No movie captures the angst of friendships gone by, the joys of inside jokes, and the idea of nostalgia better than The Big Chill (1983). It is, hands down, the coming-of-age “reality” film for the baby boomer generation. Myself, daughter of a boomer, has inherited a cult-like love for this witty story with a psychotically talented ensemble cast. Centered around seven former college friends gathered for a funerary weekend (wherein Kevin Costner is the corpse, albeit briefly), the gang catches up with each other, plays the music of their youth (lots of Motown hits), reminisces, smokes marijuana and wears Nikes.
The soundtrack is irresistible, the script is smart (read: pithy), the conversations are authentic, the premise is stellar, and the fashions of the baby-boomer generation are straight-up disastrous bordering on unflattering. Seriously, how did people even procreate or have sex in the eighties? Who found one another attractive?
In March of 2013, the Beaufort, South Carolina antebellum plantation known as “Tidalholm Mansion” (where the iconic film was produced) was listed for sale at a hefty $4.5.
Boy, they sure did love their dusty pink leather and blush hued upholstery.
Meg Jones: [about men] They’re either married or gay. And if they’re not gay, they’ve just broken up with the most wonderful woman in the world, or they’ve just broken up with a bitch who looks exactly like me. They’re in transition from a monogamous relationship and they need more space. Or they’re tired of space, but they just can’t commit. Or they want to commit, but they’re afraid to get close. They want to get close, you don’t want to get near them.
Let’s reinterpret this house, keeping its southern charm, familiarity and comfort. It’s a place where coastal living meets shabby chic. I will even keep the floral patterns in the drapes.
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