Afternoon Tea on the Terrace

Afternoon Tea on the Terrace:

by Henri Lebasque, who died on August 7, 1937.

Please join the T Tuesday blogger gathering hosted by Bleubeard and Elizabeth where we share a post with a drink in it and visit with one another.

Gold Diggers Of 1933

Gold Diggers Of 1933 is a 1933 pre-code musical directed by Mervyn LeRoy and Busby Berkeley and starring Warren William, Joan Blondell, Aline MacMahon, Ruby Keeler, and Dick Powell. You can watch it online here.

Here's a trailer:

It's listed in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus rating of 100%.

Only Yesterday

Only Yesterday is a 1991 animated drama film intended for an adult audience. It's a sweet story about a young woman, city-born and lifelong Tokyo resident, who is traveling to the countryside to help with the safflower harvest. She reminisces on the journey. I watched it on HBO Max.

trailer:

Roger Ebert's site calls it "breathtakingly beautiful and quietly but devastatingly moving". Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 100%.

The Case of the Velvet Claws

image from Wikipedia

I recently watched the new HBO Perry Mason series, and that sent me to the original Raymond Burr series (found at IMDb TV). Then I realized I'd never read the original books and found the first one online, or you can listen to it at the bottom of this post. The Case of the Velvet Claws is by Erle Stanley Gardner. It begins,

Chapter 1

Autumn sun beat against the window.

Perry Mason sat at the big desk. There was about him the attitude of one who is waiting. His face in repose was like the face of a chess player who is studying the board. That face seldom changed expression. Only the eyes changed expression. He gave the impression of being a thinker and a fighter, a man who could work with infinite patience to jockey an adversary into just the right position, and then finish him with one terrific punch.

Book cases, filled with leather-backed books, lined the walls of the room. A big safe was in one corner. There were two chairs, in addition to the swivel chair which Perry Mason occupied. The office held an atmosphere of plain, rugged efficiency, as though it had absorbed something of the personality of the man who occupied it.

The door to the outer office opened, and Della Street, his secretary, eased her way into the room and closed the door behind her.

“A woman,” she said, “who claims to be a Mrs. Eva Griffin.” Perry Mason looked at the girl with level eyes.

“And you don’t think she is?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“She looks phony to me,” she said. “I’ve looked up the Griffins in the telephone book. And there isn’t any Griffin who has an address like the one she gave. I looked in the City Directory, and got the same result. There are a lot of Griffins, but I don’t find any Eva Griffin. And I don’t find any at her address.”

“What was the address?” asked Mason.

“2271 Grove Street,” she said.

Perry Mason made a notation on a slip of paper.

“I’ll see her,” he said.

“Okay,” said Della Street. “I just wanted you to know that she looks phony to me.”

Della Street was slim of figure, steady of eye; a young woman of approximately twenty-seven, who gave the impression of watching life with keenly appreciative eyes and seeing far below the surface.

She remained standing in the doorway eyeing Perry Mason with quiet insistence. “I wish,” she said, “that you’d find out who she really is before we do anything for her.”

“A hunch?” asked Perry Mason.

“You might call it that,” she said, smiling.

Perry Mason nodded. His face had not changed expression. Only his eyes had become warily watchful.

“All right, send her in, and I’ll take a look at her myself.”

Della Street closed the door as she went out, keeping a hand on the knob, however. Within a few seconds, the knob turned the door opened, and a woman walked into the room with an air of easy assurance.

She was in her early thirties, or perhaps, her late twenties—well groomed, and giving an appearance of being exceedingly well cared for. She flashed a swiftly appraising glance about the office before she looked at the man seated behind the desk.

“Come in and sit down,” said Perry Mason.

She looked at him then, and there was a faint expression of annoyance upon her face. ...

*******

Viridiana

Viridiana is a 1961 Spanish-Mexican film directed by Luis Bunuel. It won the Palme d'Or. I watched it on Youtube, but it's not there any more. In fact I can't find it available free-to-me in English anywhere.

This trailer has had playback blocked on other platforms, but you can click "watch on Youtube" and watch the trailer there:

It's included in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. The Guardian has a positive review. Roger Ebert has it on his list of Great Movies. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 96%.

A Passion in the Desert

A Passion in the Desert is a short story by Honore de Balzac. It is told in the first person, with the narrator being the teller of the story. You can read it online in English translation at the links here or here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. The audio book uses a different translation. It begins,

"The whole show is dreadful," she cried, coming out of the menagerie of M. Martin. She had just been looking at that daring speculator "working with his hyena"--to speak in the style of the program.

"By what means," she continued, "can he have tamed these animals to such a point as to be certain of their affection for----."

"What seems to you a problem," said I, interrupting, "is really quite natural."

"Oh!" she cried, letting an incredulous smile wander over her lips.

"You think that beasts are wholly without passions?" I asked her. "Quite the reverse; we can communicate to them all the vices arising in our own state of civilization."

She looked at me with an air of astonishment.

"Nevertheless," I continued, "the first time I saw M. Martin, I admit, like you, I did give vent to an exclamation of surprise. I found myself next to an old soldier with the right leg amputated, who had come in with me. His face had struck me. He had one of those intrepid heads, stamped with the seal of warfare, and on which the battles of Napoleon are written. Besides, he had that frank good-humored expression which always impresses me favorably. He was without doubt one of those troopers who are surprised at nothing, who find matter for laughter in the contortions of a dying comrade, who bury or plunder him quite lightheartedly, who stand intrepidly in the way of bullets; in fact, one of those men who waste no time in deliberation, and would not hesitate to make friends with the devil himself. After looking very attentively at the proprietor of the menagerie getting out of his box, my companion pursed up his lips with an air of mockery and contempt, with that peculiar and expressive twist which superior people assume to show they are not taken in. Then when I was expatiating on the courage of M. Martin, he smiled, shook his head knowingly, and said, `Well known.'

"How `well known'? I said. `If you would only explain to me the mystery I should be vastly obliged.'

"After a few minutes, during which we made acquaintance, we went to dine at the first restaurateur's whose shop caught our eye. At dessert a bottle of champagne completely refreshed and brightened up the memories of this odd old soldier. He told me his story, and I said he had every reason to exclaim, `Well known.'"

When she got home, she teased me to that extent and made so many promises that I consented to communicate to her the old soldier's confidences. Next day she received the following episode of an epic which one might call "The Frenchman in Egypt."

...

*******

Godzilla vs. Gigan

Godzilla vs. Gigan, the 12th film in this Godzilla franchise, is a 1972 Japanese monster movie. I watched it on HBO MAX.

via Internet Archive:

The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums

The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums is a 1939 Japanese film directed by Kenji Mizoguchi. It is about an actor in 1888 Japan who is praised only because he's the son of a great actor. You can watch it online here.

trailer:

It is included in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.

Please join me in a cuppa:

at the T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering hosted by Bleubeard and Elizabeth.

Gangs of Chicago

Gangs of Chicago is a 1940 crime film. Dwight Frye -one of my favorites- is in this, and Alan Ladd has an uncredited role. It's just over an hour long, and it has Dwight Frye in it. What more do you need?

I watched it on Youtube, but I can't find it anywhere now. I couldn't even find a trailer. Here's one scene:

TCM has an overview.

A Horseman in the Sky

A Horseman in the Sky is a Civil War short story by Ambrose Bierce. You can read it online here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. It begins,

One sunny afternoon in the autumn of the year 1861, a soldier lay in a clump of laurel by the side of a road in Western Virginia. He lay at full length, upon his stomach, his feet resting upon the toes, his head upon the left forearm. His extended right hand loosely grasped his rifle. But for the somewhat methodical disposition of his limbs and a slight rhythmic movement of the cartridge-box at the back of his belt, he might have been thought to be dead. He was asleep at his post of duty. But if detected he would be dead shortly afterward, that being the just and legal penalty of his crime.

...

*******

Force of Evil

Force of Evil is a 1948 crime film starring John Garfield. Paul Fix is in this, and Beau Bridges has an uncredited role in his first on-screen appearance.

It's included in the book 1001 Movies You must See Before You Die. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 100%.

A Midsummer Knight's Dream

A Midsummer Knight's Dream is a short story by O. Henry. You can read it online here at this link, or listen to it read to you at the bottom of the post. It begins,

"The knights are dead; Their swords are rust.
Except a few who have to hust-
Le all the time
To raise the dust."


Dear Reader: It was summertime. The sun glared down upon the city with pitiless ferocity. It is difficult for the sun to be ferocious and exhibit compunction simultaneously. The heat was--oh, bother thermometers!--who cares for standard measures, anyhow? It was so hot that--
...

*******

Deep End (1970)

Deep End is a 1970 British–West German drama film.

Slant Magazine has a positive review. Roger Ebert says it deserved a better ending. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 85%. It's listed in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.

Furry Sings the Blues

Furry Sings the Blues:

by Joni Mitchell. Furry Lewis, a Memphis musician, was not best pleased by how he was portrayed in this song.

Anvil! The Story of Anvil

Anvil! The Story of Anvil is a 2008 "rockumentary" about a Canadian heavy metal band. I watched it here.

trailer:

Roger Ebert has a positive review focusing on hope. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 98%. It's listed in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.

One of These Days

One of These Days is a short story by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a Colombian journalist and writer. I've read a few of his works and have always enjoyed the experience. This story is quite short. You can read it online here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. It begins,

Monday dawned warm and rainless. Aurelio Escovar, a dentist without a degree, and a very early riser, opened his office at six. He took some false teeth, still mounted in their plaster mold, out of the glass case and put on the table a fistful of instruments which he arranged in size order, as if they were on display. He wore a collarless striped shirt, closed at the neck with a golden stud, and pants held up by suspenders He was erect and skinny, with a look that rarely corresponded to the situation, the way deaf people have of looking.

When he had things arranged on the table, he pulled the drill toward the dental chair and sat down to polish the false teeth. He seemed not to be thinking about what he was doing, but worked steadily, pumping the drill with his feet, even when he didn't need it.

After eight he stopped for a while to look at the sky through the window, and he saw two pensive buzzards who were drying themselves in the sun on the ridgepole of the house next door. He went on working with the idea that before lunch it would rain again. The shrill voice of his eleven year-old son interrupted his concentration.

"Papa."

...

*******

Zombies of Mora Tau

Zombies of Mora Tau is a 1957 horror movie about a team of deep sea divers who try to salvage a fortune in diamonds from the wreckage of a ship that sunk 60 years earlier off the coast of Africa but discover the diamonds are protected by the ship's zombie crew.

Strange Fruit

Strange Fruit:

sung by Billie Holiday, who died on this date in 1959 -the same year this video is from- of cirrhosis at the age of 44. from Wikipedia: "The Federal Bureau of Narcotics, under the order of the openly racist Harry J. Anslinger, had been targeting Holiday since at least 1939, when she started to perform "Strange Fruit". She was arrested and handcuffed for drug possession. As she lay dying, her hospital room was raided, and she was placed under police guard."

Coldplay 42

42:

by Coldplay.

The Lady with the Dog

The Lady with the Dog is a short story by Anton Chekhov, who died on this date in 1904 of tuberculosis at the age of 44. This particular story is considered one of his best. You can read it online here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. It begins:

IT was said that a new person had appeared on the sea-front: a lady with a little dog. Dmitri Dmitritch Gurov, who had by then been a fortnight at Yalta, and so was fairly at home there, had begun to take an interest in new arrivals. Sitting in Verney's pavilion, he saw, walking on the sea-front, a fair-haired young lady of medium height, wearing a béret; a white Pomeranian dog was running behind her.

And afterwards he met her in the public gardens and in the square several times a day. She was walking alone, always wearing the same béret, and always with the same white dog; no one knew who she was, and every one called her simply "the lady with the dog."

"If she is here alone without a husband or friends, it wouldn't be amiss to make her acquaintance," Gurov reflected.

He was under forty, but he had a daughter already twelve years old, and two sons at school. He had been married young, when he was a student in his second year, and by now his wife seemed half as old again as he. She was a tall, erect woman with dark eyebrows, staid and dignified, and, as she said of herself, intellectual. She read a great deal, used phonetic spelling, called her husband, not Dmitri, but Dimitri, and he secretly considered her unintelligent, narrow, inelegant, was afraid of her, and did not like to be at home. He had begun being unfaithful to her long ago—had been unfaithful to her often, and, probably on that account, almost always spoke ill of women, and when they were talked about in his presence, used to call them "the lower race."

It seemed to him that he had been so schooled by bitter experience that he might call them what he liked, and yet he could not get on for two days together without "the lower race." In the society of men he was bored and not himself, with them he was cold and uncommunicative; but when he was in the company of women he felt free, and knew what to say to them and how to behave; and he was at ease with them even when he was silent. In his appearance, in his character, in his whole nature, there was something attractive and elusive which allured women and disposed them in his favour; he knew that, and some force seemed to draw him, too, to them.

Experience often repeated, truly bitter experience, had taught him long ago that with decent people, especially Moscow people—always slow to move and irresolute—every intimacy, which at first so agreeably diversifies life and appears a light and charming adventure, inevitably grows into a regular problem of extreme intricacy, and in the long run the situation becomes unbearable. But at every fresh meeting with an interesting woman this experience seemed to slip out of his memory, and he was eager for life, and everything seemed simple and amusing.

One evening he was dining in the gardens, and the lady in the béret came up slowly to take the next table. Her expression, her gait, her dress, and the way she did her hair told him that she was a lady, that she was married, that she was in Yalta for the first time and alone, and that she was dull there.... The stories told of the immorality in such places as Yalta are to a great extent untrue; he despised them, and knew that such stories were for the most part made up by persons who would themselves have been glad to sin if they had been able; but when the lady sat down at the next table three paces from him, he remembered these tales of easy conquests, of trips to the mountains, and the tempting thought of a swift, fleeting love affair, a romance with an unknown woman, whose name he did not know, suddenly took possession of him.

He beckoned coaxingly to the Pomeranian, and when the dog came up to him he shook his finger at it. The Pomeranian growled: Gurov shook his finger at it again.

The lady looked at him and at once dropped her eyes.

"He doesn't bite," she said, and blushed.

"May I give him a bone?" he asked; and when she nodded he asked courteously, "Have you been long in Yalta?"

"Five days."

"And I have already dragged out a fortnight here."

There was a brief silence.

"Time goes fast, and yet it is so dull here!" she said, not looking at him.

"That's only the fashion to say it is dull here. A provincial will live in Belyov or Zhidra and not be dull, and when he comes here it's 'Oh, the dulness! Oh, the dust!' One would think he came from Grenada."

She laughed. Then both continued eating in silence, like strangers, but after dinner they walked side by side; and there sprang up between them the light jesting conversation of people who are free and satisfied, to whom it does not matter where they go or what they talk about. They walked and talked of the strange light on the sea: the water was of a soft warm lilac hue, and there was a golden streak from the moon upon it. They talked of how sultry it was after a hot day. Gurov told her that he came from Moscow, that he had taken his degree in Arts, but had a post in a bank; that he had trained as an opera-singer, but had given it up, that he owned two houses in Moscow.... And from her he learnt that she had grown up in Petersburg, but had lived in S—— since her marriage two years before, that she was staying another month in Yalta, and that her husband, who needed a holiday too, might perhaps come and fetch her. She was not sure whether her husband had a post in a Crown Department or under the Provincial Council—and was amused by her own ignorance. And Gurov learnt, too, that she was called Anna Sergeyevna.

Afterwards he thought about her in his room at the hotel—thought she would certainly meet him next day; it would be sure to happen. As he got into bed he thought how lately she had been a girl at school, doing lessons like his own daughter; he recalled the diffidence, the angularity, that was still manifest in her laugh and her manner of talking with a stranger. This must have been the first time in her life she had been alone in surroundings in which she was followed, looked at, and spoken to merely from a secret motive which she could hardly fail to guess. He recalled her slender, delicate neck, her lovely grey eyes.

"There's something pathetic about her, anyway," he thought, and fell asleep.

...

*******

Audiobook:

Fish Tank

Fish Tank is a 2010 award-winning British film. You can watch it free on Tubi or Youtube (embedded below) or on Amazon Prime with a subscription. I had the DVD.

It's listed in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. The Guardian has a positive review. Roger Ebert has a 4-star review. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 91%.

Have a Cuppa

Please share something drink-related and join us at the T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering.

Le Million

Le Million is a 1931 French musical comedy directed by Rene Clair. You can watch it with English subtitles here.

trailer:

It's listed in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. It has a 100% critics consensus score at Rotten Tomatoes.

Wuthering Heights (1939)

Wuthering Heights is a 1939 film adaptation of the 1847 Emily Bronte novel. It is directed by William Wylie and stars Laurence Olivier, who died on this date in 1989. According to Wikipedia, "After being ill for the last 22 years of his life, Olivier died of kidney failure ... aged 82 at his home near Steyning, West Sussex. His cremation was held three days later; his ashes were buried in Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey during a memorial service in October that year." The film also stars Merle Oberon, David Niven, and Geraldine Fitzgerald. The movie won the New York Film Critics Award for Best Film and earned nominations for eight Academy Awards. It lost the Best Director Award to Gone With the Wind, and the Best Actor Award went to Robert Donat for Goodbye, Mr. Chips. It was a Very Good Year in film.

There's an entire Wikipedia article on Olivier's awards and award nominations.

Much Ado About Nothing

Much Ado About Nothing is a 1993 adaptation of the Shakespeare play directed by and starring Kenneth Branagh. Michael Keaton, Robert Sean Leonard, Keanu Reeves, Emma Thompson, Denzel Washington, and Kate Beckinsale also star. I have the DVD, long languishing in my stack of to-be-watched films, and I'm glad I finally got around to it. 

You can read a plot description of the play itself here at the Wikipedia entry, but it's not at all necessary for understanding and enjoyment.

trailer:

It's well-reviewed, though Keanu Reeves earned a nomination for a Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Supporting Actor. He is the weak link here, but I like him at the worst of times.

Tom Paine Maru

image from Amazon

Tom Paine Maru is a science fiction novel by L. Neil Smith. His Libertarian philosophy is strongly supported in his books, yet not in a way that makes them the focus. This book is quite enjoyable even for someone like me whose opinion of Libertarianism... well, let's just say I prefer a world that's not set up like that.

from the back of the book:

NO-WIN SITUATION

For the promise of a commission, Corporal Whitey O'Thraight had become Ship's Armorer on the first interstellar flight launched by the planet Vespucci.

But the Asperance's maiden voyage was also its last. And just a few hours after the crash landing, the crew was overrun by armored savages. Only Whitey and a badly wounded lieutenant survived, nd they were prisoners of the local Baron.

But before the Baron's Chief Torturer could finish them off, Whitey and the lieutenant were freed by a group of oddly combative monks. Soon the two survivors had to choose between loyalty to their homeworld and to their new friends -and siding with their rescuers would mean the destruction of Vespucci as they knew it.

The Haunted Curiosity Shop (1901)

The Haunted Curiosity Shop is a 1901 short (2 minutes), silent horror film.

J. Habakuk Jephson's Statement

Today is the anniversary of the death in 1930 of Arthur Conan Doyle. He is best known as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, who has had quite the modern resurgence. You can read Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories online. There are numerous film and TV adaptations as well as series involving characters inspired by the author's creations.

He wrote other stories, but they are not nearly so well known. In fact, truth be told, they're hardly known at all. In his memory on this the anniversary of his death I'd like to suggest the 1884 short story J. Habakuk Jephson's Statement. It is told as a first-person testimony by a survivor of the Marie Celeste, a fictionalised version of the Mary Celeste. The story popularized the real-life story of that ship, which was found mysteriously abandoned and adrift in the Atlantic Ocean in 1872.

You can read the story online here or here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. It begins,

In the month of December in the year 1873 the British ship ‘Dei Gratia’ steered into Gibraltar, having in tow the derelict brigantine, ‘Marie Celeste,’ which had been picked up in latitude 38° 40', longitude 17° 15' West. There were several circumstances in connection with the condition and appearance of this abandoned vessel which excited considerable comment at the time, and aroused a curiosity which has never been satisfied. What these circumstances were was summed up in an able article which appeared in the ‘Gibraltar Gazette.’ The curious can find it in the issue for January 4, 1874, unless my memory deceives me. For the benefit of those, however, who may be unable to refer to the paper in question, I shall subjoin a few extracts which touch upon the leading features of the case.

‘We have ourselves,’ says the anonymous writer in the ‘Gazette,’ ‘been over the derelict “Marie Celeste,” and have closely questioned the officers of the “Dei Gratia” on every point which might throw light on the affair. They are of opinion that she had been abandoned several days, or perhaps weeks, before being picked up. The official log, which was found in the cabin, states that the vessel sailed from Boston to Lisbon, starting upon October 16. It is, however, most imperfectly kept, and affords little information. There is no reference to rough weather, and, indeed, the state of the vessel’s paint and rigging excludes the idea that she was abandoned for any such reason. She is perfectly water-tight. No signs of a struggle or of violence are to be detected, and there is absolutely nothing to account for the disappearance of the crew. There are several indications that a lady was present on board, a sewing-machine being found in the cabin and some articles of female attire. These probably belonged to the captain’s wife, who is mentioned in the log as having accompanied her husband. As an instance of the mildness of the weather, it may be remarked that a bobbin of silk was found standing upon the sewing-machine, though the least roll of the vessel would have precipitated it to the floor. The boats were intact, and slung upon the davits, and the cargo, consisting of tallow and American clocks, was untouched.1 An old-fashioned sword of curious workmanship was discovered among some lumber in the forecastle, and this weapon is said to exhibit a longitudinal striation on the steel, as if it had been recently wiped. It has been placed in the hands of the police, and submitted to Dr. Monaghan, the analyst, for inspection. The result of his examination has not yet been published. We may remark, in conclusion, that Captain Dalton, of the “Dei Gratia,” an able and intelligent seaman, is of opinion that the “Marie Celeste” may have been abandoned a considerable distance from the spot at which she was picked up, since a powerful current runs up in that latitude from the African coast. He confesses his inability, however, to advance any hypothesis which can reconcile all the facts of the case. In the utter absence of a clue or grain of evidence, it is to be feared that the fate of the crew of the “Marie Celeste” will be added to those numerous mysteries of the deep which will never be solved until the great day when the sea shall give up its dead. If crime has been committed, as is much to be suspected, there is little hope of bringing the perpetrators to justice.’

...

My Man Godfrey

My Man Godfrey is a 1936 screwball comedy starring William Powell and Carole Lombard. I watched it on TubiTV. You can also see it on Amazon Prime.

on Youtube:

Here's a screen shot for T Stands for Tuesday:

"All you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right kind of people."

It's included in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. Roger Ebert has it on his list of Great Movies. Rotten Tomatoes has a 97% critics consensus score.

The Marble Faun

The Marble Faun is an 1860 fantasy/romance Gothic novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I found Hawthorne incredibly boring in school and decided to give him another chance. You can read it online here or listen to it being read to you at the bottom of this post. It begins,

THE MARBLE FAUN

Volume I

CHAPTER I

MIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLO

Four individuals, in whose fortunes we should be glad to interest the reader, happened to be standing in one of the saloons of the sculpture-gallery in the Capitol at Rome. It was that room (the first, after ascending the staircase) in the centre of which reclines the noble and most pathetic figure of the Dying Gladiator, just sinking into his death-swoon. Around the walls stand the Antinous, the Amazon, the Lycian Apollo, the Juno; all famous productions of antique sculpture, and still shining in the undiminished majesty and beauty of their ideal life, although the marble that embodies them is yellow with time, and perhaps corroded by the damp earth in which they lay buried for centuries. Here, likewise, is seen a symbol (as apt at this moment as it was two thousand years ago) of the Human Soul, with its choice of Innocence or Evil close at hand, in the pretty figure of a child, clasping a dove to her bosom, but assaulted by a snake.

From one of the windows of this saloon, we may see a flight of broad stone steps, descending alongside the antique and massive foundation of the Capitol, towards the battered triumphal arch of Septimius Severus, right below. Farther on, the eye skirts along the edge of the desolate Forum (where Roman washerwomen hang out their linen to the sun), passing over a shapeless confusion of modern edifices, piled rudely up with ancient brick and stone, and over the domes of Christian churches, built on the old pavements of heathen temples, and supported by the very pillars that once upheld them. At a distance beyond—yet but a little way, considering how much history is heaped into the intervening space—rises the great sweep of the Coliseum, with the blue sky brightening through its upper tier of arches. Far off, the view is shut in by the Alban Mountains, looking just the same, amid all this decay and change, as when Romulus gazed thitherward over his half finished wall.

We glance hastily at these things,—at this bright sky, and those blue distant mountains, and at the ruins, Etruscan, Roman, Christian, venerable with a threefold antiquity, and at the company of world-famous statues in the saloon,—in the hope of putting the reader into that state of feeling which is experienced oftenest at Rome. It is a vague sense of ponderous remembrances; a perception of such weight and density in a bygone life, of which this spot was the centre, that the present moment is pressed down or crowded out, and our individual affairs and interests are but half as real here as elsewhere. Viewed through this medium, our narrative—into which are woven some airy and unsubstantial threads, intermixed with others, twisted out of the commonest stuff of human existence—may seem not widely different from the texture of all our lives.

Side by side with the massiveness of the Roman Past, all matters that we handle or dream of nowadays look evanescent and visionary alike.

It might be that the four persons whom we are seeking to introduce were conscious of this dreamy character of the present, as compared with the square blocks of granite wherewith the Romans built their lives. Perhaps it even contributed to the fanciful merriment which was just now their mood. When we find ourselves fading into shadows and unrealities, it seems hardly worth while to be sad, but rather to laugh as gayly as we may, and ask little reason wherefore.

Of these four friends of ours, three were artists, or connected with art; and, at this moment, they had been simultaneously struck by a resemblance between one of the antique statues, a well-known masterpiece of Grecian sculpture, and a young Italian, the fourth member of their party.

*******

The Return of Ringo

The Return of Ringo is a 1965 spaghetti western. I watched it here at this link on tubitv. It's also on Amazon Prime. This is a retelling of the Odysseus story.

trailer:

Spaghetti-Western opens a positive review with this: "The only 'official' sequel to Tessari's very popular A Pistol For Ringo, also starring Giuliano Gemma, this film is a loose re-telling of the ancient Greek story of The Odyssey."

My post on the first Ringo film is here.

Going Down To The River

Going Down To The River:

by Mississippi Fred McDowell, who died in Memphis on this date in 1972 of cancer at the age of 66.

The Secret Adversary (1983)

The Secret Adversary is the 1983 adaptation of an Agatha Christie's detective novel. It is the first episode in the Partners in Crime television series. I watched it on Britbox through Amazon Prime. It's great fun.

part 1:

part 2:

Published in 1922, the novel can be read online here, or you can have it read to you here.

In Cold Blood

In Cold Blood by Truman Copote is a 1966 true crime novelized account of the Clutter family murders. It's the 2nd-best-selling true crime book in history (after Helter Skelter). It has been adapted for film, but I've never seen them. This book has been in my to-be-read stack for literally decades, and I finally decided to read it. It was a page-turner, I'll say that for it, even knowing how it ends. Or maybe especially knowing how it ends.

from the back of the book:

On November 15, 1959, in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces. There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues.

As Truman Capote reconstructs the murder and the investigation that led to the capture, tial, and execution of the killers, he generates both mesmerizing suspense and astonishing empathy. In Cold Blood is a work that transcends its moments, yielding poignant insights into the nature of American violence.

Nobody's Watching

Nobody's Watching is a 2017 film directed by Julia Solomonoff. I watched it free on TubiTV at this link with ads. I liked this.

trailer:

The Guardian has a positive review as do Variety and Hollywood Reporter. Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 89%.

Good Strong Coffee

Good Strong Coffee:

a 1968 television ad promoting coffee as a stimulant. Groovy!

Please post something drink-related and join us at the T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering hosted by Bleubeard and Elizabeth.

Reap the Wild Wind

Reap the Wild Wind is an Oscar award-winning 1942 swashbuckling adventure film directed by Cecille B. DeMille and starring Ray Milland, John Wayne, Paulette Goddard, Robert Preston, and Susan Hayward.

I watched it at Daily Motion, but that video's not there any more. It's available right now at Internet Archive and via Youtube::

The Hollywood Reporter has a review from the film's original release. Variety says, "The production is a visual triumph. Some of the marine scenes are breathtaking. There is skillful blending of process photography." DVD Talk closes by saying, "From a production standpoint alone, Reap the Wild Wind is a visual feast for the eyes, with many exciting set-pieces. ... Highly Recommended."

Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus critics score of 80%. TCM has an article.

Angel Station

Angel Station is a science fiction space opera novel by Walter Jon Williams. There's plenty here, including politics and philosophy. I was fascinated by how the aliens -and oh! how alien they are!- were portrayed and the way their relationship with humans developed. It would reward re-reading.

from the back of the book:

Orphans born in the depths of space, they were engineered to range the galaxy in search of fortune. Misfits and outlaws, they defied the huge interstllar cartels that ruled space, always one jump ahead of the authorities. Ubu Roy was the strong young bossrider of the starship Runaway, who held all of history in his remarkable memory. Beautiful Maria was an ace star shooter and cybernetic witch, who could bend spacetime to find the perfect singularity.

The author keeps a blog at his website.

Memphis Repertory Orchestra

Memphis Repertory Orchestra:

in concert in 2016.

Jackie Robinson 42

42 was Jackie Robinson's number. He died on this date in 1972.

Voodoo Island

Voodoo Island is a 1957 horror film starring Boris Karloff. Elisha Cook, Jr. is also in this movie. As are zombies and carnivorous plants. Adam West has an uncredited role.

Stomp Tokyo has a detailed plot description and some screen shots.

I'll Take Care of You

I'll Take Care of You:

sung by Bobby "Blue" Bland, who was born and died here in Shelby Country, Tennessee. He performed until shortly before his death on this date in 2013 at the age of 83.

The Face of Another

The Face of Another is a 1966 award-winning Japanese film based on the 1964 Kobe Abe book. The story follows an engineer, whose face is severely burnt in a work-related accident and who is given a new face in the form of a lifelike mask.

Here's a screenshot from fairly early in the film. See the teapot?

Please post something drink-related and join us at the T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering hosted by Bleubeard and Elizabeth.

Happy International Day of Yoga

Namaste. Enjoy the International Day of Yoga by doing some yoga. Here are some easy beginner poses:

Mountain Pose (Tadasana)

Raised Hands Pose

Corpse Pose (Savasana)

usually shown on the floor, this pose can also be done on your bed

The Long Ships

The Long Ships is a 1964 British/Yugoslav film starring Richard Widmark and Sidney Poitier. There is so much not to like here unless you're a Widmark or Poitier completest. I didn't finish it.


In 3 parts below with ads.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

DVD Talk calls it a "total botch" and says, "The only way to account for the erratic final result is to point at the gross miscasting and waste of good actors in minor roles. Much of the film appears to be played for laughs that aren't in the script." Rotten Tomatoes has a 50% critics consensus and a 39% audience rating. TCM has an overview.

The Red House Mystery

The Red House Mystery is a 1922 "locked room" story by A.A. Milne and is his only mystery novel. This is a fun read. I enjoyed the writing style, how the plot progresses, the characters... all of it. You can read it online here or here or listen to it read to you at the bottom of this post. Here's the first chapter:

CHAPTER I.

Mrs. Stevens is Frightened

In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds; making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.

It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the housekeeper’s room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr. Mark Ablett’s bachelor home.

“For Joe?” said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it, and said, “He likes a bit of pink.”

“I don’t say I mind a bit of pink myself,” said her aunt. “Joe Turner isn’t the only one.”

“It isn’t everybody’s colour,” said Audrey, holding the hat out at arm’s length, and regarding it thoughtfully. “Stylish, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’ll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn’t. If I’m fifty-five, I’m fifty-five—that’s what I say.”

“Fifty-eight, isn’t it, auntie?”

“I was just giving that as an example,” said Mrs. Stevens with great dignity.

Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails critically for a moment, and then began to sew.

“Funny thing that about Mr. Mark’s brother. Fancy not seeing your brother for fifteen years.” She gave a self-conscious laugh and went on, “Wonder what I should do if I didn’t see Joe for fifteen years.”

“As I told you all this morning,” said her aunt, “I’ve been here five years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before everybody if I was going to die to-morrow. There’s been no brother here while I’ve been here.”

“You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him at breakfast this morning. I didn’t hear what went before, naturally, but they was all talking about the brother when I went in—now what was it I went in for—hot milk, was it, or toast?—well, they was all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says—you know his way—‘Stevens,’ he says, ‘my brother is coming to see me this afternoon; I’m expecting him about three,’ he says. ‘Show him into the office,’ he says, just like that. ‘Yes, sir,’ I says quite quietly, but I was never so surprised in my life, not knowing he had a brother. ‘My brother from Australia,’ he says—there, I’d forgotten that. From Australia.”

“Well, he may have been in Australia,” said Mrs. Stevens, judicially; “I can’t say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say is he’s never been here. Not while I’ve been here, and that’s five years.”

“Well, but, auntie, he hasn’t been here for fifteen years. I heard Mr. Mark telling Mr. Cayley. ‘Fifteen years,’ he says. Mr. Cayley having arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him, I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn’t know when he was last in England—see? So that’s why he arst Mr. Mark.”

“I’m not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only speak for what I know, and that’s five years Whitsuntide. I can take my oath he’s not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if he’s been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he’s had his reasons.”

“What reasons?” said Audrey lightly.

“Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey—when a gentleman goes to Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he has his reasons. And a respectably brought-up girl doesn’t ask what reasons.”

“Got into trouble, I suppose,” said Audrey carelessly. “They were saying at breakfast he’d been a wild one. Debts. I’m glad Joe isn’t like that. He’s got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings’ bank. Did I tell you?”

But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet—no longer Audrey, but now Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of the glass.

“There, that’s the front door,” she said. “That’s him. ‘Show him into the office,’ said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn’t want the other ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well, they’re all out at their golf, anyhow—Wonder if he’s going to stay—P’raps he’s brought back a lot of gold from Australia—I might hear something about Australia, because if anybody can get gold there, then I don’t say but what Joe and I—”

“Now, now, get on, Audrey.”

“Just going, darling.” She went out.

To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the open door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of which even the mere sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed, oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows, blue-curtained. On the right and left were doors leading into other living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open windows to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the left, led you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall, to your bedroom. That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr. Robert Ablett’s intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.

As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr. Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the front windows, reading. No reason why he shouldn’t be there; certainly a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow there was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as if all the guests were outside, or—perhaps the wisest place of all—up in their bedrooms, sleeping. Mr. Cayley, the master’s cousin, was a surprise; and, having given a little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed, and said, “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn’t see you at first,” and he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive smile it was on that big ugly face. “Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley,” she thought to herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would do without him. If this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia, it was Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.

“So this is Mr. Robert,” said Audrey to herself, as she came in sight of the visitor.

She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for Mr. Mark’s brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually she was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register one more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was a very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial, staring at her so loweringly.

“I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett,” he growled. It sounded almost like a threat.

Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a smile for everybody.

“Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way.”

“Oh! So you know who I am, eh?”

“Mr. Robert Ablett?”

“Ay, that’s right. So he’s expecting me, eh? He’ll be glad to see me, eh?”

“If you will come this way, sir,” said Audrey primly.

She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.

“Mr. Robert Ab—” she began, and then broke off. The room was empty. She turned to the man behind her. “If you will sit down, sir, I will find the master. I know he’s in, because he told me that you were coming this afternoon.”

“Oh!” He looked round the room. “What d’you call this place, eh?”

“The office, sir.”

“The office?”

“The room where the master works, sir.”

“Works, eh? That’s new. Didn’t know he’d ever done a stroke of work in his life.”

“Where he writes, sir,” said Audrey, with dignity. The fact that Mr. Mark “wrote,” though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the housekeeper’s room.

“Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?”

“I will tell the master you are here, sir,” said Audrey decisively.

She closed the door and left him there.

Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once, going over all the things which he had said to her and she had said to him—quiet-like. “Directly I saw him I said to myself—” Why, you could have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual menace to Audrey.

However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.

“If you please, sir,” she said in a low, respectful voice, “can you tell me where the master is? It’s Mr. Robert called.”

“What?” said Cayley, looking up from his book. “Who?”

Audrey repeated her question.

“I don’t know. Isn’t he in the office? He went up to the Temple after lunch. I don’t think I’ve seen him since.”

“Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple.”

Cayley returned to his book.

The “Temple” was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back of the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated sometimes before retiring to the “office” to put his thoughts upon paper. The thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were given off at the dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and got on to paper more often than they got into print. But that did not prevent the master of The Red House from being a little pained when a visitor treated the Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the ordinary purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in it. Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little less than his usual point—whether they couldn’t find anywhere else for their game, but the offenders were never asked to The Red House again.

Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly back. All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his room. “Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room.” Well, now, Auntie, would you like anyone in your drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his neck and great big dusty boots, and—listen! One of the men shooting rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot it was; she wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr. Robert wasn’t staying the night; he hadn’t any luggage. Of course Mr. Mark could lend him things; he had clothes enough for six. She would have known him anywhere for Mr. Mark’s brother.

She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper’s room on her way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face looked out.

“Hallo, Aud,” said Elsie. “It’s Audrey,” she said, turning into the room.

“Come in, Audrey,” called Mrs. Stevens.

“What’s up?” said Audrey, looking in at the door.

“Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?”

“Up to the Temple.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Hear what?”

“Bangs and explosions and terrible things.”

“Oh!” said Audrey, rather relieved. “One of the men shooting rabbits. Why, I said to myself as I came along, ‘Auntie’s partial to a nice rabbit,’ I said, and I shouldn’t be surprised if—”

“Rabbits!” said her aunt scornfully. “It was inside the house, my girl.”

“Straight it was,” said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids. “I said to Mrs. Stevens—didn’t I, Mrs. Stevens?—‘That was in the house,’ I said.”

Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.

“Do you think he had a revolver with him?” she said in a hushed voice.

“Who?” said Elsie excitedly.

“That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on him, ‘You’re a bad lot, my man!’ That’s what I said, Elsie. Even before he spoke to me. Rude!” She turned to her aunt. “Well, I give you my word.”

“If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone from Australia.” Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather rapidly. “I wouldn’t go out of this room now, not if you paid me a hundred thousand pounds.”

“Oh, Mrs. Stevens!” said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for a new pair of shoes, “I wouldn’t go as far as that, not myself, but—”

“There!” cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older woman’s chair.

A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.

“Listen!”

Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.

They heard a man’s voice, loud, angry.

“Open the door!” it was shouting. “Open the door! I say, open the door!”

“Don’t open the door!” cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was her door which was threatened. “Audrey! Elsie! Don’t let him in!”

“Damn it, open the door!” came the voice again.

“We’re all going to be murdered in our beds,” she quavered. Terrified, the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens sat there, waiting.

Paterson

Paterson is a 2016 award-winning Jim Jarmusch film starring Adam Driver. I watched it on Amazon Prime. A lovely way to spend a couple of hours.

trailer:

Vox says, "Paterson, the quietly philosophical tale of a bus-driving poet, is one of 2016's best films". Rolling Stone says, "Jim Jarmusch Scores With Tribute to Poetry All Around Us" and calls it "a quiet celebration of everyday people". Empire Online closes: "Quiet, thoughtful and deeply human, this is one of Jarmusch’s finest and features Adam Driver’s best performance yet — although you do risk coming out with a new affection for modernist poetry."

The New Yorker opens a positive review with this:

im Jarmusch is among the rarest and most precious filmmakers of our time, because, at his best—as he is in his new film, “Paterson”—he conjures an entire world of his own imagination. He does so with his wry and tamped-down tone, his loping rhythms, his puckishly frontal compositions, his worn-in sense of design, the winking terseness of his dialogue—and the loving precision of his documentary-rooted observations, which anchor his microcosmic cinematic world, with its austerely whimsical passions, in the world at large.

Roger Ebert's site concludes, "That is ultimately the very real thing that the movie is about: the conviction that if you can live at least part of your life breathing poetry (and that poetry is not necessarily a verbal thing), you can make your life more worthwhile." Rotten Tomatoes has a critics consensus score of 96%.

I have also seen these other Jarmusch films:

• Strange to Meet You (1986)
• Down by Law (1986)
• Night on Earth (1991)
• Dead Man (1995)
• Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)

Memphis in June

Memphis in June:

sung by Nina Simone

The Quiet Duel

The Quiet Duel is a 1949 Akira Kurosawa film starring Toshiro Mifune and Takashi Shimura. You won't go wrong watching any film with any of these three names associated with it.

Melancholy

Melancholy (1916):

by Nicholae Vermont, who died on June 14, 1932, at the age of 65. Please share a drink-related post and join us at the T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering hosted by Bleubeard and Elizabeth.

Iron Monkey

Iron Monkey is a 1977 Hong Kong/Taiwanese martial arts film.

Haunted Memphis

Haunted Memphis by Laura Cunningham is part of the Haunted America book series. It's an interesting look at some of the old Memphis stories and would be a good starting point, but I found it more helpful to use an internet search to find the ghost stories. That allows me to easily find maps to sites and to follow the links down related bunny trails. For visitors to the city I'd recommend one of the local ghost tours.

from the back of the book:

Much like its muddy riverbanks, the mid-South is flooded with tales of shadowy spirits lurking among us. Beyond the rhythm of the blues and tapping of blue suede shoes is a history steeped in horror. From the restless souls of Elmwood Cemetery to the voodoo vices of Beale Street, phantom hymns of the Orpheum Theatre and Civil War soldiers still looking for a fight, peer beyond the shadows of the city’s most historic sites. Author and lifelong resident Laura Cunningham expertly blends fright with history and presents the ghostly legends from Beale to Bartlett, Germantown to Collierville, in this one-of-a-kind volume no resident or visitor should be without.

Princess Iron Fan

Princess Iron Fan is a 1941 film loosely based on a part of a novel. It's the first animated feature length Chinese film. I loved the animation in this.

Tiamat's Wrath

Tiamat's Wrath by James S.A. Corey is the 8th book in the science fiction series The Expanse. This is one of the best science fiction series I've ever read. I look forward to the next book, which I'll be putting on my wish list for the next gift-giving occasion. The television adaptation is well-done, too.

from the back of the book:

THE ENEMY IS HERE

Thirteen hundred gates have opened to solar systems around the galaxy. But as humanity builds its interstellar empire in the alien ruins, the mysteries and threats grow deeper.

In the dead systems where gates lead to stranger things than alien planets, Elvi Okeye begins a desparate search to discover the nature of a genocide that happened before the first humans existed, and to find weapons to fight a war against forces at the edge of the imaginable.

At the heart of the empire, Teresa Duarte prepares to take on the burden of her father's godlike ambition. The sociopathic scientist Paolo Cortazar and the Mephistotophelian prisoner James Holden are only two of the dangers in a palace thick with intrigue...

And throughout the wide human empire, the scattered crew of the Rocinante fights a brave rearguard action against Duarte's authoritarian regime. Memory of the old order falls away, and a future under Laconia's eternal rule -and with it, a battle that humanity can only lose- seems more and more certain.

Tiamat's Wrath is the eighth and penultimate novel in the Expanse series, a modern masterwork of science fiction.

Reviews are positive. Honestly, if you like science fiction and haven't started reading these books, jump in! Read them in order.

The Last Valley

The Last Valley is a 1971 historical drama starring Michael Caine and Omar Sharif as a mercenary soldier and a teacher respectively who find themselves during wartime in a peaceful valley untouched by the 30 Years War. The Younger Son has the DVD (or BluRay, I forget which) and watched it with me. It was a box office failure, but don't let that stop you. It gets mostly positive reviews now. I liked it.

Charles Dickens

Today is the anniversary of the death of Charles Dickens in 1870 at the age of 58 having not regained consciousness after a second stroke (according to Wikipedia). You can read his works online. There's an interactive virtual tour of the Charles Dickens Museum online here. There are images and descriptions of the rooms at his home here. There is information on what England was like during the lifetime of Dickens here. Here's a 4 1/2 minute BBC animated life of Dickens:

There's a 45-minute biography here at Biography.com.

The Web

The Web is a 1947 film noir starring Ella Raines, Edmond O'Brien, William Bendix and Vincent Price. You can watch it online here or via Internet Archive:

Here's a screen shot from fairly early on:

Please share a drink-related post and join us at Bleubeard and Elizabeth's weekly T Stands for Tuesday blogger gathering.