A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints

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There's a scene in the movie A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints that I think about probably a few times pretty much every single day.

The young version of the main character is riding on a train around the city, and he sees the new kid in class who just moved to New York from Scotland. He wants to be a musician. Everything is bright and there's a lot of contrast, and there's tons of ambient sound and background noise and distraction and the scenery is just racing past you in the train window. It's all very rushed and schizophrenic. They introduce themselves to each other the way that you'd expect 17-year-old boys to, and they start talking a little bit. They're loud and polite but with abrasive tones. The words they say sync up with the movement of their lips.

Suddenly the whole shot changes. Everything is dampened. There's less contrast, and things are closer to gray. It's slowed down just a little bit, so the scenery isn't racing by so quickly. We stop hearing their loud and abrasive train voices that sync up with their lips. We see shots of them talking to each other, dimmed a bit, and their words are played softly in the background, still conversing, still polite, not quite at the same speed as their lips. But now there's nothing but the conversation. They laugh only when something is funny, instead of often, to show how much fun they are. They smile and look out the windows.

Snaps back. Loud train, fast, background noise, rushed, contrast, bright, abrasive, laughing too much.

Changes again. Softer, just conversation, smooth voices, calmer, dimmer.

Sometimes I wish I could snap to the second shot when I'm talking to people.

I think of it often.

Peace out.