I think humanity can be divided into two groups: people, like me, who love the movie The Pumpkin Eater, and people who can't take more than a minute of Anne Bancroft and Peter Finch trapped in a misery of chain smoking upper class Brits with truncated emotions.
"So much waste."
I watched The Pumpkin Eater (for the umpteenth time while baking a batch of cookies for my father and waiting for the phone to ring. (The phone did not ring; the cookies turned out well.)
"What will we do now?"
There's the scene in the Beauty Parlor. The scene in Harrod's. The scene in the psychiatrists office. The scene at the funeral. The scene where the smoke drifts back into the cigarette after Anne Bancroft went to bed with her psychiatrist. The scene in the gentlemen's club.
"No. Yes. What do you want to hear?"
The cinematography--it's shot in black and white--is just beautiful. And the acting is just amazing. There's nothing to compare with any movie made in the last twenty five years.
"I have scars I don't want you to see."
"You always had scars."
Ah frailty. We are all so broken, so damaged. Clinging to one another in desparation, even though we only ultimately only cause each other pain.
"You think there's something dirty about sex. You see childbirth as a way to sanctify it."
"I'll think on that."
"You would do well to."
These cookies are really good. And the recipe is so easy. My father is gonna love them.