Last week I borrowed Bedknobs and Broomsticks from the library, wondering how it stands up since I last saw it... at the local theatre when it was a new release, Mary said, dating herself.
The answer: very well. The only thing I remembered was the sight of all those empty suits of armor marching over the hills to fight off a Nazi raid, so the animated section in the middle was a pleasant surprise. And the music! I'd forgotten how catchy it all is. I ended up watching it a few times and renewing it for another week to knit by and to further reflect on how old I am, and how far special effects have come, and what great calves Angela Lansbury had back in the day. I've seen her in some of her pretty starlet films and I knew she was meant to be evil/sexy in The Manchurian Candidate, but so much gets overwhelmed when you get a show as successful as Murder, She Wrote. If my calves looked like that I'd wear 1970s interpretations of 1940s skirts every day of the week.
In light of all that, it struck me as funny to have spotted this on Jezebel the other day... more ideas out of the ether, an expression I must absolutely never use again (no matter how often it happens to me.)
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