It is the last day of February, and the snow is flying. I think I will go home and watch one of my favorite movies, just to cheer me up. It always works.
M. Hulot’s Holiday is a charming movie. The charm lies, I think, in the tendency of the movie to portray our attempts to impose routine behavior on the holiday experience. In the end we carry our stories with us, as turtles carry their shells. Upstairs the beautiful young girl opens her windows. She has just arrived. She looks out from her rented room onto the beach. The regulars notice as they promenade. Everything is new and full of promise. The sky is blue and the air is fresh. But the holiday resort is populated by types. There is the bratty child, the upright colonel, the indignant waiter, and then there is M. Hulot, agent of anarchy. The dramatic interest in the story arises out of the encounter between the imposed routine of the boarding house and the liberating possibilities of the holiday experiences.
Who wouldn’t want to be at the seaside on a day like this? It’s just therapy, much needed on this, the last snowy day of February.