"Is our language so impoverished that we have to use acronyms of French phrases to make ourselves understood?"
There's no living master of the comedy of manners who surpasses Whit Stillman. Metropolitan played on PBS when I was 10 or 11, and I was transfixed. I remember my mother complaining bitterly about how no one ever did anything in the movie, instead just standing around and talking, gossiping about each other. Every time she tried to change the channel I would shriek something like "Philistine!"
This is one of my favorite scenes, where the cause for UHB is first championed. The acting is wooden at times, and the lighting leaves something to be desired, but somehow it all comes together. Whit Stillman has been in the news a lot in the last few weeks, and I'm not quite sure why, except perhaps that Last Days of Disco was treated to a lavish DVD edition from criterion. I think my favorite of his films may be Barcelona, but in these darkening days and cooling nights, I can imagine no greater pleasure than curling up with Metropolitan, swept up in the deb season of two decades ago.