The fourth Cinerama (Search for Paradise) was my first. And last.
The “exciting” new medium was as boring as the exciting hi-fi records which boost the Shrillnesses of strange sounds. There is no doubting the technical accomplishment, or the beauty of the sights and sounds. But an hour of sirens and flea- breathings in hi-fi, or three hours of visual hi-fi, make all the odd sensations commonplace. One soon longs for the things men used to call exciting—a tragedy, a symphony—before they acquired the physical itch for nerve-alerting sound and stomachstirring rides.
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