“M-M-M-Marie!”
She told James how much she envied her sister Marie’s happy marriage. When Marie’s husband called her like that, the air was filled with love that made the Tuscan sun look pale. But James understood the illusion of originality in both artistic world and the human relationships. He had seen them all - love is just like artwork, fragile and prone to copy. He remained emotionally indifferent and intellectually superior to her silly attempts of romanticizing both art and love. He was a certified copy of Apollonian thinker, rational and controlled, until a bottle of wine suddenly released Dionysus in a place besieged by a carnival wedding.
Of course, the fight between James and “she” is yet another certified copy of the everlasting battle between men and women. What James didn’t understand, however, is that she has never intended to win the fight. Dionysus lives in the moment and takes every tear and laughter as the trophy of love. Near the end of the movie, she lay in the bed with the sweetest smile, knowing he would be disappearing soon without a trace. Almost as if to return the favor for Marie, she called him:
“J-J-J-James!”
