I’m going to say three things…
To be honest, I really like you.
It could be called love.
Because I’m going to die.
And reversed…
Because I’m going to die, it could be called love.
To be honest, I really like you.
Did they mean the same?
This is a Love Song works backwards. We’re told from the start that these women will fall in love and they will die, along with everyone else, when the world ends.
I will reach my point in eight sentences…
A timer counts down to this ending.
Seven…
Because of this, each woman resolves to face their past.
Six…
But they fall in love, insularly, as the world ends only peripherally. This makes the love seem less impulsive, so truer.
Four…
The world has ended in a lot of films, often functionally, to add tension. But in this play, it feels less of a functional catalyst, more merely a context.
Two…
If you removed the fact the world was ending, I think the characters would scream the same.
One…
At what point did it feel I was counting for the sake of it?
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The RSC’s 2018 production of Macbeth was underwhelming for numerous reasons, but it did have one perfect, if unoriginal, aspect: a huge, red timer counting down throughout to Macbeth’s death. What made this so evocative, so tense, was Macbeth’s unceasing attempts to fight such unaffected constancy. The incessant, energised and tragic futility of it.
But This is a Love Song reached acceptance before it had displayed resistance. It anecdotally mentioned riots and had only one intense outburst. It existentially questioned what matters in life, before anyone had cried. It felt like the timer was a reminder for the audience of the play’s narrative, not a reflection of the character’s oppressive consciousness of time.
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