Often I tell my kids what life was like for a movie fan in the 1970's. They can't even believe that once a movie left the theater, there was a pretty good possibility that you'd never see it again. I remember scouring TV Guide or the Newsday equivalent, to make sure I caught an old movie late at night. The VHS revolution was a godsend, but, even so, it was a frustrating experience. For every 20 copies of Tango & Cash, there might be one of Yojimbo. Seen it.
I don't recall when I discovered Home Film Festival, but I think it was in the early '90's. They were a video rental service with a monster catalog of silent, foreign and cult films. It wasn't cheap, 21 bucks for three movies, but it was worth it. With HFF, I finally tore through all Kurosawa, Fellini and Truffaut, and caught up on a mess of pre-talkies. I still remember N. and I watching Buster Keaton's Spite Marriage. N. still talks about the scene where Buster is putting on a false beard and almost cuts his ear off with a pair of scissors.

Then came Netflix and the three movie a week schedule I've kept up for seven years. Now, finally, I'm making my way through Bergman. Unlike Truffaut or Fellini, thoughtful directors who made enjoyable movies that I could watch every week. Bergman is a a hammer blow and it takes a long time for me to process his work. I saw Persona months ago (maybe it was last year) and I'm still thinking about it.

It's interesting to note that The Virgin Spring was sorta remade into Wes Craven's Last House on the Left. Never saw it. I have a real fear of 1970's horror classics. There, I said it. They always feel too real. I'm not sure I could handle it.

So, until I'm mentally ready for the next Bergman opus, it's a strict diet of Erik the Viking and Iron Man 2.
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