I work out to burn off the crazy shirt
The movie is not, repeat, not, the typical industrial run-of-the-mill tear-jerker. It is something much higher, a real classical tragedy in American form. After watching it, and discovering its gems (some of them are scenes which last only a few seconds) I concluded that spoilers don’t matter, which is the touchstone of a true work of art: we can read and re-read War and Peace, watch and re-watch Leonardo’s Last Supper, listen and re-listen to Mozart’s Don Giovanni. The ancient Greeks knew the story of Oedipus Rex before Sophocles was even born, but they went eagerly to watch his tragedy in spite of all they knew and expected.
Why? Because they wanted to see how sublime words could make the spectator follow the flow of fate dragging the guiltless characters to their destiny, inspiring feelings of pity and terror, until the final catharsis. So says Aristotle, and, miraculously, all is there in “The Cure.” Not only, but the fact that the leads are kids gives a new twist to the classical tragedy, trying to awaken in each of us the kid who, hopefully, is still there.
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