Better Than a Trip to the Riviera

Think I’ve been away on vacation? Nah, remember Isaac Asimov and me? We’re already there and don’t need to go anywhere. But I have made several trips to Umbria, Italy, in the past few weeks. Remember that film I mentioned (I think), “My House in Umbria,” starring Maggie Smith? That movie, even with its tragedies, is so soothing after a television talk-show when everyone talks at once, that I often succumb to this particular DVD. It’s good for a writer to see certain films more than once, to drain every nuance out of them to store in one’s brain. Comedies don’t often fit into the category meant here, but adventure, drama, and the like, from which we learn the lessons of life and the psychology of humankind, a necessity for fiction writers. Some people say they get everything out of a film with just one viewing. They may think they do, but I don’t believe it. When asked about certain little, but important to the plot, elements that one could miss with just one showing, too many of them have failed the test. So I watch a really good movie several times. If I don’t understand some dialogue, I mute it and read the captions.

At one place in “Umbria,” the lady says, “That’s not even my real name.” I picked up on that. I’d heard that before in a film, and the emphasis in the voice was exactly the same as in the other voice in the other film. I fast-forwarded my thinking and recalled the other speaker, the other line, and the other film. It’s “The Day of the Jackal,” with the lady in it saying, “He doesn’t even know my real name.” This actress is a French one and I don’t know her name either, along with the murderer’s not knowing it. (Even though we are talking about two “real” names here.) So, what’s the worth of all that kind of effort? It’s an exercise for the brain, one of those little triggers that help to keep one’s memory alive. And it’s fun.

♥