When Philippe Petit walked his high wire between the Towers of the World Trade Center, in August 1974, I was not yet born. And yet, like so many other extraordinary events, and even before Man on Wire, the glorious documentary of 2008, I quite simply knew about the stunt and the man. I don’t know how I knew or when I first knew, I just... did. It was impossible not to. While in the beginning, and before seeing it (note that seeing is key), I did think of a stunt, it is only over the past ten years or so that I understood that to refer to it merely as a stunt, would be to understate its instrinsict significance and ineffable quality. I don’t know about you but, these days, when I hear something defined as ‘a stunt’, I don’t so much think of an action displaying spectacular skill but rather I think of something done to attract attention. Sure it showcased incredible skill for certain, but it was not done to attract attention per se. It was the ultimate work of performance art, the stuff dreams are made of. Regular readers will recall a post at the beginning of the year [this one] in which I spoke of the things I was looking forward to in 2015. Amidst all of the movies I listed, I sigled one out, The Walk. Thinking back to January, I don’t think there has been a movie in my entire life, let alone this...
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