My Second Anniversary.

Good golly. It's been two years already? When I started this blog, I had no idea how much I would enjoy it. I've found many other blogs I now adore, and I hope that I've been blessed with new readers of my own. For the past year, I've really been trying to improve not just the quantity of posts, but the quality of them. I've changed formats and colors, as well as paid more attention to the details in films. I started including photos I took myself in order to provide a better aesthetic and understanding for the movies I talk about (I admit, for better or worse--my laptop doesn't have a DVD player and so I have to improvise my own "screenshots" using my TV and phone camera). I'm also trying to take advantage of adding YouTube videos to my posts. They're all little things, but they're designed to make my blog much better for you lovely people, and so I'll sleep better at night. I even started participating in blogathons, which have been infinitely rewarding. I never enjoyed my blog the way I do now thanks to those blogathons.


For my anniversary, I thought I should try to put into words just what it is about classic cinema that thrills me. Family and friends are always a little stumped as to what it is that so obsesses me, and I've never been able to clearly state it. But for you guys, I'm sure you'll understand. Why would old movies inspire me to talk, read, write, think, and watch everything concerned with them constantly?

It's the grin I get when Van Johnson suddenly appears in Till the Clouds Roll By, only to do an adorable song-and-dance routine with Lucille Bremer.

It's the horror I feel when Norma totally takes over Norman...

and the odd crush I get on Norman when he's not Norma. (Am I the only one there?)

It's the joy I get when they finally kiss.

And them.

And them.

It's the tears I shed for Homer as he shows Wilma his nightly routine with his prosthetics, and she shows him compassion and love in return.

There are even more tears when these two reunite at Homer and Wilma's beautiful wedding.

It's when my breath gets taken away at the Technicolor beauty of Leave Her to Heaven...

as well as anything Douglas Sirk did.

It's when Rick admits to Ilsa that "the problems of three people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world," and you realize she isn't staying.

It's the sweeping introduction of one Rhett Butler.

It's the absolute delight of watching Fred and Ginger dance as they fall in love.

It's the dark shadows of The Killers...

and Out of the Past...

and This Gun for Hire.

It's the sublime entrance of Harry Lime.

It's the comfort I feel as I watch Esther Williams swim her way into a spectacular finale.

It's the stomach ache I get after laughing for two hours at Jerry and Joe.

It's the devastation I have at the end of The Red Shoes...

but the even bigger devastation at the end of Vertigo.

Oh god, and The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.

It's having your eyes glued to the screen as you see Busby Berkeley work his magic.

It's the honesty of Gene singing in the rain...

as well as on the streets of Paris.

It's about watching Simone Simon become a killer panther because Kent Smith's character is awful...

Gene Tierney bringing a painting to life...

Danny Kaye putting other clowns to shame...

James Garner smirking his way into Julie Andrews's heart...

Joan Fontaine feeling terror at Cary Grant...

Cary Grant feeling annoyed by Katharine Hepburn...

and Claudette Colbert showing us how to stop a car.

It's Judy's adorable laugh as Mickey makes a fool of himself.

It's my laugh when Nora scrunches her nose up at Nick.

It's the flashes of Phyllis Dietrichson's anklet.

It's definitely Frank telling Grace she's sensational.

It's almost certainly Errol Flynn's grin.

It's when Alvin York scrimps and saves money so he can marry Gracie.

It's that lanky brunette who asks for a light...

that furious blonde who lashes out on Leslie Howard...

and that leggy blonde who isn't afraid to put you in your place.

It's Gilda begging Johnny to let her go.

It's Garbo and Gilbert literally and figuratively creating sparks in Flesh and the Devil.

It's basically everything Rock Hudson does in Pillow Talk and Lover Come Back.

It's saying "And you will woo this wildcat?" and having my sister crack up.

It's swooning (yes, swooning) at Louis Jourdan singing "Gigi"...

and at Donald O'Connor in his cute little glasses as he and Ethel Merman sing "You're Just in Love."

It's all of these small details that you may not catch the first time you see them, or you rewind just to watch them again. Everything I listed, and a million more, contribute to my love for Old Hollywood. There's absolutely nothing that compares. As Judy Garland sang, "I could go on singing until the cows come home" about how the talent was different, the films and their components are wildly in contrast to today's, the studio system may have been better than what we have now... But I'll save that for another time. For now, let's celebrate another year of blogging, and more importantly the movies and the little things that have brought us happiness, fear, sadness, love, companionship, and comfort.

With love,

Michaela