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| Wednesday |
the Twenty-Fifth of August, 2004 |
A weekend in Paris, staying in a
decent Montparnasse
hotel, and beginning to feel suspiciously at home around there.
The untethered metal chairs of the Jardin du Luxembourg, mapping
the day's history of where people had decided to sit.
The streaming horde of rollerbladers rumbling down a momentarily-closed
Boulevard Montparnasse, just after dark, led by a squad of rollerblading
gendarmes. Crêpes and cider at the bravely titled Crêperie du Vieux
Journaux.
And a rainy evening at a cinema, for Le Village - we'd probably
have been able to follow enough of it in French, in retrospect, but it
was also showing as the original, with subtitles. Subtitles and naggingly irritating direction,
that begs, post-twist, to be forgiven retroactively. Which it just about manages, and Shyamalan certainly makes up for it with the beauty of the initial premise, even if you
throw away the second half of the film. But it's all excellent to discuss
and expand on afterwards, while not eating lobsters. See it before someone
spoils the ending for you.
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