It’s never easy being a fan of classic cinema. Constantly at odds with the majority of modern filmgoers. Not to mention the legions of films demanding to be viewed. I sometimes wonder how I ever came to love movies in the first place.For me, I’ve always loved movie moments. Those bits and pieces you remember when plot and story have subsided from thought. Those magic hour skies in Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven. Robert Shaw’s Indianopolis monologue from Jaws. Pacino and Pfeiffer’s kiss in Frankie and Johnny. Among many others.I do sometimes wonder if it’s healthy to continually watch certain scenes from the same movies, especially Addicted to Love and One Fine Day. Yet, there is something to be said for wanting to bask in those things that you really love.The thought of pouty, wild-haired Meg Ryan going scene for scene with Michelle’s classical beauty, against the backdrop of Terrence Malick’s idyllic imagery is so surreal it’s almost Daliesque. Why the idea appeals to me is beyond my own understanding. Maybe it’s the sunshine or one too many beers.If I were stranded on the proverbial desert isle, these are the moments I would cherish, the ones that remind me of what it means to love movies. I realise I’m in the minority of one, but were you really expecting “the Lubitsch touch” here.
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