Even If I Live Here,
This City Is Not My Home...
The Place Where We Do Not Belong
Columbus is the kind of film that touches you.
Through an intangible hand, we feel that our place is, in fact, not where we
are. Casey becomes the voice of an entire generation. I say this because every
country, every place in the world, experiences the same phenomenon: its
generations are gradually consumed by the longing for something greater.
We live in a world that constantly generates a feeling of
insecurity. An insecurity fueled by the fear of the future. There is no room
for the conventional; there is no comfort. And without comfort, there is no way
to live in peace.
Added to all of this is individual fear. The belief that a
family's legacy must be carried forward creates even more anxiety. The desire
to grow becomes directly linked to the burden of building a future. Yet what is
rarely discussed is this: if the future is my responsibility, shouldn't it also
be my choice whether or not to continue that path?
In this sense, Columbus reinforces the idea that the
loneliness of a single person is the result of countless circumstances. These
circumstances generate small traumas that, in turn, make life increasingly
difficult to endure, even unbearable.
In other words, the search for identity is pushed aside when
the primary concern becomes fulfilling the dreams of one's ancestors.
So I raise the question: what does the “search for identity”
mean through the lens of Columbus?
Architecture as an Expression of the Self
To answer that question, let us take the more rational
route: the film's understanding of architecture itself.
When we analyze architecture in Columbus, we arrive
at the concept of ideals being expressed through physical spaces. Casey's
ideals are at the center of this exploration. She relentlessly searches for a
place she can call home. Yet her favorite buildings are not "homes"
at all; they are functions. Schools, banks, and other public structures.
This creates a reading that is far from literal while
simultaneously contradicting the practical purposes of those buildings. Casey
understands what they were built for, yet she transforms their structures into
something deeply personal and subjective.
In other words, the role of art within the film is, in
essence, to reinforce the notion that the individual self is shaped by the gaze
of the observer. When modernist buildings become the subject of tourist guides
and public interpretation, the film suggests that, regardless of their intended
meaning, they remain places capable of holding countless meanings under the
eyes of different people.
Just like the film itself.
The Meaning of Home
The identity so frequently discussed in Columbus is
ultimately a social reading of what human beings define as “home.”
Home is not where we live.
Home is not where we reside.
Home is the place where our memories can rest, be revisited,
and find shelter.
Imagine a modern family in which grandparents share stories
from their childhoods. Their vision of "home" often feels distant—not
because memory has failed them, but because they carry the impression that
youth itself was a blessing.
But why a blessing?
Youth is the product of experience combined with immaturity.
It is a space where one can begin to understand life while still retaining a
sense of freedom and autonomy.
Within this framework, Casey sees the world in the same way
she sees Columbus: as a void.
Columbus did not live life for her, nor did she live for
Columbus. There is no desire and, consequently, no reciprocity involved. No
relationship of dependence can be healthy without genuine fulfillment.
She lives according to an idealization that does not truly exist. Yet this is precisely where the possibility of growth emerges—the chance to understand why her grandparents' home feels so distant from the place where our own memories are capable of reaching.
Tabula Rasa and Youth
So what is Casey's identity the product of? After all, she
possesses... nothing?
Tabula rasa is a philosophical concept that refers to
blankness, transparency, or, more accurately, the possibility of a new
beginning. I begin this section with that definition because it is immediately
connected to the idea of youth.
Youth is nothing less than a beginning.
It is as if life starts from zero, without rules or
predetermined laws. But it is more than that. It is the most significant stage
of life because it is during youth that we construct the architecture of our
individual and collective perspectives: our beliefs, ethics, and values.
Therefore, the question was never whether we are comfortable
where we were born. The question is what we intend to do while we still have
the opportunity to choose.
Experiencing Columbus
I feel that, as I continue writing, I inevitably repeat
myself. Not because there is a lack of substance, but because Columbus
is a film that must be understood emotionally.
It is a film that demands to be watched once, twice, perhaps
three times before one can truly grasp what it is trying to communicate. While
it invites the viewer to engage with its literal surface, it also encourages us
to absorb its intentions, ambiguities, and the confusing spaces between its
lines.
Yet there are no rules for freedom, and that is the beauty
of understanding.
To absorb an idea, pass it through the filter of critical
thought, and ultimately offer your own interpretation.
That process is made of mistakes, successes, traumas, and
joys.
Columbus, in its entirety, is fiction absorbing
reality through a kind of meta-language. In other words, you are Casey while
remaining yourself at the same time.
Fasten your seatbelts and experience the raw power of art.
PORTUGUÊS:
Ainda que eu viva, essa cidade não é meu lar...
O lugar ao qual não pertencemos
A arquitetura como expressão do indivíduo
O significado de casa
Tábula rasa e juventude
A experiência de compreender Columbus
