... Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom (Orphaned Sam settling down and troubled Suzy anchoring herself through humor darkly)
The stylized depiction of precociousness and oddity is but a jump up point. What ensues is rarely ever novel. It's just that we're looking into it with an overwhelming enthusiasm like Saturday nights when you were still excited to go to church. You couldn't quite contain it. You couldn't quite take your eyes off of your Sunday clothes. This is probably the calm before the storm of disillusionment. The warring circumstances that were sure to take a piece of the life you're living now that you're subsisting on alms of grace your paeans to which you scribbled through into pages and pages of poetry, doodled into some semblance of order in an abstract art, hissed into a tape recorder ever unsure when to sing the first words. It's 1965. As always, it's the end of the world as we knew it. But did we ever feel fine?
The first meeting was with bespectacled Sam in a bird sanctuary. It was love at first sight. You couldn't really guess what they saw in one another. It's inexplicable to a fault like all loves at first sight are. Then came, Khaki Scout Sam in summer camp outcasted by the prevalent machismo and utter competitiveness. A resonance of days spent in orphanages. A leitmotif that would be aggregated by Police Captain Sharp in contrast, resigned to an adulterous idleness of an affair while Suzy and her band of brothers were as trapped as their parents in a failed marriage. And her knowing why and how and when and where complicated the matter. It was amplified and intensified by her troubled adolescent sensibilities. They corresponded like birds to other birds in the darkness of adolescence. They have to meet and stow away in an impulse that wouldn't make much sense in hindsight into a whimsical adventure into the depths of the woods. A scaringly amusing thought, it was actually lovely.
The sexual tension was understated: fish hook earrings that pierce through the lobes of naivete. We could have assumed just by shrieks emitted and heard. But of course, we knew.
Torrents of troubles chased them that would resonate until the denouement.
And we would survive as in Noye's Fluddde: animals in pairs of seven and one, scathed and unscathed.