. . . muttered the ogre

Jules et Jim (dir. Truffaut). It took me a long time to sort out that the one with an English name is French and the one with a French name is German. I find that in French a German accent sounds much like an English accent.

座頭市物語 (The Tale of Zatôichi) (#1; dir. Misumi). Good stuff. Unusual for the genre in that the hero draws his sword only about three times in all.

Lolita (dir. Kubrick).

続・座頭市物語 (The Tale of Zatôichi continues) (#2; dir. Mori). This is the shortest of the series (72 minutes) and a bit thin on story; but it is here that Ichi takes actions that will mark him as an outlaw, and also learns something of the woman he loved and lost.

Lawrence of Arabia (dir. Lean). I saw the first half before.

The Misfits (dir. John Huston). I dropped it after about forty minutes; it might be more enjoyable if I hadn’t read of its history. The script spends too much of the time exclaiming how wonderful the writer’s wife is. Clark Gable looks like the celeb of the week on a kid show: hold the famous smile for awhile, now frown avuncularly, now cock an eyebrow as fan service for any mothers or grandmothers who might be watching.

The Guns of Navarone (dir. J Lee Thompson). More nuanced than typical war movies of the time. — Gregory Peck has one embarrassing moment: contained fury is not something he sells well.

The Hustler (dir. Robert Rossen). The sequel The Color of Money (1986, dir. Scorsese) led me to expect a caper, not a damn sports-underdog story. I like caper movies.

West Side Story (dir. Robbins/Wise). Did the dances look less absurd when it was new? — I’d never have spotted Rita Moreno, so much younger here than I’ve seen her before.

The Comancheros (dir. Michael Curtiz, John Wayne). Amiably standard Western fare.

One, Two, Three (dir. Billy Wilder). Funny script, but most of the characters are one-note; I get tired of the constant shouting of Cagney (as Coca-Cola’s man in Berlin) and Buchholz (as a fervent young Communist swept up in circumstance).