As an apparently discerning child of the late 20th Century, I find myself continuously torn between high and low brow culture. Marie and Donnie were a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll, respectively. I’m a little bit Dostoevsky/Eisenstein/Phillip Glass and a little bit Dan Brown/Farrelly Brothers/Late period Kylie. In the same body. Unfortunately, not always at the same time.
Sometimes I’m in the mood for Eno’s Music for Airports. Sometimes I want to download Lady Sov videos instead. On occasion I like to re-read Dickens in bed, though I might keep a couple of copies of Ultimate Spiderman to hand just in case.
The real problems kick off when high brow Twain does the decision making for low brow Twain… I have Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, Munich and Titus Andronicus sitting in a neat, unwatched pile on top of my TV, recently dispatched from my rental list. And yet, with a rare afternoon free, my instinct is to curl up with disc four, season two of “Alias”.
Does this make me a bad person? Please send your answers scrawled on the back of a season three boxset of “Alias” to the usual address…