Photo follies a deux (probably trois or even quatre, by now): I’ve just got done updating my Photobucket gallery with all my pretty rose pics. It’s basically a photographic record of the daydream I walk around in roughly from mid-June to mid July, and I think it turned out rather well all things considered. A lot of the photos were taken on the grounds of the Niagara School of Horticulture (whose lush walking gardens generally I highly recommend) and the butterfly set all come from the Conservatory in those same grounds.
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And now, back to our feature presentation…
“When I find myself in a position like this, I ask myself, what would General Motors do? And then I do the opposite!”
–Johnny Case (Cary Grant), Holiday
Individuality – the real thing, the ability to define yourself against the mass of men, rather than with them – is a notoriously flimsy, quixotic concept; like all supremely valuable things, difficult to realise and even harder to hang on to.
This is likely why Hollywood, aka the place where subtlety goes to die, generally feels the need to swath it round in sunflowers and Doc Martens and private journals and Johnny Depp performances. It’s especially noticeable in romantic comedies, which delight in pitting the ‘free-spirited’ heroine (somehow, it’s always the heroine) against the stuffy totalitarian Establishment and watching the sparks fly. Theoretically. The number of heroines in this genre that give audiences cause to wonder if the Establishment might not have a point illustrates another difficulty with the premise.
But even in Hollywood there must be the shining exception; and thus we come round to my beloved Holiday, the least-known of the Katharine Hepburn-Cary Grant-George Cukor collaborations and paradoxically one of – if not the – finest. And I say this as a devoted fan also of The Philadelphia Story and Bringing Up Baby. More