Consider this post as a teaser to see the film, rather than a review, and more of a reflection of how it resonated with me.
After the thought-provoking film, I began walking back to my apartment at Wood House and noticed our lighted campus. I could see down Brickrow from Wilson to the Metcalf Bookstore - a mark of a safe campus, yet felt a new sense of guilt for the generous light from which one could easily read a book. I felt nostalgic for my first couple years where there were fewer lampposts and many more shadows.
A Frost sonnet, "Acquainted with Night," echoed in my head, especially the third line.
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, O luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
So that's what I tried to do, outwalk the furthest campus light.
I headed to the cross country hill. My eyes noticing lights everywhere, a pink hue to the clouds, and a scimitar moon - with a star or a possible planet a few inches to the right above the moon.
To be honest, I wish I knew my stars like my father, a sailor, who once navigated by star light in the Virgin Islands. He had a telescope that as children we played with like a toy, losing parts to his chagrin.
Yet on the hill tonight, in the shadows behind a wall of remaining pine trees, I could still see all ten tennis courts, light near the hocky pond, and distant cellphone towers and truck lights flashing from Interstate 80.
I was sad to see so few stars and more clouds than I should.
I thought of Peter Lee, former physics and astronomy teacher, and his frustration with night pollution. My first year, seven years ago, on a similar night, I needed a walk before bed, and I came across Peter in the observatory. It was a memorable experience for me, yet he was disappointed. Forlorn, he said, there used to be more stars to see.
However, alone tonight, I was still reminded of how insignificant I was in the grand scheme of moon and stars and universe and global commerce with trucks rumbling all night across the country, and cell phone messages whirling faster than bats.
I simply stood and wondered.
The paradox of progress - and connection via technology - that disconnects us from nature and darkness.
The dark. The fear of the unknown. The fear of uncertainty.
I wonder what is next?
No light can tell us that.
Fear not the dark.
http://www.thecitydark.com/#/Trailer
