When you travel 200 miles to see a stage version of one of your favourite films, the cost of transport, theatre tickets and hotel soon adds up. Thankfully £21 (restricted view) was a bargain for any birthday treat. And the fact Groundhog Day not only recrafts Bill Murray's best film for the stage but enhances the source material was a present I never expected.
Having heard Bill Murray on the subject and reflected a little myself, I still can't convincingly explain the difference between good and bad corn. But I do know good corn exists and there are times when a good dose can be very therapeutic. That's what I got from Bill Murray's new film, St. Vincent.
For me, Ghostbusters has deep roots in my childhood. It belongs to a time in which the writing was sharp but the picture quality less so; a time in which you could only sate your Ghostbusters craving via VHS (oftentimes discovering that some annoying person had not rewound said videotape to the beginning after use). A time in which I would declaim, with absolute conviction, that Peter Venkman was my future husband.