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He loved movies. |
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He loved The Big Sleep, |
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The Big Chill |
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and The Big Easy. |
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He loved Al Paccino, |
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in the godfather |
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and Rita Hayworth, |
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in Gilda. |
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He loved the Golfmatch, |
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in Goldfinger |
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and the shock twist, |
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in the Crying Game. |
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He loved Westerns |
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where the morality of the hero was suspect, |
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and romances |
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where her true love was there in front |
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of the heroine from scene one. |
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He loved period Drama |
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and Samurai Epics |
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and political Thrillers |
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and Detective Features, |
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but most of all |
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He loved Movies |
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of his wife. |
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Our firm always gave him the most |
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personal of attention. |
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And by the time he died, |
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none of his friends were left alive. |
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So as junior partner i got to spend a week |
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in his Primla Court townhouse, |
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sifting though books, suits, furniture |
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and sixty-three cans of super 8 film. |
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He was known to sit in his study |
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into the small hours, |
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alone with the flickering screen, |
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a glass of wine |
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and the quiet chattering of the projector. |
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Each reel had a date inscribed in careful black ink. |
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I watched them from first to last, |
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in that same study, |
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where the curtains drawn and a pot |
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of darjeeling by my elbow, |
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they were all studies, |
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portraits if you will. |
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In the early sequences she is shy, |
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hiding behind doors. |
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Raising her hand above the shot, |
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her plain gold wedding-band prominent. |
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After a spool or two she relaxes |
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and begins to play to the camera, |
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spinning in the garden, |
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swirling a scarf around her head, |
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blowing kisses and pointing her stern finger. |
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The subsequent reels are the most intimate, |
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as she learns to forget she is on film. |
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We see her reading at the window, |
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nibbling her nails, |
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talking on the telephone |
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and slowly, dreamily cowing her hair. |
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In one feature length sleep sequence, |
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she barely moves and eyelid. |
