Portrait of the author in despair, wondering what he will tell his wife about having watched further episodes of Lewis.

Over the weekend, George Snyder (1904) sent me the link to a video clip from Baisers Volés, François Truffaut’s 1968 continuation of the autobiography of Antoine Doinel. It’s a film that I hadn’t seen (oy). In the clip, Antoine (Jean-Pierre Léaud) opens a letter, concerning the difference between politeness and tact, left at his doorstep, and we hear the voice of his boss’s wife (Delphine Seyrig) read it. After hazarding a reply (cunningly shown being posted via pneumatique), Antoine gets into bed (shown). Seyrig was a gorgeous blonde with a well-deployed whisper of a voice, and George was quite right to be bowled over by it.

So I rented the movie. Stolen Kisses to you, bub. I rented it on Sunday, after dinner at an ordinarily-packed restaurant denuded by the Super Bowl. 

Which meant that I had to watch it yesterday afternoon or pay extra. This is always happening with rented foreign films. I can never interest Kathleen in watching them because, at least at home, she doesn’t want to read subtitles. (Given the amount of time that she spends poring over legal boilerplate, I don’t blame her.) The days go by — and I find myself watching a movie when I’d rather be writing. “Roger, pay the two dollars.” But I can’t. I’ve got to watch the damned movie and get it back to the Video Room.

All of which is meant to console George for not finding Baisers Volés at Netflix. Life is rough even when the rental place is two doors down, and you just walk in and ask, and okay okay.

That ought to have been enough video for one day. But Kathleen was working late, so I ordered in. I might have read while I ate. But I wanted to watch something. There were lots of things to watch, including the newly-acquired video of A Dance to the Music of Time. But no.

You see, I’d been on a Morse jag, watching one Inspector Morse episode after another.

Isn’t it a pity, I said the other night, that they only made a pilot of Lewis — a continuation of Morse, sort of, in which it was now the North Country former-sergeant Lewis who had a Morse-like gent working for him. Isn’t it a pity, I said.

Yes! affirmed Kathleen. I like Lewis!

But we were wrong about their not proceeding beyond the pilot, and the box from Amazuke arrived today. Could I wait? More anon.

Drop me a line at rjk@dailyblague.com
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