Sideways‘ depiction of high-functioning depression destroys me every time. I laugh my ass off the whole way through, even during the saddest of moments, because Miles’ life is so pathetic and cruel that it verges on absurdity. But it’s not absurd – it’s very real and honest and true.
And in the end, as Miles’ book is denied, as he sits at a crossroads wondering what direction his life will head next, in this moment where everything he ever wanted feels lost to time, he’s forced to steep in his depression, to realize that the sadness will always be there, and that yes it will suck, but that it’s also part of life’s beautiful amalgamation, that just when his ’61 Cheval Blanc peaks, at the exact moment when it begins its slow, inevitable decline, soon to be lost forever, is exactly when it tastes so fucking good. That’s when I lose it and cry my eyes out.
We don’t relish that kind of sadness until it’s gone, until we’ve seen what it’s done to us, until we realize how much stronger we’ve become after we’ve faced it head on. “Don’t give up, Miles,” says Maya. “Keep writing.”
P.S. Someone on Reddit called Sideways a middle-aged version of Superbad. I love that.
