1. Carol and Paul gave me Eddie Muller's book on film noir entitled Dark City and as I dipped into it, I realized that, as far as I can remember, I had never watched The Maltese Falcon (1941), regarded by many as the first major film noir. I'm not much interested in determining the noir-ness or the first-ness of the movie. I wanted to experience what makes this movie so enduringly admired and respected.
I admit that I was always happy and relieved when any scene involving Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) kissing a woman ended.
Those few minutes of the movie aside, I enjoyed the complicated, complex development of the movie, its shadowy world. We never know what's actual in the world of The Maltese Falcon and what's fabricated and we are never quite sure, beyond their self-concern, where different characters' loyalties lie.
The Maltese Falcon is a murder mystery, at least at the outset. But, as the the story deepens, it becomes much more occupied with greed, with the lengths the characters longing to possess the Maltese falcon will go to acquire it. So, to me, the noir-ness of The Maltese Falcon was in its exploration of psychological and moral (or amoral) darkness, the way it moves deeper and deeper into the darkness of covetousness, mendacity, and obsession.
I agree with those who say The Maltese Falcon is less a movie about solving the murders and much more a story of how the character of Sam Spade negotiates all of the corruption of his antagonists and the corruption within himself.
The movie was perfectly cast. I thought Mary Astor's portrayal of her character's total commitment to falseness and manipulation was brilliant. I had very much enjoyed Sydney Greenstreet as the magazine publisher in Christmas in Connecticut. The Maltese Falcon was Greenstreet's first appearance, at age 61, in a movie and as the obsessed Mr. Gutman, he was staggeringly unnerving, as was Peter Lorre as Gutman's accomplice, Joel Cairo.
2. I watched on half of Gonzaga's demolition of Eastern Oregon University and I'd had enough. I didn't need to see any more of this absolute blow out. The final score: 120-42.
It was a different story, however, in Storrs, CT where the powerhouse Connecticut Huskies hosted a Big East conference battle with the ever improving Villanova Wildcats. This was a bare knuckled, bruising game. The teams weren't quite evenly matched as the Huskies are deeper and have more talent than Villanova, but the Wildcats slowed down the game enough, kept the rock on their end of court enough, that they stayed close to the Huskies but could never quite get over the hump, take a lead, and get the better of UConn. The score was close, but I never thought Villanova would overcome Connecticut's versatility and depth and, sure enough, the Huskies prevailed, 74-66.
One afternoon, Cas and I were bellied up to the bar at Eddie Joe's enjoying the afternoon delight of adult beverages when a loud and seemingly never ending verbal confrontation broke out between two Eddie Joe's regulars. The woman dominated the fight and for what seemed like 45-60 minutes she screamed one grievance after another at the man. It was awful to witness, if for no other reason, because the volume of the screaming was, for me, nerve racking. Nothing bad between the two came of her screaming and yelling, but it stressed me out, made me very anxious.
I had a similar experience watching the "all-access" broadcast of Xavier's basketball game against St. John's this evening. FS1 had both coaches wear a microphone during the game and so we, as viewers, had full access to everything the coaches said during the action on the court and in the teams' huddles.
I didn't enjoy this experiment at all. Both coaches, Sean Miller and Mike Anderson, yelled, practically non-stop from the sideline and I not only felt the acids churn in my stomach, I had flashbacks to how much I not only hated being yelled at by coaches, and experienced again how little good the yelling ever did. In fact, whenever coaches yelled at me, it further eroded my already flimsy confidence and made my already nervous performances even tighter and less free. It wasn't long before I tuned out any yelling from my coaches and could hardly wait to be out of the gym.
I didn't think all the instructions both coaches yelled from the bench did much good.
I do know it made my viewing experience of this game miserable much of the time.
Xavier defeated St. John's 84-79, staving off a late game comeback by the Johnnies.
It was fun seeing St. John's make what looked like a runaway victory for the X-men interesting in the game's closing minutes.
But, if FS1 does this all-access thing again, I'll find something else to do or watch.
3. I decided to wind down after listening to two hours of two coaches yelling by watching an episode of Perry Mason. Tonight's case involved a murder and a fraudulent divorce case and it sure looked, thanks to a series of circumstances, like Perry Mason's client would be found guilty. But, Paul Drake did some nifty detective work, unearthed some crucial documents, and, lo and behold, Perry Mason not only got his client off the hook, he drew a confession out of the real killer on the stand.
Sound familiar? You bet it does! It happens every episode! It's why we return to Perry Mason again and again.
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