This illustration is from Baroness Emma Orczy's 1905 novel The Scarlet Pimpernel. In this scene, Marguerite, desperate to know what is in Sir Andrew Ffoulkes' note, "accidentally" knocks over a table holding lit candles in order to distract him long enough for her to read its contents.
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Um... I'm not sure what I just watched. Wow. A friend recommended this film to me- and lent me his copy of it- and I've just viewed it. It's called True Stories, was released in 1986, and is definitely one of the most eccentric movies I've ever seen. Apparently it wasn't very successful when it was first released, but has acquired the status of a cult classic over the years. Personally, I had never heard of it before this week. True Stories was written and directed by David Byrne, who also stars in the film. Interestingly, film making and acting were not his primary careers; he was actually the lead singer in the rock band the Talking Heads. I don't know what he's done before or since, but he certainly made a truly original movie with True Stories. The film starts out with Byrne's character (we never learn his name) driving a long red convertible which he is careful to explain is not rented, but rather "privately owned." He is sort of a narrator, frequently breaking the fourth wall and talking to us, giving us information about the town he's travelling to, introducing us to other characters there, and sometimes just opining on life in general. Then again, sometimes he's not narrating, but taking part in events and interacting with the townspeople. The name of the fictional Texas town Virgil, and he (the narrator) is arriving for its 150th birthday event, which is entitled "The Celebration of Special-ness." Most of the citizens of Virgil are employed by Varicorp, a computer manufacturing plant which is located on the outskirts of town. And most of the citizens- that we meet, anyway- are a little, well, eccentric. Again, a lot of these people we never learn the names of, although we do a few- such as Louis Fyne. He is an employee of Varicorp, but in his spare time writes- and sings- country music. His greatest desire in life is to get married; he's constantly looking for a lady to bestow his affection upon and tries everything up to and including renting a large sign to advertise his search. His quest for a wife forms the most consistent plot line in True Stories. The rest of the movie for the most part is made up of random events surrounding the Celebration of Special-ness, and meeting the various citizens involved in them. These events include a community fashion show at the local mall, a parade (featuring the only accordion marching band I've ever seen), and a town concert for which Louis writes a song, pouring out his heart in true country-western fashion. I guess it sort of makes sense that the film is primarily a series of vignettes, as Byrne claimed to have gotten the idea for most of them from newspaper clippings of odd people and events which he collected over the years. There really aren't any conflicts in True Stories, or any baddies either. There are, as mentioned, zany characters, such as the rich lady who refuses to get out of bed, spending her days watching television while her servants wait on her. Even the businessman who owns Vericorp is a nice guy whom the townspeople like and are grateful to, and who enthusiastically takes part in the Special-ness events. Of course, he and his wife haven't spoken to each other in fifteen years, getting their children to relay messages to each other, but there is no anger or animosity between them. On the contrary, they seem fond of each other, attend events together, and amiably inquire- through their kids- about each others' day and activities. The film culminates at the previously mentioned concert, where all the plot lines- such as they are- reach their zenith. The variety of acts at said concert are as singular as the residents of Virgil themselves, amateur and frequently weird, yet oddly compelling and charming. Wrapping up the main plot, Louis, big-hearted and ever hopeful, debuts his song which attracts the attention of a certain lady. This results in marriage for him, a happy- and suitably weird- ending. After the wedding and the end of the Celebration of Special-ness, our narrator climbs in his red convertible and drives out of town just as he drove in; we have no idea where he came from and no clue where he's going. He remarks that when you first arrive at a place everything is new and special but after you've been there a while, it loses that sheen of newness and becomes ordinary and rote. It is necessary, he says, to leave for a time to allow your eyes to forget so that, when you return, everything is fresh and new again. And that's the end of the movie. True Stories is an odd, offbeat film, but like the denizens of the town, strangely captivating and eminently watchable. There's no plot to speak of- other than Louis' search for a wife- but the little vignettes of the lives of the people of Virgil and of course, the Celebration of Special-ness are funny, charming, and hold your attention even when you're not sure why. Incidentally, Byrne used 50 sets of twins in the filming of True Stories, something which is never mentioned in the film. They're just there, in various role; the only sort-of mention comes in the scene where Louis and the narrator are walking through the mall. Louis waves to a girl he knows and casually mentions that she's a twin. And that's it... Byrne went to the trouble of gathering 50 sets of twins to be extras in his movie, yet it's not even used as a visual joke, and nothing is ever made of it. This sort of underscores the general quirkiness of the entire production. The soundtrack- a lot of it recorded by David Byrne- is also perfect for the film, catchy and a little offbeat, just like the film. As I said at the beginning of this review, I'm not sure what I've just watched: True Stories is difficult to classify and its charms are indefinable. But I was charmed by it and I'm glad I watched it. Things begin amicably enough; Gutman pays Spade the agreed-upon ten thousand dollars for the falcon. Sam tells Gutman that they need a fall guy to give to the police for the murders of Miles and Thursby... he suggests Wilmer. Gutman demurs, saying that Wilmer is like a son to him. Sam says fine, they can give the police Cairo instead, although Wilmer makes a much more convincing murderer. This causes Cairo to have a whispered conversation with Gutman and, seeing how the wind is blowing, Wilmer freaks out, grabbing his gun. There is a brief struggle, and Sam knocks him unconscious. Cairo is upset by this, trying to bring Wilmer to, but Gutman seems to have gotten over his feelings of affection and tells Spade that he can have Wilmer to give to the police. Sam says that he needs to have the entire story so that he knows how much to tell the police. So Gutman relates the following narrative.... When Brigid and Thursby stole the falcon, Gutman and Cairo decided to have Thursby killed in order to intimidate Brigid into coming back with the bird. Wilmer was sent out and he shot Thursby. Then Cairo found out that the La Paloma had docked in the harbour. He remembered that at one time, Brigid and been, um, associated with the La Paloma's captain- Jacobi- in Hong Kong. He hypothesized that Brigid got the falcon to him, then arranged to meet him in San Francisco. They had all converged on the La Paloma the day before, but Brigid and Jacobi had managed to slip away with the falcon. While searching the La Paloma for the bird, Wilmer (not exactly a genius) managed to set the ship on fire. They eventually traced Brigid and Jacobi to the Coronet; Jacobi fled with the falcon, pursued by Wilmer who chased him into an alley and shot, wounding the captain. Jacobi staggered away, eluding Wilmer despite his wounds. Meanwhile, Cairo and Gutman attempt to convince Brigid to get Jacobi to return with the falcon, but it was too late... Jacobi had made it to Spade's office with the bird before collapsing and dying. Spade says that he believes this story, more or less and that he can get the falcon in a couple of hours. Gutman suddenly suggests that Sam count the envelope of money which Brigid has been holding onto. Sam does so, and there's a thousand dollars missing. Gutman suggests that Brigid took it, and Sam orders her to go into the bathroom with him and undress. Brigid protests, but Sam insists and so she does it, and it turns out that she doesn't have the money. When they re-enter the room, an amused Gutman admits to pocketing the money and accusing Brigid to cause trouble. He warns Sam seriously, though, that he shouldn't trust the woman. No kidding. At 7:00, Spade calls Effie and tells her to pick up the package containing the Falcon and bring it to his apartment. She does so, hands the package to Sam, and then leaves. Unable to contain his excitement, Gutman rips the wrappings off of the falcon. Turning it over, he scrapes off some of the enamel to reach the gold hidden beneath. The problem is, there isn't any gold or jewels- just lead. It's a fake. Infuriated, Gutman turns on Brigid, accusing her of double- or triple- crossing them. She denies this, insisting that this is the exact statue that she had stolen from Kemidov. Putting two and two together, they realize that Kemidov must have figured out the value of the falcon when Gutman tried to buy it from him. He must have hidden the real one away and replaced it with an exact replica, which is what Brigid stole. Gutman is temporarily devastated, but then pulls himself together, saying that he intends to go to Constantinople to continue his quest for the falcon. Looking around, they realize that Wilmer has used their absorption to sneak off. Since they didn't actually get the bird, Gutman politely asks Spade for the ten thousand dollars back. Sam retains one thousand for expenses and amicably hands over the rest. Gutman and Joe Cairo take their leave. After they leave, Spade calls Detective Polhaus and tells him that Wilmer killed Thursby and Jacobi, and that Gutman and Cairo have just left for the Alexandria. After hanging up, Sam turns to Brigid and asks her why she murdered Miles Archer. She of course tries to lie her way out of it, but eventually admits that she did it. She thought that hiring someone to follow Floyd Thursby would scare him into leaving the city. When this didn't work, she killed Miles in order to pin his murder on Thursby. Of course, this backfired when Wilmer shot Thursby, ruining her plan. Thursby's death made Brigid aware that Gutman had arrived in San Fransisco, and so she returned to Spade for protection, something which she hadn't been planning on doing. Sam listens to this confession and then tells Brigid that he's turning her over to the police for Miles' murder. She is incredulous; Sam can't turn her in- he loves her and he has to help her. Sam says that maybe he does love her, but he's still going to turn her in. Brigid pleads that she loves him, but Sam isn't going to play the fool for her. He tells her that, when your partner is killed, it's your duty to do something about it. He remarks that she'll probably get a twenty year prison term, but that if they hang her, he'll always remember her. Tom Polhaus and Lt. Dundy show up and Sam gives Brigid to them, explaining that she murdered Miles. He also gives them the thousand dollars which he got from Gutman, to Dundy's disappointment; Cairo had told them about it, and he was hoping that Spade would incriminate himself. Gutman couldn't tell them because -Polhaus tells Sam- when they got to the Alexandria, he had just been shot and killed by Wilmer. Later, at his office, Sam tells Effie what happened and she is upset that he turned Brigid in. As they are talking, the doorbell rings and Effie goes to answer it. She returns to tell Sam that Iva is there. Gloomily he tells Effie to let her in. -The End- Related Posts: Choir started up again this week, and I was very interested to receive my music packet, because we had been told that our spring concert would be all Broadway music. Practice was last night, and the music was handed out at the start of the evening. It's an eclectic mix: there's a medley from Les Mis, a medley from Into The Woods (admittedly not my favourite musical), one from West Side Story, and one of Andrew Lloyd Webber's music. In addition, we're doing "Seasons of Love" from Rent, and "Circle of Life" from The Lion King. A few more pieces will probably be added as we go along, but this is the majority of it, and it's is going to be a whole lot of fun. Related Posts: Well, the Golden Globe Awards were on Sunday night... I didn't watch them, of course, but they were on. I was out at a boardgame night (try to contain your excitement) and when I got home, it was almost time for the second episode of Sherlock. The Golden Globes were still going but I wasn't even tempted to check in on them. After all, between viewing a nice murder or two on Sherlock or watching a bunch of twit actors shrieking hysterically about Donald Trump, there wasn't much of a choice to be made. I enjoyed The Lying Detective very much but checked Twitter a couple of times, and it was obvious that my expectations for the award show had been more or less accurate- a lot of the celebrities using their minutes in the spotlight to bash Donald Trump. It's like he's living in their heads, or something. Now, I would be the last one to deny anyone- even celebrities- the right to express their political opinions, but for Pete's sake, can't they turn it off for a while? The Americans have a very long election campaign, unlike we (us?) Canadians; here the campaigns last three months and even that is pushing it for most of us. During our last election, they tacked an extra week onto the campaign and by the end we were sick of the whole thing. Of course, we are not directly involved with the American election, but the fact is, most of the media we consume comes from the States, plus they're next door so we're spectators, involuntarily or not. I generally find it quite interesting, but only to a point. I don't want politics force-fed to me every time I sit down to watch T.V. or a movie, because it gets old really, really quickly. And I think that most people feel the same way. I'm not going to go into how much I despise the virtue signalling and smug, preening self-righteousness these celebrities display during their secular sermons, because I already did that in my post about the Academy Awards. But in a year when they've obnoxiously inflicted their political opinions on us in various forms of media over and over again- with little to show for it- you'd think they would get a clue and knock it off for a while. Or perhaps show a little self-introspection and humility and realize that people don't need (or want) actors to tell them what to think. As for Meryl Streep's acceptance speech which everyone is talking about, I simply don't care. This is a picture of the 2003 Academy Awards where Roman Polanski was awarded an Oscar. Meryl Streep leaped to her feet and gave him an enthusiastic standing ovation. Of course, Polanski couldn't be there in person to collect his award, because in 1977 he was arrested for- and confessed to- drugging and raping a 13 year old girl. He then fled the country to avoid going to jail. Poor, sensitive Meryl can't bear the thought of boorish Mr. Trump but just loves the child rapist, presumably because he, like her, understands "art". Anyone this morally bankrupt has nothing to say that I care to hear. I'm going to close with a scene from another Academy Award show, featuring remarks by Network writer Paddy Chayefsky after Vanessa Redgrave had gone on a political rant (against Israel, of course; Hollywood is nothing if not drearily predictable). Mr. Chayefsky countered her remarks with a few words of good sense: Related Posts: One of my sisters- whom I've mentioned before- has four young boys, aged eight, six, three, and five months. She is home schooling the two older boys, and some time ago came up with an end-of-the-week segment which would still be educational but give the boys a break from regular lessons. She calls it "Finer Things Friday" and for part of their school day they sit around the dining room table, have tea and scones, and discuss poetry and the books they are reading. She posted a picture yesterday of the boys- including the three year old who won't be left out- drinking green tea and chatting about Haiku (apparently the boys soon after were convulsed in uncontollable mirth after coming up with some remarkably silly Haiku of their own). Tea and scones and literature... if only I could talk my employers into instituting this on Friday afternoons.... Related Posts:Where Did It Come From? The meaning of the well-known expression "rob Peter to pay Paul" is to pay off one debt by incurring another. Obviously this diom refers to Peter and Paul, the Apostles of Christ. The origins of this phrase, however, are somewhat less obvious. Many believed that the idiom dated to the 16th century, when St Paul's Cathedral in London was in need of expensive repairs. To fund this, some of the lands belonging to the estate of St Peter's Cathedral in Westminster were sold off. As it happens though, the expression predates this time period. Another of the theories about its origins lies in church taxation. In England before the Reformation, taxes had to be paid to both St Paul's Cathedral in London and St Peter's Basilica in Rome. In lean years when there wasn't enough money to pay both taxes, the payment to one of these churches would have to be stinted on in order to meet the other payment, in effect "robbing Peter to pay Paul." Again, this origin story is disputed by some. What we do know is that the idiom was in existence in the mid-1500's, because in 1546 the English writer John Heywood put out a volume of proverbs he'd collected , entitled A dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the prouerbes in the Englishe tongue. One of the sayings contained in this volume was: "Rob Peter and pay Paul: thou sayest I do; But thou robbest and poulst Peter and Paul too." In addition, Jacob's Well, An Englisht treatise on the cleansing of man's conscience, which dates from the 1440's includes the phrase: "To robbe Petyr and geve it Poule, it were non almesse but gret synne." The idiom may be even older; John Wyclif's 1380 Selected English Works contains the following: "Lord, hou schulde God approve that you robbe Petur and gif is robbere to Poule in ye name of Crist?" There is, however, some suggestion that this phrase is not original to the text; it is found in the reprint from the late 1800's but the original work is lost to us. However it came about, the idiom "rob Peter to pay Paul" is a pithy and descriptive one, as well as a very unsound economic practice. Related Posts: |
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