As I get older I suspect I get softer and I hope my heart opens, and not just in Spring. After a lifetime of watching musicals with my dear mother, they will always work for me. Always make me think of her and happy afternoons or evenings spent together. So to Gigi, which I've watched with mum on several occasions. In several decades.
Stars of the sort that they don't make any more. Don't call me a nostalgist. Name me modern equivalents that compare with Caron, Jordan and Chevalier. A front line that could have captured the European Cup before it was renamed whatever it's called now. Beaten De Stefano, Puskas, Gento and Didi . Not just that, but outplayed them. Outnumbered or not.
Gigi has a beating, real heart. The Parisians. Our memories. Ennui. Jealousy. Inseecurity. The way that older people think of the young. The constant search for love and repose and most of all holding back the hands of time when we know that's simply not on life's table and never has been. Turn the record over. Refuge is always here.
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