THE READER: my undefined feelings

Finally, I've watched The Reader. I think words are too superficial to praise, when a work is bigger than words which cannot confine the appraisal that it means. Why is it not the best movie in Oscar? Perhaps, a recognition means nothing to a great piece, it reputes only a common consent of a group of "matter or not" hypocrites. A professor of mine said this in his lectures -- a work that you find yourself incapable to analyze it fully, yet, you feel loving it as if for no single reason, it must then be a great piece of literature. At least, to one person, it is. The last sentence is what I added to avoid offenders intruding my belief. I am trying to review and "de-fragment" and hopefully, re-experience the movie, and the feeling that I had during watching. I love her honesty, yes, very much. I love the author's honesty, on human nature, on sin, on justice, on the ambiguousness of sin, of justice, of the rights and wrongs, on history. I used to be a radical member of life, of society, yet, it brings you nowhere, it offers no resolution. You make sense of the whole world by understand yourself, quietly, not radically. This is why I like the film. It is quiet, like how life really is, when we take it as naked as it is actually. I love it when he recites Homer, I love it when he recites Goethe, and some that I've never heard of. I love the classroom, it looks like that one that I had when I was in University. I had my SOC200Y class there, and then we moved, to a new building, I can't remember exactly why, Oh, it was because there weren't any air conditioning, and it was a summer course, I remember, my professor's name, Andrew McKinnon, and my tutor's name, George with a weird last name, and he speaks with a funny Spanish like accent. I realize how one actually hide her memory in a slot of her head, which she cannot find it when she was looking for it so hard, but then it just oneday emerge to the surface, but then, it might sink back to the lost world again. I realize that, age has been coming to me as if it matter lately, and it really frightens me. Let's go back to the movie, yes, it was the classroom. You see that guy with pimples on his face, the student who first said the trial was interesting? He was so eager to make a speech of his own opinion. You see, shit people is everywhere. If he had a chance to be the guards, I bet, even with his education, he will not unlock the door, deliberately, not because he doesn't get in touch with his conscience, but out of his freewill, he will love to see others being tortured so he feels good about him having the power above everyone else. And the court, those women who falsely accused Hana. I bet they must be good mother at home, with the knitting that they do. And there are silent torture, that doesn't get defined by law, like Michael's father. And how about his sister? She just hated him and want to see him being punished. That's the darkside within us, everyone of us. When we dare to peel the heart of man like an onion, you'll find it all rotten and stink. It doesn't only makes you cry, it makes you puke. There are more that I want to say, but, there are none that I can express. I hope, it doesn't hide itself in the secret slot inside my head, where I cannot find it ever again. I hope to remember, please, aging, stop killing my memory.