I noticed it two days ago when I watched an old TV spy thriller called "Page Eight." The tale was carefully crafted, intelligent and full of people who had both fragilities and strengths. Besides being a good, twisty, unflinching tale, it just made me happy that someone had created it and thereby asserted a twinkle-twinkle in a dark -- not depressing necessarily, just dark -- sky. I watched it once ... and then I watched it all over again, swimming in its blue-cool seas.
And then last night, I watched "Matilda" -- a movie-ized version of a Roald Dahl story. Like a lot of Dahl's wonderful confections, "Matilda" is laced with the whimsy of a fairy tale and yet is shot through with lurking human fears and horrors. I am happy to live in a universe where such tales are told and told well.
Sparkly bits. It's like knowing you can fly even if you can't.