Stealing Beauty.
Bernardo Bertolucci and his beautiful hooks got me early on. I was thirteen when I first saw this film, it struck a chord with my naïvety and thirst for a sweet kind of eccentricity. It might be a little self indulgent with it's pseudo profundity but at the time the sun struck tuscan countryside, the softness of Georgio's romantic costuming and the fact that it unequivocally substantiated my listening to portishead, validated my preoccupation with Mazzy Star and gave creedence to the Cocteau Twins was all I needed.
