I've been on a bit of a Woody Allen kick for the last couple of months. Tonight I watched Match Point, after reading something about it being one of his top ten best movies and a big comeback for him after several let-downs in a row. I really enjoyed it. For a while I thought the subject matter was quite a bit different from some of the other movies of his that I have liked so much.
(It was even a little too much of a thriller for me at one point and I went and looked for a spoiler. I have no problem watching a movie like that after I know what is going to happen. Even then, it usually still turns out to be a bit on the intense side for me. It's been a while, too, since I decided it was fine if I looked ahead in books, movies, what have you. Gave myself permission, at it were. It is supposed to be fun, after all. I feel like I have enough not-knowing in regular life without it taking over in the fiction I read and watch. Unless I want it to, that is.)
...but then, the ending {in particular} really brought home some of the meaning-of-life (and is there meaning to life?) questions that had been posed during the movie- if seemingly briefly- and included some extra introspection about luck that I especially enjoyed. It got me thinking again about the Luck Factor that I read earlier this year.
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