Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Fixed zoilus link. Thanks, Liz.
Just in from local radio: Georgine Darcy, "Miss Torso" from Rear Window has passed away -- one of the last surviving members of the cast.
Meant to mention several days ago: Matos informs me that Mike Skinner "reminds everyone of John Cooper Clarke. And Ian Dury." Glad to hear it -- I've listened to Grand more than I've read about it.
Many hits over last few weeks from searches on "Ol' Bocephus." I presume this indicates that some portion of Gretchen Wilson's audience doesn't get the reference, which changes my sense of the make-up of said audience -- or maybe just its size.
Finished the last bit of research-assistant work that I'd been paid for months before filing the diss; commenting on an asst. prof's paper on the conditions under which assigning moral blame might be unfair. Distant from my current concerns, but interesting, though probably not to you; glad it's off the desktop.
License plate frame, Sunset Blvd.: "I hate Barbie -- that bitch has everything!"
Two days ago, "Snow White" in front of Grauman's had an exceedingly short yellow skirt and red thigh-high stockings; looked as though she should have been walking a few blocks farther East on Hwd. Yesterday, same character's skirt was practically to the ground. I think it was a different woman (I only see these things driving by); however, their "Superman" is always the same hollow-chested fellow who looks like Henry Fonda by way of Bill Griffith's Claude Funston.
Pillow to Post (1945, dir. Vincent Sherman): In essence, It Happened One Night set in a auto court near an Army camp (they only take married couples, heroine has to sell oil-well supplies nearby -- yes, she's an heiress trying to prove herself -- so shanghais a lieutenant to be her "husband" in order to get the last available cabin), though the tone is even closer to true farce than most screwball (much mistaken id, doors slamming). The only comedy I've ever seen Ida
Lupino in; she did more of this in the '30s, but was almost exclusively in heavier fare by this point in her career. Of course, she's fine, very physically detailed, though there's a lame drunk scene and both character and performance are very Claudette Colbert. If I've ever seen William Prince, the male lead, before, he made no impression -- his imdb entry suggests a respectable, unglamorous, and long career (TV gigs up to '94). Brief appearance by Louis Armstrong and orch, with Dorothy Daindridge as their singer, in a nearby roadhouse. Even stronger sense than usual that a single instance of unmarried persons sleeping in the same room would instantly annihilate the social order: When she first makes the suggestion, he immediately stops paying attention to his driving and nearly plows down two motorcycle cops.
Maybe not something Stanley Cavell would devote a whole chapter to, but I liked this exchange, when Lupino comes out of the kitchen (where she's to sleep) to brush her teeth in a just-above-the-knee nightgown and robe. I think I have it exact:
He: [some expression of mild surprise at the brevity of her costume]
She (defensively): It's the latest thing in nightwear.
He: I suppose it give you more freedom.
She: Well...that's what we're fighting for, isn't it?
To my utter shock, someone from the museum came out before the movie and mildly berated the Tue. matinee audience -- the regulars are mostly bused-in seniors -- for eating, talking, and bag-rustling. "We've been finding peanut shells...."
Just in from local radio: Georgine Darcy, "Miss Torso" from Rear Window has passed away -- one of the last surviving members of the cast.
Meant to mention several days ago: Matos informs me that Mike Skinner "reminds everyone of John Cooper Clarke. And Ian Dury." Glad to hear it -- I've listened to Grand more than I've read about it.
Many hits over last few weeks from searches on "Ol' Bocephus." I presume this indicates that some portion of Gretchen Wilson's audience doesn't get the reference, which changes my sense of the make-up of said audience -- or maybe just its size.
Finished the last bit of research-assistant work that I'd been paid for months before filing the diss; commenting on an asst. prof's paper on the conditions under which assigning moral blame might be unfair. Distant from my current concerns, but interesting, though probably not to you; glad it's off the desktop.
License plate frame, Sunset Blvd.: "I hate Barbie -- that bitch has everything!"
Two days ago, "Snow White" in front of Grauman's had an exceedingly short yellow skirt and red thigh-high stockings; looked as though she should have been walking a few blocks farther East on Hwd. Yesterday, same character's skirt was practically to the ground. I think it was a different woman (I only see these things driving by); however, their "Superman" is always the same hollow-chested fellow who looks like Henry Fonda by way of Bill Griffith's Claude Funston.
Pillow to Post (1945, dir. Vincent Sherman): In essence, It Happened One Night set in a auto court near an Army camp (they only take married couples, heroine has to sell oil-well supplies nearby -- yes, she's an heiress trying to prove herself -- so shanghais a lieutenant to be her "husband" in order to get the last available cabin), though the tone is even closer to true farce than most screwball (much mistaken id, doors slamming). The only comedy I've ever seen Ida
Lupino in; she did more of this in the '30s, but was almost exclusively in heavier fare by this point in her career. Of course, she's fine, very physically detailed, though there's a lame drunk scene and both character and performance are very Claudette Colbert. If I've ever seen William Prince, the male lead, before, he made no impression -- his imdb entry suggests a respectable, unglamorous, and long career (TV gigs up to '94). Brief appearance by Louis Armstrong and orch, with Dorothy Daindridge as their singer, in a nearby roadhouse. Even stronger sense than usual that a single instance of unmarried persons sleeping in the same room would instantly annihilate the social order: When she first makes the suggestion, he immediately stops paying attention to his driving and nearly plows down two motorcycle cops.
Maybe not something Stanley Cavell would devote a whole chapter to, but I liked this exchange, when Lupino comes out of the kitchen (where she's to sleep) to brush her teeth in a just-above-the-knee nightgown and robe. I think I have it exact:
He: [some expression of mild surprise at the brevity of her costume]
She (defensively): It's the latest thing in nightwear.
He: I suppose it give you more freedom.
She: Well...that's what we're fighting for, isn't it?
To my utter shock, someone from the museum came out before the movie and mildly berated the Tue. matinee audience -- the regulars are mostly bused-in seniors -- for eating, talking, and bag-rustling. "We've been finding peanut shells...."
