Isn't an unwithered currant a grape?
Ilona Costa Bianchi ,'The Girl in Question'
Buffista Movies 3: Panned and Scanned
A place to talk about movies--Old and new, good and bad, high art and high cheese. It's the place to place your kittens on the award winners, gossip about upcoming fims and discuss DVD releases and extras. Spoiler policy: White font all plot-related discussion until a movie's been in wide release two weeks, and keep the major HSQ in white font until two weeks after the video/DVD release.
Isn't an unwithered currant a grape?
A good joke is worth repeating....
Nothing Sacred, Best Years Of Our Lives, I Married A Witch, Dr. Jekyll and Hyde - He's the best Hyde ever..."
What? No "A Star Is Born"? Harrrumph.
And March and Lake did have great chemistry in I Married a Witch.
But not as much as Lake and Ladd in "The Blue Dahlia" and "Glass Key". Ladd is such a wee man, kind of blandly-pretty, but you put him next to Veronica Lake, and... whoa.
I keep thinking that Lake is tall--I guess it's the way she carried herself--and I'm always bemused when I realize how tiny she is on screen.
Isn't an unwithered currant a grape?
No, it's a rather pretty red berry. We had them at bookgroup last night -- unwithered currants, that is. They were kinda seedy and nicer to look at than to taste.
Frederick March. Wasn't he the March brother no one talks about? (What with the way he stole Beth's laudanum for his sad drug habit and all.)
What? No "A Star Is Born"? Harrrumph.
Ah, yes. A perfect original followed by a perfect remake.
Frederick March. Wasn't he the March brother no one talks about?
Exactly! I read that name and thought, "Was he in Little Women?"
Favorite Fredrick March movie - The Best Years of Our Lives.
basks in all the validation
So, uh, yeah... movies and shit.
So last night, pre-battle, we went to see Bell Book and Candle, which was much better than I remembered it:
- Visually extremely tasty, with one Hollywood beatnik set after another (Kim Novak's living room, in both its witchy and human incarnations, looked like something out of
- Gorgeous costume design (Kim Novak in one dark gown after another that looked very pretty but severely demure in front but were almost completely backless, and oh how I need to own the red robe with the jeweled obi)
- An incredibly personable and cooperative cat (seriously, the cat was so present he was a damn character in the film, not just a living prop, and he was terrific, and God knows cats are nobody's first choice for trainable biddable cute-trick-doing movie animals, so this cat's performance was nearly a bloody miracle)
- Jack Lemmon being his usual godlike self as a bongo-playing nonhuman (such a ridiculously fine actor -- this little weightless bit of fluff movie, and he was 110%
- Elsa Lanchester as Queenie, who was sweet and tiny and curvaceous and vaguely bewildered but untroubled by her own bewilderedness, and whose red hair, perfect lips, dreamy drifty locution, and air of otherworldly kindness and affection for her niece (not to mention the many, many gorgeous crepey and lacey and deep jewel-toned velvet dresses and tiny oddball hats) were astoundingly and deliciously Plei-like
Alas, James Stewart was still just as much bordering-on-too-old as I remembered, without a suitably Hitchcockian explanation for his obsession with the severely younger Novak, and (just in case anyone on earth hasn't yet seen it) the ending was still a pastel nightmare of ugly tchotchkes and Look How Normal She Is Now!!!!1!, and then there was the March/Tracy quarrel afterwards, and now Hec is all laid out with a bad head cold and gagging down zinc lozenges, so altogether not the best possible night out at the movies.
Still, not bad, and worth seeing for the backless dresses and Jack and Elsa and the cat.
and then there was the March/Tracy quarrel afterwards, and now Hec is all laid out with a bad head cold and gagging down zinc lozenges, so altogether not the best possible night out at the movies.
On the plus side, the experience might help condition him NOT to browbeat you about your taste in movies—it's like the universe took your side and administered a smackdown.
I take it as a sign that Katharine Hepburn has now (as is only right) ascended to godhood. Spencer was her favorite too, y'know.