Perhaps The Future Belongs To Magic, And

In The Past We Have Always Assumed That The External World Around Us Has Represented Reality, However Confusing Or Uncertain, And That The Inner World Of Our Minds, Its Dreams, Hopes, Ambitions, Represented The Realm Of Fantasy, And The Imagination. These Roles, It Seems To Me, Have Been Reversed. The Most Prudent And Effective Method Of Dealing With The World Around Us Is To Assume That It Is A Complete Fiction - Conversely, The One Small Node Of Reality Left To Us Is Inside Of Our Own Heads.

Their Violence (the Jungle Wars Of The '70s), And All Violence For That Matter, Reflects The Neutral Exploration Of Sensation That Is Taking Place, Within Sex As Elsewhere And The Sense That The Perversions Are Valuable Precisely Because They Provide A Readily Accessible Anthology Of Exploratory Techniques.

Films, Like Memories, Seem To Re-shoot Themselves Over The Years, Reflecting Our Latest Needs And Obsessions. In Many Cases They Can Change Completely, And Reveal Unexpected Depths And Shallows. Will Four Weddings And A Funeral Be Seen One Day As A Vicious Social Satire? Could Jaws Become As Tearful And Sentimental As Bambi?

Given That External Reality Is A Fiction, The Writer's Role Is Almost Superfluous. He Does Not Need To Invent The Fiction Because It Is Already There.

The Car As We Know It Is On The Way Out. To A Large Extent, I Deplore Its Passing, For As A Basically Old-fashioned Machine, It Enshrines A Basically Old-fashioned Idea: Freedom. In Terms Of Pollution, Noise And Human Life, The Price Of That Freedom May Be High, But Perhaps The Car, By The Very Muddle And Confusion It Causes, May Be Holding Back The Remorseless Spread Of The Regimented, Electronic Society.