Here's the clip I mentioned. Rex Ingram's adaptation of Maugham's The Magician. And I'm intrigued to note that Michael Powell was assistant director. Serendipity. I've always loved Powell and Pressburger films. I don't want to sound unduly fey but nobody can deny that there is definitely something of the weird about them. In this internet age of one-click connections we've lost the mystery and magic of a bookshop or record-shop find that suddenly shines a light through the gloom and leads you a bit further along the path. We've lost the sixth sense, the part of the subconscious that enables us to close our eyes and trust while we feel our way through the dark and home in on what it is that we need to find.
Or have we?