What Was The Last Movie You Watched?

[Fading Fast]

No, this is the flicker. The deceased child connected and no coffee.

So sorry, my bad.

 

[Remedy]

The last Movie in cinema war’s , Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith with my son

 

[Trenchfriend]

I

The last Movie in cinema war’s , Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith with my son

I never saw any of these Star Wars movies. Which one I should, if?

 

[Doctor Damage]

I


I never saw any of these Star Wars movies. Which one I should, if?

Original trilogy and nothing else from the main series.

 

[Zombie_61]

I never saw any of these Star Wars movies. Which one I should, if?

Original trilogy and nothing else from the main series.

As much of a Star Wars fan as I am, I have to agree with Doctor Damage here. These are the three movies you should watch:

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back
Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

The reason those three are the only ones you should watch if you're interested in Star Wars at all can be summed up in two words: George Lucas. In his mind he is the greatest movie writer/director that has ever existed. The truth is that he barely knows how to tell a story, he doesn't understand actors so he doesn't know how to direct them, and the unexpected success of Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope, that is) is a complete fluke and still a mystery to fans with an IQ above 140. Lucas' "Special Edition" versions of his own movies just proves he can only screw up a story by tinkering with and overthinking it.

If you can, try to find the DVD/Blu-ray sets with the "Original Theatrical" versions on them (i.e., the versions of the movies that were released in 1977, 1980, and 1983) Otherwise, the suggestion is the same--watch Episodes IV through VI, then stop. George Lucas screwed up Episodes I through III, and the idiots at Disney screwed up Episodes VII through IX.

Or, y'know, you're an adult. Watch what you'd like to watch. Except Episode IX. Don't EVER watch Episode IX; it's impossible to follow.

 

[Fading Fast]

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid from 1982 with Steve Martin and Rachel Ward


Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid is an okay movie that unfortunately misses being a classic. Its concept of weaving in clips from classic film noir movies to create a modern 1940s period noir had the potential to be a brilliant and engaging take on the famous movie genre.

Instead, co-writer and star Steve Martin and co-writer and director Carl Reiner often used loud, silly slapstick humor that broke the noir vibe – all for sop****ric jokes. A parody that took itself too seriously – riffing on original noir – could have been a perfect homage and sendup.

All the pieces are here. Old clips, like ones of Ava Gardner double-dealing Burt Lancaster in The Killers (1946) or James Cagney in prison psychotically talking to his mother in White Heat (1949), are smartly woven into the movie's story.

The way the movie's crew recreated the sets and dressed the actors like the stars in those old clips – so they could be shot from behind when the modern-day actors talked with them to create the appearance that they are in the old movies – is pre-CGI impressive.

But then they dropped the ball. Instead of either making a truly engaging new and serious noir movie or the aforementioned sendup parody that respectfully overplayed noir's tropes and hardboiled worldview, they went with a screwball/farce-style that has no place in noir.

The screwball/farce-style was, however, Steve Martin's stock-in-trade and, kudos to him, he built a massive career on it. He was insanely hot at the time, which probably explains what happened here – but it was still the wrong style – jarringly wrong style – for this movie.

Martin here plays one of noir's iconic characters – the hard-drinking, cynical private detective – reasonably well in some scenes, but then he can't help but become "Steve Martin" and do something slapstick in another scene.

Rachel Ward, Martin's co-star and potential femme fatale, slips into slapstick too often to properly center her noir character. She also faces the daunting task of sharing the screen with Ava Gardner, one of the all-time-great femme fatales, who outradiates mere mortal movie stars.

If you care about the plot – and you won't – Ward hires Martin to investigate her father's mysterious death (a classic noir plot). This allows both of them to interact with several iconic noir stars in those woven-in clips, but the plot never becomes anything more than a MacGuffin.

By the end, when they've trotted out Carl Reiner playing a recidivist Germany's WWII-era leadership, you're almost glad it's about over, as the classic clips are done and the modern story can't stand on its own.

See Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid for the classic clips and for the genuinely smart weaving of the old with the new – and for its awesome noir style – just know that you're in for a kludge no normal brain would want: classic 1940s film noir mashed up with 1980s Steve Martin slapstick.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Always good, certainly ubiquitous Liam Neeson is principal player namesake in The Marksman (2021). A struggling widowed Arizona rancher, Neeson tangles three Cartel ******eros at fenceline armed with an M14 *****, which considering its cyclic rate of fire and his Marine veteran backstory should have settled a faceoff inside thirty yards. Instead, Hollywood hokum however turns it into the OK Corral. Liam lucks out but a migrant momma is killed and saddled with her child, he's a Mick with a problem.
A thinking man's flick, Neeson evolves while dodging pursuit during a run to Chicago where his young charge has family. He wants to do the right thing by the boy but needs to shake himself free along the way.
Nice flick after a hard handicapping day at the track with cold beer and Vienna Beef Chicago hot dogs, Cubs stacked Wrigley Field style.

 

[Fading Fast]

Confessions of a Co-Ed from 1931 with Sylvia Sidney, Phillips Holmes, Claudia Dell, and Norman Foster


The pieces of a good precode movie are here, but the scriptwriters lost their way – leaving the story muddled and not particularly believable. That can be overcome if the characters are interesting, but one is boring, one is dislikable, and a third is unbelievably inconsistent.

Told through the construct of a woman writing in her diary, with something of a flashback feel, Confessions of a Co-Ed starts off promisingly with Sylvia Sidney playing a college freshman who joins the smartest of the sorority houses.

At first, it's college fun, 1930s style, with the girls gossiping about boys, getting dressed to the nines for dates, and grumbling about rules when colleges took an in loco parentis view of their students and *** was strictly forbidden – a rule which works about as well as it always does.

Sidney plays an innocent looking for true love who falls for the campus love-'em-and-leave-'em lothario, played by Phillips Holmes. Claudia Dell, playing a 1930s version of a mean girl, wants Holmes for herself, but if she can't have him, she wants to make sure Sidney doesn't get him.

The last piece of the puzzle is Holmes' "good guy" roomie, played by Norman Foster, who shows a hidden and vicious mean streak that is so ugly it throws you each time it appears. He falls for Sidney, but knows he doesn't have a chance against handsome Holmes.

That setup has Sidney falling hard for Holmes, Holmes playing Sidney, Dell playing everyone, and Foster smiling as he brutally stabs his friend Holmes in the back. The result is a pregnant Sidney and Holmes gone from college – with the lingering question: what's a girl to do?

Now the story becomes completely unbelievable as Dell, out of character, helps Sidney by deceiving both Sidney and Foster so that Foster will marry Sidney before her shame becomes public perforce. Meanwhile, Dan is off somewhere in South America.

Dell’s sudden transformation doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. After being tossed out of college for getting caught at "lovers lane," she ends up a hostess in a tea room. The pretense is that this comedown has made her more mature and kind, but her vibe is still selfish and snarky, so it's hard to buy into her transition.

Fast-forward three years, and in the short and forced Act Three, Sidney is married to a very successful Foster. "Their" son is three and Foster is none the wiser. He will or won't stay that way, as Dell and Holmes, unrelatedly, both reappear on the same day in the "dramatic" climax.

Sidney – despite being a talented actress, she can sound and look like Minnie Mouse sometimes – does her best with some awful dialogue. She also seems miscast, as she has a raw, earthy physicality that is inconsistent with the refined co-ed she is supposed to be playing.

She's not the problem though; the problem is Holmes, wooden and stagy, playing lover boy. You can see women having carnal desire for the handsome young actor, but you doubt a smart young girl like Sidney's character would truly fall in love with someone as vapid as Holmes.

Dell is excellent as the manipulative co-ed, but she and Foster are saddled with inconsistently written characters. All of that might have been overcome, but the story spins out into an orbit of unbelievability – even for the movies – right at the end.

Still, for a modern audience, it's a fun, although Hollywood-constructed look at college life from a completely different era. Starting with the surface style and ending with the different cultural expectations of behavior – teachers are respected – there's a time capsule value to it now.

To appreciate that value, one has to remember that college then was an upper-class affair, unlike today’s democratic one. These kids were almost all of the same status — after all, the rich had to do something with their children between high school and true adulthood.

Confessions of a Co-Ed had promise, but lost its way with an addled script, a few cardboard characters, and too much forced melodrama. Still, for old movie fans, it's fun to see Sidney and Dell as college girls, especially framed by an entertaining albeit Hollywood-distorted window into 1930s campus life.

 

[Fading Fast]

Joe and Ethel Turp Call on the President from 1939 with Ann Sothern, William Gargan, Walter Brennan, Lewis Stone, and Marsha Hunt


To appreciate Joe and Ethel Turp Call on the President, one has to have a little sense of the time and place that thought up this story: the pre-war mind of Damon Runyon, a man who loved New York City, Brooklyn, "regular" people, and whimsy.

Created as a series of newspaper articles, Runyon's married Brooklyn couple, Joe and Ethel Turp, are all those things – things which made them relatable to Americans as a "regular" married couple, but also special, as Brooklyn then was its own world within the country - and everyone knew it.

MGM captured a little of that spirit when it took one of Runyon's Turp stories and turned it into this silly Hallmark-style movie (before there were Hallmark movies), with well-cast William Gargan and Ann Sothern in the title roles.

The simple but insane premise starts in Brooklyn, where the Turps' beloved-by-all mailman has been arrested for tearing up an undelivered letter. He did it out of kindness for the woman he loved in a convoluted story about well-intentioned deception.

Gargan and Sothern, after trying and failing at all the usual avenues, for the era, to obtain redress for the mailman – social clubs, the Church, and city hall – and at Sothern's urging after learning it's a "federal matter," head to Washington to see the president... naturally.

Using Brooklyn obtuseness and stubbornness – and plenty of movie magic – they get in to see the president, played by Lewis Stone. He's happy for the break from the pressing matters of the day – which being 1939, includes peace talks with Japan – to listen to Gargan and Sothern's problem.

This scene, with multiple flashbacks, is the heart of the movie. The flashbacks explain why the mailman, played by Walter Brennan, destroyed the letter to protect the woman, played by Marsha Hunt, whom he loves.

It's a somewhat forced story about Hunt having been left a young widow with a baby boy who grows up to be a lowlife crook, but she can't see it, as her love for him has her believing he's good in his heart – he isn't.

Brennan – who has always carried a torch for Hunt – took on the role of helping her raise the boy, which evolved into him shielding Hunt from the truth about her son. Destroying the letter, which would have exposed the truth, was an act of kindness, even though, technically, a crime.

That's really all there is to the plot, with the climax being whether or not the president will intervene to save Brennan, which is only suspenseful if you've missed the tone of the movie all along.

What helps the movie rise above its treacly plot is the "Brooklynness" of it. If you don't know it today, it's hard to appreciate what Brooklyn meant to the country at that time: it was Manhattan's scrappier, working-class neighbor – an odd blue-collar hero of sorts.

That Gargan and Sothern harmlessly bicker – even in front of the president – is part of the Brooklyn thing. Her brassy voice and his gruffness are Brooklyn too. That neither has refined manners but both are kind and polite in their own way is also Brooklyn.

The juxtaposition of Stone playing the elegant president – sophisticated, smart, and dealing with weighty issues – listening for a long time to these rough-around-the-edges Brooklynites discussing a minor issue in the context of world events is the charm of the movie.

That's all there is, other than to credit the cast for taking thin and trite material and treating it with respect. They manage to make Joe and Ethel Turp Call on the President, a truly silly movie, kind of fun and, now, a neat time capsule not of real, but of Runyon-imagined Brooklyn.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

The Friends of Eddy Coyle (1973) is a Boston Southie period piece focused a two-bit bum played by Robert Mitchum who runs ***s for the Irish mob and hires out otherwise for a price. Story opens the closing chapter of his life, since he's facing five years stretch in New Hampshire for a botched liquor theft; hustling automatic *****s; all the while looking to close book with the feds. Coyle wants witness protection him, wife, and three kids in Arizona and offers to cough up some names. His friendly neighborhood FBI agent played Richard Jordan, strings him along, but is frankly disinterested with little commitment given Mitchum. A bluff call made, Jordan drains his beer glass and leaves. Mitchum, alone and destitute, is forlorn foolish, seemingly oblivious to what has just transpired. His Quisling is soon leaked and his death ordered by the Boston Southie Sanhedrin.

A study in criminal psychological pathology, Friends of Eddy Coyle gives sip to substance, leaving a lean production for what could have been more developed protagonist-predicament treatment with decidedly more depth. Especially with Mitchum. Peter Boyle appears as chum to add further what Jordan's cameo fails fill, but overall a too rush to finish flick. Texture without substance only surface skim served audience.

 

[Fading Fast]

Hoosiers from 1986 with Gene Hackman and Barbara Hershey


The reason sports as a metaphor for life endures is that it's not only a strong metaphor, but one that plays out each season in a controlled and understandable microcosm with rules, referees, and a scoreboard. It's life sped up, but with less randomness and chaos.

The reason Hoosiers the movie works so well is, yes, it's a strong sports metaphor for life, but it’s also a wonderful cultural capture of a time and place: small-town Indiana high school basketball in the 1950s, when an entire community would get behind its local team.

Loosely based on a true story, Hoosiers has all the real and Hollywood-amplified wonderfulness associated with an underdog team exceeding expectations: a second stringer's success, a coach's redemption, leadership by example, and teamwork overcoming setbacks.

Of course there's more, but the general story has been told in so many movies, before and since, that the how, not the what, is all that matters – and the how is outstanding in Hoosiers. It starts with Gene Hackman's performance as the older coach in desperate need of redemption.

Once a top college coach, he struck a player and was blacklisted. Now, years later and after a stint in the Navy, he turns up as the coach of a small rural high school basketball team in desperate need of one. Yes, it's the cliché: he needs them as much as they need him.

All that you expect follows: he's too tough and alienates some players; he's too caustic and alienates some of the team's boosters; a few people see that he's doing the right thing and support him; and, yes, a pretty, single woman fights with him, but we know where that is going.

The pretty woman is played by Barbara Hershey – a talented actress who, in this role, has a failure/redemption backstory that echoes Hackman's. But there's no use in kidding, she's here to give Hackman and the viewers a pretty girl to look at and a love story to root for.

Dennis Hopper also enters the picture in an Oscar-nominated performance as the town drunk — and a basketball savant whose son is one of the players. Hackman, a man who understands the need for second chances, takes one on him — with mixed but moving results.

If the film has another star, it’s the town itself – as if conjured from a mashup of Edward Hopper and Norman Rockwell, had either ever painted a mid-century, rural Midwestern town. Predating CGI, the period detail impresses with authenticity and lived-in feel.

You get the exact climax you expect – right down to the shot at the buzzer – yet you’re still nervous and rooting. That’s a credit to the actors, but also to director David Anspaugh, who took a well-worn formula and moved it confidently through its clichés while putting his own mark on it.

What sets Anspaugh’s direction apart is his restraint and attention to texture. His thoughtful approach shows in the quiet pauses, the low, close-up shots of the games, and the way he lingers on townspeople’s faces just long enough to make their hopes feel part of the story.

Anspaugh is helped in this effort by a rousing score from Jerry Goldsmith – the film’s only other Oscar nomination. Like Anspaugh, Goldsmith doesn’t let ego get in the way; he respects the underdog formula without overplaying it.

That's also why Hoosiers works: it delivers what you expect without exaggeration or – worse – a hint of snark. Humans love an underdog story driven by redemption, faith, and hard work – it's that metaphor-for-life thing again – which is exactly what Hoosiers delivers.

 

[Edward]

The last Movie in cinema war’s , Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith with my son

Still the only one I've never seen. Had the chance to see it for free in the cinema, but I was so disillusioned by that point already... I *have* seen the most important clip, where Anakin becomes Darth Vader. His facial expression looked for all the world to me like constipation. I decided I really didn't need to see the rest.

As much of a Star Wars fan as I am, I have to agree with Doctor Damage here. These are the three movies you should watch:

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back
Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

The reason those three are the only ones you should watch if you're interested in Star Wars at all can be summed up in two words: George Lucas. In his mind he is the greatest movie writer/director that has ever existed. The truth is that he barely knows how to tell a story, he doesn't understand actors so he doesn't know how to direct them, and the unexpected success of Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope, that is) is a complete fluke and still a mystery to fans with an IQ above 140. Lucas' "Special Edition" versions of his own movies just proves he can only screw up a story by tinkering with and overthinking it.

If you can, try to find the DVD/Blu-ray sets with the "Original Theatrical" versions on them (i.e., the versions of the movies that were released in 1977, 1980, and 1983) Otherwise, the suggestion is the same--watch Episodes IV through VI, then stop. George Lucas screwed up Episodes I through III, and the idiots at Disney screwed up Episodes VII through IX.

Or, y'know, you're an adult. Watch what you'd like to watch. Except Episode IX. Don't EVER watch Episode IX; it's impossible to follow.

Lucas certainly always was a hack who got lucky. He has had some nice ideas, but generally speaking the less he had to do with the realisation of those, the better they were. He was, I believe, hardly even ever on set for ESB, and it shows. Of course, much of the success of the original trilogy also comes down to the charisma of the individual players. Who knows, maybe a young Harrison Ford could have made something of the absolute stinker that was Solo: A Star Wars Story. The saddest thing about the "fans" that boycotted it because The Last Jedi had a woman in it or because it gave Luke Skywalker a third dimension or whatever the reason was is that it gave all those involved in Solo a figleaf to hide behind, when it deserves to be remembered for being so awful George Lucas himself might have been ashamed had he made it (and it's certainly Phantom Menace level rubbish).

I'll give Disney their dues, though - Rogue One is the best of any Star Wars pictures, a stunning piece, and Andor, as a connected TV show, actually makes the Star Wars universe coherent and three dimensional for the first time. It has a media, a literary culture, real politics, actual consequences for actions... everything George Lucas failed to bring to the table.

In terms of the sequel trilogy, VII did well to get things back on track after the disaster of the prequels. The Last Jedi was magnificent, really took things in an interesting direction that subverted the worst of Lucas' rubbish and revisionisms. Sadly for IX Disney visibly chickened out of doing anything interesting in the face of incel backlash, and a lot of the really interesting stuff was dropped with all sorts of loose ends left hanging. Rose was particularly poorly treated. The ending of IX was weak and unconvincing, a real let down. Especially with ruining Rey's backstory.

TV shows have been hit and miss, but with zero George Lucas involvement that has meant some of them have been good. Andor is outstanding (beyond the first two episodes of series 1, which I found challengingly slow). The Fett series were entertaining enough, though viewing them in 2024 I found poorly signposted - I watched Boba Fett after the other two, rather than in the order they should have been in, which confused the story a bit. The Obi Wan stuff was.... ok. I'd have liked it when I was ten. Much of the other stuff I've not bothered with. Skeleton Crew I have to admit put me off when I saw it's a cast of kids, but then I doubt I'm the target audience for it.

Full context: I have self-identified as an ex-Star Wars fan since 1999; Phantom Menace tipped me over the edge, though I was already seriously disillusioned by the "special editions". I've not gone back and rewatched the originals for years now. Partly because the original versions are only now available via a low quality DVD extra box set of the later rubbish, but also I'm just not that excited about it any more. I think the point where I knew I'll never consider myself a 'fan' again was when my brother phoned a few years ago to say he was selling off his figures and toys that we'd had since the 80s, and did I want mine. I told him to ebay them and we'd split the money. My nephew had had custody of them for years, but he's now eighteen and has lost interest as well (in a healthier way, probably, than some of us who hung onto it for far too long).

Always good, certainly ubiquitous Liam Neeson is principal player namesake in The Marksman (2021). A struggling widowed Arizona rancher, Neeson tangles three Cartel ******eros at fenceline armed with an M14 *****, which considering its cyclic rate of fire and his Marine veteran backstory should have settled a faceoff inside thirty yards. Instead, Hollywood hokum however turns it into the OK Corral. Liam lucks out but a migrant momma is killed and saddled with her child, he's a Mick with a problem.

(Emphasis added for clarity.) Does that pejorative reference a specific context in the film, or is it superfluous here?

 

[Trenchfriend]

Currently, I need some inspiration, my loungers.

Any war movie recommendations, any comedy recommendations, any historical stuff? No empty action stuff, please.

Thanx!

 

[Fading Fast]

Currently, I need some inspiration, my loungers.

Any war movie recommendations, any comedy recommendations, any historical stuff? No empty action stuff, please.

Thanx!

Have you seen the recent "Oppenheimer" (2023) movie?

 

[Trenchfriend]

Have you seen the recent "Oppenheimer" (2023) movie?

Nope.

 

[Fading Fast]

Nope.

Based on what you wrote, I think you might enjoy it. It's history and it's not mindless action.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Still the only one I've never seen. Had the chance to see it for free in the cinema, but I was so disillusioned by that point already... I *have* seen the most important clip, where Anakin becomes Darth Vader. His facial expression looked for all the world to me like constipation. I decided I really didn't need to see the rest.



Lucas certainly always was a hack who got lucky. He has had some nice ideas, but generally speaking the less he had to do with the realisation of those, the better they were. He was, I believe, hardly even ever on set for ESB, and it shows. Of course, much of the success of the original trilogy also comes down to the charisma of the individual players. Who knows, maybe a young Harrison Ford could have made something of the absolute stinker that was Solo: A Star Wars Story. The saddest thing about the "fans" that boycotted it because The Last Jedi had a woman in it or because it gave Luke Skywalker a third dimension or whatever the reason was is that it gave all those involved in Solo a figleaf to hide behind, when it deserves to be remembered for being so awful George Lucas himself might have been ashamed had he made it (and it's certainly Phantom Menace level rubbish).

I'll give Disney their dues, though - Rogue One is the best of any Star Wars pictures, a stunning piece, and Andor, as a connected TV show, actually makes the Star Wars universe coherent and three dimensional for the first time. It has a media, a literary culture, real politics, actual consequences for actions... everything George Lucas failed to bring to the table.

In terms of the sequel trilogy, VII did well to get things back on track after the disaster of the prequels. The Last Jedi was magnificent, really took things in an interesting direction that subverted the worst of Lucas' rubbish and revisionisms. Sadly for IX Disney visibly chickened out of doing anything interesting in the face of incel backlash, and a lot of the really interesting stuff was dropped with all sorts of loose ends left hanging. Rose was particularly poorly treated. The ending of IX was weak and unconvincing, a real let down. Especially with ruining Rey's backstory.

TV shows have been hit and miss, but with zero George Lucas involvement that has meant some of them have been good. Andor is outstanding (beyond the first two episodes of series 1, which I found challengingly slow). The Fett series were entertaining enough, though viewing them in 2024 I found poorly signposted - I watched Boba Fett after the other two, rather than in the order they should have been in, which confused the story a bit. The Obi Wan stuff was.... ok. I'd have liked it when I was ten. Much of the other stuff I've not bothered with. Skeleton Crew I have to admit put me off when I saw it's a cast of kids, but then I doubt I'm the target audience for it.

Full context: I have self-identified as an ex-Star Wars fan since 1999; Phantom Menace tipped me over the edge, though I was already seriously disillusioned by the "special editions". I've not gone back and rewatched the originals for years now. Partly because the original versions are only now available via a low quality DVD extra box set of the later rubbish, but also I'm just not that excited about it any more. I think the point where I knew I'll never consider myself a 'fan' again was when my brother phoned a few years ago to say he was selling off his figures and toys that we'd had since the 80s, and did I want mine. I told him to ebay them and we'd split the money. My nephew had had custody of them for years, but he's now eighteen and has lost interest as well (in a healthier way, probably, than some of us who hung onto it for far too long).





(Emphasis added for clarity.) Does that pejorative reference a specific context in the film, or is it superfluous here?

Hardly pejorative nor superfluous. Augustus Hand's opinion in Ulysseys appeal came to mind as I wrote this review, which is consonant thespian brand. Nihil obstat.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Currently, I need some inspiration, my loungers.

Any war movie recommendations, any comedy recommendations, any historical stuff? No empty action stuff, please.

Thanx!

Master and Commander is an exceptional Russell Crowe film that merits recommendation.
Set Napoleonic period with a Nelsonian touch, protagonist Crowe captains a British war wagon ambushed
by a French frigate he pursues for vengeance. A classic constructively produced and scripted mature work rightfully considered a masterpiece.

 

[Edward]

Hardly pejorative nor superfluous. Augustus Hand's opinion in Ulysseys appeal came to mind as I wrote this review, which is consonant thespian brand. Nihil obstat.

Re superfluous - I don't know whether it's a term used specifically in the context of the film.

Joyce did indeed use it. Joyce was also Irish, which makes all the difference in the world.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Casablanca (1942). About a decade ago, my evening rail commute was sidetracked, so I took a bus route from downtown Chicago out to the south side accompanied Pollock's classic, Spinoza. A boy about sixteen interrupted my reading by apologetically inquiring my position regarding Maimonides as Spinoza influence.
Literally floored me, a kid asking such question aboard a Chicago Transit Authority bus. Pleasantly delighted always to be in fellow nerd company, we talked; although for some reason the converse turned to Casablanca and the moral quandry posed Rick and Ilsa.

My conscience grapples with this question. As a Vietnam veteran, I take Ilsa to neutral Ireland where we settle in a Dublin brownstone somewhere around Phoenix Park. I sit the Irish bar and practice law; or open a casino whatever. Red meat, hard liquor, and soft beautiful Ingrid Bergman. And the hell with being a soldier and Second World War and all that honorable jazz. However, years spent under Dominican nuns and the Christian Brothers of Ireland cloud my judgement. On the other hand, having personally been swept up in a war and the US Army, I favor fighting fate. A fenris wolf shackled Fate's cobweb isn't pleasant. And though Rick was right, I honestly cannot say I would have had the courage and honor he showed.

And that is what I told the kid. ''Some questions son cannot be easily answered but remain and gnaw a man's conscience.''

Last nite, I stopped the film when Ingrid came back to the bar.

A wonderful capture is Aljean Harmetz' The Making of Casablanca; Bogart, Bergman, and World War II.