Love is not something you communicate, it's something you deliver
The film makes you think about how provocative the pairing of a 32-year-old black opera singer (a diva) with a young white man was in 1981. When asked during a press conference, "Why don't you record your songs?", she responds with "Music flows, it doesn't stay put," demonstrating her confidence and stubbornness. Yet, she also fears the prospect of aging. I can't remember how old I was when I first saw this film, but I can poignantly relate to her state of mind, as arrogance in youth, no matter what physical form, is a delusional obsession with the limitations of aging. The significance of what the young white man did to her is also intriguing. At first, the man appears as a mailman (a messenger) and enters her dressing room, his mission being to deliver something to her: a letter, a bouquet... Eventually, he becomes embroiled in a crime, the story veers off course, and finally, just when she's forgotten about it, he delivers it again.
I particularly like the scene where the protagonist listens to the "secretly recorded voice of a diva" recorded on a cassette tape, which in a crime movie would be "items recaptured from the enemy" and in a romance movie would be "a gift." It taught me that to love is to convey the beauty of another person back to them as it is, and to devote oneself to being a messenger from one person to the other. Sex does not appear. It's not that sex itself is bad, but rather I think it is simply to present the protagonist as supporting the cycle of self-love, or rather, the lack of impact of his appearance itself.
