“I thought of all those heroines of fiction who looked pretty when they cried, and what a contrast I must make with a blotched and swollen face, and red rims to my eyes”.
Noirvember – Day 10 (“Last night I dreamt…”, Part 3)
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Tag Archives: Turner Classic Movies
Noirvember – Day 9 (Last night I dreamt…”, Part 2)
“The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea”.
Noirvember – Day 8 (“Last night I dreamt…”, Part 1)
Noirvember – Day 7 (Unpacking)
They is much to unpack in Double Indemnity but, to begin, I will leave us with this still. Look at the produce on the shelves and notice their symmetry. Gaze on the signs with the emphasis on ‘please’. So polite, so good. Everything is in it’s place with every tin or bottle’s label facing the front. Highly stylised and organised. Notice the feet – both facing outwards- and the replication in body language. Everything is ordered, neat, and tidy. So perfect and chaos free. So alluringly deceptive.
Noirvember – Day 6 (Faces)
One of my first memories is of Humphrey Bogart’s face. I’ve already spoken about this in one of my TCMFF posts, but my Dad’s wardrobe is plastered in black and white postcards and film stills of Bogart, Lauren Bacall and James Dean. I grew up with the assumption that every father did this, and that everybody knew these faces, these voices, these films. I was raised with the assumption that every child knew of The Maltese Falcon, and that every parent paid homage to Old Hollywood. I may not have studied film long-term, but I had the best education: my Film Noir schooling began at home.
Noirvember – Day 5 (White Heat, Part 1)
James Cagney. White Heat. That is all.
Noirvember – Day 4 (Gloria)
It has been a long, exhausting week. I haven’t been feeling good and my energy is at an all time low. Trying to maintain my “I’m well, thanks” exterior has proved difficult, therefore I’m taking advantage of the long Noirevmber nights. Here I am, slumped in a chair, drink in hand, surrounded by the spirit of Norma Desmond.
Sabina Stent 