He even has eyeholes, though presumably no eyes to peer through them. He also stood very still, clad in a white sheet, and that is what C wears, for the rest of this movie, resembling every basic ghost ever drawn in crayon by a child. “A Ghost Story” is seldom a scary movie, but it comes from scary stock the last figure to sit up like that, with such sudden purpose, was the white-masked bogeyman who lay on the floor behind Jamie Lee Curtis, in “Halloween” (1978). For every viewer who snickers at this, I reckon, there will be another who accepts it without a shiver, and a third who will be faintly freaked out. (The crash itself, like other major incidents, occurs offscreen in this film, aftermath is everything.) At the morgue, M views the body, which is draped in a white sheet she exits, there is a lengthy pause, and then the sheet sits up. Having left the house, he is seen slumped against the steering wheel of a crashed car. She is M (Rooney Mara), he is C (Casey Affleck), and that’s that. They murmur, canoodle, and doze as the hours grow small, only to be awakened by a sound-hard to place, but akin to the deep twang of a spring, or to the melancholy breaking of a string that Chekhov specifies in “The Cherry Orchard.” Only much later in the movie do we discover the source of the noise, and only in the final credits will the lovers be identified. Only a clue, mind you the questions that Lowery raises hang in the air, like motes of dust, long after the movie is done. Now, thanks to “A Ghost Story,” a new film by David Lowery, we have some sort of clue.
(Substitute “living” for “quick,” and the effect is halved.) Moreover, the creed that he sketches out seems far from implausible, though I have often wondered what form the attending might take. I happen to find this the most beautiful passage in all Nabokov.
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