Look Back in Anger

There was a period in my youth when I often went to the local library, and browsed the films they had for rent some of which were starring Richard Burton (The Robe, Cleopatra, The Night of the Iguana, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? . . . ).

I admit I loved his work and found him instantaneously captivating, naturally gifted with cinematic composure enviously admired around the globe (but no Laurence Olivier).

It's honestly like he's not even acting, like he's just going about his daily routine.

What to the 50s and 60s Brad Pitt was to the 90s and early 2000s?

Irrefutable irresistible magnetism.

(Foucauldian investigation pending).

But angry.

In Look Back in Anger it's like you're watching solidified anti-spiritual acid vehemently castigate every moment of every day, with irate fury the superlative venom obdurately infects everyone he encounters (although he also uses it to productively fight racism).

Notably his wife, who's as right as rain, who just wants to chill and ethereally float, as modest as a Boston cream or perhaps mint chocolate chip, still adamantly tempting like chillaxed camaraderie.

Every time he sees her (Mary Ure as Alison Porter) he lays it on thick with bellicose rancour, fit only for the field of battle, the poor lass habitually scornful of things like separation.

But a friend comes to stay (Claire Bloom as Helena Charles) and his vitriolic fury regularly erupts, even going so far as to ruin one of her auditions, for the sake of meaningless voltaic banter.

One bitter interaction to the next he furiously proceeds beyonds limits or bounds, as if an aristocrat suddenly found themselves penniless, or an impoverished worker sought to make a fortune.

Apart from close family, every woman he encounters must endure his pernicious ramble, like watching one of the world's most idyllic cads consistently berate gentle fauns who then fall in love (written by men).

Do things still proceed so obtusely, is socioevolution just something you read about in the news?, I admit to having read several books and newspapers, and never really having met anyone who attempts to live that way (it's often a trap). 

I'm convinced that if I ever did I'd never know it because they're so stuck up beyond oblivion.

And doesn't that defeat the purpose?

Who knows?, discourses of the sincere.