This was an incredibly busy weekend so I really wanted to unwind in front of the television tonight. But I went in at 8:00pm and Bill was watching a Dirty Harry movie. Aside from marveling at how smooth Clint Eastwood's skin was and how much hair he had back then, I had no positive response to his choice at all. Then it turns out he'd just been flipping the channels and wasn't wedded to it at all. What a relief. I left the room and when I came back he had switched over to Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill, which was just beginning.
What a satisfying Hitchcock "homage" that movie is. I had forgotten how much I used to like Brian De Palma. This might be his best movie ever. Lush music, great camera angles, strange sexual tension see-sawing through the various couples who occupy the screen at the same time -- the doctor (Michael Caine) and the frustrated housewife (Angie Dickinson); the housewife and the art museum stranger; the cop (Dennis Franz) and the hooker witness (Nancy Allen); the cop and the doctor; the son and the hooker; the two psychiatrists in consultation. Excellent thriller. This is exactly the kind of movie I must learn to reflect on from a Pauline point of view. It was so completely satisfying to me, yet I have no idea why and don't know if I could defend my praise of it at all. Morally and ethically, did it have a POV? Is it a "Catholic" movie like so many of Hitchcock's were?
Maybe tomorrow when I am more awake, I'll see if I have any luck analyzing the spiritual content of the film. Like Sister Rose teaches us to do at the film retreats.