The Prestige

Yesterday I got our new TV working. More or less. For some reason my DVDs are all in black and white, but no doubt all will be well. It's a 28 inch wide-screen and, as luck would have it, got it's first real test later when TCM showed Lawrence of Arabia. Now that is a test, and it passed with flying colours. Lawrence is a truly wonderful film. The more often I see it the more I admire the dialogue, the wealth of great actors, the music, the photography and Lean's great vision and, most of all, his control of all the elements.

I once read a criticism of the film, namely that for all its scope and scale, there is little at its centre, that we know Lawrence no better at the end of the film than we do at the beginning.

Isn't that the point?

But my raptures over my new TV were soon put into perspective, because I went to the pictures later. I do this rarely and I always realise afresh that no TV, however big and expensive can compare with the wondrous experience of sitting in the dark trying to take in that huge screen, which can with equal ease show you a raging storm at sea or a single drop of water on a woman's cheek.

If only I could pause the film sometimes and go make a cup of tea.

I went to see The Prestige. Good cast, up-and-coming director, intriguing story, technically brilliant. But half an hour too long, and basically a daft story which could not bear the weight of its treatment. Hollywood would have made it with more dash and pace 50 years ago. Maybe Hitchcock. Cagney and Bogart doing the Bale and whatisname roles.