The Wife and I saw the remake

Last year. And Renee liked the film more than I did.  Here is what I thought about the remake then. I have not seen the 2011 edition since then, but it has not aged well for me, at all.

"You want me to say, 'I love you.'"

But, a couple of nights ago TCM showed the original 1947 Brighton Rock film, starring Richard Attenborough, and I was absolutely blown away.

The original Brighton Rock, produced by The Boulting Brothers, is a thoroughly gripping little British noir picture that is about as perfect as a film can be.

From the opening title card -- which proclaims (with just the teensiest bit of irony?) that the lovely English seaside resort town of Brighton is once again safe and perfect for tourism -- to one of the greatest endings in cinema history, Brighton Rock delivers on all levels.

Of course, one has to start any discussion of this film with Attenborough's performance as Pinky, the teen hoodlum.  It is legitimately one of the finest performances I have seen on any screen, dripping with malice, a bizarre religious fervor and guilt, and the kind of bitter cynicism you would only expect from a much older actor.  Attenborough was twenty-four when he made the picture.

I imagine that British audiences were horrified in 1947, probably creating a mild media panic re juvenile delinquents and youth gangs.  Pinky is genuinely frightening to watch, a teenager who understands that his fate is sealed, the end is near, and that murder is the only way out for the slimmest chance of freedom.  Pinky thinks love is for fools, all types of love, but he most certainly believes in Hell.  Hell is where he will end up, burning in eternity for all his grievous sins and hatred.  Pinky is fatalistic.  You believe that his actions are played or performed, as if he were God's remote actor.  You believe him when he suggests that God's alternate plan for him most likely would have been in the Church.  The only time you see Pinky's faith fail him, naturally, is when he is confronted with his own mortality, at last.  This thrilling religious theme -- both Pinky and his eventual wife, Rose are Catholics in CoE England -- was obviously baked in to Graham Greene and Terrence Rattigan's sterling script, but it is rare indeed to see a performance illuminate so masterfully the authors' intentions.  (Greene, himself, was a Catholic with serious doubts.  I suspect he was reflecting these doubts on to this work, based upon his novel of the same name.)

But, that is just Attenborough.  Who the heck is Carol Marsh? What the heck happened to her? Ms Marsh plays Rose, the equally fatalistic devout Catholic waitress, who tragically gets caught up in Pinky's web.  Rose falls hopelessly in love with Pinky.  It is all part of God's  master plan that she should commit herself so unconditionally to such a nasty human being. Ms Marsh is expertly cast here.  She is pretty enough to be a late 40s British cinema love interest, but not too pretty for Rose.  Ms Marsh also delivers a stellar performance, unquestioningly besotted with Pinky, willing to do just about anything and everything for him, in complete submission to his soul. Ms Marsh's face radiantly glows whenever she is in Attenborough's orbit, revealing a deep spirituality.  Her performance is naturalistic only in the sense that it seems artless.  Normally that would be the type of magical performance that sometimes amateurs can give, but, despite only being seventeen years old, Ms Marsh was not an amateur.  Checking on her career at IMDb, Ms Marsh really did not do much, or anything of note, after Brighton Rock.  I wonder why.

Brighton Rock is also directed and shot expertly by John Boulting and Harry Waxman respectively.  Unlike most noir films of this time, Boulting and Waxman move the camera with an elegant fluidity that really envelope the audience in to this seamy underworld of a seaside tourist town.  They also use close-ups judiciously and supremely effectively to get in to the souls of these gangsters.  Hermione Baddeley and William Hartnell give wonderful performances, as well. Heck, even Hans May's score is excellent.

An absolute must-see, folks.  I will be buying this on dvd very soon.  Brighton Rock is a top-notch noir thriller that is not just an entertainment, but a tragic morality tale, as well.










Mwah, ...

The Megatron

Thanks, Pnut!

"Mark, beggars can't be choosers. She's an actual woman."














Ardent

Always always always remember

That the vast majority of Sports Owners -- oh gosh! Look, the NHL is still in another lockout -- are swine.  I will repeat that:  Sports Owners are swine.

Watch big Union man Socialist John Sayles' film, Eight Men Out.  That'll learn ya.

Thank gosh for folks like Marvin Miller, then, who passed away today at ninety-five years of age.  Peace out brother.  Goodbye, baby, and amen.

See, even Texas legend Nolan Ryan is a Union Man!


















All my love,
Michael

I know that David Mamet has become

A right-wing reactionary asshole but all three of these films below are infinitely better than The Game, directed by David Fincher.  See these instead if you love films about the Long Con.

Mwah, ... 

I would like to give David Fincher

Credit for the obvious irony behind his truly crappy film, The Game.  By which, I mean that he, as a filmmaker, has spent a godawful amount of cash, hiring actors and technicians to produce a "game" for the audience to witness and (sort of, not really) participate in.  Much like the "game", an insanely extravagant wasteful in poor taste birthday present for Michael Douglas, in said film.

Really? What do you get for the man has everything?

Apparently, it is this awful film.  I was okay with the film for a while, until the guns starting shooting, and there were car chases.  Then, when I learned it was a con, I could not help but think how many dozens of films there are out there about the Long Con that are way way way better than this piece of shit.  Then the ending happened, and I was totally done.  What a joke.  What a complete waste of talent and money.  What a complete waste of two hours of my time.

Maybe the clown can explain it all to me.

What is it with Fincher? He seems to only make good films or absolute disasters.

The Wife asked me after it was over -- I had bought it for half price (Thank God!) on Criterion bluray -- who I should give the film to? But, then Renee had a much better idea:  We are keeping the bluray, and we are going to treat it as a Camp Artifact, and foist it on our friends when they come over for a dinner party, laughing at it throughout, and pointing out to everyone what a disgustingly awful film it is.

(The Wife and I are mean, hunh? We are so pissed off about losing two hours of our life to this joke of a movie that all of our friends have to suffer, too, apparently.)

Not recommended.  Do not see it.  Do not buy it.  But, if you are looking for a good larf, and a fantastic dinner, made by Chef Renee, come on over to Club Villas some evening, and we will treat you well.

Bring some wine.










xxxoooxxx,
Ardent.

No one was better with slogans

Than Spacemen 3:

"Taking drugs to make music to take drugs to"

"For all the fucked-up children of this world we give you Spacemen 3"

"PURITY * LOVE * SUICIDE * ACCURACY * REVOLUTION"

And, really there are not many groups better than Spacemen 3.  Purity and accuracy are the crucial words to describe their ethos, their raison d'être.  Their version of minimalism was all about distilling the very essence of Rock down to its most organic infant forms.  They were a band that oftentimes you must feel would record majestic symphonies, and then like a sculptor, would chisel off layer after layer until they had revealed the bones glowing and humming through the flesh. Only the essential is shown or heard.  They were a Rock group that rarely used a drummer. A Rock group that used guitar to express every tone, mood, or color in the Classic Crayola 64 Crayon Box.  A Rock group that was not afraid of new technology.  A rock group that was never afraid to ask the difficult questions.  A Rock group that could get you through devastating moments of pain or sorrow.  A Rock group that could enrich your soul and take you to places of contentment and peace of mind that you had never experienced before.  A Rock group that was not so much a "Soundtrack for your life", as an annotated roadmap for (all) Life.

Spacemen 3's purity is also what makes their music timeless.  The records they recorded in the 1980s still sound as fresh today, or even better, as they did a generation ago.  The two men -- from Rugby, England -- J Spaceman and Sonic Boom have neither achieved anything near as magical or crucial or important on their own since the band broke up.  Perhaps part of the special elixir to produce such astounding works of art was the tension between these two men, two men that ended up bitterly hating each other, recording their final album like two solo records, Sonic's songs on side one and J's on side two.  

There was a funny moment in my life when I was nearly homeless, looking for a new place with two male housemates.  They were house sitting, and had the normal male bachelor twentysomething set staged:  Watching videos, the bong on the front table, beer bottles all over, pizza boxes, etc, ... But, the family came home early, late at night.  I received a distress call at my apartment in Berkeley, "Can we come over and stay the night? We got busted, big time." 

They came over, and we all found a place to sleep in the bedroom.  I put on The Perfect Prescription by Spacemen 3 and we smoked a J.

The next morning, one of my potential housemates, Michael K, told me how perfect that record was, what a balm it was to his soul and psyche.  

I know, I know.  Being caught-out on a house sit is not like going through a divorce or the death of a loved one, or anything as heavy as that.  But, it is still a great story.

Spacemen 3 ask the tough questions and do the bad shit, so as to make it easier for you.  

Michael

xxxoooxxx

And, Quilty is dancing

With Vivian Darkbloom, which is an anagram for Vladmir Nabokov.  How broad-minded are you?

Sellers, James Mason, and Kubrick, and Nabokov? Genius.

Anyone else up here in the Bay Area

Seen that  slightly creepy teevee ad for Merritt Bakery and Restaurant? (It is entirely possible that it is just me.  I saw it early this morning, watching an old -- In color! Guest starring Ronny Howard! -- episode of Daniel Boone on MeTV.)

More on Daniel Boone in a minute -- he's a big man! So, the Merritt ad starts with a couple arguing by Lake Merritt at dusk.  It is probably shot in color, but it is all washed out and dark, and plays as black and white.  The man leaves in a huff, throwing his arms down near his waist in disgust, and tromps off along the lake path.  Then we get a long shot of the man walking soulfully, and dejectedly, hands in his pockets, with the Oakland skyline as the backdrop.  Cut to the woman at a window booth at the Merritt Bakery and Restaurant, receiving a cup of coffee, placing her order with her server.  It is night now.  The woman stares directly in to the camera because she has obviously seen someone she knows.  New shot, the woman's POV:  It is her Sweetie! The dejected man has spotted her.  He is looking at her through the window, his palms on the glass. The commercial ends with the lovers reunited, sharing coffee and a meal, talking their problems out.

I should not quibble, I suppose.  It is nice that it is an unusual subject matter for a commercial, and it is also nice that it is for a local Oakland dining institution.  (I had many a late-night meal at the Merritt last I lived in Oaktown.  I like the Merritt.) But, the execution of the commercial, and the tone still gives me the willies.

As for Fess Parker, Ron Howard, and Daniel Boone, honestly, I had never seen an episode all the way through.  Ugh.  What a god-fearing, reactionary, freedom-loving, freedom-fighting little abomination of a television program it is.  And, the episode I saw with Ron Howard as a guest star (Howard plays Luke, whose thieving lying Pa is killed by Boone's cohort, Ben) was particularly awful.  I did like Claire Wilcox as Mary, though.

************

How is everyone doing? Getting excited for the holidays, yet? I watched The Good Wife in real-time last night (I like the program -- Renee can not stand it) and was exposed to dozens of hideous odious Black Friday shopping commercials.  Sometimes I hate my country, my country's culture, my culture altogether.  Generally, the only television I watch with commercials is live sports, and, I hardly do that even.  Most sports I watch is dvr'd, or, the Red Zone, which is a whip-around seven hour Sunday program with no commercials whatsoever! Heaven!

Seeing all those awful konsumterror commercials last night really made a dent in my soul, so naturally, after The Good Wife, I decided I would watch Ken Burns' The Dust Bowl! (At least there were not any commercials, right?)

I recognize Ken Burns' flaws, yet, I still enjoy his films.  And, the amazing body of work that he will ultimately leave behind, his history of this youthful complicated ambitious prideful sometimes hateful nation in which we live, begs to be respected.

Actually, I must admit that my favorite part of The Dust Bowl is that we already have two witnesses named Pauline, and a third Pauline is remembered for dying of "dust pneumonia".
Pauline was my Oklahoma Grandmother's name. (There is also a Lewis witness, too.  Lewis is my Mother's maiden name.) It is also delightful to hear the Oklahoma accents.

It is not so delightful, and definitely soul-crushing, to learn about the way my Southern Plains ancestors foolishly and greedily raped the land the Native Americans had lived on for centuries, all for lucre.  Wheat millionaires these Next Year Folks aspired to be.  And, they, and thousands of others all over the Plains suffered as a result.

I had no idea about the penetrating awesome power of static electricity that would precede and be part of the fearsome awe-inspiring Black Blizzards.  Dust storms that would completely block out the sun, and turn day in to night.  Folks back then would attach a metal bar to the back bumper of their car, so as to ground the static electric charge that would consume the air and land.  Scary, fascinating stuff.

Burns ended part one last night with a Woody Guthrie song, and tonight's conclusion will talk about the famous Okie exodus to California and other parts.  That could be even tougher to watch than last night's installment.  But, I will be there.

All my love, Angels, 

xxxoooxxx

So many wonderful things,

Stories, lines, etc, ... about the 1939 Lubitsch/Garbo masterpiece, Ninotchka:

Garbo asking Hungarian playwright, Melchior Lengyel, for a movie idea that could fit M-G-M's new sales tag for her, "Garbo Laughs."  Lengyel thinks about it, comes up with an idea, reports to Garbo's house to share it with her, and finds her swimming naked in her backyard pool.

Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett writing a hilarious, gently cynical screenplay that reveals the immense power of flirtation, a power so great (and believable) that one suspects it could overwhelm the State, no matter its ideology.

Lubitsch, directing with all his usual panache, aplomb, and wit; using his minor characters to supreme effect, creating a rich flaky scrumptious french galette on Hollywood's back lot version of Paris -- in many ways probably finer than the real Paris.

Garbo's radiant, luxurious slim beauty.

Adrian's fantastic gowns, and his Soviet commissar's costume for Garbo.  And, the magnificent story that Adrian, one of Hollywood's finest costumers, who designed nearly everything Garbo ever wore in the movies, how he retired when Garbo retired, "What's the point?" you can imagine him asking.

So many wonderful lines:


Count Leon D'Algout: Do you like me just a little bit?
Ninotchka: Your general appearance is not distasteful

Leon: A Russian! I love Russians! Comrade, I've been fascinated by your five-year plan for the last fifteen years.

Ninotchka: I should hate to see our country endangered by my underwear.

Leon: A radio's a little box that you buy on the installment plan, and before you tune it in, they tell you there's a new model out.

Prologue: This picture takes place in Paris in those wonderful days when a siren was a brunette and not an alarm - and if a Frenchman turned out the light it was not on account of an air raid!


Ninotchka: Must you flirt?
Count Leon d'Algout: Well, I don't have to, but I find it natural.
Ninotchka: Suppress it.

And, of course:


Ninotchka: The last mass trials were a great success. There are going to be fewer but better Russians.









One of the finest films ever made, and, an absolute must-see.  I own it, but it is possible it is streaming on netflix.

All my Sunday love,
Ardent.

Todd is God

"You don't need a weatherman, ... "

This is too brilliant for words!

(And I watched Adam's Rib for the umpteenth time last night, and it is still fantastic:  "It's okay, Jules.  The more we pay in taxes, the more we like it.")

Election Day Thoughts

Here is the greatest liberal progressive blogger of all-time, digby, with your drinking schedule for tonight.  She is much more pessimistic than me, so, that should tell you something.

(And, what the fuck? My parents were lucky enough to live in Switzerland from October 2001 until Obama was elected -- although my Da is still working in CH until he retires, and my Mum lives in Tulsa, OK now -- but, what does it say about our nation, that this thing, this General, this OEE, is this close?)

It is the media, dummy.

Unfortunately, after Obama has wrapped this thing up tonight, no media maven/pundit/expert will be held to bare.  The whole myth of a Liberal/Progressive media will only be; mistakenly, and righteously upheld.  

It was fixed, screams the Right.  Therefore, it must be so, says the media.

Read driftglass.  No one does better at exposing the false equivalency media circus than our Man in Chicago.  

The media are desperate to portray this OEE (Orchestrated Electoral Extravaganza) as a tight race.  Well, it is a tight race, as far as the national numbers are concerned, but, it is not a close race as far as the Electoral College is concerned.  (This is one of the main reasons Nate Silver's own employers, and others in the TradMedia hate him so much.  Plus, he is slender, talks in a high voice, and likes fine restaurants.) 

Why are the supposedly LeftTradMedia so willing to suck up to Mittens, and declare this a toss-up? Because, they have bills to pay, and Masters to serve.

Marx was fucking right, even if you are immediately turned off by my using his name.  

It is not race, or gender that ultimately differentiate between citizens of a culture, it is CLASS.  

Okay, enough lecturing, how about another great video, one of my all-time faves:

xxxoooxxx

Linkies:

This is a big Ooops! for Mittens.

And, TBogg is God, of course.

Here is Sam Wang from Princeton's prediction.

I do not wanta hear anyone complaining about getting to the ballot box!

This is typical of the GOP and crappy and it will not work.

Oh, yeh, did I say TBogg was God? He is Zeus, dangit!

More fun videos:

xxxoooxxx

I will be here (and on friendface) all day today,

Going back and forth to eat, read my David Thomson book, watch episodes of Veep, and the film, The Names of Love -- a splendid love story about family, parents, religion, love, and, yes, politics.

It is going to be a rollercoaster ride, and it is going to be close.  Honestly, my advice to my friends and loved ones is to go outside if the weather permits, and do not take your smartphone with you. If you have to stay indoors, read a book, or watch The Names of Love. (Streaming on netflix.) And, if you are working, do not bother with updates, or dailykos, or the drudgereport.  Let me do all that worrying for you.  And, do not pay attention to exit polls!

Settle in for the prime time election results on your favorite network at around seven PM EST. That is when we will start getting results from Virginia.

Until then, relax, work, drink tea, read a book, curl up with your loved ones, your kitties, your puppies, whathaveyou, and, of course, go vote if you have not already.

Here are some videos to cheer you up!

It is election day!

xxxoooxxx

Ardent

Here are some more predictions, and juicy political links:

Walnut Creek Democratic HQ, November 5, 2012.

Here is David Atkins from Hullabaloo, passing along the Wingers' predictions.

Here are David Atkins' own personal predictions on the OEE.  He is not as bullish as Kos or I.

Here are Kos' predictions.  He and I see the OEE in exactly the same way.

I think this is Charlie Pierce's best post today.

And, via Sarah Proud and Tall, and Balloon Juice; here is Chris Kluwe, the sexy Vikings punter civil-rights champion beast!

************

The Wife and I saw Ben Affleck's mash note to Tony Mendez and Jimmy Carter, Argo, yesterday. We both liked it with some reservations, and I can dip in to that later tomorrow.

I also got a haircut and bought David Thomson's latest book, The Big Screen The Story of the Movies.  Which looks like an absolute, smashing masterpiece.  I can not wait for the chapters on Ingrid Bergman's censure when she moved to Italy; Murnau's magical amazing film, Sunrise; and Jean Renoir; plus so much much much more.  It looks to be as nourishing and wonderful as a dinner at Bouchon with Orson Welles.  Yummy!

************

Lots more tomorrow, all day long, ... (Here is some Chris Kluwe for ya, ladies and gents:)

Ardent

I am not going to bury the lede.

The good guys are going to win this thing on Tuesday.  And, we will know that the good guys have won on Tuesday evening.  I am guessing that Obama will break the two-hundred and seventy electoral vote threshold at about a quarter after eight PM PST.

All the shenanigans in Ohio and Florida, and the True the Vote douchewackets will not be able to steal this election for the GOP.  Women, all across this nation, are going to come out in full force on Tuesday and nail this thing down for Obama/Biden.

Here is what the map will look like.  Obama will win the Electoral College 332-206.  Obama will win the National Popular vote fifty to forty-seven.  Democrats will maintain control of the Senate, with a fifty-three to forty-six edge.  No one knows what that crazy guy in Maine is going to do, who he will caucus with, whatever, ... Obama will still have to deal with an intransigent GOP House of Representatives, of which the GOP will have a majority of 238-197.  As much as I would like to see loony tunes Michele Bachmann ousted in Minnesota, I do not think it will happen.

Claire McCaskill will defeat Todd Akin; Professor -- boy, did that strategy backfire -- Elizabeth Warren will become Senator Warren; Joe Donnelly will defeat Dick Mourdock; Tester will win in Montana; Kaine will win in Virginia; Heitkamp will lose in North Dakota; and Tammy Baldwin will win in Wisconsin.

And, Joe Walsh will be thrown out on his ear, and will become a whackjob Fox News contributor.

I will be adding to this post, and writing more posts of this nature over the next three days.

I love you all,











Ardent Henry

Yes, indeed!

Ardent Henry (picture obtained via Tbogg! Thanks, TBogg!)