I was skeptical when I first heard that Martin Scorcese was taking on Brian Selznick's award-winning book The Invention of Hugo Cabret. Its original mix of text and illustration had me all the more dubious; how on earth would that unique reading experience translate to film?
In Martin Scorsese's homage to cinema history, Hugo, there's a delicious moment, one of many in this stunning 3D epic, when two children, Hugo and Isabelle, attend a black and white silent Harold Lloyd movie and the actor dangles from the hands of a giant clock.
I have a huge picture in my living room of me, at around eight years old, meeting the Beatles. What I remember most about it, besides meeting these boys I was crazy about, was that I kept trying to lose my dad.
In 2001, when it became evident that George was not going to live, a friend said to him, "this will be the most exciting chapter of your life." After years of speculation about the moment of death, we knew the spectre of disembodiment was actually imminent.
This 63-year-old feature looked almost as if it had been shot last week. I was intensely aware of Moira Shearer's heavy make-up and could literally see Anton Walbrook's pores. It was fascinating, hypnotic, but also more than a little distracting.