She cried during Star Wars
and he laughed at her
which made her cry more
turning to lay her cheek
against the cool glass
raindrops on the window
‘Isn’t it precious,’ she thought
lighting a cigarette
and hearing him cough
from across the room
but he’d never tell her to stop
crazy about her grumpy moods
in love with how she exhaled
“Maybe we should get away,” he said
getting up and walking over
kneeling at her feet, and
wrapping his arms about her legs
hearing her reply how she liked
things the way they were, and
feeling her fingers in his hair
Jean only lived to be 26. She takes some criticism some, but who wasn’t immature at 26? I like her because along with the glam, she had humor. This is from one of my favorite movies, Dinner at Eight. Though, the best scene I think got stolen by Marie Dressler.
Here is another fun scene with William Powell in Libeled Lady
When things cool off here, I’ll reprise Harlow with a full piece, for now, a few tastes.
Pre-holiday busyness and NaNoWriMo lagging, with a desire not to let this feature get further behind, led to this quickie post, with some actresses I had not seen before, 2 in films available now on YouTube, which is always nice to find. Kay Kendall’s Les Girls has clips on YT, and is available on Amazon Prime.
Carole Lombard was stunning. Dazzling. Bombshell? Most assuredly.
According to some, she was the highest paid actress in the late 1930’s. But the film I keep coming back to, the one I want to see again is My Man Godfrey (1936) with William Powell. I was mesmerized. I fell in love for the hour and one half that she was on the screen. It wasn’t for her platinum blonde hair. It was for her eyes and her smile, and most notably, she made me laugh.
“You’re a big game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?”
“Perhaps the jaguar does,” observed Whitney.
The Most Dangerous Game, by Richard Connell
I am an avid reader and listener of James Patrick at CinemaShame . It’s a great website with a concept I can really wrap my teeth around, as I have mentioned before. So I won’t get into that today, but do visit, also on Twitter @CinemaShame. I also have a Twitter account separate from the one where I write my poems which is So Long Holly @movielovebogart.
This year there are monthly prompts at Cinema Shame, and May was no exception, with a buddy prompt, whereby we each hook up with a pal and share our all-time favourite movies, and they choose one from the list that they have not seen before. In this case, I hooked up with Eric Jones at Deacon’s Den, another blog worthy of a read. I get a kick out of his reviews, especially movies I have not seen yet. Many are not in my ‘wheelhouse’ as they say, so they also expand my horizons some. Eric read one of my favourite films, if not my number one fave, The Third Man. His review is live now on his blog.
The film I watched at Eric’s prompting was The Most Dangerous Game from 1932. My first thought as I looked over the IMDB.com listing was ‘how did I never hear about this movie?’ I suppose like most things, it all comes down to money and advertising.
We went to see Solo: A Star Wars Story last week, which prompted us to rent the first three Star Wars films, meaning the three prequels that came out after the dynamic three from the seventies and eighties. I gave each one between 2-21/2 stars each. It doesn’t really matter which was which, as I truly did not enjoy myself except in spots. After we watched Revenge of the Sith, I was so depressed we watched Spaceballs to feel better. But this is not about the Star Wars franchise, this is about Carrie Fisher, who died in December, 2016.
As we return this year to an older feature, ‘Tantalizing Tuesdays’, let’s finish our peek at the work of Greta Garbo we began in December.
I never said, ‘I want to be alone.’ I only said, ‘I want to be left alone.’ There is all the difference.
– Greta Garbo
Mesmerizing. When Greta Garbo is on the screen, it is her eyes I am seeking out, her many-faceted expressions that add so much more to the dialogue than just words. It is more than tactile, innate beauty. There are many people born, as some would say, ‘classically beautiful.’ But there was something else, something I cannot name, coming from inside her.
in my mirror
I do not see what he sees
beauty in the eye
the top brass
still I see only scrappy bits
shadows on the wall
like an old movie