Usually, when I watch a movie or documentary, I have a certain foreknowledge. I’ve read a review / I know the director / I’ve read the book / I’ve seen the trailer. That kind of knowledge helps me decide if I want to see the movie, if I feel like seeing it at a particular moment in time, if I want to see it alone or with some one else.
A friend, who knows me well, texted me the title of a documentary along with the comment that she knew I would find it beautiful. I trusted her and I watched it. I knew nothing. I hadn’t the slightest inkling what I was going to see. She was right. I might even go so far as to say it was one of the most beautiful documentaries I have ever seen.
I was blown away by it. But would I have been just as blown away if I had known beforehand what it’s about, how the critics judge it; what to expect? I think not. The documentary unfolded beautifully and because every thing about it was new to me I appreciated it all the more.
Boarding a train without knowing its destination, diving into deep water without knowing what fish swim in there. Not knowing is opening up and letting yourself be taken along.
I hereby advise myself and anyone who dares to not know a bit more often. You could start by watching Nostalgia de la Luz, without looking it up first.