Sometimes a book, and even less often, a movie can portray how you see the world, capture and express things inside that you cannot put into words, or draw in pictures. When this happens, it is often the deep, difficult things that are brought out and expressed.
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, a novel written in the 1930s and recently made into a movie, is like that for me. In this case though, instead of expressing some sort of mysterious difficulty from my somewhere in my psyche, it brought out the tiny details instead. Things too minute for words, and yet very descriptive of how I think about the world. (This is all very self-analytical.)
Not so much the plot, but the images and colors in the movie, and rooms and glamourousness of it somehow resonated very accurately with what my mind has always looked like on the inside, ever since I can remember being conscious. Not that my mind is glamourous, luxurious, or a comedy; I think it's more clumsy and undisciplined than anything else. (Like body, like mind?) We're working on that. It's just that, if you take all that (the movie images) as one impression, like a painting, then you have my mental sort of "filter" I guess.
I was going to say lots more clever things about all of it, but I'll just put up the rest of the fun pictures and leave it at that.
Doesn't this make you want to drink champagne and sleep in silk sheets all the time for the rest of your life? (and have curly hair?)
3 comments:
I absolutely love this movie. The pictures you put up were beautiful! :)
Yes, yes, and yes. Thank you for introducing me to this movie...and well, for introducing me to a lot of wonderful experiences...red hair dye
Thanks, y'all. :) Lol, rebecca, I'm glad you still think of hair dye as a wonderful experience, after that. :)
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