I watched half of Don’t Bother to Knock (1952) and found none of the characters at all interesting.

My housemate and I both enjoyed Outside Edge (1994), a series about two contrasting couples (Brenda Blethyn and Robert Daws; Josie Lawrence and Timothy Spall) brought together by cricket.

In High Noon (1952) Grace Kelly often sounds as if English is not her first language. — Did gummed envelopes exist in 1876? (The date is limited by a flag of 37 stars.)

“I wonder how often Angela Lansbury has played somebody evil” (as in The Manchurian Candidate which is on KQED now).

“Not nearly often enough.”

I’ve just seen An American in Paris, whose supporting cast includes the pianist Oscar Levant, who also said:

My psychiatrist once said to me, “Maybe life isn’t for everyone.”

Happiness isn’t something you experience; it’s something you remember.

I envy people who drink. At least they have something to blame everything on.

The only difference between the Democrats and the Republicans is that the Democrats allow the poor to be corrupt, too.

Last night I watched (for the second time ever) The Man in the White Suit, one of the famous Ealing comedies – though perhaps it’s called that only by association. Like the crime farces Kind Hearts and Coronets, The Lavender Hill Mob and The Ladykillers, it was made by Ealing Studios and stars Alec Guinness, who here plays Sidney Stratton, the crank chemist whose indestructible polymer threatens to ruin the textile industry.

A super-fiber has uses beyond clothing and thus would in all likelihood increase the demand for fiber rather than ending it. (Never mind that no single fiber can replace all existing fibers, even if it does last forever.) This never occurs to any of the characters in TMitWS, and much unhappiness results. I call that a tragedy.

All About Eve (1950) contains a brief scene of Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) and Addison DeWitt (George Sanders) walking along a back-projected street, something I’ve rarely seen. I wonder why it was done. — Ah, on second thought: The street appears to be a real one in Connecticut, and back-projection was easier than taking the actors there (from Hollywood) for one shot.

I’ve now seen Rashômon twice, about twenty years apart, and still can’t see what’s so great about it.

My housemate asked: “Is there a Japanese School of Overacting?”

November: And who can translate the title for me? The frame story takes place in a ruined monumental gate on which a sign of three characters can be seen; the third is mon ‘gate’, so presumably Rashômon is the name of the place. One of the other kanji — I’ve now forgotten which — means ‘life’ or (as on Asahi beer labels) ‘fresh’. I couldn’t make out the third.

a year later: 羅生門

Nudged by Madhu, I watched Once Upon a Time in India — or rather, Sholay. (Sholay is not the name of a character or place in the story, but I see that the film has also been known as Embers or Flames.)

I think this was my first Indian film. I was amazed at the landscape (are we really expected to believe in a village of farmers on land consisting mostly of boulders?); surprised at the ubiquity of horses (I recall just one brief scene with a horseless carriage, and that not moving); intrigued at the number of English words audible; and disappointed that none of the songs are subtitled!

What I liked most about Sunset Blvd: two brief bouts of flirting between Joe and Betty struck me as having rare wit and heart.