Pig & Runt

Watched Disco Pigs. Oh boy. How fucking disturbing is this film? Why must I love the movies that rip the heart and soul out of me? I’ve seen it probably three or four times before, but not in recent years. I forgot how it kills me. I put it in on Friday night and took it out as soon as I realised where I was heading with it. Nothing like the uncontrollable ugly sobbing gut-wrenching cry. You need to prepare for it, do it when you have time to properly get in and out . . . and even still, it was worse than I imagined. I started crying a good 20 minutes before the end and I didn’t stop. Through the ending, the credits, back to the main menu, turned off the dvd, and still crying. I can be such a wimp.

Cillian Murphy and Elaine Cassidy are Pig and Runt or Darin and Sinead, born on the same day, in the same hospital, moments apart. Inseparable from birth, almost telepathic. They grow up living side by side, sharing their games, their own language. Two as one. As their 17th birthday nears, their world begins to shift. Forced apart. Pig’s jealously spirals out of control and their relationship is stretched to breaking point. It’s terrible. Tragic. Unfair. Frightening. Disturbing. Both Cillian and Elaine are so good. I want it to work out for them. I want them to grow up to become King and Queen of their castle. Even though I know it’s not going to happen, I want it so much I can’t stop watching.

Mood: bawling my eyes out
Drinking: nothing
Listening To: Mick Jagger, Too Far Gone
Hair: pulled back loose with wispys

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