Packing Up
CH will be offline next week for a staff retreat–known in these parts as “vacation”–in England. As I plan my trip, I realize how much of my own mental map of England–and London in particular–comes from movies I’ve seen over the years. It’s a strange kind of geography that I’ve cobbled together: there’s that bridge that Renee Zellweger walks across each morning in Bridget Jones’s Diary; Lindsay Lohan (back in the wonder years of her youth, like the 90s) bouncing across Abbey Road in The Parent Trap; the airport suburb of Hounslow in Bend It Like Beckham. I’m staying near Portobello Road and Notting Hill Gate, and I realized this morning that in my mind, my hotel’s got to be near Hugh Grant’s house with the blue door.
And those are just the modern movies; don’t even get me started on the period pieces. And leave Harry Potter out of it, will you?
Am I surprised? Should I be? Movies are–so far–my best visual reference for England, other than the times I’ve flown over it on the way in and out of Europe. For me, it’s always sunny in the park (like in About A Boy) and always snowing in the streets at night, where I’ll probably be waiting for a geek-brawl to break out and interrupt a Greek birthday party. I’m sure when I come back, my mind will see the sights through the filter of my own time there, but until then I’m sort of at the mercy of Working Title Films.
Strange.
Leave a Reply