“But you damned idiot, war starts at midnight!”
I can’t think of a happier time in my movie-watching life than when I first found Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger. It was late – I was around 26. The film was Black Narcissus and, frankly speaking, it blew my mind. A weird and transfixing story of sexual repression in a Himalayan convent shot in glorious British Technicolor (in 1948!), it was unlike anything I had seen before, and when it was over I knew I had to devour every film of theirs I could get my hands on. Once I did, I knew I was hooked for life. There are undoubtedly more celebrated British directors (David Lean) and more popular ones with the masses (Hitchcock), but when it comes down to it, for me, few directors’ films inspire more giddy love for cinema than those of the Archers.