As the screen faded to credits and I sat alone in my living room, I kept replaying the final few minutes in my mind. The film continued to haunt me throughout my sleep and into the next morning. I don't know what rating to give it. This movie was both somehow *wrong*, that such a horrifying event was given such a rosy color, but at the same time so stunningly beautiful, that a young boy could come out of that event with that image of it in his mind. The story of a father determined at any cost to keep his son alive and happy was charming at the beginning and then almost terrifying at the end. I can understand why people respond both negatively and positively to this. And I am torn between those two poles... which is probably the way it was meant to be. If you go too far one way or the other, you lose the meaning of the movie. The fight between terror and joy, which is fought throughout the entire story. This isn't a movie you should be able to just choose an opinion on. I have a feeling I'll be revamping and reconsidering and reordering my thoughts on this movie for days and weeks and perhaps months and years to come.
I am going to give it an extremely high rating because for a movie to conflict me that much emotionally, it means it was almost certainly made superbly - if I can't just throw it off to the side, it has something worth considering. 4.5 stars.
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