At the border of afternoon and evening, waiting for the right time to take Master Danger out on an errand, I decided I would pass a little time with television. The local weather wasn't on yet, so I still more idly checked other channels to pass a few moments--
And on Turner Classic Movies I glimpsed Robert Donat as a middle-aged Victorian, and I stopped, sighed, sank into the sofa.
I knew it was Goodbye Mr Chips, and I knew where we were in the film. It was at that scarifying moment when Chips, who had finally found happiness and laughter, lost everything.
It's such a brilliant portrayal of grief. Donat moves slowly, still upright but as if every step hurts deep in the bone. He goes on with his duty -- because that is who he is, and because he can't think, can't allow himself to think -- and then, once silent, goes inside himself. Yes, it's creaky 1939 filmmaking, but it's real because of
Robert Donat. I haven't been watching many films lately, but my Netflix queue brought me an early Donat film, known in the UK as Cash. I think I'll spend some time with him tonight.
Cheers to all, and may your griefs pass away in the flicker of a moment.