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kickingitwithkirk · 6 months

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Restless Man -Pt 1

Summary: Beau Arlen finds himself in the middle of a case with more twists than a country road.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reina Cetanwakuwa-Stanley

Word Count: 1357

Warnings: cursing, show level violence, derogatory remarks (some in native languages)

Square Filled: @jacklesversebingo -Escaping Their Fate

A/N: The inklings for this started the first time I heard Jensen singing Restless Man. This work is partially from historical information and canon elements from the Big Sky series.

*Set after the series finally 3:13 That Old Feeling.

A/N II: All Native American words/sentences in this part are Lakota resourced from freelang.net and glosbe.com *some algorithmically generated on these sites.

*Translation: lala -grandfather Cetanwakuwa -attacking hawk or to hunt and chase

*divider by @firefly-graphics *no beta -all mistakes are mine

prologue masterlist

“Hoyt slow down!” Arlen grabs the dashboard as the vehicle rounds a sharp curve too fast. “You good? Where’s your head at?”

“Nowhere. I’m all good.”

“All good my ass. You’re still a bad liar, Hoyt, can’t help noticing you white-knuckling that wheel over there. You know I’m here to listen if you want to talk about whatever it is between you and this Rihanna...”

“Her name is Reina and I told you there’s nothing to talk about.” He gives her a look. “Jesus, Beau, you're like a dog with a goddamn bone. Drop it!” The blonde snaps at the handsome man in her passenger seat making him laugh. “Not the first time I've been told that. Okay, I’ll let it go for now. But the offer stands.” Arlen changes the subject yammerin on about his latest video chat with his daughter, reminding Hoyt of their first meeting.

***

Hoyt walked into the Sheriff’s Department already put out before meeting Walter Tubbs' temporary replacement and Cassie’s warning that Arlen was very Texan proved true. Not to mention the man was a never-ending chatterbox. Eventually, as she constantly reminded everyone, the temporary acting sheriff allowed some of that veneer to peel back, exposing a little of the man underneath.

A man who loved too hard and had too many ghosts clinging to him, something Jenny Hoyt was way too familiar with. Her feelings shifted after a few months of working together and she began contemplating what a relationship with the transplanted Texan would be like.

Then things went sideways when Cassie was hired to find a missing hiker.

Her inquiries led to a glamping excursion run by Sunny and Buck Barnes, where coincidentally Arlen's daughter Emily and her stepfather were staying. The case also reopens a decades old unsolved murder and the discovery of fifteen million in stolen Crypto. They all became intertwined revealing Buck as a serial killer who kidnapped Emily and Denise and ended with his, and several others, deaths.

Arlen paid a surprise visit to Hoyt's home in a quandary the night after their rescue tells her that his ex-wife Carla had taken their daughter back to Texas leaving him unsure about staying in Montana. After a few beers, things started getting close to crossing the professional/private line between them. He left saying neither was clear-headed enough to make any rational decisions that would change them from colleagues and occasional confidants.

A week later, Arlen was served court papers stating that he’d allowed their daughter to remain in a place of known danger and Carla was granted primary custody with all communication between them monitored by a court-appointed third party.

Arlen had what Cassie calls his tantrum then sought legal counsel from a lawyer he knew back in Houston. The lawyer advised with his checkered history in law enforcement and at home, to follow the stipulations to the letter if he hoped for a chance in hell of regaining his parental rights before Emily turned eighteen.

***

Arlen felt Hoyt’s skeptical side-eye before she asked. “So how much did Denise tell you?”

“That Reina is the black sheep for not going into family business. And something about the Stanleys being descendants of the Four Georgies?”

“The Four Georgians,” she corrected, pulling into the Jefferson City First National Bank’s Park lot. “In 1864, four prospectors found gold in Last Chance Gulch and agreed to keep it quiet. But a few months later, more miners started arriving.” She finished summarizing Helena’s origins as they entered the bank and were assailed by a harassed-looking bank manager.

Several hours later

Lewis & Clark County Sheriff's Department

Sergeant Madge Crowder greeted the returning duo with, “Got a visitor, sheriff.”

Arlen gestures around the empty waiting area, “There's no one out here,” and she comments, “Was a minute ago.” Before he could ask, Deputy Mo Poppernack popped up nervously glancing between Hoyt and Arlen. “Everything okay, Popcorn? You seem kinda,” Arlen says waving his hand.

“No sir, I mean yes sir...Beau, I’m good. Someone is waiting in your office to see you.” Still eyeing the fidgety deputy, Arlen addresses both, “Let me know if we get anything on the getaway car,” and heads off to meet his mystery guest.

***

Entering his office, Arlen spies the Stetson from that morning sitting upside down on his desk.

“Hello, I’m Sheriff Arlen. What can I,” and something that rarely happens happens when its owner turns, and Arlen loses his voice. The partially open blinds cast his visitor in light and shadow as his chartreuse eyes drink in every accentuated detail, bone structure hinting of being descended from the indigenous peoples but other ancestries contributing to the lighter hueing of skin, eyes, and hair.

“You must be the infamous Reina Stanley.”

“I see my reputation proceeds me,” her voice has the distinctive native Montanan drawl held out her hand, "I would appreciate it if we could keep this matter between us for now Sheriff.” Arlen shakes the offered hand surprised at the firmness of her grip.

“Call me Beau. Please,” he gestures for her to sit as he settles into his chair, “I assume this has to do with earlier?” She raises an eyebrow and he elaborates. “A friend and I caught some of that public performance this morning and said they thought it was you.” An amused smile graces her lush lips reminding him of pink beautyberry fruit.

“I see Denise Brisbane is still the town gossip.” Arlen chuckled, “She does have her ear to the ground. Denise didn’t go into details but mentioned your family has substantial influence in this state.”

“You’re mama brought you up right. Most people aren’t so polite about saying the Stanleys are not to be fucked with.” Arlen couldn’t stop the flash of surprise crossing his features. “Okay then. I'm guessing your visit has something to do with that brouhaha this morning?”

“Yes and no. I’m here on behalf of lala; my grandfather, who requested I give you this,” she handed him a sealed envelope. “I don’t recall meeting any of your kin.” Arlen remarks pulling out a letter with a small key taped to it reads it out loud. “I had a safety deposit box put in your name Beau Arlen and ask you to take my granddaughter with you when examining its contents. You will understand why I had to take these precautions and do what is necessary with the information enclosed. Gerald Centanwakuwa-Stanley” He looked up in surprise.

“Hold on, Gerald was your grandfather? The same Gerald I’d go trout fishing with?”

“Walter Tubb’s said you were quick on the uptake. Lala Gerald chose to use his given name outside of business.” The sheriff tipped his head. “Right, you're a transplant. The Stanley descendent who settled here left a will stipulating that all direct descendants maintain the family surname to keep their inheritance, including any man marrying in.” Reina paused scrutinizing him giving Arlen a fluttering he hadn't felt in years.

“Tubb also said you have a set of huevos for taking the job even after getting an earful about the undersheriff.” Arlen chuckled, “Yeah, Tubb had a few things to say about Hoyt. But she knows to stay between the lines, I’ll have her back.”

“Jenny Hoyt doesn’t know the meaning of staying between the lines. Excuse me,” she fishes out her phone and frowns, “Fuc...fraken lawyers, ‘cuse my language. When will you be free to check out that box?” There was a knock on the door and Poppernack stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt sir. We got a call that the First National getaway cars been spotted headin' down I-15.”

“And that's my cue to leave.” Reina gestures to his phone, "May I?” Arlen nodded, “I’m leaving you my personal number,” she hands it back, “Text me when you’re free to deal with that matter for lala.”

Several officers, along with Arlen and Poppernack, appreciatively watch her retreating form. “Please tell me all female Rangers as good looking as her?” Poppernack asks, “‘Cause if they are, I’m booking my next vacation in Texas.” Arlen turns and says...

“I’m sorry..she’s a what?!”

tbc

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

#beau arlen #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen x ofc #jenny hoyt #cassie dewell #densie brisbane #mo poppernack #big sky #jensen ackles

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corainne · 1 year

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While I’m fighting for my life trying to hammer this fic into shape and actually finish it, have what is the first part of the first chapter of baby Nightingale at Casterbrook

The night before he first left for Casterbrook his Uncle Stanley took him aside, to impart some last advice that he believed would help Thomas at school. That his own experiences at Casterbrook would turn out to be fundamentally different to those of Stanley, who could only be considered a wizard of average abilities if one were feeling particularly charitable, Thomas had had no way of knowing that night.

"And stay away from that Mellenby boy," Stanley said at last, straightening out the creases that had formed around his knees as he had knelt before Thomas, "if he is anything like his father he is nothing but trouble"

Had Stanley raised any children of his own he would have known that prohibition only inspired adverse action. As it was, his words only made Thomas want to meet David Mellenby more, whoever that was.

Casterbrook, it turned out, was everything he had hoped it would be and more.They were a small group, as years at Casterbrook were prone to be, all of them following in the footsteps of a father or, as was the case for Thomas, an uncle. While he had never met any of the boys before his arrival at Casterbrook, when he wrote to Stanley - supplying, as he had been instructed to do beforehand, a complete list of all the other boys in his form - his uncle knew how each of them was connected to the Folly.

No doubt the others were informed in similar fashion, because within only a few days they had formed a social hierarchy amongst themselves that was eerily reminiscent of the positions their relatives occupied within the Folly. James Ballantine Jr, whose father - James Ballentine Sr - occupied a senior position within the Folly, quickly established himself as the leader of their year, always ready to order the others around and to punish them whenever they overstepped his mercurial rulings. Most of his close circle were the sons and nephews of other influential or notable practitioners, who seemed utterly convinced that those accomplishments entitled them to special treatment at Casterbrook. Thomas, who had the poor fortune that Stanley Nightingale wasn’t much interested in the Folly, apart from it’s convenient location in London and rather extensive wine cellar, and that his grandfather hadn’t done anything of note since losing his bid for Master of the Folly the previous decade, found himself adrift for the first few weeks.

If he had been given to introspection he might have admitted that he was lonely,friendless as he was, but he'd always had the ability to lock away his troubles in some hidden corner of his mind. His situation quickly changed, however, once they began to learn magic - actual, practical magic and not the excruciatingly boring theory behind all of it that had dominated the first two months or so of lessons.

When their teacher had finished preaching the safety precautions to them one last time and finally demonstrated a werelight for the very first time, asking them all to feel for the formula he was using Thomas did so with ease. It still took him a little over a week until a werelight finally appeared above his outstretched palm, but when it finally did he felt such a clear, exhilarating thrill go through his body, like he had never felt before, that he let out a joyful cheer that made every person in the room turn towards him. He'd been sitting on his own, at the very back of the room, so everyone had a clear view of the warm globe that only existed because Thomas had willed it to be. None of the others, even those who had bragged upon their arrival that they’d been taught the most fundamental magic at home, had managed a werelight so far, and by the time even Walter Cholmondeley, who went on to accomplish great success in the field of theoretical magic but remained a mere amateur in the application of it for the rest of his life, managed a small, rather unstable werelight about three weeks later Thomas's werelight was controlled and evenly lit, and he had figured out how to make it grow and shrink in size.

Unsurprisingly this early success made him rather more popular with the other boys, as well as ingratiate him with the Masters. At night he would light up the dorm with his spell while the others tried to replicate it - so early on in their time at school even the laziest of them - Ballentine - was still eager to master his first spell. Thus Thomas suddenly found himself amongst a large group of boys at mealtimes and quickly fell in with the group that had formed around Ballentine, and it was those boys Thomas spent the majority of his remaining first year at Casterbrook. Busy exploring the grounds with Ballentine and Lazy Arse Dance, and sneaking into the kitchens at night with Horace Greenway, stuffing their pockets with sweets and small cakes to carry back to their dorm, Thomas barely noticed his first term pass by in nothing more than the blink of an eye. He returned home for Christmas full of tales about Casterbrook but no one who wanted to hear them. With his mother too busy most of the time, his father uninterested as always, his siblings mostly older than him and therefore more knowledgeable about school and indeed most things in life, the only one he could talk to was Daisy, his only younger sibling, but at five she was wont to burst into tears every time he mentioned Casterbrook, because she didn’t understand why she couldn’t learn magic as well when she was older. Ultimately Stephen, eleven months older than Thomas, humoured him a week into their time at home and listened to everything Thomas had to tell, and it was very well that he had done so, because if he hadn’t it was more than likely that it all would have burst out of him sooner rather than later.

By the time summer came Thomas had less news to share, but instead more than just two spells that he could show his siblings. He'd joined the school choir and started playing rugby, of which the former delighted his mother to no end and the matter caused his brothers to finally let him play with them in the garden, even though five players was an awkward number. That problem solved itself, at least for a short time, when their Aunt Anthea arrived with her three sons in tow. The oldest, Andrew, was a year younger than Thomas, and since they were desperate for a sixth player he was deemed old enough by Richard and Joseph to participate in their games. Or at least until Andrew set fire to the pagoda and Anthea send him back home to stay with his father until he could be shipped off to school and would become someone else’s problem for most of the year.

He thus started his second form in high spirits, although that was not meant to last for long. At the end of the last term their theory teacher had been forced to resign – Thomas later found out that it was due to a liason with one of the older students they’d been carrying on for a few years, not that he was the only Master guilty of that – and the headmaster, who’d previously only taught lower and upper sixth form, began teaching the lower forms as well. The old warhorse - for that was what the students called him amongst themselves - was famously bad at remembering names and had them sit alphabetically so that he could keep them apart more easily. And that was how he first became involuntarily acquaintanced with David Mellenby.

Mellenby was a good bit shorter than Thomas, with a round face topped by blonde curls that were cut close to his scalp. His eyes shone with intelligence, and whispered of a friendliness Thomas had yet to experience from Mellenby. From the very first day of school Mellenby had made it clear that he had little interest in most, if any, of the other boys. His father was even more important than Ballentine Sr was, and his older brother was to forms above them at Casterbrook, which under normal circumstances would have put him in the perfect position to become the most popular boy in the form, but that first evening, when they had all been trying their best to make a good impression Mellenby had taken an armful of books - none of which they'd needed to read for class - and marched off towards his bed without a word to any of them. He'd drawn the curtains and hadn’t emerged until the next morning. So far his attitude hadn’t changed much, and Thomas felt that Mellenby thought himself superior to all of them. He certainly couldn’t remember ever speaking to him outside of class.

In any case his books seemed to be more important to him than genuine human connection. What was important to him, and anyone forced to spend even five minutes in the same classroom as Mellenby, was academic validation. The year before Thomas had mostly ignored Mellenby as best as he could, not particularly inclined to spend the standoffish boy always sitting in the front row any mind, but now it was impossible not to notice that he raised his hand at every question, no matter which class, even in Latin and Ancient Greek where he seemed to struggle, at least to his standards. It didn’t matter what it was the Masters wanted to know, Mellenby's hand shot up before Thomas could even process the questions and more often than not his hand came dangerously close to striking Thomas in the face. And while Mellenby’s unrelenting efforts to turn theory class into a contact sport certainly made the lessons more interesting and forced him to actually pay more attention than he would have otherwise done, it was also rather annoying.

But naturally it wasn’t enough that Thomas had to suffer Mellenby’s presence in class, but he was forced to spend even more time with him in the afternoons. The old warhorse preferred the essays they had to write on the formae they were learning to be done in pars, so on at least one afternoon each week Mellenby dragged him to the library, where all Thomas could do was stare longingly out of the window and watch the other students unwind after their classes, until at least the first draft of their essay was finished and Mellenby was satisfied with their efforts.

On one of those days, perhaps two or three months into the term, a package had just arrived from his Uncle Stanley, who’d recently been in America. Since Thomas had started at Casterbrook Stanley had begun sending Thomas pulp magazine’s for him to read, and he’d taken a particular liking to Adventure, an American publication, which he could only get his hands on when Stanley, or one of his many friends, travelled to the States. Most of the issues Stanley had sent him were tucked away under his pillow in the dorm, but he had tucked the oldest between the pages of one of his school books, eager to finally read the continuation of one of his favourite stories. Mellenby had stayed behind after physics class to ask their teacher a dozen or so questions and Thomas had trudged towards the library on his own, because he finally wanted to get to his magazine, and because he was sure he wouldn’t have understood what Mellenby was asking about even if he had stayed.

“What are you reading?” A voice – Mellenby – asked suddenly and Thomas flinched. He hadn’t noticed Mellenby approach, and was sure he’d be facing a lecture about not getting a head start on their essay in the very near future.

“Adventure,” Thomas said, a tad defensively, and held up the magazine so Mellenby could see the cover.

“I don’t know what that is,” Mellenby said, and Thomas was sure it had been difficult for him to admit.

“It’s an adventure magazine from America. My uncle buys them for me when he is overseas”

He expected some witty retort from Mellenby about the inferior quality of pulp magazines, but instead he asked, “Are they any good?”

“I think so,” Thomas said, “even better than the British magazines”

Mellenby shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never read one”

“Why not?” Thomas asked, somewhat shocked. He’d never heard of anyone his age who hadn’t read at least some pulp magazines. Even his sister Drina had, and she was a frightful bore.

“My father won’t let us buy them. He says they aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on”

“And your mother agrees?” Surely she would have come to her children’s aid.

“My mother is dead,” Mellenby said, his voice betraying no emotion on the matter, “she died when I was born”

“Oh,” Thomas said, “If you want you can read some of mine. I’ve got a few upstairs, and I can bring even more from home after Christmas”

Mellenby seemed surprised. “Honestly? You really mean that?”

“Why would I offer if I didn’t”

Mellenby, it turned out, read a lot, and he did so with alarming speed. By the time Thomas was on a train back to Devon for the holidays Mellenby had read all of the magazine’s Thomas had brought with him for the entire term, and as far as Thomas could tell his schoolwork hadn’t suffered the least because of it, although Thomas thought that his presence had become somewhat more bearable. When it came time to pack for his return to Casterbrook Thomas made sure to bring all the magazines he had at home.

“You should stop answering all the questions,” Thomas told Mellenby one sunny afternoon, “in class.”

He wasn’t sure why Mellenby had been trailing after him like a lost puppy with his pocket watch in hand, but he suspected it had something to do with the small rain cloud that had been following Thomas around for the past few minutes, a punishment for daydreaming in class. Other masters would have beaten him for the same offence, but the headmaster seemed to prefer a more psychological kind of punishment.

“Why?” Mellenby asked, “because the other chaps think I’m a swot?”

There was nothing to do about that now, hadn’t been since their first night of school, when Mellenby had spent the night reading in some textbooks he had borrowed from his older brother instead of socialising with the other boys. Unsurprisingly David had no more than one friend, Walter, equally bookish if not quite as smart. “No,” Thomas said, “because it makes them lazy. If they know you’re going to answer all the questions, why bother learning the answers themselves?”

If the masters were to be believed they were the worst year to go through Casterbrook in more than a generation, and Thomas was inclined to believe them. There weren’t many troubles with the practical use of magic, as it was taught to them, but with the theoretical aspects. Few but Mellenby even bothered opening their books before the lessons, let alone taking notes during them.

“But I know the answers,” Mellenby, typical of him, didn’t seem to understand Thomas’ meaning.

“You know you know the answers, and God knows the masters know you know. Who else matters?” Thomas said, “If you must show off, why not only answer three out of four questions? The uncertainty will drive the others to pull their socks up”

“And you?” asked Mellenby, “Will you pull your socks up?”

Perhaps he did have a point there.

Thomas did not pull his socks up, Not quite yet, at least. No matter how much Mellenby and the Masters might have disapproved, ther were simply more interesting things than the study of theory and some science that diverted his attention, science and magic chiefly among them, There was nothing quitle like the feeling of utter joy and freedom both caused, and Thomas was loath to give up either in favour of endless hours spend in the dreary library. He knew, just like anyone who’d spend even the smallest amount of time with him could suspect, that he was not going to end up as either a scientist or a teacher – not that there were other options as far as Mellenby was concerned. At thirteen he’d mastered a look of utter disapproval that could – albeit it rarely – move Thomas to study.

That changed when old Dudders – the Master who taught chemistry, a subject no one but Mellenby could find any pleasure in – asked him to stay behind after one of the lessons shortly after Easter during his second term, and told him in no uncertain terms that if his work didn’t greatly improve over the last weeks of term he’d bee banned from playing rugby after the hols.

So it was his determination to keep playing, more than anything else that finally motivated him to start learning. He hunted down Mellenby that very afternoon and asked him – begged him even – to help Thomas understand the sciences, a next to impossible feat. It was just his luck that Mellenby liked a challenge and considered nothing in the world to be impossible.

Once Mellenby had begun a project it was difficult to dissuade him from it again, as Thomas quickly discovered. Over the next few weeks he learned more about chemistry, physics and mathematics than he had ever before, certainly more than he could ever need to know, and while he truly understood nothing of it, Mellenby’s explanations were at least enough to get him through the exams without too many problems, and with better results than he had ever thought possible. He barely slept or ate, and as soon as Casterbrook had disappeared behind him for the summer he had forgotten everything Mellenby had hammered into his skill, but he had saved his spot on the rugby team, and that was all that mattered to Thomas.

When the first letter from Mellenby arrived Thomas was more than a little surprised. They’d spend more time together recently, yes, but they’d hardly become friends. Or so Thomas had thought. Mellenby certainly hadn’t behaved as if he had any interest in spending more time with Thomas outside of lessons and the library, but when he invited Thomas to come visit him at his family home in [Oxfordshire] Thomas began to suspect that he simply hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic. After all Mellenby didn’t seem to have very many friends. The only one at school he truly seemed to get along with well was Cholmondeley, who was nearly as bookish as Mellenby, even if he’d been struggling with magic since the beginning, a problem which Mellenby decidedly lacked.

Thomas tried to ask his mother if he could go, but discovered that she’d retired to her room with a headache, attempted to get his father’s attention, but he was busy as always, and ended up knocking on his sister’s door, who as the eldest daughter of the family might as well have been a second mother.

“I don’t see why not,” she said, angling her body so Thomas could not see inside her room, “but you’ll have to be back in time for grandfather’s birthday, the entire family is coming”

He promised that he would, and bounded off to reply to Mellenby’s letter. Three days later he was on a train bound north.

#i keep thinking that this part is too rushed and short but it's actually 3k #rivers of london

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hammondcast · 1 year

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Jon Hammond Show 12 17 2022

#WATCHMOVIE HERE: Jon Hammond Show 12 17 2022

Jon's archive https://archive.org/details/jon-hammond-show-12-17-2022

Youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsRQGqhUGG0

Jon Hammond Show 12 17 2022

Jon Hammond

Wishing a very happy birthday to main man Bill Walters!!

12/11 HBD Latesnake!!

Usage

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 4.0 International

Topics

Jon Hammond Show, 12 17, 2022, Public Access Television, Blues, Funk, Hofheim, Heimathaus, Rotenburg, Blues band, Horn Section, Hammond Organ, Blues Guitar, Travel

Language

English

Jon Hammond Show 12 17 2022 Public Access Television MNN TV

28 minute broadcast on Public Access Television MNN Manhattan Neighborhood Network Channel 1 - Music, Travel, Soft News 39th year - air time EST: 01:30 AM late Friday night / Saturday

#publicaccesstelevision

#MNNTV

#JonHammondShow

#Music

#Travel

#softnews

28 minute program on MNN / Manhattan Neighborhood Network channel 1, 39th year at time slot 01:30 AM EST Late Friday Nights / Early Saturday Mornings - Public Access TV Community Access

Theme Song Late Rent in Heimathaus Rotenburg, Hofheim am Taunus Jazzkeller Hofheim, Stanley Coffee time, musikmesse Center Stage with Lee Oskar on Jon Hammond Band, Nashville Music City Center

Colorcolor

Sound sound

Year 2022

Addeddate

2022-12-11 05:45:43

Identifier

jon-hammond-show-12-17-2022

Tomorrow 12/12

12/12 - a date that for me went down in to infamy - it was 12/12/1989 when I managed to pull off this gig in the Indigo Blues Club on W. 46th Street in the basement of Hotel Edison - it was partly owned by Miles Davis and some mafia cats. I put a quartet together with Bernard Purdie drums, Alex Foster tenor, one of the greatest jazz guitarist in the world Jack Wilkins and yours truly Jon Hammond at the Hammond B3, it became necessary at that time for me to change guitar players - I got the B3 down there and Joe Berger shot my PV-430D camera and sat in on guitar - Scott Cooper shot some video also - it was a cold night in December and I was down to my last bucks - down even further after the gig - almost everybody who came said theyw ere on a non-existant guest list and we didn't have anyone to cover the door - they just walked right in and sat right down don't ya' know. No business like the music business folks - I'm on TV tonight at my usual time slot 01:30 AM - 2AM late Friday night / wee hours of Saturday, we are the night people! Stay in and tune me in on Manhattan Neighborhood Network - MNN channel 1

Jon Hammond Show - 39th year

#indigoblues

#cabletv

#jazzgig

#hammondb3

#bernardpurdie

#jackwilkins

#alexfoster

#JonHammondBand

Bernard Purdie drums on Jon Hammond Band - Indigo Blues Club NYC

Contax G2 camera film shooter covering the The New York Times walk out The NewsGuild of New York yesterday, he must be a photographer for NY Times:

Local 802 AFM Member Jon Hammond Supports The NewsGuild of New York - big demonstration today at NY Times Building

#newsguild

#unioncontract

#Unionize

#journalism

#contaxg2

#media

#nytimesstrike

#contaxcamera

#TheNewYorkTimes

"More than 8,500 of The NewsGuild’s 26,000+ members have joined since 2015 at more than 120 newly unionized publications and organizations.

Our newest members are part of a surge in organizing among communications employees across the U.S. and Canada – at publications as big as the Los Angeles Times and Chicago Tribune and as small as the Casper Star-Tribune, and in places with a strong union tradition (like Allentown’s Morning Call) and in states without a big union presence (like Texas’ Dallas Morning News and the Austin American-Statesman, Virginia’s Roanoke Times and Florida’s Miami Herald, Orlando Sentinel and Palm Beach Post).

The recent rise in union organizing is in response to turmoil in the industry that has left many of us with low wages, a daunting workload and little or no input at work. And the upheaval – which has been intensified by the COVID-19 pandemic – has undermined our ability to hold the powerful accountable and to tell the stories of our communities."

Another excellent haircut from main man Barber Yosef Mullokan

Marc Joseph Salon & Spa Wellness NYC! Jon Hammond

#haircut

#spa

Jon Hammond Show, 12 17, 2022, Public Access Television, Blues, Funk, Hofheim, Heimathaus, Rotenburg, Blues band, Horn Section, Hammond Organ, Blues Guitar, Travel

#Jon Hammond Show #12 17 2022 #Public Access Television #Blues Funk #Hofheim #Heimathaus #Rotenburg #Blues band #Horn Section #hammond organ #Blues Guitar #Travel

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geek-gem · 3 years

Text

The Mask Rebirth

*I started to make this yesterday night, July 31st. Just gonna make two stories. And I just thought the rebirth could relate to the Norse gods and goddesses being reborn as masks.*

Rebirth Of Mayhem.

Owen Heffernan is a shy, yet genuinely good hearted and soulful young man who loves cartoons and violent video games. Despite being jobless, and still living with his mother at twenty years old. He has a desire to make a difference in helping people, despite suffering certain mental issues that make him not act normal.

His life changes forever when he discovers an green mask and wears it. Transforming him into the type of person he wants to be. Strong, kind of scary looking, fast, and hilarious. And confidant in who he is.

Until he realizes the mask itself contains the spirit of Loki. Who wants the wearer to embrace insanity and cause a bunch mayhem by taking advantage of the man’s righteous anger towards injustice. But due to Owen’s big heart and somehow strong will. The Norse God and young man go into conflict with another of who’s in control.

That is, until they reach an agreement where Owen makes the big decision to let Big Head go loose and kill an entire ring of sex trafficker's and crime lords in one night. Making Big Head look like a brutal anti hero to all of Edge City.

Because of their actions. While Lieutenant Kellaway is on the hunt for Big Head. Owen and Loki must put aside their differences when they are put on a collision course that will bring them into a violent confrontation with not only Walter. A mute, but brutish man who worked for the mob. But also his mafia officer, Dorian Tyrell.

As Dorian finds out the history behind the mask. He discovers another mask related to the giant wolf named Fenrir. Which will pit Owen and Dorian in a vicious conflict that will determine the fate of Edge City.

Characters.

Owen Hugh Heffernan. Voiced by Brandon Rogers.

The Mask/Loki. Voiced by Brandon Rogers.

Dorian Tyrell. Voiced by Troy Baker.

Mitch Kellaway. Voiced by Roger Craig Smith.

Tina Carlyle. Voiced by Cristina Vee

Peggy Brandt. Voiced by Noel Wells.

Lionel Ray. Voiced by Jeff Schine.

Ms. Anna Heffernan. Voiced by Dana Delany.

Fenrir. Voiced by Troy Baker.

Walter.

Heffernan vs Ipkiss.

A year after the death of Dorian Tyrell. Owen and Loki continue their onslaught of justice for the city. While trying to stay within their agreement to only kill really bad people and no innocents. And letting Big Head goof off at times during Jack-Ass themed stunts and whatever else.

Things remain normal or so until a mysterious new mask, very similar akin to the mask of Loki itself. It is bought by twenty nine year old Stanley Ipkiss. A man who Owen meets earlier in the week. Stanley plans to gift the mask to his girlfriend Kathy.

After Stanley puts on the mask. Just like Owen, his life changes forever. But unlike Owen, who’s mindset weighed in on helping others. Stanley is a necrotic man who decides to seek revenge against those with whom he has a grudge on.

Finding out there is another Big Head for some reason out there. Owen sets on trying to find out who is the cause of these rampages and stop him. Which shocks him seeing it is another Big Head. Despite there is only one true mask.

When the two meet, and Edge City learning there are now two Big Head’s. The two masked men fight each other. Which soon results in Owen having to make an alliance with Kellaway and Lionel to stop the madman. And even more help such as Tina Carlyle, who may of found a new mask.

During this entire struggle as Owen tries to stop Stanley from embracing the terrible nature of the world. He soon realizes that Stanley is possibly the man he could’ve become.

Characters.

Owen Hugh Heffernan. Voiced by Brandon Rogers.

The Mask/Loki. Voiced by Brandon Rogers. Stanley’s version voiced by Alex Hirsch.

Stanley Ipkiss. Voiced by Alex Hirsch.

Mitch Kellaway. Voiced by Roger Craig Smith.

Kathy/Katherine. Voiced by Grey Grffin/DeLisle.

Tina Carlyle. Voiced by Cristina Vee.

Angrbooa. Voiced by Cristina Vee.

Peggy Brandt. Voiced by Noel Wells.

Lionel Ray. Voiced by Jeff Schine.

Ms. Anna Heffernan. Voiced by Dana Delany.

Surtr. The creator of the second mask. Which contains a replica of Loki’s original spirit.

I may make a part two. Or basically, part three. I just wanted to get this done. Thought about putting the Mask Hunters in Heffernan vs Ipkiss. But decided I won’t.

#GeekGem Rambles #The Mask Rebirth

19 notes · View notes

hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Dream Baby Dream

A/N: So Charlie’s latest movie, Jungleland, is an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE!! It’s so fucking lovely 🥺😭🥰 Whether you’ve seen it or not, I hope you’ll enjoy this little one shot, based on the below request that I got! It’s all kinds of angsty and smutty and fluffy. (Title is a reference to the Springsteen song played at the end of the movie!) **This fic is SPOILER-FREE**

Pairing: Stanley Kaminski x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader gets pregnant, gifs of Charlie in his underpants 😋 Request: This lovely request (p.2) for pregnancy/smut with Charlie’s character from Jungleland!

Word Count: ~3.1k

Important Note: The first line of this fic is a line Stanley says in the movie (scene shown in the gif above and in this gifset) – yes, loves, an actual quote. So if you’ve not yet seen this film but are a fan of Charlie Hunnam, I promise you this scene is reason enough, to watch if only just to hear those words from him... 🤤

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

“I like the way they make my dick look.”

... Is he serious? Yes, definitely is. One drink was all it took, for you to know. He walks and talks like someone straight out of an old forgotten book or an obscure off-Broadway show. As if his whole life is imagined, yet for him the fiction feels so fucking real that it’s the only thing he’ll ever understand.

“I like the way they make my dick look”? What the fuck? You’d just paid him a half-joking compliment on his ridiculous sweatpants. But this is a man who takes jokes for the truths they expose. Mama always told you to avoid men like this—cons and crooks—men who crush their own hearts in their fists, steal their strength from the shadows, to run from their weakness. She knows best, and knows that you can’t. Knows that you turn to dust in their hands. But she’s not here to witness.

No, nobody is.

You take another shot, tossing away what little self-restraint you’ve got. “Dare you to tell me just how many times you’ve used that line.”

The fucker flashes you a smile. Cheeky smirk, the only kind that suits his style. Cheap as dirt. Just like his stupid ugly shirt. “Hey, if I had a dime...”

Rolling your eyes, you suck the sour from a slice of lime. Can’t seem to chase away your thirst. “How many times did that shit work?”

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first...” he whispers, leaning close to take the lime in his own fingers, squeezing it without reason till every little pulp ruptures and bursts. “Wanna fuck you so hard it hurts.”

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

Is it the best sex that you’ve had? Hell fucking no—not even close. It’s pretty bad. Probably the worst.

It’s almost gross. Feels like you’re stuck in a low-budget porno. Just a mess of theatrical thrusts. Heated groans, grating deep in his throat. Grabby hands. Somehow you know that he could fuck you so much better, though, if only he stopped trying to put on some kind of show. You doubt he even knows he can.

“Ugh, just—” you grit your teeth against each thrust. “What are you even doing, Stan...”

He groans out loud again. “Screwing you like a fucking man.”

That tasteless statement almost makes you want to laugh, but you bite back the urge. “No, that’s not how it works,” you mutter as his hips spastically jerk, massive dick splitting you in half. “You can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, ravaging your ass with a rough series of slaps. Pulling your hair, making you arch your back, wrapping one hand around your neck until you choke. The sex is so damn close to being epic if this man would just stop acting like a joke. Like, really close, which honestly doesn’t seem fair. “You’re not supposed to talk when you’re taking my cock. Supposed to be too drunk to care.”

Oh God—he’s even dumber than you thought. He should’ve counted that you’d only had a couple shots. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“As fucking if,” he huffs, taking the hint that you’ve had quite enough. Reluctantly rolls off. Finally stops fucking you over. And that’s when you realize you miss it, although it feels strange to admit. He turns aside, tucking himself in tight under the covers like some kind of scorned lover. Spurned and burned so many times it makes him sick. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sober, a girl like you wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot stick.”

That gives you pause and breaks your heart a little bit. How is this man already getting at your heart, damn it? Mama would say he’s creeping in there with his crooked claws and all that shit. You can’t let yourself fall for his theatrics. Is that even what this is? Somehow, you sense the weight of more than just his body on the mattress; your heart feels heavy now, but not nearly as heavy as his.

“A girl like me? Seriously, what does that even mean?” you ask, reaching to run your hand across the faded scars and bruises on his back. Noticing how he flinches as if your soft touch is a savage attack. No doubt he wishes that you hadn’t seen. No wonder somebody so damaged really thought you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot stick. “Stanley, you are honest to God hot. And plus you’ve got an almost-ten-inch dick.”

He reacts with a snort, and a shake of his head. Scooting out of the bed, shrugging into his hideous shirt. All the scars on his back and his heart safely hidden inside it. “Doesn’t matter if it’s big. Apparently I can’t use it for shit.”

Without bothering to put pants back on, he settles on the couch across the room. You move to follow him, unable to resist when he looks so cute sitting there. Raking your fingers through his ruffled golden hair. “That’s not a problem we can’t fix—come back to bed with that big dick. You just have to get out of your head. Just a bit.”

That’s a notion he’s quick to dismiss, though you notice he’s no longer flinching away from your touch—which means something, you’d bet. It must. Nevertheless, Stanley snickers at what you said, struggling to keep his facade firmly set. “Out of my head? Bitch, I live in it.”

You don’t doubt it. Just want him to try stepping out of it. “Just for a minute.”

Lucid blue eyes look up at you now like you’re seeking to push him past some lifelong limit.

“Damn, what’s it like in there...?” you wonder aloud as you comb through his hair. He’s a poem, a portrait of someone who doesn’t believe he’s a man. Soul has never known any true home. Heart has been locked away for so long that he thought it could never be freed. Head full of dreams, broken and bursting at the seams. His silence fucking screams. “What do you really want, Stan? Really need?”

And you can tell he’s scared, to dare believe you really care. “...Nobody ever asked.”

There’s a whole world behind his words. Woefully true. Yet a whole other world now opens up before the two of you, with yours. “Well, then I’m glad to be the first.”

Of course you asked. Of fucking course. You barely even know him now, but can already tell somehow... you want to love this man so hard it hurts. Truly glad that you were the first. Already want to be the last.

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

Fucking months have gone by in the blink of an eye. And already you love him so much you could die.

He’s never fucked someone who ever gave a shit about him, so he gets a rush from knowing that you cannot live without him. And the feeling goes both ways, needless to say. He’s always looking at you like his first glimpse of the sacred light of day. And always seems afraid you’ll run away, no matter how wholeheartedly you reassure him that you’re here to stay. That he should never doubt it.

Still he’s just crippled with this unshakeable fear of fucking up and everything falling to shit, just as it always did. Of losing love now that he’s finally fucking found it. Stanley’s past is a ripple effect of the failures and losses that constantly kept him desperate and dishonest, and it’s fucking haunted. Can’t help but dread the day it’ll rear its monstrous head and make him pay for ever dreaming he could have the kind of life he’s always wanted.

The most that you can do is hold him close and fuck the pain away, and love him more than words can say. His dreams are beautiful, you tell him. They deserve to see the light of day. With you he never has to act like he’s some character straight off the page; he doesn’t have to be afraid to feel. To fear that all the demons in his soul are real, and full of rage, and fierce enough to kill him. ‘Cause now you’re finally here to hold him and to heal him.

All of his dreams once revolved around his intense bond with his brother. For so long, his heart never had room for another. He tells you often about Walter. The fighter. ‘Lion’ as it were. The whole life that they lived for no one but each other, till one day the champion boxer abandoned his gloves to vow love at the altar.

And Stanley is happy, that Lion has found a new family. A new life as boundless and bright as the sky. Such love as an overbearing older brother could never provide. Though Stan knows that the door’s always open for him, to be part of that family and part of that life... he won’t take Lion up on the invite. Tells himself that the home that his brother has built is too precious for someone so poisoned to set foot inside.

You fuck the poison and the pain out of his veins a little bit more every night. But you know it’s a big fight; you won’t try to push it or rush it. Just guide him and stay beside him as the shadow slowly turns to light.

So what’s left to dream now? Somehow your lover tells you his deepest secrets and desires without ever breathing a damn word aloud. Like the fire’s so fragile a whisper could blow it right out.

Tells you and shows you through passionate, powerful kisses, devouring you with the heat of his mouth. Through the touch of his tough calloused hands on your skin, softly treasuring every last inch, devoting his whole broken heart to the moment in such breathless silence... then driving inside you with vigor and violence, the lion inside him awoken and roaring out loud. Slow and gentle again, at the end. Once you’re both well and truly fucked out. The soft look on his face and his tender embrace expressing just how grateful he is that you taught him to fuck, and to love, without playing pretend.

Is it the best sex of your life? Hell fucking yes. Without a doubt. Every damn day, every damn night. Far and away the fucking best. The kind of sex starry-eyed poets strive and fail to write about.

Stanley Kaminski is a living, breathing, tragic, magic little poem. But he is also very real, thanks to the love that you’ve allowed his heart to feel. Beating so beautifully now that it’s finally healed. And he’s become your fucking home.

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

“Babe, you up?”

You weren’t until he spoke. The sun is only barely just; as he so often does, Stan beat the day before it broke. But you don’t mind being awoken by the man you’ll always love. More so than ever now because... you have some news to share today, bound to blow him the fuck away. In the best way, you hope. And trust.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, shifting in bed, lifting your head to see him seated by the window far across the room. Gaze lingering upon his gorgeous features gilded by the glow of dawn. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing at all, for once, he wordlessly responds. Smiles at you before he glances back outside, watching the sun begin to rise, as if its light promises everything he wants.

“Today’s gonna be good, baby,” he states, blue gaze so wild and bright he looks a little crazy. “I mean, I can see it. I can see our future when I close my eyes.”

It’s almost like he knows what’s coming, in the next moment. Maybe he does? Your souls are intertwined so close you wouldn’t really be surprised. “Well, looks to me like they’re wide open. Why you even gotta close ‘em?” you reply, stretching your arms out with a peaceful sigh. All set to break the news you would’ve shared with him last night, if only he hadn’t come home and fucked you so epically hard that you just went out like a light. “Stanley, I...”

“Shouldn’t have woken you up, actually,” he interrupts, somewhat unnaturally. Crosses the room toward the bed, to hold your head up, kiss you slow and deep. Then turns to leave. “Love you—sorry. Go back to sleep.”

You pause and blink your bleary eyes. “What? Why...?”

“...‘cause it’s a special day and I’m cooking up a surprise.”

Although that’s super cute... you don’t exactly like the thought of Stanley making food, to tell the truth. You almost puked, first time he tried. He has a lot of skills and virtues, but his cooking isn’t one of them, unfortunately. “Babe, I told you there’s no need to make a big deal of our second anniversary...”

“Yeah, but why’s that for you to decide?” he playfully retorts as he heads out the bedroom door. Shouting back at you down the hallway as he hastens away. “Besides, you’re gonna need something to build your strength up after getting fucked so good and hard last night. Stay put and don’t even try sneaking into the kitchen, alright?”

“Fine,” you sigh, figuring that you might as well listen. No harm letting your man do his thing in the kitchen. You just hope that he won’t be offended if you can’t hold down what he’s serving... especially now that your body’s especially prone to hurling, for reasons that he just unwittingly stopped you from sharing with him.

You can picture him trying to cook, looking so adorably domestic as fuck. So damn cute it hurts. Standing there over the counter in his fugly turtleneck shirt, glancing up every few seconds, just to make sure his girl doesn’t walk in on him while he’s busy at work.

Absentmindedly scratching at his lower back with his wandering fingers, as he shuffles over the cracked tile floor in his raggedy slippers. The ones that he stole from some random hotel years ago. Why he chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt and slippers, when he can’t be bothered to put on a damn pair of knickers, even in the middle of winter... you don’t even know. It’s such a fucking Stanley thing to do, though.

You can picture the low-hanging hem of his shirt getting stuck in the top of his briefs as he scratches his back. While he just carries on with his business, oblivious, focused on whipping up some sad excuse for a breakfast that will most likely make you gag. Your man can’t cook for crap, and you’re certain that he’s well aware of that fact. So what gives? Where’s he going with this...? You wonder as you wait in bed, enamored with the image of him in your head.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

When he finally returns to the bedroom he’s holding a steaming white mug in his hand, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like a madman, for reasons that you can’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, listen, Y/N—before you say anything...”

You can already smell the unholy concoction he’s got in his cup, and you’re struggling so hard not to throw the fuck up. “Stan, is that what I think—”

“Hear me out,” he begs, squatting down next to the bed. For some reason he looks all at once shy and proud. “I want you to remember our first time together. The morning after.”

You nervously swallow and nod your head. He can’t really expect you to put that ‘breakfast’ in your mouth—doesn’t he know you’ll spit it right out? You just try to focus on the heartwarming words he just said. “Babe, you know I won’t ever forget. But is that...”

“Yes, it is. Kaminski’s specialty hot shit. The mess I used to make for Lion every day for breakfast. The only family that I ever had, until the day we met.”

You pause at that; is it just a coincidence now that he’s talking about you as family? Surely he knows somehow, what you’re about to tell him now. You want to just tell him already, so badly. “Stanley...”

“Just let me say this. Please,” he murmurs, shifting where he’s squatting on the floor, repositioning his knees. “Tonight I was thinking of taking you out to some nice swanky place I can’t even afford... would’ve tipped the waiter off to drop a little something in the fancy French champagne we ordered...”

Your heart stops as it hangs on his words. Why is he suddenly... down on one knee...

“But I thought maybe this would mean a little more,” he continues. “Baby, I cooked this for you, the first morning I ever woke to the most beautiful view... because a part of me already knew. I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I was already fucking yours. I never would’ve made this crap for anyone but family—that shit’s sacred to me. And now I know, deep down, that’s what I always wanted you to be.”

“Stanley...”

“You had to dig through so much shit, inside of me, and stole my fucking heart right out of it. Still can’t believe you did. Still can’t believe you think I’m worth it. Scared I’ll wake up any second just to see that this was all some crazy dream.”

Your heart is bursting at the seams. “Believe it, baby. You’re worth everything to me. I’ll dig through all that shit again, if it means being with you in the end.”

He holds the cup out toward you like the treasure that it is. “That’s what it means. That’s what I’m asking you with this. Dig, baby, dig.”

You love this man so much more than you can believe. So much for him thinking that you would never touch him with a ten-foot stick.

Your hand dives straight into the mess to find the ring and scream out yes. Stan smiles and wipes the excess stuff off on his sleeve, then slides it carefully onto your finger as you shower him with kisses. Honestly couldn’t be happier right now that someone else is here to witness.

And he needs to know it, right this fucking minute.

After he takes your newly bejeweled hand in his, blessing it with a kiss... you take his hand in yours and press it onto the surprise that you’ve been harboring inside. Your secret little Stanley. “So... you know I had something to tell you as well, right? I’m not the only one who’s so happy about this. Happy to be part of your family.”

His eyes go wide, the brightest light you’ve ever seen. “Y/N...! Y/N, does—does this mean...”

You answer with a smile as big as his, and seal the promise with a kiss. “Dream, baby, dream.”

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

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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147 notes · View notes

miguelmarias · 3 years

Text

TOP 2020

25/12/2020

A) Great movies made since 2015 seen for the first time in 2020:

Buoyancy(Freedom;Rodd Rathjen, 2019)

Les choses qu’on dit, les choses qu’on fait(Emmanuel Mouret, 2020)

L’Île au trésor(Guillaume Brac, 2018)

Le Sel des larmes(Philippe Garrel, 2019/20)

Ghawre Bairey Aaj(Home and the World;Aparna Sen, 2019)

Undine(Christian Petzold, 2020)

Happī awā(Happy Hour;Hamaguchi Ryūsuke, 2015)

Netemo Sametemo(Asako I & II;Hamaguchi Ryūsuke, 2018)

Adolescentes(Sébastien Lifshitz, 2013-9/20)

Family Romance, LLC.(Werner Herzog, 2019)

Demain et tous les autres jours(Noémie Lvovsky, 2017)

Gamak Ghar(Achal Mishra, 2019)

Lunana:A Yak in the Classroom(Pawo Choyning Dorji, 2019)

Semina il vento(Sow the Wind;Danilo Caputo, 2020)

Objector(Molly Stuart, 2019)

La France contre les robots(Jean-Marie Straub, 2020)

Paris Calligrammes(Ulrike Ottinger, 2019/20)

Un film dramatique(Éric Baudelaire, 2019)

B) Great movies made before 2015 seen for the first time in 2020:

Là-Haut, un Roi au-dessus des nuages(Pierre Schoendoerffer, 2003)

Pangarap ng Puso(Demons/Whispers of the Demon/Hope of the Heart;Mario O’Hara, 2000)

Les Films rêvés(Eric Pauwels, 2009)

La vida en rojo(Andrés Linares, 2007/8)

Come Next Spring(R.G. Springsteen, 1955/6)

Song of Surrender(Mitchell Leisen, 1948/9)

Adventure in Manhattan(Edward Ludwig, 1936)

Strannaia zhenshchina(A Strange Woman;Iuli Raízman, 1978)

Chastnaia zhízn(Private Life;Iuli Raízman, 1982)

Málva(Vladimir Braun, 1956/7)

Zhila-byla devochka(Once There Was a Girl;Viktor Eisimont, 1944)

The Unknown Man(Richard Thorpe, 1951)

Aisai Monogatari(Story of a Beloved Wife;Shindō Kaneto, 1951)

Practically Yours(Mitchell Leisen, 1944)

A Summer Storm(Robert Wise, 1999/2000)

Lettre d’un cinéaste à sa fille(Eric Pauwels, 2000)

Sombra verde(Untouched;Roberto Gavaldón, 1954)

Fantasma d’amore(Dino Risi, 1981)

Adieu, Mascotte(Das Modell vom Montparnasse;Wilhelm Thiele, 1929)

Mori no kajiya(The Blacksmith of the Forest;Shimizu Hiroshi, 1928/9;fragment)

Zwischen Gestern und Morgen(Between Yesterday and Tomorrow;Harald Braun, 1947)

Last Holiday(Henry Cass, 1950)

Dialogue d’ombres(Danièle Huillet & Jean-Marie Straub, 1954-2013)

Out-Takes from the Life of a Happy Man(Jonas Mekas, 2012)

Nice Time(Claude Goretta & Alain Tanner, 1957)

Aloma of the South Seas(Alfred Santell, 1941)

A Feather in Her Hat(Alfred Santell, 1935)

La Danseuse Orchidée(Léonce Perret, 1928)

Underground(Vincent Sherman, 1941)

Time Out(in Twilight Zone-The Movie)(John Landis, 1983)

Lackawanna Blues(George C. Wolfe, 2005)

Janie(Michael Curtiz, 1944)

Dernier Amour(Léonce Perret, 2016)

Jeunes Filles en détresse(Georg Wilhelm Pabst, 1939)

Kisapmata(Blink of an Eye;Mike De Leon, 1981)

La Dernière Lettre(Frederick Wiseman, 2002)

The Lady of the Dig-Out(W.S. Van Dyke II, 1918)

Their Own Desire(E.Mason Hopper, 1929)

C) Very good movies made since 2015 seen for the first time in 2020:

Zumiriki(Oskar Alegria, 2019)

Atlantique(Mati Diop, 2019)

J’accuse(An Officier and A Spy;Roman Polanski, 2019)

Richard Jewell(Clint Eastwood, 2019)

Alice et le Maire(Nicolas Pariser, 2019)

Contes de Juillet(July Tales;Guillaume Brac, 2017)

Dark Waters(Todd Haynes, 2019)

Ofrenda a la tormenta(Fernando González Molina, 2020)

Nomad:In the Footsteps of Bruce Chatwin(Werner Herzog, 2019)

Into the Inferno(Werner Herzog, 2016)

The Zookeeper’s Wife(Niki Caro, 2017)

Journal de septembre(Eric Pauwels, 2019)

La Deuxième Nuit(Eric Pauwels, 2016)

Kaze no denwa(Voices in the Wind;Suwa Nobuhiro, 2019/20)

Da 5 Bloods(Spike Lee, 2020)

Izaokas(Isaac;Jurgis Matulevičius, 2019)

A Metamorfose dos Pássaros(Catarina Vasconcelos, 2020)

Tabi no Owari Sekai no Hajimari(To the Ends of the Earth;Kurosawa Kiyoshi, 2019)

La Nuit d’avant(Pablo García Canga, 2019)

My Mexican Bretzel(Nuria Giménez, 2018-9)

Domangchin yeoja(The Woman Who Ran;Hong Sang-soo, 2019/20)

Öndög(Wang Quanan, 2019)

Hatsukoi(First Love;Miike Takashi, 1959)

Million raz pogivaet odin Cheloviek(One man dies a million times;Jessica Oreck, 2018/9)

The Two Popes(Fernando Meirelles, 2019)

Félicité(Alain Gomis, 2016/7)

Salt and Fire(Werner Herzog, 2016)

Ni de lian(Your Face;Tsai Ming-liang, 2018)

Qi qiu(Balloon;Pema Tseden, 2019)

River Silence(Rogério Soares, 2019)

Charlie’s Angels(Elizabeth Banks, 2019)

La boda de Rosa(Iciar Bollain, 2020)

Guerra(War;José Oliveira & Marta Ramos, 2020)

My Thoughts Are Silent/Moyi dumky tykhi(Antonio Lukich, 2019)

Namo(The Alien;Nader Saeivar;co-script-Jafar Panahi, 2020)

Los silencios(The Silences;Beatriz Seigner, 2018)

Terminal Sud(Rabah Ameur-Zaïmeche, 2019)

Tu mérites un amour(You Deserve a Lover;Hafsia Herzi, 2019)

Les Misérables(Ladj Ly, 2019)

Padre no hay más que uno(Santiago Segura, 2019)

Honeyland(Tamara Kotovska & Ljubomir Stefanov, 2019)

Izbrisana(Erased;Miha Mazzini & Dusan Joksimovic, 2018)

This Is Not A Burial, It’s A Resurrection(Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese, 2019)

Primero Enero(Darío Mascambroni, 2016)

Lahi, Hayop(Pan, Genus/Genus Pan;Lav Diaz, 2020)

D) Very good movies made before 2015 seen for the first time in 2020:

Topaze(Marcel Pagnol, 1936)

The SIGN OF THE RAM(John Sturges, 1947/8)

Abandoned(Joseph M. Newman, 1949)

Bewitched(Arch Oboler, 1944/5)

La Femme du Bout du Monde((Jean Epstein, 1937)

The Outcast(William Witney, 1954)

Saadia(Albert Lewin, 1953)

Un monde sans femmes(Guillaume Brac, 2011)

Dishonored Lady(Robert Stevenson, 1947)

Always Goodbye(Signey Lanfield, 1938)

A Blueprint for Murder(Andrew L. Stone, 1953)

Bedevilled(Mitchell Leisen, 1955)

That Forsyte Woman(Compton Bennett, 1949)

The Miracle(Irving Rapper, 1959)

The Madonna’s Secret(Wilhelm Thiele, 1946)

The Town That Dreaded Sundown(Charles B. Pierce, 1976)

Grayeagle(Charles B. Pierce, 1977)

Barricade(Peter Godfrey, 1949/50)

Tomorrow is Forever(Irving Pichel, 1945/6)

David Harum(James Cruze, 1934)

The Vanquished(Edward Ludwig, 1953)

Keisatsukan(Uchida Tomu, 1933)

...Enfants des courants d’air(Édouard Luntz, 1959, short)

The Winds of Autumn(Charles B. Pierce, 1976)

Suddenly It’s Spring(Mitchell Leisen, 1946)

Uchūjin Tōkyō ni arawaru(Warning from Space;Shima Kōji, 1956)

Swiss Family Robinson(Edward Ludwig, 1940)

Ludwig der Zweite, König von Bayern(Wilhelm Dieterle, 1930)

Faithless(Harry Beaumont, 1932)

Botan-dorō(Peony Lanterns;Yamamoto Satsuo, 1968)

Ginza 24 chou(Tales of Ginza;Kawashima Yūzō, 1955)

Goodbye Again(Michael Curtiz, 1933)

Lines of White on a Sullen Sea(D.W. Griffith, 1909)

You Gotta Stay Happy(H.C. Potter, 1948)

Cave of Forgotten Dreams(Werner Herzog, 2010)

Riff-Raff(Ted Tetzlaff, 1947)

The Moon is Down(Irving Pichel, 1943)

The Bride Wore Boots(Irving Pichel, 1946)

Adventures in Silverado(Phil Karlson, 1948)

The Stolen Ranch(William Wyler, 1926)

Congo Maisie(H.C. Potter, 1940)

Marcides(Mercedes;Yousry Nasrallah, 1993)

Hell’s Five Hours(Jack L. Copeland, 1958)

Daniel(in Stimulantia;Ingmar Bergman, 1967)

Diên Biên Phú(Pierre Schoendoerffer, 1992)

Canyon River(Cattle King;Harmon Jones, 1956)

Dos Basuras(Kurt Land, 1958)

Smart Girls Don’t Talk(Richard L. Bare, 1948)

The Big Shakedown(John Francis Dillon, 1933/4)

Corvette K-225(Richard Rosson;p.,collab.Howard Hawks, 1943)

The Gay Deception(William Wyler, 1935)

The Invisible Woman(A.Edward Sutherland, 1940)

Rage in Heaven(W.S. Van Dyke II;collab.Robert B. Sinclair,Richard Thorpe, 1941)

Wild Side(Sébastien Lifshitz, 2004)

I bambini e noi(Luigi Comencini, 1970//7)

The House Across The Street(Richard L. Bare, 1948/9)

The Doughgirls(James V. Kern, 1944)

The Love Trap(William Wyler, 1929)

Torch Song(Charles Walters, 1953)

The Meanest Man in the World(Sidney Lanfield, 1942/3)

Cole Younger, Gunfighter(R.G. Springsteen, 1958)

Ballerine(Gustav Machatý, 1936)

Via Mala(Josef von Báky, 1945//8)

Sky Giant(Lew Landers, 1938)

Les Invisibles(Sébastien Lifshitz, 2012)

Promène toi donc tout nu(Emmanuel Mouret, 1998)

A Story for the Modlins(Una historia para los Modlin;Sergio Oksman, 2012)

Something in the Wind(Irving Pichel, 1947)

Spoveď(Confession;Pavol Skýkova, 1968)

Guilty Hands(W.S. Van Dyke II;collab.Lionel Barrymore, 1931)

Atto di accusa(Giacomo Gentilomo, 1950)

Suspense(Frank Tuttle, 1956)

This Is The Night(Frank Tuttle, 1932)

Escape in the Fog(Oscar ‘Budd’ Boetticher,Jr., 1945)

The Price of Fear(Abner Biberman, 1956)

Happy People:A Year in the Taiga(Werner Herzog, 2010)

Urok(The Lesson;Kristina Grozeva & Petar Valchanov, 2014)

Le Naufragé(Guillaume Brac, 2009)

Lili Marlen(Peter Mihálik;script.Dušan Hanák, 1970;short)

Deseo(Antonio Zavala Kugler, 2013)

E) Great movies that improved by new watchings:

Shanghai Express(Josef von Sternberg, 1932)

The Best Years of Our Lives(William Wyler, 1946)

Till We Meet Again(Frank Borzage, 1944)

Man’s Favorite Sport?(Howard Hawks, 1963/4)

Along The Great Divide(Raoul Walsh, 1951)

Hondo(John V. Farrow, 1953)

Where The Sidewalk Ends(Otto Preminger, 1950)

Mrs. Miniver(William Wyler, 1942)

Driftwood(Allan Dwan, 1947)

‘Good-bye, My Lady’(William A. Wellman, 1956)

Touch of Evil(Preview version, 1975;not later ‘improvements’)(Orson Welles, 1958)

Le Crabe-Tambour(Pierre Schoendoerffer, 1977)

Unfinished Business(Gregory LaCava, 1941)

Madigan(Don Siegel, 1968)

Big Business(James Wesley Horne;s.Leo McCarey, 1929)

Putting Pants on Philip(Clyde A. Bruckman;s.Leo McCarey, 1927)

The Runner Stumbles(Stanley Kramer, 1979)

Yushima no Shiraume(Romance at Yushima;Kinugasa Teinosukē, 1955)

David Harum(Allan Dwan, 1915)

The Virginian(Cecil B. DeMille, 1914)

Island in the Sky(William A. Wellman, 1953)

All About Eve(Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950)

L’Eclisse(Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962)

The Roaring Twenties(Raoul Walsh, 1939)

The Plainsman(Cecil B. DeMille, 1936)

JLG/JLG-Autoportrait de décembre(Jean-Luc Godard, 1994)

‘Je vous salue, Marie’(Hail Mary;Jean-Luc Godard, 1984)

La Roue(Abel Gance, 1923)

They All Laughed(Peter Bogdanovich, 1981)

Innocent Blood(John Landis, 1992)

An American Werewolf in London(John Landis, 1981)

The Thing Called Love(Peter Bogdanovich, 1993)

Into the Night(John Landis, 1985)

The File On Thelma Jordon(Thelma Jordon;Robert Siodmak, 1949)

The Little American(Cecil B. DeMille, 1917)

In Our Time(Vincent Sherman, 1944)

The Hunters(Dick Powell, 1958)

Phase IV(Saul Bass, 1974)

L’Honneur d’un Capitaine(Pierre Schoendoerffer, 1982)

Backfire(Vincent Sherman, 1948//50)

Five(Arch Oboler, 1951)

Somewhere in the Night(Joseph L. Mankiewiz, 1946)

A Man Alone(Ray Milland, 1955)

Die Geiger von Florez(Paul Czinner, 1926)

Living on Velvet(Frank Borzage, 1934/5)

La Recta provincia(Raúl Ruiz, 2007//15)

La Noche de enfrente(Raúl Ruiz, 2012)

Carrie(Sister Carrie;William Wyler, 1951/2)

The Spiral Staircase(Robert Siodmak, 1945/6)

The Paradine Case(Alfred Hitchcock, 1947)

L’Amore(Una voce umana+Il Miracolo)(Roberto Rossellini, 1947/8)

The Heiress(William Wyler, 1949)

F) Very good movies watched again

Bluebeard’s 10 Honeymoons(W.Lee Wilder, 1960)

The Five Pennies(Melville Shavelson, 1958)

Take a Letter, Darling(Mitchell Leisen, 1942)

Escape(Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1948)

Appassionatamente(Giacomo Gentilomo, 1954)

Así como habían sido(Trío)(Andrés Linares, 1986/7)

San Antone(Joseph Kane, 1953)

The High and the Mighty(William A. Wellman, 1954)

Taki no Shiraito(The Water Magician;Mizoguchi Kenji, 1933)

The Web(Michael Gordon, 1947)

The Buccaneer(Anthony Quinn;s.Cecil B. DeMille, 1958)

The Buccaneer(Cecil B. DeMille, 1938)

Desire Me(uncredited:George Cukor/Jack Conway/Mervyn LeRoy/Victor Saville, 1946)

Flaxy Martin(Richard L. Bare, 1948/9)

Swing High, Swing Low(Mitchell Leien, 1937)

Death Takes A Holiday(Mitchell Leisen, 1934)

Irene(Herbert Wilcox, 1940)

Beloved Enemy(H.C. Potter, 1936)

The Cowboy and the Lady(H.C. Potter, 1938)

Der Golem, wie er in die Welt kam(Paul Wegener, 1920)

Mia madre(Nanni Moretti, 2015)

Hell On Frisco Bay(Frank Tuttle, 1955)

Stormy Weather(Andrew L. Stone, 1943)

The Milky Way(Leo McCarey;w.Harold Lloyd, 1936)

Pietà per chi cade(Mario Costa, 1954)

Repeat Performance(Alfred L. Werker, 1947)

Das indische Grabmal:1.Die Sendung des Yoghi,2.Der Tiger von Eschnapur(Joe May, 1921)

Julie(Andrew L. Stone, 1956)

The Member of the Wedding(Fred Zinnemann, 1953)

Winterset(Alfred Santell, 1936)

The Right to Romance(Alfred Santell, 1933)

As Young as You Feel(Harmon Jones, 1951)

You’ll Never Get Rich(Sidney Lanfield, 1941)

The Woman Accused(Paul Sloane, 1933)

Foma Gordeiev(Mark Donskoí, 1959)

The Parent Trap(David Swift, 1961)

High Wall(Curtis Bernhardt, 1947)

Mr. Lucky(H.C. Potter, 1943)

Un Marido de Ida y Vuelta(Luis Lucia, 1957)

The Safecracker(Ray Milland, 1957/8)

She’s Funny That Way(Peter Bogdanovich, 2014)

Oh...Rosalinda!!(Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger, 1955)

Caribbean(Edward Ludwig, 1952)

Harper(The Moving Target;Jack Smight, 1966)

For You I Die(John Reinhardt, 1947)

Crashing Hollywood(Lew Landers, 1937/8)

Le Souvenir d’un avenir(Chris. Marker & Yannick Bellon, 2001)

Susan Slept Here(Frank Tashlin, 1954)

Bishkanyar Deshot(In the Land of Poison Women;Manju Borah, 2019)

Pollyanna(David Swift, 1960)

A Tale of Two Cities(Jack Conway;collab.Val Lewton & Jacques Tourneur, 1935)

Café Society(Woody Allen, 2016)

Shadow on the Wall(Patrick Jackson, 1949/50)

Tonnerre(Guillaume Brac, 2013)

Le Jouet criminel(Adolfo G. Arrieta, 1969)

‘Once more, with feeling!’(Stanley Donen, 1959)

The Shopworn Angel(H.C. Potter, 1938)

The Absent Minded Professor(Robert Stevenson, 1961)

Gavaznha(The Deer;Masud Kimiai, 1974)

#listas

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strangesigils · 4 years

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BLM SIGIL STREAM ON SATURDAY

I’m doing a livestream on twitch tomorrow June 13th at 1:00 PM Saskatchewan Time (for those of you new here, SK CST is a bit different from normal from normal CST because we don’t do daylight savings ever)

This is not a normal stream, I’m not filling out normal sigil requests for this, I’m specifically making sigils for the Black Lives Matter movement, because I’m seeing a lot less about it on social media and I think that’s fucked up because this shit is still happening. It’s not a weeklong fad, it’s a movement and a revolution and we need to keep standing behind it however we can. I will be making sigils for justice. “Justice For ... “ George Floyd Ahmaud Arbery Trayvon Martin Eric Garner Walter Scott Ernest Mweru Aiyana Mo’nay Stanley-Jones Philando Castille Tamir Rice Sandra Bland Alton Sterling Michael Brown Atatiana Koquice Jefferson Akai Gurley Megan Marie Hockaday Stephon Clark Emantic Fitzgerald Bradford Jr. Amandou Diallo Freddy Carlos Gray Jr. Jordan Edwards Jonathan Ferrel Korryn Gaines Alton Sterling Jamar Clark Jeremy McDole Layleen Polanco Muhlasia Booker Bettie Jones Terence Crutcher Oscar Grant Walter Lamar Scott

If anybody has more names for me to add to the ‘justice for’ sigils that are not already listed here for me to make, feel free to send me a name with a link about what happened through personal message. For each of these sigils I post I will also be posting a publicly available photo of them and a link to what happened to them. I won’t be able to complete all of these in the stream, but I’ll be working on them outside of streaming when I have the time as well

I will be promoting my fundraiser for black LGBTQI+ refugees in Kenya who have been regularly attacked while trying to rebuild their burnt down homes (which were burnt down while they were away protesting the abuse of Ernest Mweru by the UNHCR which led to his suicide outside their offices) Even though we raised the minimum of $500 they had to pay for medical costs for medicine for members with diabetes, food for the injured, sick, children, and elderly, and ambulance fees for the people who’ve been attacked during building (I think they have 4 or 5 people in the hospital right now, other slightly less injured people are staying in the camp) the graphic images they send me of the brutal injuries they’ve sustained has been keeping me up at night for weeks. They only had enough money left to build 1 home and they’re using it for the children. They’re not black lives in america, but they’re queer black lives in a country and a refugee camp that wants them exterminated, and they matter. Click Here To Go To The GoFundMe I have set up As well as all fiverr proceeds for name sigils and other recreational sigils will go to the same cause As well as any redbubble profits I make (which is only a few cents for purchased item, the rest goes to redbubble so I’m not really going to recommend it for donation purposes)

I’ll still be reblogging posts for BLM and Bail funds as well

#black lives matter #black trans lives matter #black queer lives matter #lgbtq+#lgbt #lgbt+#lgbtq #gay #lesbian #refugee #gofundme #livestream #twitch livestream #blm #poc lives mattter

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singeramg · 4 years

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Take away point from Re-watching Nomis/Night Hunter: Spoilers...

Not a fan of the writing but acting and cast is A1!

Henry Cavill is very good at disappearing into his roles. I don’t see him, I see his character which makes him a stellar actor. Honestly this was one of his better acting jobs because he wasn’t given a lot to work with and his face does half the work.

All of Walters sweaters looked so warm and comfy...I’m jealous, I want them.

Dude was in a wheelchair making bombs... from a wheelchair. Sir how the fuck.... I won’t get too deep into that...

Alexandra D....I’ve been a fan since Percy Jackson so I was here for her!

That scene with the baby and teddy bear (I won’t elaborate but they were intense.)

Weak points:

She found that old therapy box way too easy with all that stuff.

did not utilize Stanley Tucci enough, nor Ben Kingsley. (Granted I am a little bias because I am a huge fan of Stanley Tucci)

Dude You had to stay in there with the pee. Ewww

I always felt like something was missing in the dialogue, don’t ask me what. Just missing.

I would like Walter Marshall to.....(I’ll let you finish the sentence as long as you know it’s not PG. 😈😈)

Point is bottom line: Walter always looked like he needed a hug. A big one. A long One. One where he just rests his head on your chest and lets you smooth the curls back away from his head while his eyes are closed and his phone is off. A healing hug...

#henry cavill #walter marshall #nomis #night hunter

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rhodochrosite-love · 4 years

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WOW everyone who commented on my Wirt birthday post are amazing!

Here’s the au I’ve been working on where it started off as just a Ford Pines self insert, but turned into very interesting idea!

Stanley is kicked out and Ford goes to Backupsmore, while Penny stays in Jersey to help pay off her childhood home’s mortgage. All in the early 1970s.

Ford is awarded a doctorate 3 years ahead of schedule, and prepares to move to Gravity Falls, Oregon in 1973.

In the same instant, Ford gets a call from his parents and after he tells them he’s moving to the northwest, they inform him of Penny living with them. Shocked, Ford is conflicted. Should he go to his sweetheart? He couldn’t imagine what could’ve happened that made her stay in his parents home… After consulting with Fiddleford, he quickly travelled back to Jersey to confront Penny.

Penny explains that she couldn’t take care of the house like she thought she could, what with her book-keeping job as well as her secretary position AND the pressure from it all really weighing her down. She couldn’t help her home anymore so she turned to the only people she knew left in Glass Shard-- Filbrick and Caryn Pines. She had been pulling her weight with buying food, despite Caryn’s pleas to rest whenever she could and her job offers.

Ford listened and took her side. He said he was moving out West to Oregon and had wanted her to come with him. He missed her dearly and could clearly see she needed to get away-- Jersey is no place for a princess.

She accepts in a heartbeat at the thought of living out there, alone with her sweetheart amongst the wood.

1972-1979 Penny and Ford start a life of adventure in Gravity Falls up in their cabin in the woods, catalouging new anomalies every day! After such a hard time, Penny adores the relaxing atmosphere and spending time with her boyfriend after 3(ish) years.

C. 1976 Penny can’t help but begin to think about the future with Ford, and tries to decide whether or not they should marry. In her heart she knows she wants to, but in her mind she feels as though Ford wouldn’t be as on board for whatever reason. After speaking with Susan (Lazy Susan) and Lana (Wendy’s mom), her newfound friends, she decides she has to speak with Ford!

After being avoided most of the day by her beloved (due to him being very distracted by the mystery of the Hide-Behind, and eventually their unavoidable run-in with it. emotional scenes with Penny’s annoyed tone) At the end of the day, Ford admits over dinner that he was avoiding her for the whole day due to his nervousness. After being asked why, he tells her that… “I’ve been fascinated by anomalies my whole life-- the Hide-Behind, the Gnomes, the Eyebats, that UFO theory I’ve still got stuck in my head--” “Stanford, please.” “--Even I, as normal as I may seem, my six fingers made me who I am today! … But… “ Ford reaches in his coat’s pocket, and pulls something from it and places it on the dinner table. “You, Penelope Wright, have been the one thing that’s done both for me-- Fascinated me, baffled me, cherished me, twirled me ‘round and ‘round again ‘til I was dizzy with delight.” “Ford, what’re ya sayin’?” “Penny, dearest... “ He reveals the item, it being a ring with the sweetest red gem in its center shaped like a rounded heart. Penny sniffled, “The apple… Stanford, you’re such a prince!” Before he could utter those four simple words, Penny kissed him breathless. When she pulled away, he was flushed from his ears to his nose and asked her then, whispered against her lips. She said yes, and then many times that night.

C. 1977 Bill realizes his plan is being challenged by this engagment! He had never thought of Penny to be a true problem until now, what with the now foretold probability of the wedding and children as a distraction! Bill makes a deal with Lana to guide Ford to the cave in which Bill was scribed by the natives in exchange for a long life. Ford summons Bill and to no avail, nothing happens until Ford falls asleep.

It was then Ford dreams about Bill and begins to work with him to open his dimension to study the weirdness of Gravity Falls and beyond.

With the new development in the mysteries, the wedding is delayed and Ford and Penny become very busy in their new findings with Bill’s help.

C. 1978 Fiddleford McGucket is employed as the head engineer in building the Portal to the other dimension. Upon hearing the news of Stanford’s engagment, he hoorah’d and congradulated his old roommate.

C. 1978-1979 The portal has been built, as well as the bunker and the second level of the basement. Fiddleford begins to despise his creation and begs Ford not to follow through with his plans and instead publish his findings and settle down properly with Penny. Ford declines and they move to test the portal the next day, Jan 18th 1979.

Jan 19th 1979. Fiddleford gets sucked into the portal, but then gets rescued by Penny and quits the whole she-bang.

Jan 20th, 1979. Bill sees that he has to manipulate Penny, too. She’d been taking Fidds’ side, and since she’s very close with Ford, it’s necessary. He enters her dreams and states that if she make a deal with him, he can make him see reality again. To Penny’s knowledge, Ford’s been driven to madness with his paranoia and struggles to see the light. Bill says that he can fix everything. If he ensconced a baby in Penny’s womb, one that’s both her’s and Ford’s completely, he will see the light again. In return, she has to take a hike. She makes the deal, and he ultimately sends her away. Confused, she cries. But when Bill explains that he basically makes her pregnant with a baby of a man that ‘doesn’t love her anymore’, and literally told her to ‘take a hike’. Embarrassed and humiliated, she flees into town and stays there, leaving Bill to torment Ford to his isoceles heart’s delight.

Sometime in October, before the 22nd, 1979. Penny gives birth to little Walter in Sacred Hirsch Community Hospital. At this point in time, Ford has been thrown into the portal by accident and Stanley has taken his place, in the process of making money for the new Murder Hut.

1980. Penny interrogates this new so-called Mr. Mystery, thinking he’s Ford. She rips at him, accusing him of neglecting her and hurting her. A lot of anger comes out, as well as sadness and despair and raw misery when she says that he no longer cared about her, and she doubted he ever had in the first place. When Stan pulls her to the side and finally looks her in the face clearly (before he was frantically looking around the room, his hut full of customers), he recognizes her faintly as Penelope Wright, the girl Sixer was in kahoots with back in Jersey. He sees her and the now crying baby she’s holding and connects the dots, and is flabbergasted that he’s an uncle! Well, he was already an uncle but that was for Shermie! Penny argues that it was a mistake. Little Walter was the making of a demon named Bill Cipher, and she never should have trusted him. Stan then takes her down to the basement and shows her what he’s done.

1981. Penny gets a job as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner with a little help from Lazy Susan.

1982. Penny needs to start fresh. Despite the fact that she’s got a job and is living with Stanley with a 3 year old Wirt (despite being named Walter, his first word was an attempt at ‘squirt’, which was a nickname given to him by Stanley. Everyone simply calls him Wirt now), she misses all the adventure from when she had Ford. Realizing she’s missing Ford, that son of a bitch that fell into a hole so deep he couldn’t climb out, she needs to get away. She saves up money from her Greasy’s job and now the Mystery Shack (unofficially hired. Stan just says that she’s always rearranging and flipping stuff over and it happens to look nice so he gives her some funds. She’s tried to refuse the money before, but he intensly insisted that she take it.) and moves to Arizona. Teary goodbyes are made and she hugs Stan the tightest of all, telling him to keep in touch.

1983-1994. Walter “Wirt” Wright is living in Arizona with his mother, Penelope Wright.

C. 1985. Greg Universe visits town and performs a live gig and seduces Penny. After a couple of succesful dates, they end up having unprotected sex. Not long after, he leaves town for another gig in Delmarva, doing gigs along the way. She ends up falling pregnant and struggles to comprehend the consequences.

C. 1986. Gregory Wright is born.

C. 1994. Halloween night, Wirt and Greg experience an adventure in The Unknown.

1999. Mason and Mabel Pines are born from Randy Pines and Kathy Pines

(2003. Steven Universe is born from Gregory “Universe” DeMayo and Pink “Rose Quartz” Diamond. Everything that happens with Steven is seperate from Dipper, Mabel, Wirt, and Greg.)

Update - Summer 2012. Penny takes a vacation to Gravity Falls and visits the Mystery Shack. She marvels at Dipper and Mabel and exclaims their cuteness. Mabel likes her when she’s given a butterscotch, but Dipper can’t help but question her motives. She seems awfully close with Stan and gets along well with everyone! Is she hiding something?

All is well until Dipper catches Penny trying to steal Journal #3, and he fights with her over it in his bedroom. Penny falls down and cracks something, making her scream. Stan rushes upstairs and takes Penny away, giving Dipper a nasty stinkeye. He tries to argue that she was trying to take his Journal, and Stan reacts by taking it himself.

Stan and Penny argue in the basement, saying that Dipper should have the Journal back. Stan tries to argue that he shouldn’t, but gives in. After making photocopies, Penny gives it back to Dipper. At first Dipper is skeptical, but awes when she tears up in front of him about it.

“Wow… You really care about the author, don’t you?” “Yeah, we were close…” She sits down beside him, opening the Journal to the Gnomes. “I remember the first time we saw the gnomes together… They tried to take me as queen!” “No way! They took Mabel as queen two weeks ago!” DIpper interjected, to which Penny laughed. “That explains this, then!” She pointed her crooked finger to the words; “Weakness: LEAFBLOWERS!” They both laughed.

At the end of it all, Dipper trusted Penny infineitly more. He was also more curious, as she knew the author. She wouldn’t give him a straight answer, however. Just saying he reminded her of her own son, Walter.

Penny stays in Gravity Falls until the Twins’ Birthday is over and they’re heading off to California.

August 22-25 2012. Weirdmageddon takes place. Penny serves as a scavenger and is found by McGucket and taken back to the Mystery Shack to be protected. She joins in the fight to defeat Bill Cipher, and when everyone’s in the Fearamid, it’s the first time Penny’s seen Stanford in nearly 33 years. He begins by saying hello, and saying he missed her. Before he can say anything further, she hugs him tightly, saying that he can apologize later. He prepares to retort, but when seeing Fidds’ face in response, he quietly hushes and hugs her back.

August 28 2012. Ford apologizes for how he acted and what he had done to her, like he always should have. She tells him about their son Wirt and he’s shocked. She tells him the deal she made and how she moved out of the state. After that conversation he hugs her tight and says she never should have gone through that. If he were a better man back then, she wouldn’t have had to make a deal to have a baby.

The same day, Mabel secretly arranges a wedding for her Grunkle Ford and new ‘Grauntie Penny’. Stan is on the sidelines for the whole occassion, but finally takes his brothers side as the Best Man. Mabel is the flower girl and Dipper bares the rings, while Susan is her maid of honor. Stanford promises to protect and cherish her for as long as he lives. Penny promises to care for him and heal him when the times arise. They smooch after some crazy heartfelt vows, thus they are married.

October 15 2012. Penny and Ford celebrate Wirt’s 33rd birthday. Wirt still isn’t used to his dad but comes around when he sees just how quizzical he is. They’re so alike it’s crazy!

November 2012. Penny joins Stan and Ford on the Stan ‘O War II.

(just to keep track-- in 2020 Wirt is 41, Dip and Mabs are 21, Greg is 34, and Steven is 17)

Mans that’s what I have! I’d love to hear anything from y’all about this!

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chiseler · 4 years

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The Head -- It Just Won’t Stay Dead

In the early 1960s, the overwhelming majority of European horror films imported to the United States were either British or Italian, the British films being easily understood and the Italian ones frequently pretending to be of British origin. Examples of French horror were rare (odd for a country whose cinema was so rooted in the fantastique), reaching an early apex with Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face (1960), which came to the US in a well-done English dub called The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus during the Halloween season of 1962.

Seldom paid much attention in retrospectives of this fertile period in continental horror cinema is a rare German example, Die Nackte und der Satan (“The Naked and the Devil,” 1959), which came to the US retitled The Head almost exactly one year before the arrival of the Franju masterpiece. Critics like to refer to The Head as “odd” and “atmospheric,” words that seem to disregard deeper consideration, never really coming to terms with it as anything but a sleazy shock trifle. However, it was in fact the product of a remarkable and rarely equaled concentration of accomplished patrimonies.

Consider this: The Head starred the great Swiss actor Michel Simon, renowned for his roles in Jean Renoir’s La Chienne and Boudu Saved From Drowning; it was directed by the Russian-born Victor Trivas, returning to his adopted homeland for the first time since directing Niemandsland (1932, aka No Man’s Land or Hell On Earth), a potent anti-war statement that was all but obliterated off the face of the earth by the Nazis when he fled the country, and who furthermore had written the story upon which Orson Welles’ The Stranger (1946) was based; it was photographed by Georg Krause, whose numerous international credits include Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957); its sets were designed by Hermann Warm, the genius responsible for such German Expressionist masterpieces as Robert Weine’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919), Fritz Lang’s Destiny (1921), as well as Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) and Vampyr (1932), and its score is a wild patchwork of library tracks by Willy Mattes, the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, and a group of avant garde musicians known as Lasry-Baschet, who would subsequently lend their eerie, ethereal music to Jean Cocteau’s The Testament of Orpheus (1960). If all this were not enough, The Head was also filmed at the Munich studios of Arnold Richter, the co-founder of the Arri Group, innovators of the famous Arriflex cameras and lenses.

Though made after the 1957 horror breakthroughs made in Britain and Italy (Terence Fisher’s The Curse of Frankenstein, and I vampiri, co-directed by Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava), The Head represented a virtual revolutionary act in postwar Germany, where horror was then considered a genre to avoid. The project was proposed to Trivas by a young film producer named Wolfgang C. Hartwig, head of Munich’s Rapid-Film, whose claim to fame was initiating a niche of exploitation cinema known as Sittenfilme – literally “moral movies” – which, like many American exploitation films of the 1930s, maintained a higher, judgmental moral tone while telling the stories of people who slipped into lives of vice (prostitution, blackmail, drug addiction), their sordid experiences always leading them to a happy or at least bittersweet outcome. Though it goes quite a bit further than either Britain or Italy had yet gone in terms of sexualizing horror, The Head nevertheless checked all the boxes required for Sittenfilme and was undertaken by Hartwig in early 1959 as Rapid-Film’s most prestigious production to date.

After the main titles are spelled out over an undulating nocturnal fog, the story begins with a lurker’s shadow passing along outside the gated property of Prof. Dr. Abel. With its round head and wide-brimmed hat, it looks like the planet Saturn from the neck up. When this marauder pauses to pay some gentle attention to a passing tortoise, we get our first look at the film’s real star - Horst Frank, just thirty at the time, his clammy asexual aura topped off with prematurely graying hair and large triangular eyebrows that seem carried over from the days of German Expressionism. More bizarre still, he later gives his name as Dr. Ood, whose explanation is still more bizarre: at the age of three months old, he was orphaned, the sole survivor of a cataclysmic shipwreck .

“That was the name of the wrecked ship,” he explains. “S.S. Ood.”

The ambiguous Ood takes cover as another late night visitor comes calling: a hunchbacked woman wearing a nurse’s habit as outsized as an oxygen tent. This is Sister Irene Sanders (the screen debut of Karin Kernke, later seen in the Edgar Wallace krimi The Terrible People, 1960). Though Irene cuts a figure as ambiguous and unusual as any Franju ever filmed, she owes her greatest debt to Jane Adams’ hunchbacked Nina in Erle C. Kenton’s House of Dracula (1945). As with Nina, Irene lives in the hope that her deformity can be eradicated by the skill of a brilliant surgeon.

When Irene leaves after meeting with Dr. Abel, Ood presents himself with the written recommendation of a colleague he previously, supposedly, assisted. A burly old walrus of a man, Abel (Michel Simon) already has two younger associates, Dr. Walter Burke (Kurt Müller-Graf, “a first class surgeon”) and the handsome, muscular Burt Jaeger (Helmut Schmid), who hasn’t been quite the same since an unexplained brain operation. Both associates share a creative streak; Burke is also “an excellent architect, [who] designed this house,” while Jaeger “designed my special operating table; it allows me to work without assistants.” (So why does he have two of them? With names that sound the same, no less!) Given the high caliber of Hermann Warm’s talent as a production designer, Burke and Burt together are every bit as skilled in architecture as was Boris Karloff’s Hjalmar Poelzig in Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat (1934). The main floor of Abel’s sprawling house is dominated by a vast spiral stairwell, striking low-backed furniture, a mobile of dancing palette shapes, and an overpowering wall reproducing Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Virtuvian Man.” Down in the lab, Burt’s robotic surgical assistant looks as if it might have been conceived by the brain responsible for the Sadean mind control device in Jess Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965) - a film that, along with Franco’s earlier The Awful Dr. Orlof (1962), seems considerably more indebted to Trivas on renewed acquaintance than to Franju. The film was shot in black-and-white and at no point inside Abel’s abode do the silvery, ivory surfaces admit even the possibility of pigment.

Adding to its effect, the music heard whenever the film cuts back to Abel’s place is anything but homey. It consists of a single, sustained electric keyboard chord played in a nightmarish loop that seems to chill and vibrate, its predictable arc punctuated now and again with icy spikes of cornet. Though I don’t recall reading any extensive discussion of the film’s music, The Head represents what is surely the most important advance in electronic music in the wake of Louis & Bebe Barron’s work on Forbidden Planet (1956). Though the film’s music credits list bandleader Willy Mattes, Jacques Lasry and the Edwin Lehr Orchestra with its music, the most important musical credit is displaced. Further down the screen is the unexplained “Sound Structure, Lasry-Baschet.”

Lasry-Baschet was a musical combination of two partnerships – that of brothers Francois and Bernard Baschet, and the husband-and-wife team of Jacques and Yvonne Lasry. The two brothers were musicians who played astonishing instruments of their own invention, like the Crystal Baschet (played with moistened fingers on glass rods), the Aluminum Piano, the Inflatable Guitar, the Rotating Whistler, and the Polytonal Percussion. The Lasry couple, originally a pianist and organist, began performing with the Baschets on their unique devices in the mid 1950s. Some of the music they produced during this period is collected on the albums Sonata Exotique (credited to Structures for Sound, covering the years 1957-1959) and Structures For Sound (credited to the Baschet Brothers alone, 1963), a vinyl release by the Museum of Modern Art. These and other recorded works can be found on YouTube, as well; they are deeply moving ambient journeys but I cannot say with certainty that they include any of the music from The Head. That said, the music they do collect is very much in its macabre character and would have also fit very well into Last Year At Marienbad (1961) or any of Franju’s remarkable films.

When Ood meets with Abel and expresses his keen interest in experimental research, the good doctor mentions that he has had success copying “the recent Russian surgery” that succeeded in keeping the severed head of a dog alive – however, his moral code prevents him from taking such experimentation still further. After leaving Abel, Ood finds his way to the Tam-Tam Club, a nightspot where a life-sized placard promotes the nightly performances of “Tam-Tam Super Sex Star Lilly.” This visit initiates a parallel storyline involving Lilly (Christiane Maybach), who supplements her striptease work as an artist’s model, and is the particular muse of the brooding Paul Lerner (Dieter Eppler), a man of only artistic ambition, much to the annoyance of his father, a prominent judge who wants him to study law. Maybach reportedly won her role the day before she began filming. According to news reports of the day, the actress originally cast – the voluptuous redhead Kai Fischer – had signed on to play the part, after which producer Hartwig decided she must also appear nude. Fisher sued Hartwig for breach of contract in March 1959 and he was sentenced to pay out a compensatory fee of DM 4,000 – in currency today, the equivalent of about $35,000. As it happens, Christiane Maybach doesn’t appear nude in the film’s final cut either.

The English version of The Head opens with a credit sequence played out over a shot of the full moon taken from near the climax of the picture. Unusually, the German Die Nackte und der Satan doesn’t present its title onscreen until Lilly is ready to go on. It’s superimposed with inverted commas on pleated velvet curtains that suddenly rise, revealing a stage adorned by a single suit of armor. Lilly dances out, stage right, garbed in a medieval conical hat, scarves, a bikini and a black mask, performing her dance of the seven veils around the impervious man of metal. She only strips down to her bikini but her dance ends with her in the arms of the armor we assumed empty, which tightly embraces her as its visor pops open, revealing a man’s face wearing skull makeup. Lilly screams, the lights go out, and the house goes wild with applause – a veritable blueprint for the striptease of Estella Blain’s Miss Death in Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965).

The music heard during the film’s Tam-Tam Club sequences was recorded by the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, evidently with Jacques Lasry on piano, though its emphasis on brass is its outstanding characteristic. Erwin Lehn was a German jazz musician and composer who established the first German Big Band Orchestra for South German Radio. Brass was a major component of his sound – indeed, he made pop instrumental recordings credited to The Erwin Lehn Beat-Brass. You can find their album Beat Flames on YouTube, as well.

Backstage, the beautiful Lilly is a nagging brat, drinking and flirting with patrons while berating Paul’s lax ambitions on the side. Dieter Eppler, a frequent player in the Edgar Wallace krimis and also the lead bloodsucker in Roberto Mauri’s Italian Slaughter of the Vampires (1964), makes for inspired casting; he looks like a beefier, if less dynamic Kirk Douglas at a time when Vincente Minnelli’s Lust For Life (1956) would have still been in the minds of audiences.

Once Ood joins the payroll, Dr. Abel confesses that his heart is failing rapidly. The only means of saving himself and perpetuating his brilliant research is by doing the impossible – that is, transplanting the heart from a donor’s body into his own, which he insists is possible given his innovation of “Serum X.” What Abel could not foresee was that his own body would die during the procedure. Ood tells Burke that the only way to save Abel’s genius is to keep his head artificially alive, which his associate rejects uncatagorically, pushing Ood over the edge into murder. Then Ood proceeds with the operation, working solo with Jaeger’s robo-assistant passing along surgical tools as he needs them. When Abel revives, Ood breaks his news of the procedure gently by holding up a mirror and exclaiming that he’d had “one last chance – to perform the dog operation on your head!” Abel screams in revulsion of what he has become. The conciliatory Ood gently cautions him, “Too much emotion can be extremely dangerous now.”

The severed head apparatus is a simple yet ingenious effect, shot entirely in-camera and credited to Theo Nischwitz. It utilizes what is generally known as a Schufftan shot, a technique made famous by spfx shots achieved by Eugen Schufftan for Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1926). Essentially, Michel Simon was seated behind a pane of mirrored glass with all the apparatus seen from his neck up. The silvering on the reverse portion of the mirror was scraped away, allowing the camera to see through to Simon and the apparatus while reflecting the apparatus arrayed below his neck, in position for the camera to capture its reflection simultaneously. In at least one promotional photo issued for the film, Simon’s shoulders can be transparently glimpsed where they should not be.

Irene returns to meet with Dr. Abel and is surprised to find new employee Ood now alone and ruling the roost. When he offers to perform her operation himself, she instinctively distrusts and fears him – but is reassured after hearing Abel’s disembodied voice on the house’s sophisticated intercom.

After the killing and burial of Burke, whose body Bert Jaeger later finds thanks to the barking of Dr. Abel’s kenneled hounds (a detail that one imagines inspired Franju’s use of a kennel in Eyes Without a Face), the film introduces the dull but nevertheless compulsory police investigation, headed by Paul Dahlke as Police Commissioner Sturm. Sagging interest is buoyed by a surprise twist: when Dr. Ood returns to the Tam-Tam Club and asks the perpetually pissy Lilly to dance, he refers to her in passing as “Stella,” prompting her to recognize him as “Dr. Brandt” (the scorecard now reads Burke, Bert and Brandt), who has inside knowledge pertaining to her poisoning of her husband! Given that his earlier writing projects include Orson Welles’ The Stranger and the bizarre Mexican-made Buster Keaton item Boom In the Moon (also 1946), in which an innocent shipwrecked sailor is rescued from his castaway existence only to find himself confused with a serial killer, Victor Trivas would seem partial to characters who live double lives.

Though Ood/Brandt’s aura is basically asexual through the first half of the film, the second half requires him to take an earthier interest in the female bodies finding their way into his hands. He takes the already tipsy Lilly/Stella home for a drink and some mischief.

“What’s in the glass?”

“Drink it and find out.”

“I hope it’s not poisoned.”

“That’s not my specialty, is it?”

Lilly/Stella becomes the necessary auto parts for Irene’s pending operation. In a nicely done montage, the film dissolves from Lilly’s unconscious body to a glint of light off the edge of Ood’s poised scalpel. It cuts to a curt zoom into Abel’s scream at being forced to watch a procedure he abhors, then a dissolve from his mouth to the spinning dials of a wall clock, followed by some time-lapse photography of cumulous clouds unfurling from an open sky, before Irene awakens in her recovery room with a decorative choker around her throat. She is able to gain her feet and covers her nude body in a sheet. She finds Ood lounging in Abel’s old office. He walks toward her as the sheet tumbles off her bare shoulders.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Well, I… I’ve a strange kind of feeling, as if my whole body were changed, as if my body didn’t want to do what I wished.”

Therefore, Ood has not only taken away her deformity but her responsibility for her actions, as well. Though she has never smoked before, she craves a cigarette. As Ood lights one for her, her wrap falls further, undraping her entire bare back and thus exposing a birthmark on her left shoulder blade that becomes an important plot point. Ood confesses she’s been unconscious for 117 days, during which time he has passed the time by performing numerous enhancing procedures on her inert body. When he compliments her superb figure, she self-consciously covers her legs and recoils from him.

“Why run from everything you desire?” he asks. “You can’t run from yourself.”

He draws Irene into a surprising deep kiss, which – to her own apparent horror - she returns. Ood then tries to take things further but she refuses. After a brief (and surprisingly curtailed) attempt at abduction, he releases Irene, who dresses in a black cocktail dress and heels left behind by Lilly and returns to the humble apartment she kept in her previous life, where a full-length mirror stands covered. In a scene considerably shortened by the US version, she rips the cover away in a movement evocative of a symbolic self-rape, and glories in her new reflection. The score turns torrid, brassy, and trashy as she admires her shapely terrain, fondling the curves of her breasts and hips in a prelude to a gratifying personal striptease. She then goes to her bed, where she tries on an old pair of slippers; she laughs and kicks them away, delighted at how small her feet now are. When she wakes the next morning, she finds a pamphlet for the Tam-Tam Club in Lilly’s old purse, which leads her body back to its former place of employ. When she arrives, another striptease artist is working onstage with a bed. This performance appears to burlesque Irene’s own motions from the night before; she kicks off one of her shoes as Irene had done.

From the moment she walks into the club, still wearing Lilly’s clinging black dress, Irene evokes a black widow, a kind of Alraune – the femme fatale of Hanns Heinz Ewers’ novel, filmed in 1930 with Brigitte Helm and in 1952 by Hildegarde Knef. Like Alraune, she’s the beautiful creation of a mad scientist’s laboratory, but unnatural. In this case, she’s not really a soulless artificial being out to destroy men; on the contrary, she is soulful, starving for some insight into who she is, what she is. In this way, she particularly foreshadows Christina, the schizophrenic subject of Baron Frankenstein’s “soul transplant” played by Susan Denberg in Terence Fisher’s Frankenstein Created Woman (1966).

She quickly attracts Paul’s artist’s eye, just as the now-topless dancer onstage swirls into a swoon on a prop bed – unconsciously mimicking Lilly at the only time she ever saw her, when Ood gave her a sneak peek at the unconscious woman on his living room couch. She asks about Lilly, whom Paul mentions has been dead now for three months, her body (in fact, Irene’s former body) found maimed beyond recognition on some railroad tracks. He asks her to dance, but Irene refuses, as she has never danced, never been asked to dance before. But he insists and they both discover that she can: “You must be a born dancer!”

Beautiful and irresponsible, she allows herself to follow Paul back to his studio, where drawings of Lilly are displayed. Paul asks to draw her, and when she turns her back to bare her shoulders, he recognizes Lilly’s beauty mark. She flees from the apartment and confronts the unflappable Ood.

“You must have grafted her skin on my body!”

In the movie’s most hilarious line, he fires back, “You have a poor imagination!”

She rejects his true account of the procedure and demands to see Dr. Abel, so Ood takes her down to the lab for a personal confirmation from the man himself. Ashamed to be seen this way, Abel pleads with Irene to disconnect him from the apparatus. She is driven away before she can accomplish this, and tries to shut away the horror of the truth that’s been revealed by losing herself in her new relationship with Paul – but the old question arises: Does he love her for her body or her mind? There seems to be one answer when he first kisses her, and another and his lips venture further down her front.

I should leave some things to be discovered by your own viewing of the film, but it demands to be mentioned that Irene – the triumphant climax of Ood’s genius, so to speak – actually survives at the end of the film to live happily ever after. Think about this. This is something that would have been considered unacceptable in any of Hammer’s Frankenstein films at the time – indeed, through the following decade. So, although Ood is ultimately destroyed (you’ll need to see it to find out how), the mad science he propounds is actually borne out. It’s left up to Paul and Irene, as they walk off together toward a new tomorrow, how they will manage to live with the fact that the two of them are in fact a ménage à trois. Will they keep the details of her existence a secret? Will medical science remain ignorant? Should they ever have any, what will they tell their kids?

The Head was hardly the first word on severed heads in horror entertainment. In his own admiring coverage of the film, Euro Gothic author Jonathan Rigby likens the film to the story of Rene Berton’s 1928 Grand Guignol play L’Homme qui à tue la mort (“The Man Who Killed Death”): “There, Professor Fargus revived the guillotined head of a supposed murderer and the prosecutor lost his mind when the head continued to plead his innocence.” Earlier such films would include Universal’s Inner Sanctum thriller Strange Confession (1945, in which a never-seen severed head is a main plot point), The Man Without a Body (1957) and The Thing That Couldn’t Die (1958), the latter two proving that the concept was actually trending at the time The Head was made. Also parenthetically relevant would be She Demons (1958), which involves the nasty experiments of a renegade Nazi scientist living on an uncharted tropical island, who removes the “beauty glands” of native girls to periodically restore his wife’s good looks. Though The Head wasn’t the first of its kind, many of the traits it introduced would surface in similar films that followed – not only in Franju’s Eyes Without A Face or Franco’s The Awful Dr. Orlof and The Diabolical Dr. Z, but also in Anton Giulio Majano’s Italian Atom Age Vampire (1960), Chano Urueta’s The Living Head (1963), and most conspicuously in Joseph Green’s The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, not released until 1962 though filmed in 1959, some six months after The Head.

It must be mentioned that the film’s unusual quality did not go unrecognized by its American distributor. Trans-Lux Distributing Corporation advertised the film that took a most unusual approach to selling a horror picture. The ads did not promise blood, or that your companion would jump into your lap, or shock after shock after shock. Instead, Trans-Lux promised that “At The Head of All Masterpieces of Horror [my italics] That You’ve Ever Seen… You Must Place… The Head.”

Of course it was an overstatement, but the size of its overstatement would seem to have narrowed appreciably with time.

So why has The Head, with its rich pooling of so much European talent, been so neglected?

A key reason may be that horror fans like their actors and directors to maintain a certain consistency, a certain fidelity to the genre. Horst Frank (who died in 1999) would appear in other horror films, but never again played a lead; he pursued his career as a character actor and singer, maintaining a career on the stage and keeping close to home, never making films off the continent or appearing in productions originating from England or America. After The Head, Victor Trivas made no more horror films. The other four features he made had been produced a quarter century earlier and the majority are impossible to see in English countries. Those who remembered him for Niemandsland would have considered The Head an embarrassment, an unfortunate last act. It wasn’t quite a last act, however. The following year, he returned to America, where he sold his final script to the Warner Bros. television series The Roaring 20s, starring Dorothy Provine. Though the show avoided fantasy subjects, it was a voodoo-themed episode entitled “The Fifth Pin,” directed by Robert Spaar and televised during the series’ first season on April 8, 1961. The guest stars included John Dehner, Rex Reason, Patricia O’Neal and, surprisingly, beloved Roger Corman repertory player Dick Miller. Trivas died in New York City in 1970, at the age of 73.

The English version of The Head is considered to be a public domain title and has been available from Alpha Video, Sinister Cinema and other PD sources. This version was modestly recut to create a new main title sequence and to remove certain erotic elements unwelcome to its target audience in 1961. Happily, a hybrid edition – which, in a fitting fate, grafts the English dub onto the original uncut version from Germany – was recently made available for viewing on YouTube.

In the immediate wake of The Head, producer Wolf C. Hartwig pushed another erotic horror film into production, Ein Töter hing in Netz (“A Corpse Hangs in the Web,” 1960). Scripted and directed by Fritz Böttger, the film (Böttger’s last as a director) was first released in America as It’s Hot In Paradise (1962), sold as a girlie picture with absolutely no indication of its horror content. It was later reissued in 1965 as Horrors of Spider Island (1965). Under any of its titles, the film is notably lacking all of the artistic and aesthetic pedigree that made its predecessor so special and, indeed, influential.

Sixty years further on, The Head warrants fuller recognition as a spearhead of that magic moment on the threshold of the 1960s when so-called “art cinema” began to be fused with so-called “trash cinema,” leading to a broader, wilder, more adult fantastique.

by Tim Lucas

[1] Victor Trivas’ Niemandsland may be viewed online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-4XhNMWoyw

[2] Rapid-Film’s later successes would include the German film that was subsequently converted into Francis Ford Coppola’s directorial debut (The Bellboy and the Playgirls, 1962), Ernst Hofbauer’s Schoolgirl Report film series (1970-80), and Sam Peckinpah’s Cross of Iron (1977).

[3] You can see Lasry-Baschet perform and be interviewed in a French newsreel from January 1961 on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awaFd6gArLg&t=46s.

[4] Well, as “recent” as 1940, when footage of a supposedly successful Soviet resuscitation of a dog’s severed head was included in the grisly 20m documentary Experiments In the Revival of Organisms. The operation was performed (and repeated) by Doctors Sergei Brukhonenko and Boris Levinskovsky, making use of their “autojektor,” an artificial heart/lung machine not unlike the contraption seen in The Head. A close look at Experiments reveals that it really shows nothing that could not have been faked through means of special effects. (When George Bernard Shaw learned of the Soviet experiment, he’s said to have remarked, “"I am tempted to have my own head cut off so that I can continue to dictate plays and books without being bothered by illness, without having to dress and undress, without having to eat, without having anything else to do other than to produce masterpieces of dramatic art and literature.") Experiments In The Revival of Organisms has been uploaded to YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap1co5ZZHYE.

[5] Rigby, Jonathan. Euro Horror: Classics of Continental Horror Cinema (London: Signum Books, 2017), p. 79.

[6] Joseph Green also worked in motion picture distribution and later formed Joseph Green Pictures, which specialized in spicy imported pictures, some from Germany. It’s possible that he saw the Trivas picture when it was still seeking distribution in the States. When Ostalgica Film released The Head on DVD in Germany under its Belgian reissue title Des Satans nackte Sklavin (“The Devil’s Naked Slave”), the disc included The Brain That Wouldn’t Die as a bonus co-feature.

[7] A fine quality homemade experiment, it runs 91 minutes 47 seconds and can be found at: The Head (Die Nackte und der Satan) 1959 Sci-Fi / Horror HQ version!.

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screenandcinema · 3 years

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Coming Attractions September 2021

As usual, we present monthly previews of new movies being released. These are the movies that will be hitting your local cinemas (and streaming services) this month:

September 3rd

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings - The second of Marvel Studios’ four films in five months 2021 sprint is Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. The film marks Marvel’s first solo origin of a new character since 2018′s Captain Marvel and their first without an established co-character since 2016′s Doctor Strange. Not to mention, while the character has been around since 1973, he is probably the least known character to date to land his own film. Though Shang-Chi represents more than that, it is the first Marvel film from an Asian director and predominantly Asian cast. Not to mention the longest MCU title to date. If the trend follows that only one or maybe two movies a month during the pandemic are box office draws, you can guarantee that Shang-Chi will be September’s.

Cinderella - Camila Cabello stars as the titular future Disney princess in this Amazon Prime musical from Kay Cannon (the writer of the Pitch Perfect films). Rounding out the case include Idina Menzel as Cinderella’s evil stepmother, Minnie Driver and Pierce Brosnan as the land’s queen and king, and Billy Porter as Cinderella’s fairy godparent.

Worth - If you are looking to stay in during Labor Day weekend, check out Worth on Netflix starring Michael Keaton, Stanley Tucci, and Amy Ryan. The film revolves around the story of Kenneth Feinberg, the attorney tasked with running the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund and calculating what each life lost that day was worth. The story is due to be depressing, but an important watch nonetheless.

September 10th

Malignant - Coming to theaters and HBO Max is a new horror film from director James Wan. This film looks bonkers and terrifying. Watch it with the lights on.

The Card Counter - Paul Schrader writes and directs this crime drama about a gambler hunted by his military past. Oscar Isaac, Tiffany Haddish, Tye Sheridan, and Willem Dafoe star.

Kate - Mary Elizabeth Winstead stars as an assassin with only 24 hours left to live who is on the hunt for her would-be killers in this new Netflix film.

Queenpins - The release strategy for Kristen Bell and Kirby Howell-Baptiste’s new comedy caper co-starring Paul Walter Hauser and Vince Vaughn is a unique one. The film will be released exclusively in Cinemark Theaters on September 10th, then will be available to subscribers on Paramount+ on September 30th. Funny enough, it isn’t even a Paramount Studios film, Paramount+ just offered the most, apparently north of $20M, which isn’t too shabby for a film with a $7M budget. Which doesn’t include whatever Cinemark is shelling out for the exclusivity (unless they are the only one who wants it with the short theatrical window). Queenpins is a rare film that is profitable before it even opens.

Come from Away - AppleTV+ bought the rights to stream a recording from May 2021 of the Broadway musical Come from Away. The musical, set a week after the September 11th attacks, tells the true story of stranded plane passengers diverted to the small town of Gander in Newfoundland and Labrador. For years I have wanted to see Come from Away and I am looking forward to watching it finally very soon.

September 17th

Cry Macho - At 91 years old, director and actor Clint Eastwood is at it again with his adaptation of a novel of the same name that will be hitting both theaters and HBO Max this month. That’s all I got.

The Eyes of Tammy Faye - Jessica Chastian is Tammy Fake Bakker in this biographical drama about the life of the controversial televangelist and her husband Jim Bakker (played by Andrew Garfield).

Prisoners of the Ghostland - Nicolas Cage turns everything up to 11 in this neo-noir western action film from Japanese filmmaker Sion Sono. Early reviews had been fairly positive for the film that looks absolutely batshit crazy.

Copshop - Joe Carnahan directs Gerard Butler and Frank Grillo in this action thriller about a hitman, a con artist, and a small-town police officer.

September 24th

Dear Evan Hansen - Ben Platt returns to his Tony-award-winning role (and high school) in the film adaptation of the 2015 acclaimed Broadway musical of the same name. Kaitlyn Dever, Amanda Stenberg, Julianna Moore, and Amy Adams co-star.

Now for a quick look ahead to October, my top picks for next month are Dune, Last Night in Soho, The French Dispatch, and No Time to Die.

-MB-

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Best Movies Coming to Netflix in August 2021

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As quickly as the summer movie season of 2021 seemed to come upon us, it’s already about to begin its long, languid slide through the dog days of August into fall. That’s not to say that theaters won’t still have plenty of interesting fare to encounter, with films like The Suicide Squad, Free Guy, Respect, Candyman and The Night House all on deck. Hopefully the other hideous sequel happening at the moment — Pandemic 2: The Delta Variant — won’t set any of these potential hits back.

In the spirit of keeping August entertaining, Netflix is rolling out a slew of new streaming additions as well, including an underrated Spielberg gem, fantastic teen comedies both old and new, a couple of stoner classics and perhaps the finest film from the canon of one of the modern era’s most revered directors. We’ve rounded up our recommendations below, and hope you stay cool and healthy whatever you’re watching!

Universal

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Beethoven (1992)

August 1

Hollywood in the 1990s was a glorious and furry era when studio executives never met a family movie that couldn’t be improved with the addition of at least one animal character. Beethoven is one of the most successful examples of this winning formula. Directed by Brian Levant from a script co-written by John Hughes himself (alongside Mystic Pizza co-writer Amy Holden Jones), Beethoven is basically the story of how a husband and father, Charles Grodin’s George Newton, feels threatened by the attention his family gives their new dog, a St. Bernard named Beethoven.

George eventually works through some of his issues and accepts the charming Beethoven into the family, a process that comes to a head when Beethoven is dog-napped into an animal experiment scheme run by evil veterinarian Dr. Herman Varnick. (Honestly, the plot isn’t dissimilar to the story in cinematic masterpiece Paddington.) The deep supporting cast includes Bonnie Hunt, David Duchovny, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Oliver Platt, Stanley Tucci, and Everybody Loves Raymond‘s Patricia Heaton. The film’s sequel, Beethoven Second, will also be available on Netflix starting on August 1st.

Dreamworks

Catch Me If You Can (2002)

August 1

As one of Steven Spielberg’s most charming and laid-back efforts, Catch Me If You Can is a breezy and star-studded entertainment. The story is loosely based on the real grifts of conman Frank Abagnale Jr., who beginning as a teenager was able to pass himself off as a pilot, lawyer, doctor, and many other things. But really, this is a cat-and-mouse chase movie between a still baby-faced Leonardo DiCaprio as Abagnale and Tom Hanks as the FBI stiff who hunted him down. It’s all good stuff, with the movie enjoying a light touch and fresh take on Spielberg’s favorite subject matter: fathers and sons.

Warner Bros. Pictures

Deep Blue Sea (1999)

August 1

A shockingly entertaining B-movie about a bunch of genetically engineered super-sharks which break out and take over a testing facility, this is horror silliness at its best with great turns from Samuel L Jackson, Thomas Jane, Saffron Burrows and LL Cool J. Partially shot on sets built around the same water tanks used for Titanic, with animatronic and CGI sharks, Deep Blue Sea is action-packed, schlocky fun from director Renny Harlin (Cliffhanger).

STX Entertainment

The Edge of Seventeen (2016)

August 1

A bit like Lady Bird before there was a Lady Bird, Kelly Fremon Craig’s Edge of Seventeen is an underrated gem that stars a teenage Hailee Steinfeld as a young woman stumbling through an especially awkward time in her life. Steinfeld is terrific in her best performance since True Grit, playing Nadine as a bundle of insecurities, yet still nobody’s victim. Also of special value is Craig’s hilarious and authentic script, which captures the specificity of growing up in the social media age while being near-universal in its accessibility and empathy for a wide ensemble which also includes Kyra Sedgwick, Haley Lu Richardson, and Woody Harrelson.

Paramount

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

August 1

Just in time for the dog days of summer comes one of the best summer movies ever. Relying on charm and sharp characterization instead of special effects for its spectacle, John Hughes’ Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is a truly great teen comedy that follows the easygoing bon vivant (or secret sociopath?) of a high school’s senior class when he decides to take the day off in the best fashion: by faking he’s sick and then guilting his BFF into giving him the keys to his dad’s Ferrari.

Should Netflix’s Pokémon Live-Action Series Explore the Franchise’s Dark Side?

By Matthew Byrd

Never Have I Ever Season 2 Review: This Netflix Teen Comedy Deserves to Run and Run

By Louisa Mellor

It’s silly yet curiously honest stuff about the pressures of young adult life, at least in 1980s suburban America, and a beguiling showcase for an ensemble that includes Matthew Broderick in his coolest role, as well as Alan Ruck, Mia Sara, Jennifer Grey, and a seriously stoned Charlie Sheen. If you haven’t seen it yet, you’re due.

Warner Bros. Pictures

Inception (2010)

August 1 Still Christopher Nolan’s most complete and satisfying film to date (yes, even more so than The Dark Knight), Inception is a cerebral sci-fi set of stacking dolls combined with a rollicking James Bond adventure that all happens to be mostly situated inside one guy’s head. Leonardo DiCaprio leads a team of professional thieves who steal things from people’s minds — only this time they’re hired to implant an idea, even if they have to dive deep into the mark’s subconscious to do it.

Mind-bending imagery and several jaw-dropping action sequences are wrapped around a surprisingly emotional core, with only the usual unwieldy exposition there to remind you that there are some things Nolan may never get right.

Lionsgate

The Lincoln Lawyer (2011)

August 1 Based on a novel by crime writer Michael Connelly, this gripping, suspenseful 2011 drama arguably kicked off “the McConaissance,” a shift from rom-coms to more serious roles by Matthew McConaughey that launched a new, largely acclaimed phase of his career.

McConaughey is formidable as attorney Mickey Haller, a slick lawyer who works out of his Lincoln Town Car and undergoes a crisis of conscience as his new case starts to feel disturbingly like an old one. In addition to McConaughey stepping up his game, this Brad Furman-directed thriller is the kind of character-driven, literate melodrama we don’t see much on the big screen anymore — although we see plenty of them these days on, of course, Netflix.

Paramount Classics

The Machinist (2004)

August 1 Director Brad Anderson followed up his cult classic 2001 horror effort Session 9 with this surreal, Kafka-esque psychological thriller. Christian Bale plays Trevor Reznik, whose inability to sleep leads him to cause an accident at his industrial job that costs a co-worker (Michael Ironside) his arm. Already physically and mentally deteriorating, Reznik begins an even deeper descent as he tries to unravel what’s happening to him and why. Bale is intense and viscerally shocking as the emaciated Reznik, with his riveting performance anchoring an atmospheric, visually striking film that is sometimes an exercise in style over substance.

New Line Cinema

Magnolia (1999)

August 1

Boogie Nights pushed director Paul Thomas Anderson into the spotlight, but it was his massive, sprawling jigsaw puzzle Magnolia that made him into a superstar filmmaker. Following multiple narratives and numerous characters all finally brought together by a climactic storm of frogs, this is high art packed with standout moments.

Movies

Top Gun: Maverick Footage Shows Tom Cruise in Real Jet Behind the Scenes

By David Crow

Movies

Best Modern Horror Movies

By Don Kaye

Tom Cruise is electric as a toxic motivation speaker, Julianne Moore is brittle and tragic as a trophy wife who has grown to love her dying husband, while the burgeoning relationship between Melora Walters’ addict and John C. Reilly’s cop added sweetness and hope to a tale of messed up people and damaged families. Epic.

Sony PIctures

Pineapple Express (2008)

August 1 After its trailer introduced everyone to M.I.A.’s amazing “Paper Planes,” Pineapple Express’s work was already done. It didn’t even have to produce a satisfyingly funny movie on top of that. Thankfully the filmmaking team of Seth Rogen, Evan Goldberg, and David Gordon Green decided to give us one anyway, because Pineapple Express is the ideal of the little-seen-or-attempted stoner action comedy.

Rogen stars as process server and marijuana enthusiast Dale Denton, while James Franco portrays his annoying drug dealer Saul Silver. When the pair witness a murder, they are forced to flee hitmen, a pair of corrupt cops, and worst of all, Danny McBride. The Rogen/Goldberg comedy catalog has very few misses and this one is particularly excellent.

Universal Pictures

Seabiscuit (2003)

August 1

No one would ever accuse Gary Ross’ Seabiscuit of being subtle. With its voice-of-god narration by Ken Burns fave David McCoullough, which helpfully spells out the themes of the movie every few scenes, and its achingly sentimental score and dialogue, Seabiscuit is a Cinderella story which all but asserts its titular race horse ended the Great Depression. Yet Ross captures some of the simple American grandeur of Laura Hillenbrand’s non-fiction source material book, as well as the beauty of this true story where a horse that everyone counted out as worthless was nursed by three men into becoming one of the greatest racing animals of all-time.

It’s the type of feel-good yarn that won people over in the 1930s and which is still winning now. When coupled with a handful of strong performances, including from Jeff Bridges, Chris Cooper, Tobey Maguire, and a seriously underrated Elizabeth Banks, you have a crowd-pleaser that actually pleases.

Paramount Pictures

Team America: World Police (2004)

August 1 Roger Ebert’s one-star review of Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s Team America: World Police sums up the film’s nonsensical political stance nicely. “I wasn’t offended by the movie’s content so much as by its nihilism,” the great film critic wrote.

Rog was right to criticize Team America’s incomprehensible worldview. Nearly 20 years later, its seeming position that Alec Baldwin and Kim Jong-Il are equally bad hasn’t aged that well (despite Mr. Baldwin’s best efforts). But it’s hard to argue that the South Park creators’ nihilism doesn’t lead to some great comedy. The novelty of Thunderbirds-style puppets saving the world amid graphic sex acts and voluminous barfing never quite wears off.

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benningtonalumnirelations · 5 years

Text

Knowing Kay

Mary Lou Peters Schram ‘56 reflects on Kay Crawford Murray ‘56,their 50-year friendship, and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s & 60s.

I met Kay Crawford (later Murray) in the women’s restroom of the train station in Albany, New York. It was September of 1953. We were the only two people in the restroom. Curious, we faced each other over the sinks.

Kay said: “You look like you might be going to Bennington College.”

I was immediately grateful for that sentence because I was going there for the first time. I had never been East of Ohio till then and I had no idea what this famous college was going to be like. I was also grateful that she used the words ‘look like’. She was dressed like a proper middle class young lady in a cotton print dress and a white wool jacket. I had been buying MLLE. Magazine for a number of years and was dressed for New York City in a dark long-sleeved dress, a black hat and gloves. I dumped the hat and gloves into my suitcase before I said any more.

In more normal situations we might not have spoken at all since she was African-American. There had been no African-Americans in my high school or my neighborhood in Canton. However, it happened that my father, raised as a Quaker, was the one person I knew who talked about African-Americans as if they were like everybody else.

I said: “Do you know the College? Tell me about it.”

Not only did she know it but Kay was also on her way there for her sophomore year. We went outside to find the bus to Vermont and talked during the long drive to Bennington. I explained that I had spent my freshman year at Ohio University and had not liked it at all. All my dreams about college as a place where people talked about books and ideas had been shot down. What I had found instead were concerns much like those in high school. Dating was a primary pre-occupation. The girls mostly refused to talk in class because the boys might think they were too brainy to date. Sororities were a big concern, also Popularity. Even though I had been invited to submit some articles for a campus newspaper and did, there had been nothing at Ohio U to satisfy my ideas of what college should be.

Kay explained that Bennington was nothing like that; to start with it was all girls so there was little concern with dating, at least during the week. Most students were concentrated on their majors. Some students even stayed up all night to finish assignments. Dancers, painters and actors wore their professional attire every day. I thought it all sounded wonderful.

After we had thoroughly hashed this subject, we arrived at the college itself, and found that we were both going to be in McCullough House. When I was checked in and shown my room, I was introduced to my assigned roommate – a tall, commanding product of a prep school who queried me immediately on my background. It turned out that one of the important words she was looking for was “Harvard” where her father had gone but my father had not. After finding me deficient in this division, she set out for another suite where she expected to find someone more to her liking.

Released by this roommate, I walked down the hall and found Kay in her room only about twenty feet from mine. She was in tears, something I was to see often through that first semester. She was the only African-American Bennington had yet admitted and she was lonely on campus in spite of efforts by the Administration to make her more comfortable.

It was not so unlikely that we would be friends – both coming from big-city steel towns (Cleveland and Pittsburgh) to the very different New England, from middle-class families with a strong Protestant bent, scholarship students expecting to work part time on campus, and anxious to prove our families had been right in sending us to a highly regarded school. I could to relate to her unhappiness, remembering how unhappy I had been at Ohio U.

After that first day, we saw each other daily although we were seldom in the same classes. I was intent on a Language and Literature major and a career as a writer. Kay had committed to Psychology. When our first Non-Resident Term ( later FWT or Field Work Term) came, we both spent this ten weeks in Manhattan but different parts of the City and seldom saw each other. I worked at the impressive J. Walter Thompson Advertising Agency, where my secretarial skills didn’t rate at top level.

During that first semester, I had found some things about the college that I hadn’t expected. One was that there really was something worthwhile about prep schools. Although Lehman High School had been considered the best school in Canton, and my English teacher the best available, my training had not been exceptional. The prep school grads had had more in Language and Literature than I had, and I found my writing training was only average.

When I attended a meeting for writers one evening, a story of mine was read aloud, and it was put down rather thoroughly. I wore a red blazer and grey pedal-pushers and was established as hopelessly Midwestern, naive and untalented. Shortly after that, there developed a contingent which I named the Greenwich Village Circle, who were scornful of me and determined to keep me out of any writers’ groups; this included writing for SILO, the literary magazine. This lasted through my three years in Vermont. Luckily, Stanley Edgar Hyman, who became my mentor, didn’t share this attitude, and gave me valuable help, even forwarding one of my stories to The New Yorker where he was a staff writer.

At the end of the summer before our Junior year, I spent a weekend in Cleveland with Kay and her mother. It was at this point we learned that neither of our mothers were interested in promoting our friendship, so we gave up trying to convince them and went on with it anyway.

Junior Year

Several things changed in our Junior year. For one thing, both Kay and I had learned to play bridge. This started us on a campaign to teach all the other students in McCullough to play so we would have our choice of partners. Many days we came back from dinner and waited downstairs in the card room to catch all the house members as they returned. In this way, we managed to convert and teach a large group of players so we always had a game when we wanted one.

For our junior year FWT or Field Work Term, we decided to try working in Boston, and Nina Gelles who also lived in McCullough agreed to go with us. The FWT Office worked trying to find jobs for all of us. Kay got a job at Tufts, and Nina at Brandeis. I was supposed to get a job at an insurance company but they turned me down; somehow I had flunked the Personality test. I blamed this on something that had happened to me since arriving at Bennington. I had always been very respectful of authority, but Bennington had instilled me with the idea that my own evaluations might be worth considering and so I started to argue with almost everything. (Perhaps this was happening to many young women my age right then.)

The three of us found a one-bedroom apartment in Back Bay. We tossed for beds. Kay and I got the double bed, Nina got the couch. It was a bitter cold winter in Boston; Nina arrived with her fur coat (what animal this was I can’t remember) which she wore every day to work and slept under at night. We had a struggle with shopping and cooking our meals but were successful enough to keep hunger at bay.

The great thing about Boston was that it was full of other college students; we met many and therefore had many party invitations. In order to get work for these three months in Boston, my last job option had been be as a nurse’s aide at Mount Auburn Hospital in Cambridge. This was more education than I really wanted. They sent me to an all private room (thirty of them) floor which had only one (or on good days two) nurses assigned there because private-duty nurses handled a lot of the overflow. For thirty dollars a week, I was the only nurse’s aide they had had in two years. I came close to ruining my arches by wearing sneakers on the tile floors and running all day – sterilizing equipment, serving breakfasts, staying with patients just out of surgery, emergency trips to the Pharmacy, stealing clean sheets from other floors because they stole ours, and generally trying to make this impossible situation work during the hours I was there.

When it came time to leave Boston, we called for a taxi to take us to the train station. The taxi driver who turned up told us that three students with many suitcases, books and the cooking equipment we had acquired over the winter required a “moving” rate which would cost us more to get to the station than the train trip to Vermont.

While we tried to solve this, the driver (straight from Dublin) called a friend of his who was not working that day and arrived in his own much larger car with trunk. The two of them asked how much money we had and decided that, if they went private, with the two cars they could drive us to Bennington. Having little choice, we agreed. It turned out to be great fun though it cost me all of my last week’s paycheck.

In the second half of our junior year, both Kay and I got involved with student government. She was on the Council, my part came when I was elected House Chairman of McCullough. The first memorable event of that spring was that the other students who had worked on the campus newspaper had not returned. I was the only member of the staff who came back to campus and therefore was the person who received 1) the key to a darkroom in the barn (which had somehow been acquired by the Bennington BiWeekly) and 2) the very large (six or seven hundred dollars) invoice which the BiWeekly had run up at the Hoosick Falls printer over previous semesters.

The Bugler

I was already a newspaper junky, from my two years as a Feature Editor in high school. No way was I going to refuse this opportunity, even though I had no equipment except my portable Royal typewriter. Also my middle-class anxiety was raised by the unpaid bill. I engaged two other products of high school journalism - a writer and a saleswoman. When I found an old copy of the BiWeekly which gave me information about inches and columns, I called Hoosick Falls and made a date with the printer.

I also had to borrow a car since I didn’t own one. Hoosick Falls turned out to be almost an hour away. The car I borrowed from another student was a 1937 Plymouth.

The BiWeekly, now renamed The Bugler, was more fun than I had had in months. After a helpful tutorial from the print shop manager, I wrote up our stories, did the layout, and presented this to the hot-type typesetter. With the printer’s help, I wrote headlines, pulling antique typeface from old drawers, letter by letter with tweezers, and ran off proofs for corrections. It took all day but by five o’clock I had two hundred copies of a four ((or in later issues, six) page newspaper. It was dinnertime when I got back to the campus. I skipped dinner ands set up a table in Commons and sold the papers for a quarter each. If no one seemed thrilled with my writing, the student body was pleased at the paper’s re-birth.

I put out five editions that spring, replete with fat ads from town merchants. After the fifth edition, I got word from the Administration to come in and talk to them. They were impressed by the Bugler, particularly the time it must have cost me to get it out, but they had decided I had to kill it, here and now, if I wanted to graduate the following year.

I didn’t argue with this. As much as I loved doing it, I knew The Bugler had cost me a great deal of time that hadn’t gone into my classes.

The college listed me on their roster as Editor of the Student Paper. Once that credit, appeared,, I began to receive each week a highly professional newspaper full of violence and fear “ The Southern School News. “

“ Brown vs. Board of Education” had gone to the U.S. Supreme Court the previous year and the decision was causing a many-year sensation. All the states now had to educate their African-American children equally as well as their white children. From shore to shore, the schools for African Americans were dilapidated, even dangerous, under-staffed with mostly poorly-trained teachers. It would all have to be changed. The Federal government was going to enforce this new law.

. Of course, the reverberations from the one-time Confederacy were titanic. This group of top editors, writers, and newspaper owners from the South had gotten together and agreed to create the SSN by setting out to record all the conflicts, riots, meetings and statements from politicians on how these States were carrying out this new law, or evading it. In doing this, they wrote up stories that often didn’t make it into their own newspapers, covering them honestly and clearly - the battles and the enforcement of the new directive.

Along the way, the SSN decided to send this incendiary publication to the college newspaper editors of - I don’t know how much of - the country. Since I got one, I have to think it went to the Ivy League, and maybe all the Northeastern colleges. What an opportunity they grabbed to change the point of view of the coming generation!

I got the SSN and read it, in quiet sunlit Vermont while my hair stood on end. I didn’t even tell Kay because I thought she would be frightened. I read it thoroughly every week. This was on top of her long talks to me on what it was like to lead an African American life in the U.S. I didn’t know it but I was becoming deeply committed to taking part. I devoured every issue as it came. I had enough background to acknowledge the reality of the South. I had gone to Kentucky every summer and seen the truth of how black people lived as a group apart, consistently maligned and suspected. I had seen the Black Drinking Fountains and Black Waiting Rooms in the tiny train stations of Kentucky, and heard my own aunts and uncles vibrate to while not expressing their fears. I had also heard the Northern side from Kay’s experiences in Pittsburg and Cleveland, and from the Quaker side of my family. I fully agreed with the necessity of the coming change. What I didn’t know at the time was how I was internalizing this conflict so that it would bring me into this struggle.

Two years later, I met a dedicated Socialist who was friends with several men who had started riding the Greyhound buses into the South to integrate it. When Les Rosenthal and I began discussing the Civil Rights struggle, we looked at each other and resolved to join it.

Senior Year

Much of Kay’s senior year was devoted to finding a graduate school that would take her and, more difficult, enough money live on while she was in school.

For her Senior Year FWT, Kay went to Washington DC for a room at International Students House and a job with the Navy in the Pentagon. This last was somewhat marred by the fact that the Navy never got her a typewriter to work on before the ten weeks of FWT was up.

For my last FWT, I went to work at an insurance company in White Plains, and got a room there because I was engaged to a man who lived there. I should have gone to New York City, because I broke the engagement two months before graduation. Kay and I marched in the graduation line together. We planned to meet in NYC sometime soon in the Fall.

GOING TO NEW YORK WAS NOT AS EASY AS I EXPECTED

My father refused to give me money to go to NYC to work. What was this?? He thought I should stay at home till I married. My parents were already picking out eligible men they thought I might marry. This was in 1956. I had thought I was going to be an independent person.

The way I changed the story was by going to my Aunt Blanche and borrowing enough from her to cover my trip to the Big Apple. I think it was only about $75. I found the apartment in Manhattan where my roommate from Ohio U was now living and where she had offered a brief spell on her couch. Anxious at the cost of being on my own, I found a job (with the help of Bennington) in five days.

This job was in the Marketing Division at Lever Bros., the large English firm which had only recently built a dramatic new building on Park Avenue. My job, nothing glamourous except the building, was to gather statistics on the sales of their critical food products: margarines and vegetable oil. {no computers then, I worked on a mechanical machine that went Clunk as it registered tens and again at hundreds). This paid $78 a week.

Lever Brothers had considered that, while they really wanted to hire a man for this job, they were having trouble finding one at that price, so decided to accept a woman. When in my interview, I accused the boss of the unfairness of this, he apologized for it, which of course did not change the salary. I ascertained the date when I would get my first pay check, and was ready to go back to my Aunt and negotiate a further loan. I found a one-room apartment plus kitchen and bath in the upper West Side, for only $90 a month. When the summer got very hot, the police came and turned the fire hydrant into a two story fountain for the kids.

I had no money for a TV, or a telephone or even a radio. In place of communication devices, what I did have was entertainment from former Bennington students already living in the City, and frequent visitors from the college. Kay had enrolled in Columbia Teacher’s College and moved to a rooming house there so we were only walking distance apart.

I was having almost half my pay used to buy Savings Bonds. The point of this was to go traveling as soon as I had some money saved up. I reached some reasonable amount in fourteen months and by then I was eager to take off. I quit my job, gave away or sold my furniture and asked my father to pick me up in New York so I could leave my possessions in Ohio.

The Grown Up Life

I returned to New York in about eight months after I left, married to Les Rosenthal, the socialist I had met in Puerto Vallarta, By this time, Kay was studying Testing, and working part time, but she was also engaged. Finding her engaged, I got to meet her wonderful choice, Archibald Murray, smart, charming, an attorney and already on his way up.

While Les and I experimented with how we might get involved in the Civil Rights Movement, I worked several short-term jobs including at TIME Inc. as a researcher.

These interesting jobs had to be temporarily put away, because our first baby, Joshua, was born in Jan. 1959. The next summer, we delivered a VW Bug to Los Angeles by driving it there, which got us the trip out there and allowed us to show off Josh to both the Peters and the Rosenthal clans.

While we were in L.A, we also dropped in on Les’s high school buddies. That got us involved in the NAACP March at the 1960 Democratic Convention in Los Angeles. I was cheered by this opportunity. Josh stayed with his grandparents and we were being lined up for the march when I saw we were in the first row of marchers. I found this puzzling and still don’t know if this was accidental or deliberate. We also got good seats in the auditorium where all the candidates came to explain their program positions to the mostly black audience. Jack Kennedy showed up, after a long wait but with much fanfare. Johnson, who later turned out to become the most critical, did not appear. Perhaps afraid of being booed?

I thought that, because there was national coverage of the main event, I might see a photo of us in the march, but I never have, not even in later national coverage focused on it. As I was to find out later, there was, in those days, a general prohibition against photographs of African-Americans and any publicity about their events. It would be promoting their validity, the importance of their concerns and these were treated as if that was un-American. Not until the general interest was aroused by Martin Luther King, did the news media change.

Back in New York, Les decided to enroll in Drew University in Madison, New Jersey. What Drew did was get Les enthused about going to grad school, and that winter he applied to UCLA, where he had done most of his undergraduate work, and he was accepted.

In that July of 1962, Kay and Archie rented a car and drove out from Manhattan to visit us in Madison and see our baby, no. 2 , Julia; and say goodby to us on our last days before we moved to California.

The next four years, the years we were in Los Angeles, Kay and I had little contact except for phone calls and Christmas cards. Kay and Arch were in Albany while Arch was Governor Rockefeller’s liaison to the legislature. When they moved back to the City, Archie talked Kay into giving up on Testing, and everything else except going to law school. Since he was soon on the Board of Trustees at Columbia, his concept had great relevance and Kay agreed gratefully though she told me that she would be giving up all social life and anything other than her work with the Bennington Board for law school

I worked fulltime at UCLA in Graduate Admissions which meant leaving at 8 AM and getting back at a 6 PM. I was depressed at leaving my new baby with a neighbor, and overtired besides. It was a hard year. Julia was not well and not growing. I begged to quit my job and the Rosenthals agreed to; finance us through the year. After I quit, we got an apartment at the Public Housing Project in West LA.

What we had wanted all along had fallen into our laps. We had already begun to do some work with SCLC The Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and with SNYCC - Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee, but we soon had started much more. Mar Vista Gardens was an attractive development of two-story garden apartments. They encouraged graduate students, they liked to have them as leavening in their usual mix of one-third each white, black and Hispanic tenants. When summer came, Les started going door to door. He was great at this and we rapidly got acquainted with all 200 plus families.

We created a Tenant’s Association, and a weekly newspaper “The Eagle Post Dispatch”. The wonder of the printing device we got is that the ink and the paper could be created for pennies. We turned out approximately 250 two-sided copies of the Dispatch for less than a dollar. When we went door-knocking to raise money for other projects, people gave us quarters to reprint the Dispatch. With their quarters, we re-started a HeadStart classroom and made all the toys it needed. We bought old paint in bright colors and painted the old scuffed equipment in the play-yards. We started a babysitting co-op.

We went along with the residents on their conferences with the Housing Authority. We worked with the HA but also sometimes against it. We also went to the police to defend our tenants. We picketed the local market because they tried to sell half-spoiled produce to our tenants, also to get them to hire African American clerks.

These activities went on seven days a week. When Les was in school, I had to pop Julia in the stroller and handle things till he got back. After two years of this, we were exhausted. Les had finished his coursework for the doctorate and wanted some relief. He was offered a neighborhood organizing job in Oakland and decided to take a year out. We moved away, nervously leaving the Tenant’s Association for the tenants to manage.

In Oakland, Les started, a new neighborhood association in a large mixed neighborhood close to downtown. I went to work for the Poverty Program office, doing research on current projects. I helped an Oxford grad interview workers who had applied for jobs in the City of Oakland-organized Job Fair (which had very few jobs to offer to the many applicants.) Later I wrote How-To (Community Organization) programs – for the Boalt Hall Law School students to train neighborhood groups in such new proposals as How To Start a Community Policing Organization. With Les’s help, I wrote approximately ten of these pamphlets but never got to see one put in operation though the Boalt Hall Association commissioned a number of them.

We had thought that when we left New York we would not see Kay and Archie any more but what happened is that both Kay and Archie started working with the National Bar Assn. and came to San Francisco nearly every summer for their Annual Meeting. We had many happy reunions courtesy of the National Bar. During those years, Kay finished law school and began her long-time job as General Counsel for the New York City Juvenile Justice System where she served from 1979 until she retired in 2002. ** It was also during those years that she began to reap the many awards she received for advancing diversity in legal careers for women, and particularly for African American women. Archie became Executive Director of the Legal Aid Society, and later was the first African American President of the New York State Bar Association.

Oakland was a fractured community and while we were writing programs for Boalt Law School, we hit 1968, the year when riots or near riots began to threaten across the country and when Martin Luther King was murdered. It began to be time for white organizers to leave black organizations. The neighborhood group that Les had so brilliantly put together threw him out. There were two results from this. He developed asthma at this distress, and had to begin to free-lance.

I began working for the University of California at Berkeley, and started looking for a house cheap enough to buy. I taught summer Headstart in Watsonville and we found a summer house, in the Santa Cruz Mountains. We were greatly relieved to move out of Oakland. Les found a teaching job at Santa Clara University, and an organizing job in Monterey County, starting a self-help housing group. In another two years, we divorced.

I have always been happy that I spent those years in community work. It opened me up to a better understanding of the world. I switched to public relations, using skills I had learned from organizing.

The 50th Reunion

Kay and I had agreed to go together to our Bennington 50th Reunion, when I was still in California. I had remarried and Will Schram, my second husband, died in 1987. The college was about to phase out 50th Reunions for individual classes but the Kay and I argued against that. Then “9-11” happened and Archie Murray died unexpectedly shortly after the attack. He had been going downhill but was not expected to die so soon. I flew into New York over the towers of the Trade Center still smoking. When we got together, we were too discouraged to do much talking. We were happy at leaving the city and going to Vermont, escaping to the campus.

A very somber time. We got the car out. We were better off when we got into the countryside. Finally, we got to campus. There was real solace in being at the campus where nothing terrible had happened in the longago past. At the last minute before we went to bed for the night, Joan Constantikes showed up and we were happy to see her. There were not a lot of classmates. Some familiar faces but most people were near to mute, avoiding talking about 9-11 as if that was possible. In the evening, we listened to our same chorus from 1956. It was good restorative to be on campus, a comfort to be surrounded and remembering a time which had been much kinder.

Traveling

Our friendship was renewed by the trip to Vermont. Kay proposed that we travel somewhere together. She had traveled a lot and had a good travel agent who knew how to find good trips. The first one we took together was on a small ship down the coast of Central America and through the Panama Canal. We were accompanied by Dolphins a lot of the way and stopped nearly every day to picnic with local monkeys, wade inland or take a speed boat. For the next ten-plus years, we took a fabulous trip at least once a year. We had wonderful times we hadn’t had time for when we were young.

We took a train across Canada, through the Rockies, and walked on the glacier. We went to the American castles of Newport and saw the Platinum Room. We went to Congress when it was in session, and heard a major debate. Because Kay was an attorney, I took her to the Marin County Civic Center to see the courthouse designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

We spent two weeks in Florence in great museums with lectures on the artists. After this were side trips to the Italian towns which took part in those great days. Topping that trip was one to England, Scotland and Wales where we went to the top of Edinburgh and to the top of the Castle, up several hundred more steps up with a long, steep descent. We walked part of the wall around York which had been originally built by the Romans, visited Bath and Wales, had two stays in London and a boat trip on the Thames. I wanted to sail on the Mediterranean but Kay had already done that. Instead we agreed on a trip to Istanbul and explored the Blue Mosque and incredible Hagia Sophia, for centuries the world’s largest building, followed by a boat trip on the Mediterranean along the coast where cities had been designed and built first by the Greeks and then by the Romans. Almost the last trip we took together was to Barbados where Kay and Arch had owned a house. She wanted to see the island one more time; we stayed at a beautiful beach hotel and saw the Caribbean’s only marsupial.

We last visited in New York in the spring of 2017 and saw more of the Metropolitan than we had the energy for. Kay died in January of 2018 after a wonderfully successful life.

Mary Lou Schram

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lucaswritesthings · 7 years

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Confined Chapter Thomas 1

So here’s the first chapter I wrote... so yea...

In Montclair, Washington, every day was exactly like the others. Every house was exactly like the others. Every car was exactly like the others. Every family was exactly like the others. Every person was exactly like the others. Every city was exactly like Montclair.

My home, on 5429 Bellport Street, was one of two models used in my neighborhood. Once, my father was home an hour late because he went to three other houses, thinking it was ours. My father wanted to fit in, he wanted nothing more than to be exactly like everybody else. Unfortunately, that just couldn't be. He had everything that everybody else had, a housewife, two sons, a television, even a Chevrolet. But no matter how much he resisted, summer of 1957 came and ruined everything he worked so hard to accomplish.

It was the fall of 1956, and the browning leaves on the trees blanketed Montclair in a patchwork of reds and yellows. “Mom, I’m going out with Lori and Charlie,” I shouted downstairs from my room. I threw on my favorite jacket and carefully combed my hair back.

“Okay, sweetie. Are you getting dinner? It's almost ready if you want to wait,” She said when I stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh, no, we’re going to the diner for some food.”

“Okay, dear, and please be home by nine,”

“Okay, sure,” I swiped my car keys from the rack and headed out.

I loved my car. It was sky blue 1955 Chevy Bel Air, complete with a radio and matching seats. My father bought it for my 16th birthday, but warned about ever getting into an accident. I started it up and headed down the street to Lori’s house, she lived just around the corner from me, and had the same exact model as me.

I got out and knocked on the door. Her mother answered and smiled, “Hi, Tommy, how are you? Come in, please,”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rhodes. I’m doing fine, how are you?”

“I’m doing fine, thank you.”

Lori came out of the kitchen, wearing a baby pink skirt and matching cardigan. “Oh, hi, Tommy.” She said.

“You're here to pick up Lorraine?” asked her mother.

“Yes, Mrs, Rhodes,” I said.

Lori had taken me by the arm, and was about pushing me out the door, “Bye mom, I'll be home by curfew,” she said hastily.

“Bye, kids. Tommy, have your mom call me please!”

“I will. Bye, Mrs. Rhodes.” I said.

Once we got in the car, Lori heaved a huge sigh and said, “Sheesh, you can't start a conversation with my mom, once you get her goin’ she never stops!”

I laughed. Charlie lived on the other side of town, in a neighborhood called Crimson Valley, so Lori and I had a while to talk.

“Oh my goodness, Lottie was telling me that she got a new radio that can pick up stations from Seattle!” She said excitedly.

“Really? Thats awesome! I just got one in my room, but I haven't really listened to it yet, I wonder if mine can reach that far,” I trailed off.

“Maybe it can! You're so lucky, your car has a radio. My dad’s lousy old car doesn't. I’m tempted to put my record player in there!”

“Oh my God, Lori, you're so dramatic.”

She smiled, “Okay I wanted to talk to you. Did you hear what Owen Richards and Rachel Simpson did last night?”

“No, what happened? I don't go to parties like you do.”

“Well, Dottie told me that Sam told her that they did a little more than just make out in Huey Jackson’s bed,”

“Rachel Simpson. She's so easy.” I scoffed

“Yeah, but she's super pretty,”

“I'm gonna have to agree with you there.”

We arrived at Charlie's house. “I’ll stay in the car,” Lori said.

I headed up the steps and knocked on the door. Quickly, Charlie was at the door, barely opening it to let himself through.

“Okay, I will. Bye mom!” He was shouting.

“What's the rush?” I grinned.

“My mom is being a pill. Yelling up a storm.”

“I see,”

“Where are we getting dinner?”

“Don't know yet. The usual?”

“Maybe,”

We got in the car, Charlie rolled over the front seat slowly and with a lot of effort into the back. We all laughed.

By the time we got downtown, the sun had set, and all the lights of Main Street were lit in a shocking array of colors and harsh angles. Friday nights, it was very crowded.

Smithie’s Diner and Bar was the hangout for kids our age. At any given hour, the restaurant would have multiple groups of teens sitting at the booths. It was right next to a movie theatre, so the two businesses thrived together.

Lori, Charlie and I headed in, and quickly found an open booth to sit at. The sounds of chatting and laughing and dining filled your ears and made everyone shout at each other, any music coming out of the jukebox was completely drowned out.

A group of cheerleaders found our table and crowded around us, eagerly squealing and laughing with Lori.

“Hi, Tommy.” Lottie Germain said, tossing her hair out of her face. Many people considered her to be one of the prettiest girls at school.

“Hey, Lottie, how are you?” I smiled.

“I'm not too bad, it's cold, though, isn't it?”

“Yeah, a little. Are you girls out alone, or are you with anyone?”

“It's just us girls, but you can come hang out with us if you want to,” Lottie winked.

I blushed, but it was out of embarrassment, I did not want to hang out with Lottie and her cheerleaders, “Nah, I’m their ride home,” I pointed to Charlie and Lori.

My eyes peered around the diner, looking for people I knew. Apparently, me and Walter MacArthur, who was seated with two other guys, had the same thought. We locked eyes from across the room. I found it hard to look away, until he tried to drink from his milkshake without looking and shoved his nose right into the ice cream. I laughed, but quickly my eyes darted back to Lottie.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” I felt my ears grow hot and red.

“No,” She scoffed and turned away.

Lori’s cheerleader friends soon left. I leaned into Lori’s ear and whispered, “Walter MacArthur is here, 9 o'clock.”

She smiled and looked at me, “Go talk to him!”

“No! I don't know his friends!”

“Charlie, watch the table, and if a waitress comes, tell her three burgers and chocolate milkshakes. We’re going to talk to someone.” She grabbed me by the hand and walked me across to where Walter was sitting.

“Hey, guys, what's up?” She said, playing her hands down on the table. I stood awkwardly behind, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my jacket, avoiding looking at Walter.

“Hey, it's Lorraine! And Tommy!” exclaimed Stanley Price, “How are you guys?”

Everyone who Walter was with was a popular jock, and I hated all of them, in all honesty. But I tried to look happy, despite being extremely uncomfortable.

“Tommy,” said Asher Tell, captain of the football team, “What did you think of the science test? was it hard for you?”

“No, it wasn't super hard. The back side got me though.” I said.

“Shoot, I struggled on the whole thing,” He chuckled, and so did Walter.

“Hey, we gotta go, but if you wanna talk, our table is over there,” Lori pointed to Charlie. I turned and rushed back, immediately I grabbed a hamburger and ate half of it in one bite.

“What was that all about?” Charlie’s eyebrows were raised.

“Lori wanted to talk to someone, but I didn’t like any of them”

“I see.” he grinned.

“Tommy, why’d you run away so quickly? We were having a good time!” Lori whined.

“Because I hated everyone at that table, that’s why.”

“Why? They were so nice.”

“They're intimidating, Lori.”

“Wait, did you guys go to the table with Asher Tell?” Charlie interrupted.

“Yeah.” Lori said off-handedly

“Why?” Charlie looked shocked.

“Because Lori is friends with one of them and wanted to say hi,” I said over Lori.

“Oh, okay.” said Charlie.

We chatted, just the three of us, for a while. People came and greeted us a couple times. After we paid for dinner, I looked down at my watch, and realized that it's a quarter till 9. “Oh, shoot. Guys, We’ve gotta go.”

“Why?” scowled Charlie.

“I have to be home in fifteen minutes!” I said

“Oh gosh, yeah, I’m ready.” Lori said, grabbing her things.

“Now, wait a minute, I want to stay!” exclaimed Charlie.

“Can you find a ride then?” I pleaded.

“Yeah, I’ll get a ride.” He said, hesitating a little.

“Okay, thank you,” I sighed.

Lori and I got into the Bel Air and drove off, down the rows of identical homes.

#confined #thatpostismine

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viktorbezic · 4 years

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Constraint Stories: How a Financial Misunderstanding Led to Stanley Kubrick's First Film

Maria Popova shared a rare recorded interview with the legendary film director Stanley Kubrick. Jeremy Bernstein of The New Yorker interviewed Kubrick in 1966 when he was only 37. Maria highlighted the challenging views of nuclear power in their discussion around Dr. Strangelove and the atomic bomb. What I especially enjoyed about the interview is the story of how Kubrick eventually made his first film and his numerous setbacks. (1)

As a youngster, Stanley Kubrick wasn't a great student, never having success in school. A social misfit, he had few intellectual interests. Or at least what those around him believed to be intellectual interests. He didn't read, but Kubrick had an obsession that gave him purpose. Photography. Photography allowed him to build confidence in himself. It helped hone his problem-solving skills. In Kubrick's estimation, people that appear to care don't go deep enough to solve the problems that are right in front of them. He highlights the fact that this is the exact thing schools don't teach. A generalized approach to problem-solving that can apply in many contexts. Schools focus on rote learning.

For the young Stanley Kubrick, these skills included learning the step by step process of how to take a good photograph. How to play with light, figuring out apertures and shutter speeds. It also involved learning all the technical aspects of production. Like building a dark room and developing film on his own. To keep practicing, Kubrick also learned to sell pictures. He acquired these skills between the ages of 13 to 17. Before graduating high school, Kubrick already sold a couple of photos to Look Magazine. A lucky break for him since there was no chance of college. During his graduation year, GI's were coming back and applied in droves to college under the GI Bill. No college made exceptions or lowered their standards that admission year. They had more than enough students to choose from. Kubrick's grades prevented him from making the cut. Even his father pleading with the dean of admissions of his alma matter NYU couldn't get him in.

Kubrick planned to attend night school to boost his grade point average and eventually transfer to day classes at a college program. The plan was later shelved when the editor of Look Magazine, who he sold photos to, offered him an apprentice position. The young Kubrick wound up staying for 4 years. In his estimation, what he learned on the job exceeded what he would have learned in a 4-year college program. It was during this time he cultivated his reading habit and made up ground from his school days.

Alex Singer, a friend of Kubrick's, working as an office boy for the film "The March of Time," tipped Kubrick off about their production operations. Singer wasn't supposed to know the budget. Or any of the financial details of the project. He overheard a production lead quote $40,000 for a 1 reeler. Which was roughly 8 to 9 minutes of film. It sparked something inside of Kubrick. He started to do the rough math. This included the costs of renting equipment, film, sound, and editing. The quotes added up to roughly $3500. Which could be a sizable profit if Kubrick could sell a 1 reeler for $40,000 also. They filmed a piece on Walter Cartier, the boxer. Kubrick had known Cartier from doing a bit on him for Look Magazine. He shot the film by himself. With some help from Singer lighting scenes and carrying equipment.

The next challenge was selling it to a distributor. Kubrick had met with numerous folks who enjoyed the Walter Cartier film. They all offered him roughly the same amount. Only a couple thousand dollars. Kubrick, shocked, asked him why they were lowballing him. The distributor execs were surprised Kubrick thought they were lowball offers. What Kubrick found out next shocked him. He told the distributors about the "The March of Time" and the associated $40k price tag. The exec shared the bad news. The "March of Time" was mismanaged. The production was going out of business from overspending. No one would pay that amount for a short film. RKO wound up buying Kubrick's short film for roughly $100 less than it cost to make it. So it broke even. Shown nationwide, it had global distribution. Kubrick thought he'd receive offers to make another film from this effort. Unfortunately, none came.

Kubrick would try making another short film. At the recommendation of RKO, he made a short film of a very colorful character, The Flying Padre. A German priest who'd fly around rural New Mexico in a prop plane to perform service. Again it was another breakeven proportion which forced him to start thinking about viable ways to practice his trade and create films. Kubrick again did some rough math similar to the math he did when attempting to create his first short. Feature-length movies made millions. If he could make a feature film by himself as a one-man crew for $10,000, then he would finally be in business.

For his first feature-length film, "Fear and Desire," he found a friend in the East Village to help him write a script. He also found actors through mutual friends. Kubrick would shoot and edit the entire film himself with a friend helping him with some lighting. With this film came a new lesson. Kubrick learned the power of a great script. The script was so dull. To compound the problem, the actors couldn't really act. Although the film had art house distribution and some favorable reviews, it never returned any money invested in it. Kubrick needed to get another script and fast if he was to continue in film making. To make ends meet, he'd play chess in Washington Square Park for quarters. As he recalled, "You couldn't live off of it, but it could at least buy you some meals."

"Paths of Glory" was a new opportunity. Even though every studio turned it down. It became real once Kirk Douglas became interested in it. Kubrick made the film with no complications, and it had decent reviews. This was definitely a step forward but a brief one. Kubrick would engage in a series of film projects that would never get off the ground. He worked on a film script and treatment for another Kirk Douglas film that was abandoned. Another for Gregory Peck that was abandoned. He left a Marlon Brando film during the first two weeks of shooting after working on it for six months. He had a gut feeling the film was going to be horrible. Another break came when he was asked to take over the filming of Sparticus. His criticisms of the writing weren't well received by the team. The production dragged out for 2 years. During which time, the rights to Nabakov's Lolita were secured. Lolita was a film no studio wanted to make. No movie exec would go near it. But Kubrick thought there were a lot of misconceptions about the book, and people didn't fully understand it. He'd go on to complete the film and end his dry spell. Vladimir Nabokov would approve of Kubrick's edits after watching the movie.

Learning from his mistakes when he made Dr. Strangelove, He found a partner in Terry Southern. Kubrick identified, "When you have short deadlines, it's important to have a partner so you can keep up the intensity in the creative process." He also understood that directing is only one-third of the job. Writing plays a critical role as does editing, which makes up the other two-thirds of the process. Other directors to Kubrick seemed to be the most senior members of the crew and didn't really get their hands dirty. The producer was more of an integrator across disciplines than the director typically was. Kubrick knew he had to influence the scripts to be able to adhere to the vision he had on screen. He also had a history of editing footage himself. Kubrick likened the lack of depth in being able to affect the final film by focused only on directing as, "...like planning a city by driving through it." It doesn't work. (2)

Kubrick found this unique alchemy across disciplines that allowed him to create some of the most celebrated works on film. Part of the formula was superior writing. Hence the adaptation of classic novels such as 2001 A Space Odyssey, The Shining, A Clockwork Orange, Lolita, Dr. Stranglelove (Adapted from Red Alert).

References

Popova, Maria. "November 27, 1965: A Rare Recording of Stanley Kubrick's Most Revealing Interview." Brain Pickings, 18 Sept. 2015, www.brainpickings.org/2013/11/27/jeremy-bernstein-stanley-kubrick-interview/.

Ibid.

#My writing #long reads #constraints journal #viktor bezic #writers on tumblr #stanley kubrick

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