English summers! I spent yesterday afternoon with Bro at the local fleapit watching a re-release of "The Song of Bernardette". It was really creepy, like that one with the miserable Swede and the Man from UNCLE in it. You know. John Wayne turns up a the end with a one-liner gag.
Apparently the tunes in both were done by the same chap. I may try out an arrangement of "Bernardette" for the harmonium, but leaving out any swirly violin parts in case You-Know-Who gets any ideas. I once attempted a reggae version of the theme from "Jesus of Nazareth" and Groida ended up on his back, crying with laughter. Tin-eared sod.
Anyway, back to the fillum. Gladys Cooper was cracking good as the sadistic nun, but Vincent Price wasn't up to his usual carpet-chewing and eye-rolling standard. He didn't even murder anybody. Perhaps he was having a bad day. Mordecai suggested loudly that "Vince has got a boil on his nuts" but the usherette told us to shut up or she wouldn't give us any more Cornettos (Cornetti?).
The ghost was a bit of a let-down too. She just materialised occasionally with a daft grin on her face. No cackling or spitting nails or anything. Could have been someone's favourite auntie. The "magic water" idea was a bit far-fetched as well.
Also, the man in the seat in front of me was making a nuisance of himself. At first I thought he was aping the biblical Onan until I realised his increasing frenzy was the result of trying to pluck the cellophane wrapping off a box of Maltesers. I leaned over his shoulder to ask him if he wanted any help and suddenly we were engulfed in a hailstorm of confectionery.
Bro and I pulled up a few rows of seats to stop the chocs from rolling under them and that's when the management turned the fire hoses on us. Honestly! We might as well have stayed out in the rain and saved our shillings. "The Adventures of Robin Hood" is on next week so we'll slip in, disguised as a couple of mighty oaks ...
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