Its a Sunday afternoon and I've got intense cravings to watch an old, washed out looking film
classic. Short of trying to describe this beauty, I've been thinking of what it is that fills me with this particular urge. Is it that such films harken back to the glory days of Sunday afternoons, not a worry in the world but ones infant school homework? Does the desire to watch
Zulu on the day of rest represent a curious urge to live in yr past? Or does slouching in front of the telly smelling of the night before's chip-sandwich and watching
Bridge on the River Kwai, motionless allude to a finer pedigree in past-film making (at least to this end).
Probably, though I would say that a lot of these films exhibit a certain effortlessness in aiding escapism, one that most modern movies can only aspire to. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close the curtains and remain in my jimmy-jams for the remainder of the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment