at the pictures, 1960

La Dolce Vita (dir. Federico Fellini). Plot-free.

Plein Soleil (Purple Noon) (dir. René Clément), the first film version of The Talented Mr Ripley, quite good. The French title means broad daylight; I saw nothing that would explain purple!

À bout de souffle (Breathless) (dir. Jean-Luc Godard). One more Famous Groundbreaking Work of Art checked off.

The Apartment (dir. Billy Wilder). Good fun.

The Little Shop of Horrors (dir. Roger Corman). The amateurishness of it all is both amusing and frustrating. — In the first scene we hear Seymour offstage singing “Marble Halls“, a song previously known to me only from Enya‘s third album Shepherd Moons (1991).

Ποτέ Την Κυριακή Never on Sunday (dir. Jules Dassin). Abandoned out of boredom after a few minutes. Remind me not to rent any more foreign movies about whores — or of which I know nothing but the theme tune.

The Magnificent Seven (dir. John Sturges). Contains a line that had stuck in my mind for years, and sometimes bugged me that I could not recall its source:

It’s like this fellow I knew in El Paso. One day, he just took all his clothes off and jumped in a mess of cactus. I asked him that same question: why? — He said it seemed to be a good idea at the time.

Tirez sur le pianiste (Shoot the Piano Player) (dir. François Truffaut).

Tunes of Glory (dir. Ronald Neame).

The Entertainer (dir. Tony Richardson). Lawrence Olivier is splendid as a vaudevillian who cannot accept that he’s washed up. Alan Bates’s first movie; for twenty minutes I didn’t spot him, until some distinctive gesture.

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NYE

Sunah describes me as “calm, witty, thoughtful, and tall.” Heh. I had no idea that altitude made me better company.

At the party, Eric described a geometric construct that he was having trouble visualizing; so the next day I whipped it up in Povray.

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Frank Kelly Freas

It is credibly reported that Frank Kelly Freas, eminent fantasy illustrator and a very pleasant fellow, died this morning. There will probably be a memorial next Sunday at the LASFS clubhouse.

Later: No, it’s at something called the Church of Scientology Celebrity Center & Manor Hotel, in Hollywood.

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indirection

We learn something every day. The old republic of Venice took indirection to an amazing height:

New regulations for the elections of the doge introduced in 1268 remained in force until the end of the republic in 1797. Their object was to minimize as far as possible the influence of individual great families, and this was effected by a complex elective machinery. Thirty members of the Great Council, chosen by lot, were reduced by lot to nine; the nine chose forty and the forty were reduced by lot to twelve, who chose twenty-five. The twenty-five were reduced by lot to nine and the nine elected forty-five. Then the forty-five were once more reduced by lot to eleven, and the eleven finally chose the forty-one who actually elected the doge.

You have to wonder: why so many tiers? Why those specific numbers?

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friends far away

I am pleased to hear from Udhay that his family in Madras are all safe.

Madhu apparently was in transit from Sunnyvale to Bangalore at the time of the disaster. I hope his path was not through Bangkok!

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links? what links?

why women live longer

backyard monorail

animation of the Sumatra tsunami

Operation Republican Freedom

Conduct Unbecoming

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the jolly old elf

My contemporary Jim Henley (alternate archive) reminisces:

Dammit, when I was a boy we had to work at atheism and agnosticism. We walked uphill in the snow – both ways! – to doubt the cogito! Nobody handed us disbelief on an hors d’oeuvre tray like these lazy brats you see nowadays, with their video games and their piercings!

This comes in the middle of some musings on the effects of Santa Clausery.

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