Poetry in Motion

The film is a bit burned out, but just wait till you see it in Heaven. It just wouldn't be the same with Powell in a burqa and Astair's scimitar banging around his legs. Would it? [h/t: Maggie's Farm]

The point is, you won't see such whimsy in a sad, legalistic culture that is wholly a negative imitation of a grander, magnificent meta-narrative called Christendom. The Scimitar is too busy trying to bring down that despicable rival that believes the joyful revelation:

"This one, at last!, is bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh..."