![]() ![]() I can't imagine what it might've been like to see something like When the Wind Blows back in the late-'80s, when tensions with the USSR surged, Reagan denouncing the Russians as an “evil empire,” and the doomsday clock ticked towards an early curtain call. Not because everyone, and everything, has been cooked to cinder.įiction speculating on the impending nuclear holocaust is frightening because it isn't outside the realm of belief. The power is out as a result of wartime rationing, as it was in the '40s. Even in the face of death, Jim reacts in the way I reckon anyone would, avoiding the abyss by way of taffy-like, ever-stretching logic: Hilda's bleeding gums aren't caused by the bombs but her ill-fitting dentures. There's a softening charm to their endurance amid the brutality, of course, something sweet about an old couple shambling about in a dilapidated kitchen, making cups of tea on a little camp stove because the lecky has gone. ![]() He's a resourceful chap, they suggest: surely he'd have survived. All the while they wonder what could’ve happened to their son and his baby in London. ![]() Buoyed by their memories of wartime resilience - ah, that ‘ol British stiff upper lip, it really does stick to the last - they keep calm and carry on, even as they show terrible lesions on their legs, their gums pool with blood, and terrible headaches betray the onset of radiation poisoning. ![]()
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