Having loved James Dean (one of my earliest girlhood crushes -- along with Jack Kerouac, Sam Shepard, David Bowie and other long dead or old people) and his movies (all three of them) throughout my childhood, I was excited to see East of Eden for the first time on the big screen last night at the NFT, and for the first time in widescreen.
The larger-than-life view magnified so many of the flaws I loved: the moralising script, the melodramatic soundtrack, a mumbling, barely coherent and self-conscious Dean, the naive psychoanalysis (I'm bad, because Daddy doesn't love me).
As wonderfully cheesy as I remembered it.
The cinema was packed with a far more eclectic crowd than I had expected. A good mix of young and old, from smart elderly couples to shabby students. Alas, no Dean look-a-likes...