Fiona: The thing is, half the time I wander around looking for something which I know is very pertinent. But then, I can’t remember what it is. . .once the idea is gone, everything is gone and I have to wander around trying to figure out what it was that was so important earlier. I think I may be beginning to disappear.
Liz: Well, when’re you going?
Billy: Oh, soon.
Liz: When’s soon?
Billy: Well, as soon as I can manage.
Liz: It’s a bit vague, isn’t it? Why don’t you go now?
Billy: Why? It’s difficult.
Liz: No, it’s not. It’s easy. You get on a train, and four hours later, there you are in London.
Billy: It’s easy for you. You’ve had the practice.
Diana Scott: Imagine if…
Miles Brand: What?
Diana Scott: It took three.
Miles Brand: Took three?
Diana Scott: Sexes. To make a child.
Miles Brand: Very entertaining.
Diana Scott: Everything would be different, wouldn’t it, quite different, with three sexes.
Miles Brand: Haven’t we got enough problems with two?
Lara: Wouldn’t it have been lovely if we’d met before?
Zhivago: Before we did? Yes.
Lara: We’d have got married, had a house and children. If we’d had children, Yuri, would you like a boy or girl?
Zhivago: I think we may go mad if we think about all that.
Lara: I shall always think about it.
Heaven Can Wait is one of my favorite romantic comedies, though I don’t really want to box it into that genre. It’s more than just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. It’s a meditation on life and love and the pursuit of happiness. It’s also a little bit sci-fi and a little bit sports. Basically, it’s a mix of a lot of great things all in one perfect 101 min film. It lost to The Deer Hunter and I’m not even going to try to argue that that was the wrong choice, because I don’t think it was. The Deer Hunter was definitely the right choice; I just really love Heaven Can Wait and feel like not nearly enough people have seen it. It was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including Best Original Score, Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction (won), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor Jack Warden, Best Supporting Actress Dyan Cannon, Best Actor Warren Beatty, Best Director and Best Picture. It was up against Coming Home, Midnight Express, An Unmarried Woman and winner The Deer Hunter.
I actually watched 68 new-to-me movies in August altogether, which I believe is a record for me. 46 of them, however were on Turner Classic Movies’s Summer Under The Stars. There were several days where I watched between four and six films all in a row on TCM. There were even some days where in the midst of watching new-to-me films I watched some old favorites as well. I discovered at least one old film star I’d never known about and now love. I finally watched some essential classic films that had somehow escaped me up until now. I watched a few films that were pretty forgettable and I discovered some films that I will love forever. Overall, it was a wonderful journey of film immersion for someone who loves film down to her bones, and now I don’t know what do to with my life until next August.
Montag: [reading] There can be no disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose. I had endeavored to adapt Dora to myself and found it impracticable. It remained for me to adapt myself to Dora, to share with her what I could and be happy. It made my second year much happier than my first, and, what was better still, made Dora’s life all sunshine. But as that year wore on, Dora was not strong. I had hoped that lighter hands than mine would help to mold her character and that a baby’s smile upon her breast might change my child-wife to a woman. It was not to be. My pretty Dora. We thought she would be running about as she used to do in a few days. But they said wait a few days more, and then wait a few days more, and still she neither ran nor walked. I began to carry her downstairs every morning and upstairs every night. But sometimes when I took her up, I felt that she was lighter in my arms. A dead, blank feeling came upon me, as if I were approaching some frozen region yet unseen that numbed my life. I avoided direct recognition of this feeling by any name, over any communing with myself. Until one night when it was very strong upon me and my aunt had left her with her parting cry, ‘Oh, good-bye, little blossom.’ I sat down at my desk, alone, and tried to think. Oh, what a fatal name it was. And how the blossom withered in its bloom up in the tree.
[Doris bursts into tears]
Jackie: I knew that’s what would happen. It’s what I’ve always said. Life isn’t like novels, novels and tears, novels and suicide. Novels are sick. That was sheer cruelty, Montag. You’re a cruel man.
Helen: All those words; idiotic words. Evil words that hurt people. Isn’t there enough trouble as it is? Why disturb people with that sort of filth?
Linda: Poor, Doris.
Helen: Bye, Linda. We were having such a nice party. Such a shame.
Doris: I can’t bear to know those feelings. I’d forgotten all about those things.
Linda: Oh, I’m sorry, Doris.