I love that bitter-sweet feeling when a film moves you at the core, and it ends, and you’re left all full of the weight of truth and the an unbearable longing, and you just want to hug the playwright, the directors, and the actors, because it all comes together into one, great, big masterpiece.
And that’s when you hate that you saw it alone, because you want to talk about it, and you can’t.
Harper Pitt , Mary-Louise Parker’s character, is on the “night flight to San Fransisco… chasing the moon across America
“God, it's been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet we'll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air, as close as I'll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see, because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules, of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Nothing's lost forever. In this world, there's a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so."
And then there’s Prior Walter (played by Justin Kirk) who is standing before the heavenly council, asking to return to the earth to live. The members of the council don’t understand why he would want to return to earth, which is so full of suffering. He tries to explain:
"I've lived through such terrible times and there are people who live through much worse. But you see them living anyway. When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children - they live. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die, but I recognize the habit; the addiction to being alive. So we live past hope."
– Angels in
, Tony Kushner