 August and movies seem to go together. One of the ways I’ve been caring for myself—watching a movie at night. Undistracted. Hand’s free of phone or hobby. Just watching. The French Connection has not aged well. The racism is painful. I turned it off. Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Like looking at a painting. Steamy. Cinema Paradiso. I’ll watch it forever—the feeling of warmth in my heart. Like Moonstruck. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen it. Its beauty is never lost on me. Olympia Dukakis. A master. The kitchen table. The New York cabs. The way Ronny wants Loretta. Put that on repeat. *** In the before times, I went to a matinee most Friday afternoons. On my own or with a friend. The best is being in a theatre—TIFF or the Varsity. I like it when I can reserve seats. People talk about the cost. It’s one of my drugs of choice with a side of popcorn. Maybe this is the fall and winter I take a film course or join a film club. Talking about great movies after. That stuff’s magic dust. Comments are closed.
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