When
I was young, I was so sure of everything. Now that I’m not, I’m not.
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| What does it all mean? |
My
opinions were so solid, my convictions so sure. Now, they are, shall we say, open
to suggestion.
Films
that I was once so definite about now come at me from another angle. Or, maybe
I come to them from another angle. Either way, nothing is quite as it was. Older,
yes. Wiser – well, I’m allowed to pretend. Film, with its fixed, repetitive nature,
remains unchanged. Oddly, I haven’t.
And
so, I've come to these films with new eyes and an ever changing landscape of emotions:
Sunset Boulevard:
Ah,
Norma Desmond, the gift that keeps on giving (movie-wise, that is).
Then: I
once viewed Norma Desmond as a nutty old bat – washed up and stuck in the past.
Like Joe Gillis tells her: she’s 50 and there’s nothing wrong with being 50
unless you think you’re 25 – or something like that. Except that I kind of
thought there was something wrong with being 50. 50? Yikes!
Now: I see a wounded bird. A woman full of pride and passion, still vibrant and
still beautiful with so much to give and no one to give it to. Okay, she is a
bit batty, but she just needs to get out more.
Grease:
Then: Oh,
how I hated that film. Every “teenager” seemed too old and it was just not as
good as the real classic musicals I loved. You know, Astaire and Kelly and Judy.
Now:
Oh my, the beauty of all of the youth and youthful fun in that film. Travolta, so talented, such youthful promise.
Rear
Window*
Then: Poor James Stewart! Trapped in that apartment and longing for travel and adventure. I'd be itching to get out of there, too. Good thing he had a great nurse. As for Grace Kelly's Lisa, she was pretty, but shallow. Jame Russell seemed a better companion.
Now: What an old crab that James Stewart is! And what a great gal Lisa Carol Freemont is. She puts up with that growling old bear, brings him dinner from the 21 Club and shows him that a real adventurous spirit can wear a dress from Paris and face down a murderer. Good thing Jimmy had a good nurse (some thing don't change).
* Note: there are a few James Stewart films that fall into this category, but I don't want to pick on him. I like him, I really do, but he always seems so darn crabby!
Singin' in the Rain
Then: Gene Kelly was a gorgeous man. Everything he did was right and everyone else was wrong. Lina Lamont was a pill and Debbie Reynolds was unworthy.
Now: Gene Kelly is still gorgeous, but Lina Lamont was the bomb and so misunderstood. She was a shimmering, glowing star in the cinema firmament. As for Debbie, gosh I miss her. And Gene, well, wasn't he just a little mean sometimes?
Wuthering Heights
Then: because I developed a mad crush on Laurence Olivier in this film, Heathcliff was a poor, put-upon orphan - wrecked by Cathy's inability to live like a pauper. And I was not happy with Merle Oberon's Cathy.
Now: Gosh, they were a miserable pair, Healthcliff and Cathy. I confess I am still dazzled by Olivier (and the lovely score), but my sympathies reside with the Lintons. I find it hard to sit through this film. Another of those things that don't change: still not happy with Merle Oberon's Cathy.
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| I'm shocked, shocked that I like this film |
I could go on - I resisted Casablanca for years because of my resistance to Bogey - but now I give into it. Same, too, for On the Waterfront. Brando to me was like a cross to a vampire, but I admire the film and his performance greatly. I snobbishly pooh-poohed Citizen Kane, only to come to the conclusion that, yes, it is awesome.
I suspect the list will change, because, in spite of all efforts, I keep getting older. One can only hope that means deeper, wiser, and more in touch with the mysteries of the universe that are revealed on film.
