(no subject)

[sophistry]

I can't conceive of how anyone could fail to like A Good Year, critics be damned. It has Russell Crowe, and wine - and the philosophy of wine - and simple acoustic songs on the soundtrack that feel like a warm and sleepily prolonged Provençal autumn - the lazy Sunday morning of seasons - and enough French, exactly the right amount, for me to follow, with perfect ease and the most comforting sort of familiarity, the second daily-spoken language of my hazy pre-teen years.

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.