Random Catch Up

Not much of note happening recently but I feel guilty about not blogging nowadays.

Last Monday saw another Shooters in the Pub event. A good night (even if I was a little more squiffy than I'd have liked to have been. Dinner first next time) and a few business cards were exchanged and some more good contacts made. I guess the key to networking, once the fear subsides, is just keeping it going.

I was on a team for this month's Filmhouse quiz (well, I had to leave before the final round, but I did my bit) and we came fifth which is one hell of a leap up from the past. Nice.

I also caught two Humphrey Bogart / Nicholas Ray films on the big screen that weekend, In a Lonely Place and Knock on Any Door.  The big screen is still the best place to catch old movies (any movies, actually!) Both very good if a little depressing. Knock on Any Door was basically an accusation at the US for it's attitude to youth crime (watch for Bogie's great but overblown summation speech to the entire courtroom and country) and had a hard hitting end that brought to mind the climax of Angels With Dirty Faces only without the screaming. I preferred In a Lonely Place, which also featured Gloria Graham and had a much more of a thriller spirit even if it was in danger of veering into melodrama at times.

I'll likely not get to see anything if much at all at this year's Edinburgh International Film Festival but there are some free outdoor screenings going on, including a couple of screenings of Raiders of the Lost Ark which I am going to have to get to. Indiana Jones was 30 years old a few days ago. That should make me feel old but it doesn't. That movie is still as fresh as it ever was and the action is still a great as it ever was, primarily due, I think, to that fact that it was all done onscreen with real stunts, something more movies ought to be remembering. I loved that fact that on set wire work was obviously used on X-Men: First Class for much of Banshee's action scenes at the end. Real sunlight reflecting of a real performer.

Ye cannae beat it.

What was his Business?

The Roaring Twenties. Saw it years ago as a teenager and was my first proper look at the gangster film as defined by Cagney and Bogart. I was surprised at the time to see Bogart in what was essentially a supporting role but even more surprised to see him playing a snivelling weasel who turns yellow when Cagney has him at the end. I found him surprisingly good in this different type of role.

Watching it again, while I still enjoy Bogie's part, it's Cagney who rules, and rightly so, in this tragedy of a decent man who finds himself forced into the wrong side of the law by a combination of elements beyond him. Not welcomed back as the war hero he is, chided by those who stayed at home and jobless, this still doesn't overtly criticise the lack of support to returning troops by home and government but at least began to address the issue before the extreme jingoism of the Second World War took a hold of the US, which would have made this an unconfrontable issue at the time. I haven't seen Best Years of Their Lives, but this has put me in a mind to watch it.

The Roaring Twenties also gives Cagney another superb ending, after falling in to his mother's house all dead and wrapped up in The Public Enemy and after his ambiguous final act of redemption in Angels with Dirty Faces. It's a far swifter end, as Cagney's Eddie Bartlett staggers on to the wide church steps to breathe his last. But the final glorious line bypasses him and goes to the equally tragic but far more aware character of Panama, played by Gladys George. When asked by the officer on the scene what Bartlett's business was, she sums him and his end up as honestly as she can.

"He used to be a big shot."

An undignified end for the big man, framed small against the vast steps. Almost like he is laid open before his god, ready to be judged.

A clue to Bartlett's possible knowledge of his situation with regards to his position and love life can be seen in his holding hands with Panama, even as he admires his girlfriend Priscilla Lane singing in the speakeasy. As though, yeah this life is great right now, but deep down he knows that Lane doesn't love him and he knows he's kidding himself.

Lovely stuff. I'm finding out more and more of the tragic nature if Cagney's gangster roles. White Heat next and I may give The Public Enemy another go.