I saw an education with the dearest of friends on monday, and the funny thing is, i could relate to the plot in the oddest of ways. No, a suave, debonair older man didn't whisk me off my feet in the months leading up to the HSC, and no, i wasn't dragged around sydney to the chicest restaurants, living a glamorous life away from the drudgery of school and work. In fact, quite the opposite I assure you.
And hence lies my comparison point. That feeling of sheer boredom, the horror of confronting the tedium of adult life in a country that seems so lacklustre to your imagination, now that feeling i know well. Australia isn't really the place for me. I love the sun (sometimes), and odd bouts of patriotism do bubble to the surface every now and then, but for most of my adult life I have dreamt of places far from my birth country. For Jenny this was France, Paris specifically, with its minimalist intellectuals and spirit of liberty. Ah, Paris is indeed beautiful, and enchanting and infectious - just like first love. But for me the allure has always been a different country, and city. For some reason, despite the grey, despite the rain, despite the warnings from countless expats who find themselves happily ensconced in summery sydney, i love London. I always have. I've always felt more in touch with the english part of my ancestry then I have with any other.
It's a romanticised, lyrical view not grounded one inch in reality, but then, neither was Jenny's view of Paris. She says in the film that she wants to move to France, speak french all day, sip double shot espressos, smoke like a chimney, wear all black and never speak a word. Just like how I've always wanted to hole up in London with vinyl and bourbon, cooking raspberry pound cakes and wrapped up in a trench coat. I love that historical beauty of the London city-scape, whether it be tenaments or towers there is something enchanting about the grit of the city. It speaks of other times, of battles past. My rose-tinted view of London also seems tied to another time in history, either the rough and tumble heyday of the bright young things in the 30s, or the pavement pounding frenetic electricity of the 60s. Both times seem engendered with that same creative fervour that is so characteristically 'london'.
It's no coincidence that I live in the one suburb of sydney that could be conceivably mistaken for London. The rolling hills, pretty little terrace houses and boutique shops seem to be lifted straight out of Primrose Hill or the back streets of Chelsea. Though of course it wasn't my decision to live in Paddington, I have the foresight of my parents to thank for that, I do feel comfortable in my area with its picturesque coffee shops and wide open spaces swollen with green.
Sometimes I think that this love affair with England is just like first love. The blinding power of first love, where you develop some kind of temporary myopia - the details are so vivid, every touch, every breath, every word - yet the big picture becomes horribly clouded. Will i get to live in London and have that dream life? The one that invariably involves a chic little apartment with antique mirrors, a fabulous career and charming boyfriend? Perhaps. Will this powerful love affair last forever? Maybe. Will the world end if it doesn't? No.
And therein lies the power of the film, An Education. Despite the heartbreak once the champagne bubbles fritter away you do not leave unhappy. Because I, like Lynn Barber (the english journalist upon whose memoir the film was based), believe that all experiences, no matter the pain they cause, are of immense importance to our lives. That is the purpose of an education, is it not? To impart upon us wisdom as we blunder through life?
One of the most resonating moments for me in the film is when David says that he has a degree in the university of life. It reminded me of a moment in the novel I Capture the Castle, upon which this blog was humbly named, where Cassandra says that all she wants to do is write, and there is no university for that except life. Cassandra, like Jenny in An Education, learnt more through living and experiencing life than their lessons in school. That sensation of life (and love, which always seems inextricably bound up with feeling our own existence, how many existentialists have been undone when they fell in love?) made them re-evaluate their position within society.
Ultimately in the film this leads to fascinating ends. I'm not going to spoil it, even though i seem to have given an awful lot away already, because I want you all to see it. It's a beautiful, beautiful film. It captures perfectly and with a bittersweet subjectiveness that idea of first love, that idea of first education in the school of life. I don't think I've quite got my degree from there yet, i still have a bit to learn.
But I'm very excited to learn it.
X
And hence lies my comparison point. That feeling of sheer boredom, the horror of confronting the tedium of adult life in a country that seems so lacklustre to your imagination, now that feeling i know well. Australia isn't really the place for me. I love the sun (sometimes), and odd bouts of patriotism do bubble to the surface every now and then, but for most of my adult life I have dreamt of places far from my birth country. For Jenny this was France, Paris specifically, with its minimalist intellectuals and spirit of liberty. Ah, Paris is indeed beautiful, and enchanting and infectious - just like first love. But for me the allure has always been a different country, and city. For some reason, despite the grey, despite the rain, despite the warnings from countless expats who find themselves happily ensconced in summery sydney, i love London. I always have. I've always felt more in touch with the english part of my ancestry then I have with any other.
It's a romanticised, lyrical view not grounded one inch in reality, but then, neither was Jenny's view of Paris. She says in the film that she wants to move to France, speak french all day, sip double shot espressos, smoke like a chimney, wear all black and never speak a word. Just like how I've always wanted to hole up in London with vinyl and bourbon, cooking raspberry pound cakes and wrapped up in a trench coat. I love that historical beauty of the London city-scape, whether it be tenaments or towers there is something enchanting about the grit of the city. It speaks of other times, of battles past. My rose-tinted view of London also seems tied to another time in history, either the rough and tumble heyday of the bright young things in the 30s, or the pavement pounding frenetic electricity of the 60s. Both times seem engendered with that same creative fervour that is so characteristically 'london'.
It's no coincidence that I live in the one suburb of sydney that could be conceivably mistaken for London. The rolling hills, pretty little terrace houses and boutique shops seem to be lifted straight out of Primrose Hill or the back streets of Chelsea. Though of course it wasn't my decision to live in Paddington, I have the foresight of my parents to thank for that, I do feel comfortable in my area with its picturesque coffee shops and wide open spaces swollen with green.
Sometimes I think that this love affair with England is just like first love. The blinding power of first love, where you develop some kind of temporary myopia - the details are so vivid, every touch, every breath, every word - yet the big picture becomes horribly clouded. Will i get to live in London and have that dream life? The one that invariably involves a chic little apartment with antique mirrors, a fabulous career and charming boyfriend? Perhaps. Will this powerful love affair last forever? Maybe. Will the world end if it doesn't? No.
And therein lies the power of the film, An Education. Despite the heartbreak once the champagne bubbles fritter away you do not leave unhappy. Because I, like Lynn Barber (the english journalist upon whose memoir the film was based), believe that all experiences, no matter the pain they cause, are of immense importance to our lives. That is the purpose of an education, is it not? To impart upon us wisdom as we blunder through life?
One of the most resonating moments for me in the film is when David says that he has a degree in the university of life. It reminded me of a moment in the novel I Capture the Castle, upon which this blog was humbly named, where Cassandra says that all she wants to do is write, and there is no university for that except life. Cassandra, like Jenny in An Education, learnt more through living and experiencing life than their lessons in school. That sensation of life (and love, which always seems inextricably bound up with feeling our own existence, how many existentialists have been undone when they fell in love?) made them re-evaluate their position within society.
Ultimately in the film this leads to fascinating ends. I'm not going to spoil it, even though i seem to have given an awful lot away already, because I want you all to see it. It's a beautiful, beautiful film. It captures perfectly and with a bittersweet subjectiveness that idea of first love, that idea of first education in the school of life. I don't think I've quite got my degree from there yet, i still have a bit to learn.
But I'm very excited to learn it.
X
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