Private Paradise

The Lovely Carla and I watched Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Dreamers" again last night. It's one of our favorite films. Bertolucci is a supremely accomplished visual poet. Every scene is suffused with a hushed beauty. Not quite as brutally stunning as "Last Tango in Paris," but still a superb companion to that film.

Both are based in Paris. Both are about creating a private paradise and the limits to that strategy. Both films feature amazing soundtracks, in the case of "Tango" it's Gato Barbieri, and in "The Dreamers" it's primarily the great music of the those fallen 60's heroes, Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison. All of them done in by self-induced excess.

I hadn't heard Jim Morrison's voice in awhile. And it really called out to me. What a great vocalist. Forget the legend for a moment, forget the excess, forget the leather pants. The man could really sing. Indelible. The Doors were a great band. One of those groups with no middle ground, you either loved them or hated them. Put me in the camp of love...