“Would you like some rose refresher?” she asked, holding up a small opaque bottle. “Of course,” I replied from my position on the sofa. “Close your eyes,” she said. Then, from a distance of mere inches, she delivered four spritzes to my upturned face. “How does that feel?” she asked. “I’m a new man,” I said.
We go to the movies to be, well, moved. To have a sensory experience. To feel, in orderly sequence, mad, glad or sad. To identify with a hero, repulsed by a villain. A soundtrack carries us along, like leaves on a river. When the movie ends, we leave the cinema and go home. Where the movie continues but the sense of watching it disappears.