well, winter-in-the-city was upon us, like a clammy overeager prom date. turning everything he touches into ice. frosty disinterest. time-space rushed from halloween into twenty-three degree spittle and it's now warm again, in time for my birthday tomorrow, the one that makes me thirty. THIRTY.
i've always said my feelings towards winter would be different if i lived in the rural-aways. in the country, winter is cosiness, and deer tracks and wood smoke and inventive hibernation. in the city it is rushing out at uncivilized hours to move your car away from the plow and friends withdrawing like snails and horrible radio disembodied voices chattering about how once again we are colder than siberia. the natives here are scandinavian stock and fare better than i do. the winter i love is winter in theory. not the one that renders me formless and salt encrusted and red about the nose and cheeks.
some weeks ago now i watched the film 'the haunting of julia'. how this film eluded me until now, i don't know. moments of despair when i think i've seen everything to see in a certain favorite genre and period, they happen. and then when i'm proven wrong! oh, it's rapture.
there's a lot of beauty happening in 'julia'. there's conniving babyface keir dullea and mia farrow doing what she does best with the vacantly sweet vulnerability. in giant furs and black wide brimmed hats and irish sweaters, unpacking china in her new holland park row house. there are ghosts, ghosts of little girls. and one little knife.
i tend to be scared by movies which don't scare other people. if many stupid people proclaim that a film didn't scare them, there's a good chance that i will like it. what is not-shown, old fashioned ghost stores, hmm hmm. and this film did give me a good little chill. my love for understated seventies horror, oh, it's real.
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