My registered-libertarian ex-boyfriend once explained the Trump thing to me as the first time any of these lower-class white people got to feel like a part of a subculture, which is an intoxicating experience no one should be deprived of. “I remember when I first discovered punk,” he said. “If I could relive that, I would.”

he film's accumulative effect is scarcely hopeful. Love has been bypassed in favour of death: a girl who might have continued happily with an affirmative relationship has let her transient young lover go his way towards the ultimate risk, the final defiant gesture. The sadness of this, the lack of reason and the surrender to restless compulsion, are to be deplored - and so Antonioni deplores them.

As he adjusted to this procession of life-changing events, his work rate slowed. Where before he was “a man on a desert island… a flower petal floating gently down a little river doing whatever I wanted,” an artist who would spend 12 hours a day playing guitar, after Bass was born he could barely carve out three.

Bringing Up Baby has an energy reminiscent of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in the darkly lit shimmering scenes (most of the movie takes place at night, a departure for a comedy), with nature infiltrating the civilized world, working its magic on all of the participants.

The fresh aroma after a summer downpour is one of life's pleasing scents. The earthy fragrance was named petrichor by Australian researchers in 1964. They described it as a combination of plant oils and the chemical compound geosmin which are released from the soil when it rains.

An elegy for a lost astronaut (inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s film, 2001: A Space Odyssey), the song marked an epochal shift from the utopian triumphalism of the counterculture 1960s. I learned long afterward that Bowie had prophetically written the song a few months before the Woodstock Music Festival, with its heady populist dreams. Communal idealism was over. “Space Oddity,” with its bleak isolationism, looked forward to the darker 1970s, a decade of disillusion and decadent hedonism.

(Paraphrasing Kate McKinnon) It was simple without being charming. It was like. I hated it but I didn’t care enough to listen a second time to figure out why.

More than the Original Auteur, my close friends and I pay closer attention to the Mime, Jester and Guru, characters that unashamedly use duplication, parody, distortion and a big bag of tricks up their sleeves to investigate or comment on the world.