“I think the hopeless romantic in you would appreciate Joss Whedon’s new In Your Eyes,” a friend texted me.
He was right. Because if the cynical side of me may have cringed at the all-too-obvious metaphor of how meeting someone with whom we have an electric connection can feel like they’re a part of our souls, the side that defends impossible situations despite their reality-defying nature had me cheering for the main characters throughout.
For a while in the middle, I was thinking Whedon was going for another metaphor, one that suggests that just because you may feel like someone is a part of you, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll ever be able to make it work together, but without completely giving away the climax, I’ll just say that as someone who has a hard time dealing with that metaphor in real life, I found the movie sufficiently satisfying.
And I also found that I dislike being classified as a “hopeless romantic,” for more than its clichéd implications. If I have to be a romantic (and my past has dictated that I do, I think), I’d much rather be a hopeful one. I may never get an ending that satisfies me, but at least I’ll go down looking for one.
I’m not sure whether Whedon would endorse that outlook, but my life is not in fact a movie, as evidenced by the lack of discernible soundtrack.