One character in Per Wahlöö’s Uppdraget says that for some people, cynicism is a prerequisite for existence. Generally I’m pretty good at it, but certain things are stronger than me.
Like The Wall by Pink Floyd. I’ve seen it for the first time when I was still in my teens, a few more times since then, but when I’ve watched it tonight after a couple of years, once again I couldn’t help getting highly emotional every now and then. When, for example, they sang
Hush now baby baby don’t you cry
Mama’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama’s gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama’s gonna keep you right here under her wing
She won’t let you fly but she might let you sing
Mama’s gonna keep baby cozy and warm
Ooooh babe, ooooh babe, ooooh babe
Of course mama’s gonna help build the wall
I’ve almost drowned in self-pity. Still, a residue of cynicism reminded me that there must be (and must have been) lots of other people whose lives have been enormously damaged by too much parental love. And I watched the film through, despite several other successful attacks on my imperturbability. But I had to write this self-centered piece to shake the despair and anxiety off me.
I didn’t mean to say I regret having watched it again. It’s one of the best films I’ve ever seen, and after all, to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose.