Thursday, 20 December 2012
In this edition of Kinfolk...
I begin by reiterating that it's summer where I am.
Ah, but who am I kidding? This was so much fun. I had my first Subway (verdict: satisfactory; doubt those meatballs were the epitome of eatin' fresh, but they did taste good), and then we saw a bongo drum orchestra. There was some kind of hippie night market -- you could buy fisherman's pants and those weird woven hats with the ear flaps -- and a man who, clearly at the end of his pride, was trying to flog the last of his stock as "strawberries for Christmas", "stawberries for your ice-cream" and "strawberries for you, sir".
St. Kilda is such a fun place, in spite of all the murders. It's sort of seedy and a last hippie outpost, but I guess that's the charm. It even has a Coney Island-esque amusement park; C I-esque in that it had its hey-day about seventy years ago and now is only really patroned by tourists, children's birthday parties and second-daters running out of ideas. It's a shame because the place is actually pretty nice, especialy when it's all lit up. It's the kids these days, with their "electronic mail" and "skateboards".
I admit to you now that this was my first ever viewing of the Breakfast Club. What can I say? I'm impressed, both by the film itself and by Estevez's cold, dead shark eyes. Apart from moments of frustration (ie: "Oh my God, leave Claire alone already, it's not her fault she's a ginger") it was sensational. I'm always in awe of a film that takes such hilariously rigid stereotypes and makes a decent picture. Plus! it had a montage (a dance montage!!) and a makeover and those are just my favourite things in a film.