These days the pandemic and its strange contortions feel like another age but in amongst all the debris, some good things remain. And for me, one of the positive outcomes has been that Mike and I got together with two friends to form an impromptu Classic Film Group. It proved to be so enjoyable that we’ve kept it going and tomorrow evening we are due to have a Zoom call to discuss our 54th film, All About Eve. Our definition of Classic is loose—anything from the twentieth century, and as we take it in turn to choose and we have diverse tastes, the films have been very varied. 

I’ve long been interested in film but have big gaps in my knowledge and through our sessions have made some pleasing discoveries including Tokyo Story, The Misfits, Jean de Florette and Elmer Gantry. With my own choices it’s been a chance to fill in some of those gaps but also to revisit films of which I have fond memories and to see if they still hold up. Bicycle Thieves, Stand by Me, Paper Moon, and Singing’ in the Rain all did that for me but there was some lively disagreement—as with book groups, it’s fascinating and often surprising to see things through other people’s eyes.  

Some choices have been films that I’ve been aware of for years but have had no idea what they are about, or why they have that name. And for me that is one of the greatest pleasures of engaging with any art form—demystifying the title. What are The Wages of Fear? What’s happening On The Waterfront?  What caused The Angry Silence? Why did Babette have a Feast? What is James Dean doing East of Eden? Why and where are people In The Mood for Love? Who is Elmer Gantry? And Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Each time I encounter a film I’ve not seen, my imagination runs riot, coming up with an initial theory of what it will be like. I’m almost inevitably wrong in my assumptions, and watching as the story unfolds is a process of demystification; of passing from the murky shadows of speculation into illumination and understanding. Now when I look through the log we’ve kept, I have firm hooks to hang my thoughts on rather than extremely wobbly ones. 

Some titles leave little work for the imagination. With The Charge of the Light Brigade or Lawrence of Arabia you know broadly what territory you’re in. But others, whether films, books, theatre or TV lead you up the garden path. For years, I had no interest in watching The Sopranos as I assumed it was about an opera company. And Glengarry Glen Ross—what on earth is that? A whisky company in the Scottish Highlands? Apparently not. It’s set firmly in the nasty world of Chicago real estate. As a child I remember seeing my mother reading a novel called The Constant Nymph and have always wondered what it’s about. I’m still in the dark but have a vague theory that includes a gardener, a ballerina and some fairies. Wrong, no doubt but my theory will have to remain a placeholder until I get a chance to decode the title. Sometimes I watch or read things just for the sheer satisfaction of decoding the title; solving that small mystery and being in the know. That process of moving from the shade to the light is immensely satisfying. 

Do we all do it? It’s one of those things that is hard to know as people don’t talk much about what goes on in their head. It’s easy to assume that other people all think in a similar way to ourselves. But I think that many of us do it to some extent as it’s similar to what children go through in learning about the world; having to constantly come up with their own theories about the mystifying things that adults say to them. And sometimes the reality does not live up to the fervour of one’s imagination. I’ve never quite got over the disappointment of my first visit to London aged seven, when I discovered that Piccadilly Circus is entirely lacking in clowns and trapeze artists.

The problem about forming a theory is that it can lead you to decide in advance whether or not you’ll like something. I know I’m quick to jump to conclusions but because these are based on completely false assumptions then I risk missing out on things I might like. And when it comes to my family then I know I’m not alone. I remember when Molly was thirteen and we were discussing where to go for a short holiday. “What about Scarborough?” I said. She wrinkled her nose and said she didn’t like the sound of that at all. And yet I am absolutely sure that she knew nothing about it. 

I found myself doing something very similar a few weeks ago. Like so many couples, Mike and I live in the same house but operate in different time zones. I’m a lark and he’s an owl, so often after I’ve gone to bed at what seems an impossibly early hour for him, he watches TV and comes up with suggestions for things to watch together. “I think you’ll like Colin From Accounts” he said. My nose wrinkled involuntarily—it must be a family trait. “Oh no,” I said falling into my own trap. “I don’t like the sound of that at all.“ 

I resisted for a few days but eventually he persuaded me to try it…and my preconceptions were entirely wrong. There were no middle-aged men with spreadsheets and stained lapels. None at all. There were instead a couple of attractive main characters, sharp humour and the most adorable dog in the history of television. I passed from the shade into the light, loved it and devoured all seven episodes. 

Another small mystery solved.