Monday, February 27, 2012

Black & white charm


I remember a joke.
Two friends meet.
The one says “I went to the opera last night.”
“What did you see?”
 “I don’t remember but I can sing a little from it”.
The other one listens for awhile and says “Nah, I don’t like it”.
  
And the same goes for the movies you should’ve gone to see at a movie theatre but you were too lazy to do so and downloaded the movie instead and played it on you laptop. If that’s the case (as it is with the majority of people around me) then don’t come to tell me you saw it and you think “it’s nothing very much” ‘cause what you did what to see enough to know what it is about but not enough to construct a just opinion. Movies are all about magic and that magic can only be cooked in the vast dark space of a movie theatre with the King Kong-size screen and sound loud enough to muffle your thought. It’s like to say you’ve seen the Sistine Chapel ceiling because you’ve looked at a reproduction postcard of it. Scale matters.

I saw “The Artist” yesterday-the proper way, of course. And I was, to put it simply, enchanted. I don’t say it’s a must-see; I only say I loved every second of it. It had that thing dreams are made of.

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