Michael Clayton

I am not the only one with an unhealthy fascination with the seventies. Yesterday I saw the movie Michael Clayton. Film critics, who, like the Bourbons, remember everything and learn nothing, will not have noticed that this is a seventies movie - the dark wood and hard sheen of the corporate interiors, the sense of an indecipherable and brutal world, the lost hero struggling to acquire a moral identity etc. I liked it a lot, but, I fear, this may be nostalgia.