Turn Left, Turn Right

In relation to my last blog entry, here's the basic concept of "Turn Left, Turn Right". Two strangers meet in the park to find out that they're not strangers after all. They first met on a school trip in their early teens, fell in love with each other then and had no contact since. Here they are 13 years later, sparks go off and the attraction is powerful. It starts to rain, they swap numbers and go their separate ways only to realise that the phone numbers have been smudged by rainwater. Phone call after phone call, no luck. They refer to each other according to the numbers once sewn on their school uniforms and don't know each others' names. Any potential for a future together depends on one successful phone call. The catch is that they are so close yet so far away--all that separates them is a brick wall which collapses at the end of the movie. Literally.

Sounds like a good plot which captures the imagination, and it does so until the coincidences between the characters' lives become too much to bear that the movie starts to lose its edge. It starts off with lots of charm which the directors fail to sustain throughout. Watch the movie and you'll see what I mean. Or perhaps I've become cynical about the point of "love at first sight" and how binding it can be. Maybe the point is that there is no need to justify the point.

Here are the first few stanzas from Wislawa Szymborska's poem entitled "Love at First Sight", frequently referred to in the movie. The questions it raises are hard to ignore. What if? What could've been? If only? How many people lead such parallel lives that never cross? Double entendre?

They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways-
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don’t remember -
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.

Photo taken from gguillaumee's flickr photostream subway mood (b&w)