nathansnook

My Little Loves

Masculinity is frail because boyhood is illusion of man. If the reflection exists before the presence of a mirror, then you have nothing. ... There's a scene in which the boy goes to the circus to catch the act of a man so aware of himself in his masculinity, so proud in his stance, in his posture, beheld in his audience who lays on a bed of broken glass, and when he rises, he shows no blood on his back, no cuts. Our narrator recreates this scene the next day, using his friend as a prop to examine the glass before he lays on it, but in doing so, whispers to his friend to flip the broken shards over, so that when he lays down on the shattered illusion of masculinity, he is laying down on the soft sides of the shards. Of course, his audience, a group of kids, clap. Applaud illusion. Applaud fragility. ... Early on in the film, in line in white linen in a church holding candles, he follows a young girl where, in fear of him setting the girl on fire, he, instead, bones the girl. This fear, this tension, only to have the sheer audacity of being so incredibly innocent, so curious, so foolish, explains exactly why I've seen patriarchy to be inherently violent. Men never change. Boys will be boys.