I suppose if you live in LA or NY, you tend to get jaded. Every street you cross, every corner you turn, every door you walk through carries with it the possibility of seeing a famous person. In Philadelphia on the other hand, the truly famous people died over 200 years ago. And in Delaware County, my little corner of the world, there are no famous people, unless you count John Cappelletti, Heisman Trophy winner three decades ago and even he now lives in California.
This being the case, we Delaware Countians tend to be a bit startstruck when the gods smile and set upa makeshift Olympus in our midst. That’s what happened last year when the cast and crew of “Silver Linings Playbook” descended upon our tiny hamlet and, through the alchemy of a good script, great acting and brilliant direction (as well as top-notch cinematography) showed us what dreams are made of.
Sure, it was a gritty, rough-edged dream: diners, not four star restaurants, modest twins, not McMansions, football, not opera. But it was our dream, and for the moments of suspended time between one normal day and the next, it was amazing.
Some people might think it’s silly to be so invested in a movie that, wonderful as it was, didn’t solve the fiscal crisis, won’t end the war in Afghanistan and can’t cure cancer. But standing in line at the Llanerch Diner last night, on its makeshift red carpet and waiting for takeout-just so I could linger by the booth where Bradley Cooper ate Raisin Bran and Jennifer Lawrence made him wear it-I had an epiphany.