Indiscreet (1958) held a promise of adulthood for me as a kid. Not the flirting with a married man part - the scandal went right over my head! - but that an adult can consume only chocolate and milk for dinner and not get in trouble. [It looks like chocolate; it could be individually-wrapped pieces of soft cheese.]
I didn’t understand that Ingrid Bergman eating this paltry meal in a tailor-made housecoat is meant to display loneliness and depression. She seems to be living the high life to a kid who has to dress for dinner and eat all her vegetables first.
A few minutes later, the Bergman character, still wearing her housecoat, has cold cream all over her face during her meetcute with Cary Grant. This scene typifies an ease of life, a lack of regimentation, that I wanted very much when I grew up.
It was only later that I realized meeting him without makeup is meant to be a comic situation at Bergman’s expense since a handsome man shows up and the lady looks like a slob [or as close to it as she gets in the film; she still looks beautiful to me].
The audience is meant to contrast that first lonely meal in her house with the cheerful second one - breakfast with Grant with a fully cooked meal on a gingham tablecloth. The scene is like a Vermeer genre piece, there’s so much strategically-placed sunshine pouring in.
She’s happy. I’m not. My childhood version of this film is ruined.