The Siren is deathly ill with galloping consumption. Oh all right, it's a cold. But she is drooping around like Marguerite anyway. Be back soon...Call him now, Nanine, call him now...
Siren,A shot of whiskey or a cup of tea with half a lemon is good for whatever ails you.Send him [S.A. Brugh] away now
Hi! Self-Style Siren, The Siren is deathly ill with galloping consumption. Oh all right, it's a cold. Self Styled Siren, I 'am so sorry! to hear that you have a cold and I really hope that you feel better real soon!...I know these are just words, But "Get Well Wishes To You!"But she is drooping around like Marguerite anyway. Be back soon...Call him now, Nanine, call him now...haha!...Don't forget! to drink plenty of Orange juice and eat very light...perhaps...broth?!? Take care!DCD ;-)
Siren, perhaps you need to relax with a little Steve and Eydie: click here.
Get well soon!
Getting over a cold myself (we get them here in Cali too, you know). I recommend the spiciest, hottest Asian soup you can find (shouldn't be too hard in NYC) and zinc supplements.
Looks like I picked the wrong week to put off reading Camille...I hope you get well soon, Campaspe. X. Trapnel's remedy sounds very promising...
It won't knock the cold out, but it does concentrate the mind.
Thanks everybody. Sniffle.Tonio, you made me laugh. I guess I should have a spoiler warning but I figured everyone knew the movie. It reminds me of a late-night call I got from a dear friend when we were teens, after she'd just finished Anna Karenina. "800 damn pages and the silly broad throws herself under a train!""But E., everyone knows how Anna Karenina ends!""Well, I DIDN'T!!"But then after she called I went to my own copy and checked, because 800 pages did seem awfully long, and discovered the word "abridged" in teensy type on the flyleaf. So I had thought it was 350 pages, and then the silly broad throws herself under a train. (Let it be known that I adore Anna Karenina despite all this.)
Always preferred Anna Karina myself. (Badaboom-tshhh!)Everybody I know out here in Lotus Land is sniffling or coughing up a storm - yrs trly included. Curses upon you Mr. Westal for reminding me how much I miss being able to pick up a phone and order in some hot and sour...Fear not, madame, in the words of Raymond Massey, "This too shall pass away."
I had my bout with pneumonia late last year, so we all seem to be getting at least the sniffles this winter. I'll wish you Happy Birthday now, so's not everybody hits you with Get Well. "Dr." X has the right prescription, tho. And I don't mean Atwill.
Get well soon, Campaspe! I'm sure you'll be fine...unless you cough, of course. The movies have taught me that anyone who coughs in the second act dies in the last reel.
Gerard, you are so right. The cough is a surer thing than Chekhov's gun going off. And it doesn't have to be the last reel either. Think of poor Mildred Pierce, sending her child out for the day with a "slight cough..."Yojimboen, I don't even want hot & sour, that's how sick I am. Vanwall, I am not doing any whiskey because I have some Codeine cough syrup and don't want to interfere.
I first saw Mildred Pierce a few years ago with a friend. The first time the kid coughed we said simultaneously, "Uh-oh." You can tell stories so economically once you've got your audience trained.
Pookie! Let's get that galloping consumption down to a trot, eh?Me, I tend to go the Nyquil route. I take it in the evening to get through the night, and again in the morning to sleep through the day. I figure my sick body needs rest anyway, and this way I can just doze through the illness.Feel better soon!
I was joking with someone who was reading Anna Karenina about how it ends only to find out he really didn't know. He got mad at me for ruining the novel for him.No medical advice for you, but if it gives you an excuse to keep on living, I mailed a package to you on Tuesday.
At least you didn't post Ms. Traherne telling us that it was getting dark. Feel better soon.
Good god! Why are we, of all people, forgetting the best cure of all? Settling in with a good movie! A cough-free one, though.
Peter, until this moment I thought there would only two kinds of people in the world: The ones who've never heard of Anna Karenina and the ones who knew she threw herself under...well, maybe I should be discreet. The ones who know the ending (a far larger group than those who will ever read it). It's nice to know that there's still someone out there who can read the book not knowing how it ends.Or at least there was, before you ruined it.
Sorry to read of your illness, Siren. It's strange that I had numerous illnesses of a similar nature when I was young, but haven't had even a serious bout of flu for years now. My last bout of serious bronchitis was when I was 22, but the worst was getting chickenpox when I was 28. You can't even watch a movie suffering from chickenpox. I'm on a sabbatical from movies. I usually watch so many and then get to the point of seeing one film that will trigger a response where my poor brain says "ENOUGH!" and I have to take a little rest. This time it was Nancy Goes to Rio. I saw the opening number and my brain rebelled. If Jane Powell wasn't a spiritual ancestor of Hannah Montana, nobody was.
Tread softly, mn - the ebullient, nightingale-voiced Miss Powell is one of the very few major MGM stars still among us (April 1st this year she'll be eighty). One could say she is almost the last of her kind; so let us be kind? I thank you.
Frankly, I don't know anything about her acting. Usually young actors are a lot more dependent on a director to rein them in (Virginia Weidler, anyone?) so I don't necessarily blame her for that number, but it was pretty awful. She was directed to give such enthusiastic looks that she appeared positively psychotic. Eddie Cantor didn't mug and eye roll as much. Sometimes I forget that the bad parts of musicals, like WWII films suffused with patriotic propaganda, can be really alien to look at now.
Siren, ginger tea is a good remedy. Failing that, you could boil a ginger root in, oh, four cups of water to make good tea, sweeten it with honey, and make a smashing warm-me-up, no side effets, and a soothing antidote for your cough...
Or if you can convince someone to do this, roast gingers whole, then have the slightly cooled down roots massaged into your body. Very decadent feel, and only for the cost of a ginger (and the massage--but I'm assuming someone's willing to do it for free (I'd volunteer if I were driving distance)).
mn - In Nancy Goes to Rio Jane Powell was still a kid, learning her craft and, you're probably right, more than a little intimidated by Robert Z. Leonard. But here she is in her prime.(Scroll down and click on "Seven Wives For Seven Brothers Dual Video"Enjoy
Perhaps Matthias Popkin could be prevailed upon to administer the gignger root massage for a small fee. He could use the dough.
Matthias Popkin? Isn't he a second cousin thrice-removed of Rupert Pupkin's?
Jerry Lewis once came into the place I worked to pick up some bits for his boat. While he was waiting in Will Call, I paged "Rupert Pupkin to Will Call, please, Rupert Pupkin to Will Call." I couldn't resist.
Did he respond to the Pupkin summons or no?
I was in the front office, so I didn't get to see his reaction, but I was told he looked up at the intercom and shook his head with a little smile. Later, everybody was asking me all day, "Who the hell is Rupert Pupkin?", or telling me we didn't have a Rupert Pupkin that worked there. Nobody had seen the movie, so it was my little private communication between Lewis and me. He came in a few times that summer, and was a very pleasant fellow - I spoke to him at the counter once.
Pupkin, Popkin ... y'all are making me delirious.This weekend might have been all right except all three kids and Mr. C were down with this virus as well. We are still recovering. Pray you don't get this thing, it's vicious.
I guess that's one musical I'll take your (and many other people's) word on. I've sedulously avoided that film since I started watching movies. There's something just too weird about a farm that's so CLEAN, especially for the 1800s. It just requires too much suspension of disbelief for me. I may have lived in cities all my life, but I had some long stays at relatives out in the sticks farming and their places were anything but clean, except inside the house. I'm like the Wienie King - Dirt's as natural as sin, disease, twisters, and cyclones, and I don't see any reason to hide it. Not even for a movie.
mndean - You really should watch it, then you can dismiss it on a knowledgeable basis as to the level of dirt involved. ;-) I'm afraid most musicals are a bit squeaky clean on the details regardless of milieu for me, but I don't see SBFSB as a farm movie, or western, per se - I wasn't expecting "Culpepper Cattle Company - The Musical!", anyway, that would be like a "Brigadoon" out of "I Know Where I'm Going!". I also can't remember hearing any spontaneous outbursts of romantic song at any of ranches I visited as a kid, but I suppose it's possible the cattle could correct me on that. I say get it over with, like a neat, quick hanging.
Painting is a messy business, let me tell you. But Gene Kelly is always immaculate in An American in Paris.
Campaspe, here's hoping you're feeling better today ;)At home, my mother (and now ourselves) usually battle colds with the help of a broth made with onion, carrott, the peel of an apple and three grains of star anise: we drink it hot with a bit of honey and lemon.And then watching a nice film sitting in the sofa with a warm woolen blanket isn't bad, either.
Some things imprint one as a child. That was mine. I spent two summers on farms, one in a grape vineyard. I was happy to see the back of them. Every clip of SBFSB I've ever seen didn't look like a real farm, it looked exactly like what it was - a freshly-built set. I can take the convention of breaking out in song pretty much anywhere, I've watched enough musicals for that. I'm pretty sure if I watched the film I'd end up liking it, after all it is by Stanley Donen out of Stephen Vincent Benét. Just my suspension-of-disbelief muscle might get a tear.
Since I can't watch any musical that does not involve the talents of Fred and Ginger or Busby Berkeley I wonder if part of their charm is the absolute artifice of the first (unless one begins to wonder whether Fred is a Freudian or a Jungian in Carefree) and the backstage grittiness of the second. No MGM cleanliness in either.
Well, if too clean a film set is an objection, better erase a couple of decades of MGM product, where cleanliness was the compulsive hallmark of the studio. Richard Brooks told the story of how, while he was shooting Blackboard Jungle Louis B. would send a man around every night to clean the dirty light-switch finger plates on the classroom sets, and every morning Brooks had to dirty them again.
An amazing story! Thank god LB was gone by 1959 or Cary Grant would have emerged from the cornfield unscuffed and unruffled.
No need for a spoiler warning, Campaspe. I was quite familiar with the ending of Camille from various sources. I just couldn't resist the quip. However, I really should read the original novel some time and the two Dumases are two writers whom I really need to catch up on. Come to think of it, I probably should be adding Garbo movies to my Netflix queue as well. It seems like the more old movies I see, the more old movies I come across that I haven't seen yet. An eternal paradox, I guess. And when it comes to Berkeley films and Astaire and Rogers musicals, I'm afraid it's the wow factor that does it for me. Every time I see one of my favorites in that category, I can't help but wonder how they managed to do all that despite the technical restrictions of '30s filmmaking. And how sad that so many recent musicals have had trouble duplicating the same effect despite--or maybe because of--all of this century's technical advantages. I also find it kinda sad that we seem to be turning more and more to India for our musical inspirations despite the fact that some of the best musicals of all time were made in this very country. You don't know what you've got till it's gone, indeed...
That is a failing of MGM films, and yes I noticed before. I try not to let it influence me much. BTW, wasn't Blackboard Jungle made after Louis B. was canned from the studio?
Tonio K: as a culture, we turned our back/closed our ears to the kind of music that made these musicals great. It's the difference between popular culture and mass culture or craftsmanship and assembly line production. To our cultural overlords beauty just isn't efficient.
You're right mn, LB Mayer was gone. I clearly remember the Brooks story though, but I'm not sure if it was a Q&A or written - I'll keep looking. (He may have said "the front office sent a guy around...", Dore Schary, perhaps.) The story continued that no one at MGM believed in the picture and were only convinced when Brooks (and Schary?) drove past the massive queues outside the Times Sq. theater on opening day (in a heavy rainstorm IIRC). Anyone else remember reading that? I hate misreporting.
I've tagged you in my 'blog award' meme - hope you feel better soon!
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