the knack...and how to get it

Nancy, Colin, and Tom are rolling Colin's new four-poster, deer-emblazoned, iron, six-foot bed through the curvy streets of London (naturally) and somewhere—everywhere—prissy little british cap wearing oldies are chanting, "Mods and Rockers, Mods and Rockers." Earlier there's a stair-way full of identically-dressed women lined up for Tolen's bedroom, "It's an exagerration," Colin says to the camera, "He just gets a lot of women." Or something like that. The film is dizzying, splendid, souped-up, and features a room entirely painted white. Tolen wears sunglasses. Tom is an artist. Colin is a stone fox. I'm in love with this 1965 Cannes winner; although surely to have said so at the time, I might have been labelled a "mod" or a "rocker." For shame.