Strange, strange...
Yesterday the Commission cinema club put on a showing of the RHPS. It was very very strange to see Brad, Janet and the rest up there on the screen and not be tipsy, not be throwing water/rice/toast, not be wearing newspapers, not be waving lighters, not be shouting any callbacks or dancing the timewarp, not be laughing dementedly at callbacks which I hadn't heard before (from witty types such as lid and emma, or from lunatics like the Studio Galande lot) and most of all not wearing fishnets etc.
But, wierdly, I really enjoyed it. To watch it - just the film, with no bells or whistles - is something I haven't done since I was sixteen. Somehow it was rather special, and rather marvellous to once again hear the dialogue and not be trying to do a million other silly things. And, of course, I ended up laughing to myself at the thousand fantastic memories that have somehow become entwined with the celluoid. What a joyous evening of absolute pleasure.
But, wierdly, I really enjoyed it. To watch it - just the film, with no bells or whistles - is something I haven't done since I was sixteen. Somehow it was rather special, and rather marvellous to once again hear the dialogue and not be trying to do a million other silly things. And, of course, I ended up laughing to myself at the thousand fantastic memories that have somehow become entwined with the celluoid. What a joyous evening of absolute pleasure.