“Longest way round”

Bloom thinks about himself and Molly. From the “Nausicaa” episode:

James Joyce, Ulysses (1922).

See also Stephen Dedalus on how we are “always meeting ourselves.”

Bloom seems to apply an unusual spin on the traditional adage.

Related reading
All OCA Joyce posts (Pinboard)

4:17?

It was a late-afternoon class, the first after a long break, perhaps for Thanksgiving, so long a break that I wasn’t sure of the room number. 311? 310? 309? I looked through the doors and saw my class in 309. I was teaching Gilgamesh and wasn’t sure where we were picking up, but I figured out that we must have had two classes on the work to go. I wanted to say something about an American Experience episode about Erroll Garner that was airing that night on PBS, but I thought I should save that for the end of the class.

I assigned the last sections of Gilgamesh for the next class and began to do a little recapping when I noticed that the clock in the room was off. And everyone’s phone told a different time. The Daylight to Standard Time change must have kicked in, or Standard to Daylight. Anyway, the class was underway. “I am doing what is called lecturing,” I said, and I was doing quite well, talking about Gilgamesh, Humbaba, Eve and Adam, and divine rage. I noticed Roscoe Mitchell sitting in on the class. Wow. He was wearing a tie, as he often does when performing. I recognized him immediately, of course.

All at once, everyone streamed out. The clock on the wall said 4:17, but in fact the time was 4:50. Class over.

This is the twenty-fourth teaching-related dream I’ve had since retiring. In all but one, something has gone wrong.

*

Perhaps the strangest thing about this dream: it happened earlier this morning. Roscoe Mitchell was born on August 3, 1940.

Related reading
All OCA teaching dreams (Pinboard)

[In waking life, the change from Daylight to Standard or back often left classroom clocks all awry for days — off not by an hour but by some random stretch of minutes. Call Building Services!]

In Kansas

Take that!

A catalogue

From the “Cyclops” episode, set in Barney Kiernan’s pub. An exaggeratedly heroic description of the clothing of the Citizen, an unnamed Irish nationalist whose presence dominates the episode. Joyce’s catalogues are always a delight.

James Joyce, Ulysses (1922).

Related reading
All OCA Joyce posts (Pinboard)

A genuine misunderstanding

I realized sometime recently that when I was a very young boy in the early 1960s, watching Adventures of Superman on WPIX (“channel 11”), I thought that the bad guys and crooks were real bad guys and crooks playing versions of themselves. It didn’t occur to me that they were actors.

See also Elaine’s thought about TV housewives.

[Adventures of Superman ran from 1952 to 1958. I was watching reruns.]

Pocket notebook sighting

[Dr. Gregory Jessup (Oliver Blake) gives Alan Eaton (Dana Andrews) the name and address of a residential hotel. From The Fearmakers (dir. Jacques Tourneur, 1958). Click any image for a larger view.]

I wonder if that notebook might be a Robinson Reminder, or something similar. The neatly torn-off slip of paper looks smaller than the notebook itself.

More notebook sightings
All the King’s Men : Angels with Dirty Faces : The Bad and the Beautiful : Ball of Fire : The Big Clock : Bombshell : The Brasher Doubloon : The Case of the Howling Dog : Cat People : Caught : City Girl : Crossing Delancey : Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne : Dead End : Deep Valley : The Devil and Miss Jones : Dragnet : Extras : Eyes in the Night : The Face Behind the Mask : A Foreign Affair : Foreign Correspondent : Fury : Homicide : The Honeymooners : The House on 92nd Street : I See a Dark Stranger : Journal d’un curé de campagne : Kid Glove Killer : The Last Laugh : Le Million : The Lodger : M : Ministry of Fear : Mr. Holmes : Murder at the Vanities : Murder by Contract : Murder, Inc. : The Mystery of the Wax Museum : Naked City : The Naked Edge : Now, Voyager : The Palm Beach Story : Perry Mason : Pickpocket : Pickup on South Street : Pushover : Quai des Orfèvres : The Racket : Railroaded! : Red-Headed Woman : Rififi : La roue : Route 66 : The Scarlet Claw : Sleeping Car to Trieste : The Small Back Room : The Sopranos : Spellbound : Stage Fright : State Fair : A Stranger in Town : Stranger Things : Sweet Smell of Success : Time Table : T-Men : To the Ends of the Earth : 20th Century Women : Union Station : Vice Squad : Walk East on Beacon! : Where the Sidewalk Ends : The Woman in the Window : You Only Live Once : Young and Innocent

Twelve movies

[One to four stars. Four sentences each. No spoilers. Sources: Criterion Channel, TCM, YouTube.]

From the Criterion Channel’s Noir in Color collection

Accused of Murder (dir. Joseph Kane, 1956). Whodunit: was it the hitman (Warren Stevens) hired to kill a crooked lawyer, or the nightclub singer (Vera Ralston) who rebuffed the lawyer’s advances? And can the police lieutenant (David Bryan) falling for the singer be trusted to come up with the correct answer? The funnest thing about this movie is that it’s from Republic Pictures but plays like a real movie — like Storm Over Lisbon, it’s another Republic effort with which they seem to have gone all out. In lurid Naturama, Republic’s answer to Technicolor. ★★★

Foreign Intrigue (dir. Sheldon Reynolds, 1956). Press agent Dave Bishop (Robert Mitchum) finds his wealthy employer on the floor, and it’s odd: everyone wants to know if the man said anything before dying. It’s foreign intrigue indeed — from Monte Carlo to Stockholm to Vienna, as Bishop’s effort to figure out the facts of the dead man’s life pulls him into a world of blackmail and murder. Eastmancolor (which looks more natural to my eye than Technicolor) and Paul Durand’s score (heavy on acoustic bass and percussion) make this movie feel like it’s already the 1960s. With Geneviève Page and Ingrid Thulin. ★★★★

The River’s Edge (dir. Allen Dwan, 1957). Ben Cameron (Anthony Quinn) and his city-slicker ex-con wife Meg (Debra Paget) are trying to make a go of it on Ben’s New Mexico cattle ranch, but Meg can’t get the hang of ranch life, and she and Ben argue about everything. Into their bickering world comes trouble in a sports car. The driver is Nardo Denning (Ray Milland), a man with a past, who enlists Ben and Meg to guide him and his suitcase of money across the border to Mexico. Difficult to think of this as noir, but it’s certainly suspense, with overtones of The Postman Always Rings Twice (beautiful woman, two contrasting men), The Killing, and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. ★★★★

The Badlanders (dir. Delmar Daves, 1958). A loose remake of John Huston’s The Asphalt Jungle, recasting the story in late-nineteenth-century Arizona. Alan Ladd and Ernest Borgnine play newly released prisoners with a scheme to extract gold from a abandoned mine. But complications abound. Scenes of extraordinary brutality, deep danger (underground), and romance (Borgnine and Katy Jurado), and one never stops rooting for the so-called badlanders to succeed. ★★★★

Man of the West (dir. Anthony Mann, 1958). Can noir pair well with bright wide-open western spaces? I’m still not persuaded, but I can say that this is a great movie on its own terms. As solemn-looking Link Jones, traveling by train to hire a schoolteacher for his town, Gary Cooper meets up with relatives from his criminal past, in the person of psychopathic Uncle Dock Tobin (Lee J. Cobb) and his gang. As the gang presses Link back into service, It’s the one against the many, with strong overtones of Key Largo. With Jack Lord, Arthur O’Connell, and Julie London as a singer who never sings. ★★★★

*

The North Star (dir. Lewis Milestone, 1943). In the summer of 1941, Ukrainian villagers make a valiant stand against Nazi forces, in what I think of as two movies. The one movie has a strong cast (Dana Andrews, Anne Baxter, Walter Huston, Erich von Stroheim), suspenseful scenes of ambush and sabotage, brilliant cinematography (James Wong Howe), and a score by Aaron Copland. The other movie has a cringeworthy screenplay by Lillian Hellman and shameless propagandizing for the joys of collective farming. The best scene: a Ukrainian doctor confronts a Nazi doctor to raise the question of legacy, with great resonance for our times. ★★★★ / ★ (TCM)

*

No Down Payment (dir. Martin Ritt, 1957). Four young mortgage-paying couples in Sunrise Hills, an LA subdivision where the houses are close, very close. Life appears good on the surface (steak every night, someone says), but the storyline brings in alcoholism, disparities in social class and education, domestic violence, racism, rape, the unending thirst for more money, and what we would now recognize as PTSD. Brutal and spectacular, with great performances from Joanne Woodward and Cameron Mitchell (the Boones), Tony Randall and Sheree North (the Flaggs), Pat Hingle and Barbara Rush (the Kreitzers), and Jeffrey Hunter and Patricia Owens (the Martins). I must cite what David Bowie wrote in his reply to a first fan letter from the States: “I was watching an old film on TV the other night called ‘No Down Payment’ a great film, but rather depressing if it is a true reflection of The American Way of Life.” ★★★★ (YT)

*

Sealed Cargo (dir. Alred Werker, 1951). “This is the story of one small victory in World War II,” says the on-screen introduction. The story concerns U-boats off the Canadian coast and a Gloucester fishing boat captained by Dana Andrews. An eerie encounter with a ghost ship prepares for greater mysteries, as Andrews tries to figure out who can be trusted: the passenger he’s taking to her remote village? the new recruit who speaks Danish with an odd accent? With Carla Balenda (Lassie’s Miss Hazlit!) and Claude Rains. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

Desperate (dir. Anthony Mann, 1947). A Hitchcockian story of a newly married Chicago truckdriver (Steve Brodie) who takes on a job that threatens to doom him and his wife (Audrey Long). The flight from feral Raymond Burr and other hoods to an aunt and uncle’s Minnesota farm takes the couple through improbable semi-comic scenarios reminscent of The 39 Steps and Saboteur : riding with a sheriff, hiding behind fun-house masks, agreeing to a traditional Czech wedding. But there’s real darkness in this story, and George E. Diskamp’s cinematography — that swinging lamp — intensifies the atmosphere of danger. Our household’s annus mirabilis of movies comes through for us again. ★★★★ (TCM)

[Not a halo. Raymond Burr and the swinging lamp.]

*

The Furies (dir. Anthony Mann, 1950). The Furies is a cattle ranch, and Walter Huston is its owner, T.C. Jeffords, a man egomaniacal enough to have given his late wife a floor-to-ceiling portrait of himself. Barbara Stanwyck is T.C.’s daughter and confidante Vance, and their relationship has more than a touch of vaguely incestuous feeling about it. Wendell Corey is Rip Darrow, the man Vance wants; Gilbert Roland is Juan Herrera, a squatter on the ranch who adores Vance; and Judith Anderson — uh-oh — is Flo Burnett, T.C.’s new wife. Vance’s revolt against the patriarchy suggests to me Antigone and Electra and Cordelia, in a story that’s utterly insane — which is not a bad thing. ★★★★ (YT)

*

Grand Central Murder (dir. S. Sylvan Simon, 1942). It plays like a radio drama, with a many suspects — too many. Each has a good reason to have killed Broadway star Mida King (Patricia Dane); each tells their story in a flashback. As a private detective, Van Heflin is the nominal star, but I found Tom Conway and Virginia Grey more interesting, at least in part because they so strongly resemble George Sanders and Lucille Ball (Conway and Sanders were brothers). A last-minute deus ex machina (is there any other kind?) serves to identify the killer. But I liked the ridiculously snappy patter: “He’s ready to yodel after putting on the clam all evening.” ★★ (YT)

*

The Fearmakers (dir. Jacques Tourneur, 1958). I’ve already written about and quoted from this movie, which is prescient in ways its makers did not imagine, suggesting the Facebook/Fox/Newsmax/OAN/Twitter/
YouTube disinformation diet that shapes so many people’s mistaken ideas about reality. Genial Dick Foran (cowboy star, and Ed Washburne on Lassie) is a surprising pick for the role of evil media mastermind; as his nemesis, Dana Andrews’s character carries the burden of his time as a POW and victim of brainwashing, a past that comes into the story merely as a way for the bad guys to damage his credibility. (This movie is not The Manchurian Candidate.) Mel Tormé is a dweebish underling; Veda Ann Borg and Kelly Thordsen are seedy underlings; Marilee Earle is a dutiful secretary but wooden, bad enough for me to drop a star. ★★★ (TCM)

Related reading
All OCA movie posts (Pinboard)

Sardine bookmarks

“Little card ‘sardines.’” Notice the quotation marks. They are not actual fish.

Thanks, Diane.

Related reading
All OCA sardine posts (Pinboard)

Reconditioned Can Co.

[62 Greenpoint Avenue, Brooklyn, c. 1939-1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a larger view.]

I chose this photograph for its Julius Knipl, Real Estate Photographer flavor. I would imagine that the cans sent for reconditioning to the Reconditioned Can Co. were drums to hold chemicals, paints, industrial goods. I don’t think the company was working on cans of Le Sueur peas. But I could be wrong. “Can reconditioner” is an occupational title, and the work is about improving cans that hold food: hitting with a mallet to test the vacuum seal, removing dirt and rust, relabeling. So the Reconditioned Can Co. might be a food-salvage operation.

This Greenpoint building now houses apartments, some of them no doubt with canned goods.

Nearby in the Greenpoint area: Eberhard Faber, whose tax photographs don’t do the building justice. Much more impressive: the photographs in a New York Times article and Forgotten New York’s two-part — 1, 2 — tour of Greenpoint.

Related reading
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

Rocks and debris

[Beetle Bailey, July 31, 2022. Click for a larger view.]

Ernie Bushmiller would know how to tidy up this landscape. Just “some rocks,” please.

[Strange to see “debris” in the news and in today’s Beetle Bailey.]