Saturday, August 15, 2009
There are times in my life when I develop powerful addictions to old movies, and it's generally a terrible thing, because watching these old films fills me with an almost unbearable longing for times past. Times that never even existed. Romanticized, glamorized, generally moviefied times. Where everything is a little less natural, a little exaggerated, and a little bit perfect. Handsome black and white profiles, and ever-red lipstick. Impossibly beautiful vintage clothes, and dance numbers with Fred Astaire in tails, tripping effortlessly across the dance floor. Pencil thin mustaches arching over the lips of William Powell and Clark Gable. It's too beautiful, it's too much, I can't stand it, but I can't look away.