This week the Bloor is showing a handful of Kurosawas to mark his anniversary, and one was The Hidden Fortress this afternoon when, mirabile dictu, I did *not* have a shift. I had a ticket for it at the AGO and was annoyed at missing the big screen experience. But now I got to see the film where I first saw it, 25 years ago about this time, in another universe when I'd just discovered Japan as something other than film, ironically enough. Things have changed since then, alas. My eyes are worse than they were and my contacts no longer address the problem; the subtitles are half-illegible white on white anyway, and the Japanese is male-grunt incomprehensible. So I was a bit sad to start with, wondering why I'd been so delighted with the thing back in '85... and then, and then, the old Kurosawa magic crept back. I can't say how or why, but I have that full-fed sensation Kurosawa's historicals always gave me; however much I wonder at the historicity of them all (surely it's romantic history, since Kurosawa was such a romantic), however much I wonder why this princess doesn't talk like any NHK Taiga drama princesses (where did that harsh shriek come from?), still and all, Kurosawa convinces on his own terms, always. A pity I'll have to see him on the small screen from now on, but my own fault, basically.
Shades of the past
This week the Bloor is showing a handful of Kurosawas to mark his anniversary, and one was The Hidden Fortress this afternoon when, mirabile dictu, I did *not* have a shift. I had a ticket for it at the AGO and was annoyed at missing the big screen experience. But now I got to see the film where I first saw it, 25 years ago about this time, in another universe when I'd just discovered Japan as something other than film, ironically enough. Things have changed since then, alas. My eyes are worse than they were and my contacts no longer address the problem; the subtitles are half-illegible white on white anyway, and the Japanese is male-grunt incomprehensible. So I was a bit sad to start with, wondering why I'd been so delighted with the thing back in '85... and then, and then, the old Kurosawa magic crept back. I can't say how or why, but I have that full-fed sensation Kurosawa's historicals always gave me; however much I wonder at the historicity of them all (surely it's romantic history, since Kurosawa was such a romantic), however much I wonder why this princess doesn't talk like any NHK Taiga drama princesses (where did that harsh shriek come from?), still and all, Kurosawa convinces on his own terms, always. A pity I'll have to see him on the small screen from now on, but my own fault, basically.
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Everyone else's life is being so traumatic just now that I'm trying to be grateful that the only thing bothering me is that the plumber somehow got…
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Dear God but Piranesi is oogey-making reading. Like a bad dream or the faintest recollection of something else I read somewhere else but can't trace.…
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The evening smells of woodsmoke
Finished Claudine a Paris. Finally. Suck fairy attack: what a nasty piece of goods that girl was. But done and onto the reject pile it goes. For…
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