Today without planning to, I found myself watching the old version of Wuthering Heights again for the umpteenth time on TCM. No, not one of those endless BBC remakes, I’m talking about the 1939 film starring Merle Oberon & Sir Laurence Olivier. I couldn’t help myself; this film is so mesmerizing and romantic. I’d forgotten that people could love like that. God, it’s been so long since I was the young idyllic gay boy that believed and expected an all-consuming love like that to be “just around the corner”. I cried at the ending as I always do. The part where Cathy dies in Heathcliff’s arms always starts the waterworks and then when they find him dead out in the snowy moors because he was chasing after Cathy’s ghost, well folks…I cry like a gay boy that's just found out that Clinque has discontinued their travel size non-streak bronzer. If you’ve never seen this film, do. It just might kindle and awaken things you thought you’d forgotten.
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