To say The Hours is depressing, is something of an understatement. Although, it is a funny kind of depressing. In parts, it's all so trivial, but that's intentional. The whole point is, I think, that the drama is there is no drama. It's a perfectly normal day, a perfectly normal exchange of interactions. Everything is in place and just-so-normal. And then I guess the point is, nothing ever is as clean-cut as it appears, and while from an observer's eyes, everything may look fine and dandy, but, as the age old saying goes, nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors, and no one ever really can understand the extent of someone else's suffering. That upsets me. The fact that sometimes, it appears, even if you can and want to help someone, you might have already lost them.
I don't like to think that. It's too depressing in my mind. "My whole life is based on the theory that people can, and do, change" as my on-screen heroine Violet Turner frequently says on Private Practise. I like to think she's right. Nothing is final, until the end, so until then, everything matters. The flick of a pen or the cut of a knife. The casual smile from one stranger to another. Every breath. So don't stop making the effort until you physically can't. You never know when someone's counting on you to do just that.