But there are three movies in the middle of Allen's career that I think stand the test of time: Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Small Crimes and Misdemeanors. The ones before and the ones since are, in my humble opinion, just plain dumb.
There's a scene in Hannah when the actor Michael Caine, who plays the philandering husband of Mia Farrow, recites part of a poem by e.e. cummings that includes the line "and the fog comes in on little cat feet."
I cherish succinct but rich descriptive phrases such as that. It's an appropriate description of this morning because there's a cloud bank oozing down the river so thick, I can't see across to the opposite side.
And it's silent, utterly silent.
Did you ever stop to think that the most important events in our lives happen in complete silence? The sun rises every morning (so far, that is) and there is no sound to herald the most important occurrence any of us will experience all day.
And it will set this evening, around 6:00 p.m. this time of year. Again, not a sound will accompany the end of day.
Jay and I once had a friend who suffered from a rare disease that sent him into temporary states of paralysis. He discovered these states were triggered, in large part, by stress. So he developed a philosophical approach to life that went something like this: If I do so-and-so, what's the worst possible thing that could happen? And what are the chances of that worst possible thing happening? Probably small, therefore I should not worry.
Jack, our philosopher friend, once told us that he spent some time figuring out the worst possible thing that could ever happen to him or to anyone. And he came to the conclusion that the sun not-rising was the answer.
Whenever I feel anxious or down, I think of Jack's philosophy.
The sun came up this morning, enveloped in the little cat feet of fog.
All is well.
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