mandag den 28. november 2011
søndag den 27. november 2011
I Like It Here (1958)
"After a moment Gomes said: 'I'm afraid I've been letting myself go. Do forgive me for talking so endlessly. It's a great fault of mine, I know.' The Bowens' protestations failed to stem a prolonged flood of eloquent and documented self-deprecation. He defended himself tentatively by suggesting that it was good for English people to hear what he had to say. Far outdoing him in the vigour, the Bowens aided this defence. He got up in the middle of it, put some money on the table and said abruptly; 'I hope you'll enjoy your stay in Portugal. For the tourist there are many attractions; for the residents, not quite so many.' He softened this rather cinematic apophthegm with a cordial handshake and a warmer version of his smile. His final wave, delivered from the driving seat of the most unnecessarily large of all the unnecessarily large cars on view, was also cordial.
As Gomes drove violently away he seemed to be leaving behind him the impression that his audience had failed him in some way. Not having a couple of armoured divisions (with sea and air support) to place at Gomes' disposal, Bowen could not see how this could have been avoided in large part. Still, a penumbra of trivial insularity had been pretty effectively cast over British domestic squabbles about housing policy or the next round of wage claims. This endemic drabness would no doubt be dissipated, Bowen reckoned, if Tories could actually be witnessed in the course of jubilation over something or other to do with capital gains, if Labour could arrange to televise a bona fide very fat man occupied in watering the workers' beer. But as things were, Gomes seemed to have provided yet another excuse for people like Bowen to be politically apathetic at home."
As Gomes drove violently away he seemed to be leaving behind him the impression that his audience had failed him in some way. Not having a couple of armoured divisions (with sea and air support) to place at Gomes' disposal, Bowen could not see how this could have been avoided in large part. Still, a penumbra of trivial insularity had been pretty effectively cast over British domestic squabbles about housing policy or the next round of wage claims. This endemic drabness would no doubt be dissipated, Bowen reckoned, if Tories could actually be witnessed in the course of jubilation over something or other to do with capital gains, if Labour could arrange to televise a bona fide very fat man occupied in watering the workers' beer. But as things were, Gomes seemed to have provided yet another excuse for people like Bowen to be politically apathetic at home."
lørdag den 26. november 2011
onsdag den 23. november 2011
tirsdag den 22. november 2011
søndag den 20. november 2011
fredag den 18. november 2011
torsdag den 17. november 2011
onsdag den 16. november 2011
tirsdag den 15. november 2011
lørdag den 12. november 2011
torsdag den 10. november 2011
127 Hours (2010)
onsdag den 9. november 2011
tirsdag den 8. november 2011
mandag den 7. november 2011
This Side of Paradise (1920)
"So Amory declaimed "The Ode to a Nightingale" to the bushes they passed.
"I'll never be a poet," said Amory as he finished. "I'm not enough of´a sensualist really; there are only a few obvious things that I notice as primarily beautiful: women, spring evenings, music at night, the sea; I don't catch the subtle things like 'silver-snarling trumpets.' I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry."
"I'll never be a poet," said Amory as he finished. "I'm not enough of´a sensualist really; there are only a few obvious things that I notice as primarily beautiful: women, spring evenings, music at night, the sea; I don't catch the subtle things like 'silver-snarling trumpets.' I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry."
fredag den 4. november 2011
torsdag den 3. november 2011
onsdag den 2. november 2011
That Uncertain Feeling (1955)
"I said carefully: 'Come on, now, Gareth, what about listening to the facts? You haven't answered them, you know.'
'Oh, facts,' Probert said scornfully. 'Fellows like you always trot out facts of one sort or another. You're so bogged down in your facts you've forgotten how to think.'
There's nothing to beat an attack on facts for making me angry. With a sort of expanding lightness in my chest, I said: 'Yes, I know, you prefer feelings, don't you? All right then, here's a feeling for you, boy. I feel you ought to stuff your...'"
'Oh, facts,' Probert said scornfully. 'Fellows like you always trot out facts of one sort or another. You're so bogged down in your facts you've forgotten how to think.'
There's nothing to beat an attack on facts for making me angry. With a sort of expanding lightness in my chest, I said: 'Yes, I know, you prefer feelings, don't you? All right then, here's a feeling for you, boy. I feel you ought to stuff your...'"
tirsdag den 1. november 2011
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