Feeling a bit like Howard Hughes

An unintended consequence of having children is that one's movie consumption goes right down. Neither the antenatal classes nor the parenting manuals think to mention this, but they should: it's one of the biggest of the many changes that are wrought in one's previously comparatively spontaneous life. Once upon a time, the big guy and I would go to the movies almost every week. We lived five minutes walk away from the largest screen in the Southern hemisphere, or so the proprietors claimed: at a moment's notice we could run down the hill, buy the tickets, stop for a popcorn and be seated before the feature started. We'd see just about everything that played, from big budget Hollywood actioners (a mutual weakness) to sensitive European low-budget dramas (though rather fewer of the latter than the former if I am being entirely truthful). The only films we wouldn't go to see were those which we knew beforehand were subtitled; the reason for this is complex and will probably be the subject of a later blog post.

What with one thing and another, I haven't been to a movie that is not animated nor has anything other than a G rating for at least two years. (Surf's Up, anyone?) Today, however, I found myself heading for the inner city Metro Cinemas for the one o'clock screening. The movie I saw is nearing the end of its run. I took this photo just before the lights dimmed.


Heaven.

(Like this everyday for Howard Hughes of course.)