BRIDGING THE GAP

Although two generations on the far side of reviewers Kalle Matso and Scott White, I couldn’t agree more with their hilariously perceptive comments about “The Bridges of Madison County” (Film Clips, June 11).

Having read the (mercifully) short book upon the recommendation of friends, seeking true significance and seeing instead a totally unredeeming romp in the hay between this sensitive, 50ish, long-haired, chain necklace wearing, caring type of real guy and the porch-swinging, barefoot (aha!) Italian-cum-Iowa housewife, I’m afraid my senior discount ticket will not be swelling the box-office total.

To be fair, maybe in my hasty judgment I somehow overlooked the redemptivity of the vegetarian (organically grown, you can bet) concoctions that sustained them on the rare occasions when the six-packs, cobwebby brandy, cigarettes and the grand passion waned momentarily.

“Tawdry,” say Matso and White about the considerably toned-down movie. Better skip the book, kids, you wouldn’t want to use the kind of language a review would require.

FRANCES BELL

Fullerton

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Tell me this: How could Clint Eastwood make a movie about a National Geographic photographer and the bridges of Madison County and show not one ethereal, compelling, romantic image of those bridges?

For this movie, he should have hired the cinematographer from “A River Runs Through It.”

KATHY A. PRICE

Santa Barbara