Meanwhile back in London…

So here I am, back in London at last after 6 weeks in the US, during which I wrote, somewhat regrettably, nothing. That's not strictly true, as I did write two complete PhD applications with writing samples, bibliographies and research proposals. But you don't really want to read about professional/geographic dialects in the 17^th century, do you? In any case, I don't wish to. Not at the moment anyway. I suppose in a way the silence makes sense, as this is a blog about a previously Anglofilic American, who is fast turning into an Anglophobe under the influence of London. How fitting then that my first relevant (for these purposes) observation came while I was in the air, midway between New York and London.

Despite fearing it would depress my already ambivalent spirits, I decided to throw caution to the wind by watching Easy Virtue, which is a delightful film based on a Noel Coward play. It's about a glamorous and slightly shocking (of course) American racecar driver who falls in love with and marries the son of a crumbling aristocratic family from, you guessed it, the UK. Predictably, misery ensues for all (American has sat for Picasso! Doesn't over cook her vegetables! Can't prevent idiot sister-in-law from doing the can-can knickerless at a church fete!). As I watched, I felt compelled to write down the following dialogue/lines, which seemed to particularly resonate w/my experience of the UK:

Father: Smile.

Daughter: I don't feel like it.

Father: You're English, dear. Fake it.

…

American girl: Coming here has been the most demoralizing experience of my life.

…

American girl again: I can't live here. Nothing can.

To which this American girl says: Too right. (At least not for very long anyway, or without being transformed in the process into someone utterly unlike myself).

Having set the tone for the flight, I decided to continue on with Revolutionary Road. I have been avoiding this film, which I also very much wanted to see, for weeks, on the grounds that it would likely confirm my worst suspicions about the pitfalls of marriage, but having survived Easy Virtue without recourse to the galley (refuge of alcoholics and social drinkers on am flights – you can separate the pros from the amateurs given the number of trips back and the knowledge that such a system exists in the first place) I felt somewhat invincible. I didn't write down lines on RR, tone much to serious and just generally brilliant and deserving of 100% attention without distractions of rummaging for moleskine, but as the film ended, I couldn't help but be struck by its similarity to EV. Voici:

EV: Film made by Brits about the stultifying nature of life in Britain. Set in the 1920s.

RR: Film made by Brits & Americans about the stultifying nature of life in the United States. Set in the 1950s.

Two critiques of society, two vintage time periods that allow the audiences to conveniently ignore the contemporary resonance, should they desire to do so. Of course, you'd have to be completely oblivious to miss the obvious relevance, but still neither of these movies offers the unavoidable scrutiny of American Beauty or Disturbia, par example.

With about an hour of movie viewing time left, I decided to watch some of La Vie En Rose (Why, by the way, was this film, La Môme en français, released in English-speaking countries under a different, but still French, name?). While doing so, I tried to think if any of the European films I've seen (and I've seen quite a few by now) depict the sense of "hopeless emptiness" (RR) that so many well-made and critically-acclaimed Anglophone movies seem to. Possibly Caché (Hidden), but otherwise I can't think of any that get at quite the same sense of quiet desperation. Perhaps when Pink Floyd referred to hanging on in quiet desperation as the English way they were speaking of the language, not the nation, as it seems to be a transatlantic problem. Given the exuberant work of Baz Luhrman, perhaps Australia's exempt. Or perhaps I just haven't seen enough Australian cinema.