The Cinema

The Cinema

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IN days of yore “The Pictures”

Had silent, simple women,

Who fell in love with heroes

And feared the mustached villain!

Cowboys, Model T’s and cops,

And Jury-Metro-Goldwyn

Epics made in fourteen parts,

And women in proportion.

Sound effects, the Talkies!

And silence in the halls,

Wider, curving, colour screens,

Spifflicated dolls!

Art in all its sleek perfection,

Summoned by the mighty dollar,

Made a magic mirror

And took history by the collar.

Howling hordes of natives,

Rabble rousing drums,

Silver mounted soldiers

From the razor-slashin’ slums.

Censored conversation,

Bedrooms scenes and gags,

Lusty strip-tease starlets

Posing for the stags.

Stars that orbit for a spell,

Idols for the matrons,

Fascinated, mixed-up kids,

Wolves disguised as patrons.

  

Patrons wolfing ice-cream,

Smelly, greasy chips,

Late arrivals pushing past

With awkward swingin’ hips.

The critics say we have no taste,

No notion of art sublime;

Managers know that most of us go

Simply to pass the time.

                          William (Willie) Barrett

                                                                         Ballina, 1957