gemlike reminder of a time when you didn't have to compromise your art or your faith to make something so broadly accessible, or universally lovable
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The Innocents 1961
very fine film - like the coating of pond-scum on the otherwise blemishless grounds. how richly visual, how many uses wrung from each aspect of the space - one has to lament the idea of a Great Novel receiving this kind of, oh, what's the word...artful treatment now. deborah kerr goes from prim and tufted titmouse to puffed-up, wings-outstretched and screeching strigine in a change almost so gradual as to be natural but not so natural as to be incongruous with the -very- eighteenth-century scheme of it all. the child actor, miles, a worthy scene partner to her, no shrinking metaphor in literary flower-white.