Old Photos

I miss 35 mm so, so much. And yes, I could shoot in film if I wanted, but it's a real pain to get it developed and to print it. The cost is especially prohibitive. Grr.

I think what I love about film cameras are 1 - the click of the shutter 2 - the way pictures look like what I was looking at. No, they don't look *exactly* like what I was looking at, obviously there are constraints (in color reproduction especially), constructions when you print (how dark is it, how white, should I lighten that corner?), but for the most part the chemical process of molecules absorbing reflected protons gets you something very like the picture in your head.

And furthermore, it's easy to understand exactly what is happening at each step of the process (light bounces off object, light hits photo-absorbing film, chemicals slough off the parts of the film where photons were absorbed, light passes through variably dense film and hits photo absorbing paper, chemicals darken paper accordingly). My understanding of a digital camera is something like the following - I own a magic box with an evil demon inside, light goes in and the demon puts a picture out that looks kinda like the light that goes in.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I recently scanned a number of old photos, some in color some in black and white. The quality is terrible, but at least they are, in a way, safe from cats and flooding. Here are a few of my favorites -

Under a banyon tree.
Family in an Adirondack river.
Rain in Harvard Square.
A game of solitaire in a cabin.
Little birds!
Little green things.

Harold and Maude

Is it corny to say that this movie is a 'must see'?

It's the story of 19 year old (hearse-driving, death-faking) Harold who falls in love with 79 year old Maude (prison camp survivor with a zest for life.) The story could be hokey - he's depressed and obsessed with dying, and she shows him how to be happy before dying herself, by choice, but in a good way, on her eightieth birthday. Somehow though, all the bits that might be cliched are treated with such originality and humor that it feels real, and fresh, and beautiful.

Some lines that I would just like to repeat:

Therapist: So how many of these 'suicides' have you done?

Harold: I'd say about 15.

Therapist: And all for the benefit of your mother?

Harold: No... No, I would not say benefit.

In a later scene:

Maude: What flower would you be Harold?

Harold: I don't know. Maybe one of these.

Maude: Why?

Harold: Because they're all the same.

Maude: Oh but they're not! (Expounds on how some are bigger, some smaller, some are missing petals.) I think many of the world's problems stem from people who are this (gesturing to a single flower in her hand) allowing themselves to be treated like that (gesturing to the field of flowers.)

The movie ends (don't read this part if you want to watch it yourself) when Harold proposes to Maude on her eightieth birthday and she tells him that she's just taken the tablets that will end it. He tries and fails to save her. Cut to a shot of Harold driving his hearse up a hill and the hearse flying off a cliff. But then, there is Harold on the top of a hill, holding the banjo Maude gave him and insisted he learn to play. He walks away strumming as Cat Steven's 'If you want to sing out, sing out' plays on the soundtrack. Brilliant!

The best thing about this movie is that it is a sure-fire cure for the blues.