Six Damn Fine Degrees #178: Tell me in your own words

Welcome to Six Damn Fine Degrees. These instalments will be inspired by the idea of six degrees of separation in the loosest sense. The only rule: it connects – in some way – to the previous instalment. So come join us on our weekly foray into interconnectedness!

Synchronization is a tricky little bugger, isn’t it? First off, there is always something that gets lost in translation; many fine points of the original language always go out the window. Take any film in an unknown language: do you opt for the subtitles, or do you press the button that puts foreign words in the mouths of the cast? I mostly go for subtitles, because even if I don’t understand Toshiro Mifune’s precise words, I want to hear his drawls, his mutterings and his shouts. I want to be there when he finally tips over the edge and goes berserk, even if that does not involve much dialogue – either grunts and shouts, or total silence. Him unsheathing his sword is just not enough.

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The Rear-View Mirror: The Fabulous Baker Boys (1989)

Each Friday we travel back in time, one year at a time, for a look at some of the cultural goodies that may appear closer than they really are in The Rear-View Mirror. Join us on our weekly journey into the past!

Love is a free agent. We may say that opposites attract, or that birds of a feather flock together or whatever; we have our kinks and fetishes and predilections and our angsts when it come to relationships and love and sex; we describe ourselves as homo- or heterosexual or polyamorous or bi or as of many colors of the rainbow, but we really don’t know why we fall for this person or that person. It’s a mistery, at its core, that crazy little thing called love.

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