable. This conversation follows:
Dr. Jules Hilbert : Hell Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.
Harold Crick: What is wrong with you? Hey, I don’t want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind, in a choice between pancakes and living, chooses pancakes?
Dr. Jules Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you’d realize that, that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.
If you haven't seen the movie, or if you were one of those who hated it, please, please give it another try! I personally struggle with getting bogged down in routine and it was helpful this past weekend to watch this movie while remembering that there is nothing too small to be thankful for. I think the final narration puts it nicely:
"As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren’t any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick."