Oh, memory is a hazy, funny thing. Time spent in our reveries can take us from point A to point G across the span of our lives, and even if it doesn’t make any kind of external sense, it makes total internal sense. That’s sort of how Arnaud Desplechin’s new film, My Golden Days, operates. It goes forward in time, then backward, then forward again. It’s kind of a seesaw, but it is altogether great no matter how over the place it may be. My piece at Paste Magazine goes into that in more detail. You should have a look!
A Constant Visual Feast 