I know this is technically not a film, but here in the UK, we have live events in cinemas where operas or ballets or plays are broadcast live from whichever city they are performing in. The other day, I saw the National Theatre version of The Seagull (it was utterly amazing).

But there was this one moment in The Seagull, a modern approach to Anton Chekhov’s play, that stood out and had me sat on the edge of my very uncomfortable seat. Boris, a successful writer in the play, is talking to another character about his obsession with writing and the perfectionist side of things. In his monologue he says:

“Here I am talking to you, excited and delighted, yet never for one moment do I forget that there is an unfinished story waiting for me indoors. I see a cloud shaped like a grand piano. I think: I must mention somewhere in a story that a cloud went by, shaped like a grand piano. I smell heliotrope. I say to myself: Sickly smell, mourning shade, must be mentioned in describing a summer evening. I lie in wait for each phrase, for each word that falls from my lips or yours and hasten to lock all these words and phrases away in my literary storeroom: they may come in handy some day.”

It made me feel all sorts of things. Sad, unhappy, thrilled, wanting to hear more. What got me, though, was that every word that fell from his mouth in this monologue made sense. There was no syllable or intention lost on its way from my ears to my brain. The frantic thoughts (even about the shape of a cloud) shooting through his mind as he’s trying to have a meaningful conversation with another character just made sense.

I’m not sure how else to describe how it made me feel, but it was my favourite part of the play, even if I came home after it still thinking about those words to the point where it put me in a melancholy state. Anyway, it was something I wanted to share.