Guy driving, guy in the passenger's seat, two of us hiding in the trunk. Four for the price of two on a Friday night at the drive-in movie theater. To see a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western.
The early autumn's night air has a chill. The early autumn's night air is filled with girls -- in other cars, at the concession counter, or as some kind of vague possibility. We're watching Clint, and we fire up our own cigarillos.
Ennio Morricone's score begins to haunt the blasty, hollow, low-fi speaker.
We realize we have entered a certifiable alternate reality.
We even get to see the peculiar Klaus Kinski as Juan Wild, the Hunchback.
We had the chance to experience a few drive-in movies in Sacramento--it is best to close one's eyes until dusk there, because the old theater is mostly a homely-looking baked, parched gravel-pit now--but once it is dark, it is possible to wonder how it might have been once--there are a few vintage signs, etc. (Films in actual theaters now are far too loud for most humans to bear.) I shall check out this film--my education on US films is rather sparse in some areas.
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DeletePS That clip of the film score is waaaay too funny. What are they trying to do to his forehead?
ReplyDeleteAnd how long did they practice those smokin' glares in front of the mirror? Gosh.
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