2017: The year the world fell apart. 2017: The year that Harold and Maude
somehow got classified as a popcorn flick. So there's that silver lining that we've all been searching for. There was a temptation to chuckle pretentiously about the pitch-black humor of the 1971 Hal Ashby deathtrip masterpiece being considered mass-market enough for a free screening in a bucolic outdoor setting to a bunch of unsuspecting families, but we're too busy looking up helicopter charters so we can be airdropped into the front row. Because, come on, Harold and Maude
is a goddamn beautiful movie. The tale of the star-crossed and, um, unconventional love (but really, what is conventional anymore?) between a 78-year-old woman and a 20-ish man who bond over a fascination with death and a realization that the world is fucked and you'd better grab any shred of happiness and human connection while you can, is just a timeless piece of filmmaking. Is it morbid? Yes, but so is the world. Does it have heart? 24-karat gold; it's one for the ages. The performances are spot-on, the surreal and absurdist humor stands up, and even the garish, oversaturated color palettes have aged incredibly well. This film even made us enjoy a Cat Stevens song. The perfect antidote to Valentine's Day treacle.
7 p.m. Thursday, Feb. 9 | Central Park, North Park Avenue and West Morse Boulevard, Winter Park | enzian.org