We need to talk about Kevin.

I saw We need to talk about Kevin at the cinema with Bern last night - thanks to Mamamia. It's based on the book by Lionel Shriver, starring Tilda Swinton. Such a brilliantly shot film, such an important story. It's a story about hatred and love and blame and warning signs and evil. And a mother's struggle to grapple with the tragedy, grief and blame her son has caused.

In the before, she lived a life with colour. A life of could have been travels, dreams and trying. So much trying, and compromise, with Kevin especially. But colour. 

In the after, her world was stripped of colour. Except the paint of blame she scrubbed off the walls, the porch, her car, her hands. The blood red paint. Always a reminder. The biggest could have been.

The film was thought provoking and confronting. You never know the burden someone carries. 

I wondered what it'd be like to carry her burden. So damn hard. She'd be grieving for the community while they'd be blaming her. Every moment she'd be worrying what someone would think of her. Carrying the burden having lost everything. Who would grieve for and with her? How could she start over?

It's an example of nature versus nurture. 

Sometimes you can't shape someone, no matter how hard you try.

Sometimes you've got to trust your gut instinct.

Sometimes people are pure evil, born that way, without explanation.

Even your own flesh and blood.

And a mother's love will always be unconditional.