I wandered down the narrow passageway, up some stairs and round another corner, only to discover a screening of a film I saw years ago. I'd originally read the book, which was fantastic, but the emotional impact of a well written story rarely translates to the reality of the big screen. Despite this I very much enjoyed the film version at the time - it was a mixture of excitement with that tinge of uncertainty as to how it would unfold. But the ending had always seemed inconclusive and vague to me. It was never quite the same as the images conjured up in my mind on reading the paperback. Nevertheless it
was a film that had a big impact on me - I can visualize the plot virtually scene by scene, albeit through the misted glaze of time passed.
At the back there was a row of empty seats, so I took a pew and waited to watch the familiar opening sequence. The atmosphere was one of anticipation. There seemed to be a delay before it finally got underway - some technical hitch or other. Music started and the opening credits began.
I watched the whole thing through from start to finish. Looking around me I could see people in tears, gripped to the point of becoming part of the story, as I had been all those years ago. But I was unmoved. The funny thing, was that I didn't even feel disappointed. It was as if I was watching it in a foreign language without subtitles.
