I'm going to speak out of my ass. I'm watching Charulata (1964), and they're discussing literature. Madhabi Mukherjee is so beautiful. I want a poster of her.
So I write a scene in my mind about the great American novel, and this guy and a girl flirting at the upper class party. Moby Dick is the best novel. No, Portrait of a Lady is. And then this borrish guy that spoils everything comes into the room and says, The Sound and the Fury.
"Nobody likes that crap."
"I suppose you're an Edith Wharton fan!"
You mean the best, sophisticated novel of the time. The Age of Innocence.
It's a bad movie, made after an even worse novel.
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