This is the perfect date we all dream of. They wander aimlessly along the streets of Paris, accompanied by the city’s charm. They walk past vintage bookshops, where she feels his eyes on her when she looks away. She throws a nickel into a fountain and makes a wish. They sip champagne by the Seine riverbank, and cheer with a “Bonne Santé.” They share ice cream with one scoop and two spoons, and smile at a young couple that seems to have just reunited, a reflection of love that transcends generations. They go to the movies, peeking at each other’s reactions. As the sun sets, they waltz into each other’s arms, staring affectionately in a crowded room. They are amazed by the fireworks, culminating in a kiss that seals their perfect day.
The scene switches to “July 15th, 2014.” The sky has lost its colors, and his expression is dull as if joy and life have been taken from him. This time, the bouquet of flowers goes to her tombstone. He kneels down, allowing himself to let the mourning and grief sink in. The tombstone reads: “Madeleine Armand, died 14 juillet 2010, pour toujours dans mon cœur” (“Forever in my heart”).
The short film goes by so quickly, and the characters do not say a word throughout. Yet, while watching, my emotions rode the highs and lows with the lighthearted and romantic music, followed by the grieving melodies.
My social media feed (and my personal experience as a 20-something, along with those of my friends’) is filled with complaints and satire about modern dating, often comparing it to fast food: convenient but ultimately unsatisfying.
As online dating becomes more prevalent, it undeniably helps connect people across distances and social barriers, yet it also commodifies people. We swipe through profiles with rapid indifference, spending mere seconds on cringe-worthy attempts at wit or carefully curated photos. Each profile, a mere catalog entry, reduces individuals to commodities labeled with a few buzzwords and glossy images. The process feels transactional, and the depth of connection often gets lost in the shuffle. We present ourselves in a polished, marketable format, striving to stand out in a sea of sameness. It’s a far cry from the rich, textured interactions that truly nourish the soul.
In stark contrast, the couple’s date presented in the short film is innocent and pure. It captures that curiosity, gentle and genuine care, and mutual respect we long for but often don’t realize we miss. The couple’s simple, unhurried wanderings through Parisian streets, their shared smiles and spontaneous moments of joy, remind us what modern dating often lacks: the profound, unspoken connection that comes from truly seeing and appreciating another person in his or her entirety.
Is it a bad ending? In my view, the ending is beautiful because it embraces the poignancy and imperfection of life. There is a certain elegance in the way it acknowledges the fleeting nature of our most cherished moments, capturing the raw, unfiltered essence of human experience. It’s a realistic ending, reminding us of the inevitable cycles of human existence.
As a famous Chinese poet once wrote: “In joy and sorrow, people come and go, as the moon waxes and wanes.” Similarly, the film “Coco” beautifully expresses that in the land of the dead; as long as someone remembers you, you will be around forever. In the film, the character died with the beautiful memories of genuine care from her partner, and he will carry her beauty and character forever in his heart.
