This was out of place in Victor’s review thread, but maybe some of you here will recognize it-
Made me think of Cold Comfort Farm and how the lead keeps trying to call the sun extravagant euphemisms in her purple-prosey novel:
“It was winter. The grimmest hour of the darkest day of the year. The Golden Orb had almost disappeared behind the interlacing fingers of the hawthorn.”
In other news, over the last week or so I saw watched Rituals (1977, good campy fun), Bone Tomahawk (2015, technically near-perfect but in shockingly poor taste), and Lone Star (1996, one of my most enjoyable watches in recent memory and certainly one of my new fave westerns).