In the fickle and vainglorious world of cinema January is a so-called Dump Month, a month when all those films studios have lost faith in get released en mass without publicity in the hope that no-one will see them. Far less remember them. Which is not only extremely arrogant, a belief that just because you don't appreciate something no-one else will, but an outrageously decadent waste of a month when, certainly in the northern hemisphere, most people are looking for spaces in which to not
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“What are you going to do this summer, Amory?”, Tom D’Invilliers asks of Amory Blaine in F Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise. “Don’t ask me", comes the somewhat languid reply, "same old things, I suppose. A month or two in Lake Geneva — I’m counting on you to be there in July, you know — then there'll be Minneapolis, and that means hundreds of summer hops, parlor-snaking, getting bored....." Sorry Amory, but you'll have to survive the magnificence of Lake Geneva on your own, would have
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