The art of the small oily fish

Susan’s sardine drawing has prompted Fresca, l’astronave, to invite readers to draw or paint a sardine.

Here’s Fresca’s. Here’s mine. Here’s bink’s.

[The time of the coronavirus is also the time of canned fish.]

Twelve movies

[One to four stars. Four sentences each. No spoilers.]

Columbia noir, from the Criterion Channel

The Mob (dir. Robert Parrish, 1951). The two faces of Broderick Crawford: he plays a surprisingly suave police detective who goes undercover as a longshoreman to uncover corruption on a waterfront. Ernest Borgnine, Neville Brand, and Richard Kiley are among the supporting cast. Good atmospherics (a bar, a flophouse, a lunchroom, a condemned building) and some terrific moments of suspense. This kind of movie, just another movie in its day, is always immensely satisfying to me. ★★★★

The Brothers Rico (dir. Phil Karlson, 1957). Richard Conte is Eddie Rico, who left mob life for legitimate business but finds himself pulled back in to help his brothers. Some surprisingly playful and frankly sexual scenes between Eddie and Alice Rico (Dianne Foster), some chilling scenes with mob boss “Uncle Sid” (Larry Gates), and some ultra-modern mid-century interiors, but the film is marred by overemoting. The great acting surprise is Harry Bellaver, whom I’ve seen in 136 episodes of Naked City but who’s unrecognizable here — that’s how good he is. My favorite line: “He showed me a plush-lined rathole, and I crawled in and made it my home.” ★★★

Tight Spot (dir. Phil Karlson, 1955). Ginger Rogers, Edward G. Robinson, Brian Keith, and Lorne Greene in a strange story of an inmate (Rogers) taken from prison, kept in a guarded hotel room, and pressed to testify at the trial of a crime boss. Moments of sudden, intense violence punctuate a story that’s made mostly of things to do while killing time in a hotel room: telling stories, ordering in, watching television (the movie is brutal toward television), fighting with a sibling, falling in love. Robinson, in his Barton Keyes/Mr. Wilson mode, makes a fine DA. Rogers is for me almost unrecognizable, channeling Judy Holliday and giving a great performance. ★★★★

*

Framed (dir. Richard Wallace, 1947). Glenn Ford as a luckless mining engineer who’s chosen as the fall guy in an embezzlement scheme. It’s complicated. Janis Carter (I know — who?) and Edgar Buchanan add strong support. A fine low-budget film noir. ★★★★

*

Rams (dir. Gary Hustwit, 2018). A portrait of the industrial designer Dieter Rams, famed for the spare, functional design of Braun household products, and a major influence on Apple. Rams on camera is elegantly informal and always curmudgeonly — a critic of the consumer culture his designs helped to establish. But moving about his house (where it looks as if nothing has changed for years), dusting a wall-mounted reel-to-reel tape player, typing on a red Olivetti, he seems like a prisoner of his aesthetic. Cookie crumbs, junk mail, muddy shoes — none of that stuff here. ★★★

*

The Forest for the Trees (dir. Maren Ade, 2003). Twenty-seven-year-old Melanie (Eva Löbau) leaves her boyfriend (of seven years) and family to take a position as a mid-year replacement teacher. Melanie’s students are cruel, even feral; her life outside school is almost non-existent. The Criterion Channel made me think, Oh, the travails of a teacher — I’ll like it, and I did, at least sometimes, but it’s one of the most painful movies I’ve ever watched, as Melanie veers from Annie Hall awkwardness to interest in a neighbor that borders on stalking. The film loses a star for its ending, which seems to me to give up on the story. ★★

*

The Postman Always Rings Twice (dir. Tay Garnett, 1946). I’ll mention three things I noticed while watching the film yet again. The story begins with a MAN WANTED sign (heh). Despite working in a diner together, Cora (Lana Turner) and Frank (John Garfield) never once eat together — a clear marker that their relationship surpasses ordinary human concerns. Audrey Totter has a great bit as a good-time gal, ready to take off for a week in Mexico with a total stranger. ★★★★

*

Sleeping Car to Trieste (dir. John Paddy Carstairs, 1948). A train story whose title somehow suggested to me something darker than what I found. It’s a delightful trip, with dry comedy, low-heat suspense, and a large assortment of passengers: fashionistas, a wolfish GI, a prim birdlover, a pompous humanitarian, a witty French detective, a pair of awkward philanderers, and spies, spies, spies, two of whom are hunting the third for a mysterious notebook in his possession. How long can this train roll on before the hunters find their prey? Watch for a young David Tomlinson, later to play Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins. ★★★★

*

Sleep, My Love (dir. Douglas Sirk, 1948). Claudette Colbert, what are you doing on that train? A crazy, suspenseful story of gaslighting and sanity, with screenplay by St. Clair McKelway and Leo Rosten. Also on hand: Don Ameche, Robert Cummings, George Coulouris, Keye Luke, and the kinda astonishing Hazel Brooks. My favorite line: “I gave you the hurry call because I wanted to see you in a hurry.” ★★★★

*
Fallen Angel (dir. Otto Preminger, 1945). Stella (Linda Darnell), a waitress in a crummy diner, is the center of gravity in this Laura-like story, with all manner of men orbiting her: her boss (Percy Kilbride), a veteran cop (Charles Bickford), a jukebox operator (Bruce Cabot), and a promoter/con artist (Dana Andrews). Further complications: a mentalist (John Carradine) comes to town, promising to reveal a message from the town’s dead patriarch, father of two spinsters (Alice Faye and Anne Revere), one of whom becomes the mark in the promoter’s schemes. Marks of Stella’s oddly exalted status: she’s the only woman ever seen in the diner, and the only person ever seen eating there (it’s nothing but coffee for everyone else). Strongly noirish and wildly improbable, with music by David Raskin. ★★★

*

The Hidden Eye (dir. Richard Whorf, 1945). A sequel to Eyes in the Night (dir. Fred Zinnemann, 1942), with Edward Arnold reprising his role as Duncan “Mac” Maclain, a blind detective. The most interesting scenes have Mac explaining or making use of the heightened forms of awareness that come with his loss of vision. Leigh Whipper has a modest role, and Ray Collins — already looking like Lieutenant Tragg — is a major player. The story’s a bit of a mess, and the comedy’s more than a bit tired, but I’m still happy to have seen this second Edward Arnold effort, thanks to a generous YouTube uploader. ★★


Leave Her to Heaven (dir. John M. Stahl, 1945). It begins with strangers on a train, writer Richard (Cornel Wilde) and reader Ellen (Gene Tierney), headed for the same station, and headed for trouble. Tierney is chilling: just a little spooky at first, then dangerous, almost unimaginably so. With a title from Hamlet and support from Jeanne Crain, Darryl Hickman, and Vincent Price. If you can imagine film noir in Technicolor, this movie is it. ★★★★


[Gene Tierney as Ellen. You’d never guess what she’s seeing through those sunglasses.]

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Hi and Lois watch

[Hi and Lois, May 10, 2020.]

If I’d bothered to read the comics first thing, this post would have appeared six hours ago or so. I am startled to see that Lois is selling real estate using her pre-marriage name.

Yes, she’s Beetle Bailey’s sister. Always has been. But she’s always been Lois Flagston too.

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“Great”

[The New York Times, May 7, 2020.]

“Great”? If you follow the link, it appears that the Times is not joking about Austin Powers.

In our house we stream the Criterion Channel, TCM, and YouTube instead. We care not for greatness.

Advice from my mom

For Mother’s Day 2018 I asked my mom if she had any advice she’d like to share with readers. She obliged. This year I asked her if she had any advice she’d like to share about being a mother. Her advice: Trust that your children are good enough to know what they’re doing and to do what’s right. And don’t be too bossy. She says that she wasn’t: “That’s for sure.” I think she’s right.

Happy Mother’s Day to all.

Richard Penniman (1932–2020)

Little Richard was an architect of a new American culture, still in the making. The New York Times has an obituary.

Unembeddable: “Long Tall Sally” and “Tutti Frutti,” from Don’t Knock the Rock (dir. Fred F. Sears, 1956). And from Billboard, great moments and tributes.

Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday Saturday Stumper is by Stella Zawistowski, whose name I’ve seen on just one other Stumper, constructed with Erik Agard. Zawistowski deals out cryptic-crossword clues on Twitter and keeps a crossword website, Tough As Nails — and yes, her puzzles are difficult. I like what she says about crosswords and cultural literacy:

I don’t mind having to know who Ralph KINER (a baseball player of the 1940s and ’50s) is, but you should have to know who LIZZO is, too.

Check, and check. But I remember Ralph Kiner as a Mets announcer on TV. He would do beer commercials — I think I remember this — in the broadcast booth, pouring a glass (Rheingold?) and letting it sit. You couldn’t show drinking in commercials.

But I digress.

Today’s Stumper was deeply satisfying — clever, surprising, but never out of range. I started with a giveway, 5-D, three letters, “Part of a Gretel goodbye” and followed it to a non-giveaway, 17-A ten letters, “It’s pitched low.” Some clue-and-answer pairs I especially liked:

1-A, ten letters, “Bails.” You don’t hear this word much outside the dowdy world.

1-D, four letters, “Marches, in lit.” The lit is telling.

11-A, four letters, “Woman wrapped in flannel.” I saw it, or her, immediately. I’m getting used to this stuff.

22-D, eleven letters, “Magnavox introduction of 1972.” News to me.

23-D, eight letters, “Flag.”

35-A, five letters, “She stands on her own two feet.” Noteworthy for the pronouns, I’d say.

39-D, seven letters, “AFI’s #5 male Screen Legend.”

Best of all: 48-A, nine letters, “It’s beside the point.”

No spoilers: the answers are in the comments.

[I had to check: yes, Kiner poured, and it was Rheingold. Here’s another Mets announcer selling Rheingold.]

A mind at work

Donald Trump* yesterday, outing a previously unidentified member of Mike Pence’s staff:

“She tested very good for a long period of time, and then all of a sudden today she tested positive. She hasn’t come into contact with me. She’s spent some time with the vice president. It’s, I believe, the press person, right? It’s a press person. So she tested positive out of the blue. This is why the whole concept of tests aren’t [sic ] necessarily great. The tests are perfect, but something can happen between the test, where it’s good and then something happens and all of a sudden. She was tested very recently and tested negative and then today, I guess, for some reason, she tested positive.”

What I find remarkable is the president’s inability to acknowledge (or even understand?) the reality of cause and effect. Trump* sees a positive result is an inexplicable fluke, something “out of the blue”: “I guess, for some reason, she tested positive.” And he sees a positive result as evidence that “the whole concept of tests aren’t necessarily great” (although “the tests are perfect”). Add the awkward diction (“she tested very good”) and repetition (“she tested positive,” “she tested positive,” “she tested positive,” “the press person,” “a press person, ”“something can happen,” “something happens”), and it’s clear that we’re watching a failing mind at work.

Trump* went on to explain that Mike Pence was “on an airplane going to some faraway place.”

The staff member, identified by Trump as “Katie,” is Katie Miller, Pence’s press secretary and Stephen Miller’s wife.

[My transcription.]

Adage

“The sardine has to want to change.”

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“A dangling, untied ribbon”

Sometimes Bernardo Soares in translation sounds to me like Frank O’Hara. And sometimes, like John Ashbery.


Fernando Pessoa, from text 243, The Book of Disquiet, trans. from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith (New York: Penguin, 2003).

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