Excerpt from the new issue: Kelsey Ford on The Last Picture Show (1971):
“This world is black and white and simple. Tumbleweeds languish outside empty gas stations. Trucks rattle down the lonely road. There’s the street with the picture show, the diner, and the pool hall. There’s your car, parked alongside the curb. All empty and open and waiting.
You’re a young woman, or a young man, or a mother remembering what it was like to be young, fickle, and fresh. You want someone to touch you. Anyone to touch you. You want to get out, or you failed to get out, but staying alive in this place requires a fight you don’t always have in you.
Here, everyone knows everybody else and you wish there was a way to escape that, but there’s not.
You play basketball, feel your girlfriend up in the backseat of the bus, go fishing with Sam the Lion, listen to his stories about youth and love and loss.
It’s Saturday night and the only thing to do is go to the picture show and grope in the back row, but even this has lost its amusement. You want more, but you don’t know what more means. You’ve already seen this picture three times.”
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Reblogged from brightwalldarkroom