Billy Liar
Oh, the vagaries of the bourgeoisie. Brilliant opening montage--apartment complexes, town houses, duplexes, all indistinguishable--as a radio announcer calls out song title requests for equally indistinguishable English housewives. (On the commentary track, director John Schlesinger notes that the premiere audience applauded the opener; he and his crew were "very chuffed and happy.")
The title character escapes drudgery through Walter Mitty-like daydreams about his own made-up country, Ambrosia. Will he literally escape his bleak suburban existence? I won't spoil the end. (Neither the commentary nor the liner notes mention "Walter Mitty." Is this a glaring oversight? A tacit denial of plagiarism? The influence is too obvious to be glossed over--even though Billy Liar is a far superior film.)
Plenty of memorable moments:
Flushing stolen ad calendars for an undertaking company. Bagpipes at a shopping center's grand opening. Passion pills. Plastic coffins--the wave of the future. "I'm not ordinary folk, even if she is." "We don't buy calendars just so you can chuck them on the fire, you know." "Then there's his library books--we'll have them to take back."
Henrik Ibsen, A Doll's House
Praise be to Dover for their cheap reprints (paperback, of course) of classics old and modern. Bridging the divide is Ibsen's once-scandalous A Doll's House, the 19th century women's lib shocker. Nora supports hubby Torvald through a difficult financial scrape by taking a loan from Krogstad, the unscrupulous former lover of forgotten widow Christine. Her scheme backfires, but Christine gets back with Krogstad and convinces him to cancel Nora's debt. When hubby finds out, his righteous indignation leads Nora to realize she's just his doll; in a final scene exactly opposite Gone With the Wind, Torvald's left mumbling, "The most wonderful thing of all?--" as Nora flounces out the door.
Oh, and by the way, this is my 100th post. Self-congratulation all around.
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