Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Theft And Flirting On The French Riviera


“I called the police from your room and told them who you are and everything you’ve been doing tonight.” ~ Frances 
“Everything? The boys must have really enjoyed that at headquarters.” ~ Robie

“I take it you were a sort of modern Robin Hood, you gave away most of the proceeds of your crimes?” ~ Hughson 
“Kept everything myself. Well, let’s face it, I was an out and out thief, like you.” ~ Robie

“Don’t you think it’s foolish to remain here without knowing what will happen to you? But if you were in South America with me, you will know exactly what will happen.” ~ Danielle

“Sorry I ever sent her to finishing school. I think they finished her up there.” ~ Jessie

“Hold this necklace in your hand and tell me you’re not John Robie, the Cat. John, tell me something. You’re going to rob that villa we cased this afternoon aren’t you? Oh, I suppose rob is archaic. You’d say, knock over?” ~ Frances

“You know, I have the same interest in jewellery that I have in politics, horseracing, modern poetry, or women who need weird excitement. None.” ~ Robie


To Catch A Thief is the 1955 romantic thriller by Alfred Hitchcock, pairing the director of suspense with actors he’d worked with on other occasions- Cary Grant and Grace Kelly. The film, which plays with the innocent man wrongfully accused storyline, is set in the French Riviera, concerning itself with a series of crimes being committed by a burglar, crimes that have the hallmark of a retired cat thief. Delightfully brisk and with a lighter touch than many of Hitchcock’s films, the movie is a pleasure to watch.


The story opens with crimes underway, the theft of high end jewels from visitors and residents in the area. The police suspect and try to arrest John Robie (Cary Grant), a former thief with the nickname the Cat, who spends his life quietly tending his vineyards at his villa in the hills. He gives them the slip, meets up with his former associates from his days in the French Resistance. Many of them resent him, because with these new crimes, all of them are under suspicion- the entire group was paroled after their wartime service, and yet still come under suspicion when crime waves happen. He does receive aid from the daughter of one of the gang, Danielle (Brigitte Auber), who has a thing for him.


Robie decides the best method to prove his innocence is to catch the new Cat in the act. He enlists an insurance man, H.H. Hughson (John Williams), who assumes Robie will only end up incriminating himself and provides him with a list of expensive jewels on the Riviera. Among the list are those belonging to two Americans, a mother and daughter, Jessie and Frances Stevens (Jessie Royce Landis and Grace Kelly). Robie steps into their lives, quickly charming Frances, and being charmed by her in return, all the while working to uncover the truth behind the new burglar.


Hitchcock took on the film, based on a novel of the same name by David Dodge, which was adapted as a screenplay by John Michael Hayes. With a good deal of location shooting on the Riviera, the film fully exploits the sophistication and beauty of its surroundings and the story plays on the suave charm of its leading man. There are signature Hitchcock notes to the film- the brisk pace, the required cameo by the director early on, the wrongfully accused plotline, innuendo, dashes of suspense, and the dry sense of humour, with some differences as well- the psychological aspects of films like Vertigo or Psycho are not in play here.


Hitchcock’s crew certainly showed their worth here. The film won an Oscar for Cinematography, and it’s certainly beautifully shot, and so the award is well earned. The attention to detail is well taken care of- this being a high society sort of environment, the clothing looks well tailored, and the attire for a late in the film masquerade ball that is an essential element of the film is lavish. Oscar nominations were also in play for art direction and costume design, and the nominations are well deserved.


The cast is impeccable. John Williams had previously worked with Hitchcock, most recently in Dial M For Murder. His character is a reluctant source of help for Robie- as an insurance agent, he’s naturally suspicious of the notorious thief at first, and wary of the offer being made. There’s a mannerly keep-calm-and-carry-on sort of manner to the character, which Williams plays to, and as the film goes along Hughson proves to be an indispensible ally to Robie. I like the dry sense of humour for the character- his reaction to Robie’s revelation about his housekeeper’s wartime exploits is wonderfully rendered by Williams.


Jessie Royce Landis would work with Grant again some years later, playing his eye rolling mother in North By Northwest. Here she’s a different kind of mother, playing the role to Grace Kelly’s Frances. Her take on Jessie Stevens is both down to earth and with a good sense of humour. The character is one who came into money as opposed to inherited it, so she doesn’t have the polish that years of finishing school have given her daughter, but she’s likable, wise in her own way and likely to wisecrack. Her daughter, on the other hand, is more given to roll her eyes in exasperation at Jessie’s remarks.


Brigitte Auber’s Danielle is remarked upon by Frances as a child during the film- ironic, as the actress was in fact over a year older than Grace Kelly. Her character has the look of a teen, though, and particularly the attitude- impetuous, sarcastic, and flirtatious. There’s more to her, and the actress has to keep things close to the vest as the movie goes along. One must wonder on the odd occasion why Robie doesn’t take her up on the whole going to South America thing.


Grace Kelly had worked with Hitchcock previously on Rear Window and Dial M For Murder. This was one of her final films- within a couple of years she married Prince Rainier of Monaco. Her character Frances is more mature than her mother, with the sophistication that comes from finishing school. She’s wary of the attention of men- are they after her or after her money? There’s a dash of mischief and spirit in the character early on, in how she banters and flirts with Robie, or spars with Danielle. She sees right through Robie’s cover story, teases him with an unusual offer, and yet turns on him when events take another turn. And yet she’s not so proud that she can’t admit to a mistake. Kelly brings great warmth into the character as time goes on, and she’s got great chemistry with Grant.


Cary Grant’s take as Robie is one of his best roles, with the actor as suave, charming, and debonair as you expect. He’s rather graceful and calm under pressure, more self assured than the character he would later play in North By Northwest, where he comes into his own gradually as events become chaotic around him. Robie is a resourceful man, quick thinking and able to improvise, and Grant gives him a nicely dry sense of humour- perhaps best summed up in one facial expression before the screen fades to black. I like the nuance he gives to the character- that even though he’s been pardoned for his crimes in the past, he lives out his life always under suspicion when a crime spree happens, and it’s a status that bothers him- he has to prove every day of his life that he doesn’t belong in jail. I like the way he relates to Frances- playful and flirting, trying to resist temptation on one occasion, and able to forgive at another crucial point.


This is one of my favourite films from the master of suspense. Hitchcock gives us a film with a delightful touch, a brisk pace, and wonderful leading actors. The film is more romantic thriller than psychological melodrama as some of Hitchcock’s other works, but it does have the tell tales of his style, and it’s a treat to watch the story unfold. There are many reasons this film’s a classic, and all of them work so incredibly well.


Wednesday, August 19, 2015

A Day In The Life Of A Cubs Fan

It's been awhile since I've done one of these, so here we are. Fans of a certain baseball team in the Mid-West might want to kill me for this.


10:05 AM. At home gettin’ ready. Big day ahead. Big day! Our boys are playin’ those rotten Cardinals tonight, and for once, we’re not at the bottom of the standings. Sure, we’re quite a few games back, and the season isn’t gettin’ any shorter, but hey, if we win every single game from here on out, we’re a sure thing to win the World Series. This year, baby! The World Series is comin’ back to Chicago! Yeah!


10:21 AM. Puttin’ on my Cubs jersey. Joe and Harry are comin’ over before the game and we’re goin’ out to Wrigley. Might stop in at the bar beforehand and have a round or three. Then more after the game. I mean, hey, if there’s one thing Chicago fans can do, we can hold our liquor. Unlike those fans in New York or Boston or St. Louis. Am I right or am I right? Of course I’m right!


10:51 AM. Puttin’ in a lunch order over the phone. Chicago boys gotta have their energy before a big game. Then time to settle in, look over the Tribune, see what the columnists gotta say about the game today. Yeah, baby, we’re gonna win. Nothin’ can stop those Cubs now! Even if they’re playing the top team in baseball.


11:01 AM. ****in’ columnist, suggestin’ those Cards might be trouble for our boys. You know what that is? That’s ****in’ treason! Treason, I tell you!


11:48 AM. Lunch shows up before the boys do. Deep dish Chicago style pizza! Just the way it’s supposed to be. There’s a whole ****in’ ritual to this whole thing, am I right or am I right? Of course I’m right! The delivery guy looks at me like there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Maybe the stupid ****er is a White Sox fan. Hey! Cubs forever, buddy!


11:56 AM. Joe and Harry turn up. About time, boys! I was gonna get started on this pizza myself!


12:15 PM. Me and Joe and Harry eat and talk about the league standings and the games left to play. Hey, come on boys, we’re in August, our boys have been playin’ good lately, and unlike those Reds and Brewers, we’re just a few games outta first, not over twenty! This is our year, boys! What Cubs fans have been waitin’ generations for! The World Series is comin’ home to Chicago! Yeah!


1:36 PM. Cab comes to pick us up to head down to Wrigley. I mean, hey, we gotta be responsible, and odds are what with all the drinkin’ we’re gonna do, we can’t be trusted to drive, am I right or am I right? Of course I’m right. And of course all the drinkin’ we’re gonna do is gonna be in celebration of a big victory over those rotten Cardinals.


2:16 PM. Down around Wrigley Field. Lots of time before the game, boys. Hey, why don’t we go get a beer? Maybe pick up some ladies. Any woman in her right mind would want guys like us. I mean, we’re all winners, right boys? Just like the Cubs.


3:05 PM. Hey, boys, see her? That babe over there with the come hither look? Yeah, that’s the one for me. Wish me luck, boys. Of course, I don’t really need luck. I’m a Cubs fan.


3:06 PM. Just got shot down by that babe. Says she doesn’t date Cubs fans. Thinks we’re all losers. Hey! We’re doin’ better than those White Sox this year! Or are you some kinda Cardinals fan? Because that’s a betrayal of the great city of Chicago, lady!


3:07 PM. Return to the boys. Hey, what can I say? She’s a White Sox fan, must be, can’t stand true greatness or somethin’. Never mind that, boys. We’ll be laughin’ it all off tonight after the game when our boys win and we get lucky with three ladies who love the Cubs. I mean, this is our year! Those Back To The Future movies said the Cubs win the 2015 World Series, so if it happens in a movie, it's gotta be real!


5:35 PM. Okay, boys, listen, it's near time to get movin’. The game’s gonna start sometime soon, and we’re a bit tipsy. Lou! Some coffee for the road, somethin’ to sober us up before the game.


6:03 PM. Steppin’ into hallowed ground. Back into the stands at Wrigley Field. This is where baseball fans come to die... I mean, dream! Dream! Not die!


7:03 PM. National anthem bein’ sung. Thousands of Chicago fans sing along. Chicago fans singin'... this must be what heaven is like.


7:06 PM. Thousands of Cubs fans take out their Steve Bartman voodoo dolls and whack them over the tops of the chairs in front of us. It’s not like we can take knives into the ballpark anymore and stab the stand-in Bartman, right?


7:10 PM. First inning just about to start. Okay! Let’s play ball! Go Cubs! Kill those rotten Cardinals!


7:21 PM. Boys? Somebody tell me how we can already be six home runs down and the first innin’ ain’t even over yet.


9:36 PM. Humiliatin’. This is just ****in’ humiliatin’. How the **** could we be losin’ twenty four to zero in the eighth? Look at that ****in’ bastard Martinez. He’s lookin’ at pitchin’ a perfect game, boys! A perfect ****in’ game! Hey, it’s not over til it’s over, right? Maybe our boys can still score twenty five runs in the ninth, right?


9:51 PM. We’re done. Done! Those ****in’ Cardinals not only beat us with a perfect game for their ****in’ pitcher, they broke a record for a lopsided win. ****in’ thirty four to zero. This is humiliatin’ boys! Humiliatin’!


10:03 PM. Filin’ outta Wrigley with thousands of other downcast fans. Foul moods, grumbling, lots of grown men cryin’. This is a travesty. A travesty, boys! I don’t know about you, but I gotta get myself totally wasted.


10:21 PM. Back into the bar with Joe and Harry. Lou! Beer here!


11:48 PM. Havin’ another round. I’ve lost track of how many we’ve had. Harry and Joe and me, we’re grousin’ over the ****in’ game, wonderin’ how the ****in’ hell this coulda happened. You know what I think, boys? I think there’s a conspiracy. A big ****in’ conspiracy to keep the Cubs from ever winnin’ the ****in’ World Series again. And it’s been goin’ on for a century, boys. Well you know what? That’s not ****in’ acceptable.  I say we go down to Cooperstown and burn the Baseball Hall of Fame to the ground in protest.


2:45 AM. Stumblin’ in the front door. Managed to get outta the cab without throwin’ up in the ****in’ backseat. Of course, I threw up on the neighbour’s ****in’ front lawn instead. Man, am I gonna have a bad ****in’ hangover tomorrow. Oh well, the only cure for that is the hair of the ****in’ dog that ****in’ bit you.

Maybe when I’m awake I won’t remember how ****in’ bad our boys lost tonight. At least until I see the mornin’ ****in’ sports page headline, that is.


Monday, August 17, 2015

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

Some links before getting started. Parsnip had a Square Dog Friday and a movie post. Cheryl had a post. And Ivy had a post.

Now it is time for the cat's point of view. Treat her with the worship and esteem she so richly deserves, or you'll have shredded clothing to deal with.

7:28 AM. Waking up early. Dreamed of chasing a dog up a tree. I really shouldn’t have had that catnip last night... we all know dogs can’t climb trees.


7:36 AM. The staff comes downstairs. Well staff, hello yourself, but don’t you think it’s time you invest some energy into making me some breakfast? Let’s see, what do I want this morning? Lightly sautéed tuna, chilled milk, perhaps some caviar on the side will do nicely...


7:39 AM. Sigh. Field rations. Staff, what am I supposed to do with you?


7:51 AM. Out on the deck. It feels rather cool out this morning. Brooding over the fact that my staff can’t take a hint. 


7:58 AM. Off in the distance there is the sound of that braying hound barking his idiotic head off. Dogs are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid....


8:05 AM. Back inside. Staff, who allowed the temperature to be this cool this early in the morning? We’re not at frost on the ground status yet, but come on, this is August, and I’m still expecting warm weather. Not too warm, mind you, and certainly not humid, because, hey, let’s face it, I’m not fit to live with during humid weather, but if you ever tell anyone else that, I’ll be shredding cashmere post haste. My point is there’s a chill in the air.


8:12 AM. After great reluctance, I eat some of those infernal field rations.


8:23 AM. Consulting the farmer’s almanac for predictions for the coming months in this vicinity. I am finding myself troubled by the phrase “the mother of all blizzards.”


8:37 AM. Time for a nap. I’ve already been busy this morning, and naps are an essential part of my day.


11:07 AM. Waking up. No sound of the staff... did she sneak out without my hearing and drive off? This is the weekend, by Isis, and she owes me every single second of her time!


11:09 AM. Ah, there’s the staff, reading. Time to jump up on her lap and block the book.


11:10 AM. The staff is dismayed by my sitting on top of her book. I compensate for that by purring loudly. She melts and starts giving me pats and strokes. Works every time.


12:07 PM. On the deck, soaking in the sun. I’d better watch it... if I close my eyes I could end up having a serious nap.


12:31 PM. Off on a walk. I must conduct my rounds and assess the current status of my property and the lands beyond.


12:58 PM. Inspecting the stream in the woods. At least this time of year I can go through it with only getting my paws wet. Not that I even want to get my paws wet, so I won’t be crossing it today.


1:14 PM. Stopping at that farm that annoying mutt lives at. And there he is, glaring at the road for some reason. Maybe he’s finally lost what passes for his brain.


1:17 PM. Keeping an eye on that dog from my position at the treeline. He hasn’t noticed me. He seems agitated. 


1:19 PM. Ah, I see what’s got him so overwrought and annoyed. The mailman is stopping by in his car to deliver the mail. The dog, true to form, is barking his bloody head off as if that’ll stop the mailman from dropping off the mail.


1:20 PM. The mailman drives off. The irritating dog keeps barking. Hey, mutt, has it ever occurred to you that the mailman’s just doing his job?


1:23 PM. Taking my leave of the farm to head home. I will never, ever understand dogs.


1:49 PM. Back home. Greeting the staff with a head bonk to the leg.


2:03 PM. I think nap time is in order. Yes, that would do just nicely.


6:05 PM. Waking up from a nap. I smell supper cooking.


6:24 PM. Having dinner with the staff. Lamb is always a good meal. The staff, for some inexplicable reason, thinks eating kale with her meat is a good thing. 


8:06 PM. Upstairs on a windowsill. Watching the last of the light disappearing in the west. I can’t dismiss this- we’re seeing less and less sunlight by the day. Which also means... fall is coming. And right behind that, winter. I can hear the mental screams of thousands of winter haters.


11:31 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff. Keep the door open for me. If the fall’s coming sooner instead of later, I might want to burrow under all those blankets. And rub a cold nose against your foot.