We all have these cultural deficits. Iconic books and movies we’ve somehow managed to avoid over the years.
My wife and I addressed this void, in part, the other night by watching “Georgy Girl.” Early Lynn Redgrave and later James Mason. It’s ’60s London, it’s envelope-pushing on societal and sexual mores and it’s got that pleasant, eponymous “Hey there, Georgy girl, swingin’ down the street so fancy free” theme song.
It was also annoyingly daffy, due in no small part to Alan Bates’ sophomoric, slapstick shtick. But now we know.
We also know this. When a movie from another generation still works even on the small screen with commercials, you know you have a classic. “The Graduate” is still the best.