Wednesday, 20 May 2015

The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner

You’ll never know what will make it so special and so memorable. There are flash restaurant dinners you won’t remember, and yet there are brief pub talks that will stay with you for many years to come. It’s that one little detail that someone else won’t even notice.

Those two girls who were sitting in front of us did not want to see some obscure British black-and-white film from 1962. That was a rainy evening in late November, and there was nothing else for them to do. They saw a poster. They bought two bottles of beer. They bought the tickets. They came inside. They looked at the screen. And they did not like what they saw. All through the evening, we just kept hearing the clink-clink-clink of the beer bottles as they were trying to balance them under their feet. They tried to get them out in the open, but the cinema was dark and silent and refused to play along. 

It was the combination of those, I guess, which made the experience of seeing this wonderful film so memorable. In the end, I ended up loving those girls almost as much as The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner.