I am what the Germans call an “Augenmensch” (an eye person). I love spectacle and what can be appreciated by the eye, whether it be a baroque church, the beauty of a High Mass, lovely women in a fashion show, the cities of Paris, Venice or Rome, beautiful men and the best of cinema.
Ever since when, as a 9-year-old, I saw the sun rising over the desert to the fabulous music of Michel Jarre in Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962), the approach of von Aschenbach’s steamer chuffing towards Venice in Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti, 1971) to the sound of the Adagietto of Mahler’s 5th Symphony or Angelica Huston’s beautiful account of her lost love of Michael Furey in John Huston’s adaptation of James Joyce’s The Dead (1987), I have believed that cinema is an important and vital way to access our deepest emotions and understanding of life.
I am no cinema snob. I don’t necessarily rush out to see the latest art house hit. I am not necessarily interested in genre. I am happy to see an Ealing Comedy, a Carry On Film, a war movie, a rom-com or a documentary. What I do care about is that a film is honest, its makers know what they are doing and do not propagate badly thought out or exploitative ideas.
I have been going to the cinema for years. In my twenties, it was virtually every Saturday night (perhaps I should have been clubbing). The BFI has been for me ever a wonderful haven of liberalism and intelligence, especially in the darkest days of Thatcherism. I still love it when the lights go down, the censorship certificate is shown, and the studio credits are displayed.
Throughout my life, I have been involved in many things, the law, market research, language teaching, three degrees and my excellent friendship with Victor Fraga, DMovies’ founder. I hope to bring you honest and informative reviews.