Reeling Through Life: How I Learned to Live, Love and Die at the Movies

Начало книги

A friend of mine with two children, ages three and six, won’t let them watch movies. She lives out in the country, on a heavenly rural estate with an organic garden, roaming peacocks, a buzzing apiary, a small pond. . and a lavish home movie theatre in the basement, tricked out with a five-by-nine-foot screen, an overhead projector, a digital-everything system, and a split-level viewing area of a dozen roomy Barcaloungers upholstered in rich celadon velvet. This state-of-the-art retreat was a concession to her husband, who likes to watch Charlie Chaplin pictures and documentaries on Winston Churchill in the wee hours of the night; I’m not sure her kids even know it’s there. The first time I ever saw it, I could feel my pupils dilate and the Pavlovian mouth-watering for popcorn and M&M’s kick in. Who wanted a tour of the arbor, or to visit the sheep, pick blueberries, swim in the pond? All I wanted was to curl up in sweatpants and all that plushy velvet and lock myself in that endless glowing pleasure dome of cinema for days.

Читать дальше →