French Cars, and Holocaust Films

On Friday, I ventured out to the cinema for some large-screen entertainment. "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas" was not, for some reason, showing on either of the central Cambridge cinemas, so being the spoilt towneys that we are, we could go to a third cinema, a little further away. In previous years we would have spent 45 mins hiking there on foot, but this year, I have my little (well, actually quite big) peugeot, so off we drove.

Unfortunately, the car, having an annoyingly French mind of its own, decided that "zeze multi-story-carparkes are not for me moisieur! You wish for me to sit around wiz zese other Engleesh and German cars!? PAH!", and refused to MOVE. Fortunately, with a little coercion, and lots of revving, I managed to squeeze it into a space, much to the chagrin of the people behind me who must have been quite irritated at the retarded boy in the old car stalling it about 50 times (I repeat, car's fault!).

The film was amazing. It was touching, moving, and had an amazing spin towards the end, that I didn't suspect until it was all too late, and then the whole audience was pulled down with it. It was a holocaust film on a much more personal level than most, and managed to be harrowing without being exploitative. As it finished, I didn't know what emotions to feel, I just stared at the credits for a minute, my mind spinning. In short, go and see this film. Even if you just see it once.

Tom