Pat has challenged me to name three classic movie moments that made me buy things, do things, or think things that maybe I shouldn't have.
I'm not sure about the 'shouldn't have' bit, it depends on how you look at things: no movie has induced me to moral reprehensibility as far as I can determine, but these three have, perhaps, encouraged certain weaknesses that tend only to lead to disappointment.
First, Ronin. I searched the internet for the particular moment of influence and couldn't find it, there are lots of clips from the film out there but they're all boring action stuff. So I'm guessing that my idea of a classic movie moment and that of the sort who uploads clips don't quite coincide. Who knows why? Anyway, ever since I first saw Ronin, over ten years ago, I have been searching for this:
not Robert De Niro, but the cup in his hand. It's my perfect coffee cup: gleamingly translucent, hand thrown fine clay; bowl shaped; large enough to hold the necessary quantity, and that wonderful deep foot. Here it is from a, slightly, different angle:
It's a poem of a cup. Every element adds to every other, I want it dead bad, and have seriously considered buying a potters wheel and kiln in order to try and make it myself.
Breakfast at Tiffany:
this whole film has made me buy things, do things and think things: I wore Rayban Wayfarers for years. I bought a Burberry mac, though I could ill afford it, but which, years later, I still wear. And I luxuriate in eating a croissant out of a paper bag as I browse the windows of posh shops I can't afford to enter, whenever I'm in a city. I've never done it wearing a cocktail dress though, yet.
Leon: this is the most 'shouldn't have' of the three. I have on more than one occasion been tempted to layer several mismatching wallpapers in my house and then encourage the top layers to peel off, and I have had my hair cut in a short bob, a la twelve year old Natalie Portman, more than once. But, maybe because I am considerably more than twelve, I can never get mine to look quite so fabulously wild.
So far I've not been tempted to train as an assassin though.
This has been a fun post to do and quite enlightening. Now I know what Tom (the man who got me writing) meant when he said in a workshop: 'Eryl is all surface.' I would now like to invite everyone who reads this, and has a blog, to join in.