You’ll never know
what will make it so special and so memorable. There are flash restaurant
dinners you won’t remember, and yet there are brief pub talks that will stay
with you for many years to come. It’s that one little detail that someone else
won’t even notice.
Those two girls who
were sitting in front of us did not want to see some obscure British
black-and-white film from 1962. That was a rainy evening in late November, and
there was nothing else for them to do. They saw a poster. They bought two bottles
of beer. They bought the tickets. They came inside. They looked at the screen.
And they did not like what they saw. All through the evening, we just kept
hearing the clink-clink-clink of the beer bottles as they were trying to
balance them under their feet. They tried to get them out in the open, but the
cinema was dark and silent and refused to play along.
It was the
combination of those, I guess, which made the experience of seeing this
wonderful film so memorable. In the end, I ended up loving those girls almost
as much as The Loneliness Of The Long
Distance Runner.
