For a time in my late teens & early twenties, I was a little bit obsessed with the classic film ‘The Deer Hunter’. I’m still not really sure why, because its one of the darkest, hardest to watch films I’ve ever seen. Maybe it was helping me come to terms with my own dark side.
Without wanting to sound too ancient, we had fewer channels in those days, & things were less instantly accessible. Maybe that was a good thing, so I could only watch it every few months. It was usually shown so late that I fell asleep halfway through – I’m still a little hazy about the ending.
There was a scene I always made sure I stayed awake for though, my favourite scene. It was a little oasis of light & laughter & whimsy & togetherness & dare I say femininity in the most macho of movies. Here it is, enjoy.
Luckily my life so far has contained almost none of the horror & squalor of The Deer Hunter’s Vietnam scenes. I hope yours hasn’t either. I am better acquainted with the feelings of tedium & monotony of the inhabitants of the Pennsylvania steel town. That’s the challenge for a lot of us.
But I have had plenty of moments of singing badly in bars, of lighthearted Christmases that send the rest of the year into relief. Of carrying and holding tiny babies with a fervent wish to keep the rest of the world away. Guess what I sing to them?