A review of When Harry met Sally

So often humour delivers love.

It charms you, disarms you. So immediate and involuntary, it sets to work dismantling pretence.

The paprikash voices. The Oklahoma karaoke. Through all its gags, When Harry met Sally becomes inescapably authentic. Boy meets girl saved from tiresome cliché by day of the week underpants.

Humour also makes the serious bearable. Without humour, love may be too serious a topic to broach. Everything can get a little heavy. Love is a notorious choke.

Not that humour can't be sincere. You’ve got to admire jokes for their ability to speak true. It may poke fun, mock and protest but humour is a friend's honesty. Embarrassing yet fond too.

Silly, supportive, attentive, honest, goading, loving and adversary.

We speak of our planet in association with humour so desperately rarely.

I also think about that cold distancing scene between Harry and Sally sleeping together and the moment Harry realises he is in love.

What is happening in that gap? Is it shock, guilt, suspicion or possibly fear in the face of such high stakes? It's a strange hesitation. A quiet meditation, the self-conscious interrogation of something we don't recognise, understand or trust.

Is that where we are in the climate discussion?

Are we here, just on the edge, in the pause before love?