I’m planning to see the (in)famous Peeping Tom (1960) at Film Forum tonight, so I want to clear the decks...
Hartnell finally had a heroic moment in Brighton Rock, when he punched Richard Attenborough to stop him from killing his wife (who he only wooed and wed to prevent her from testifying against him) in a fake suicide pact. Mind you, up until then he was an extortionist in a loud checked suit. Also, I was highly amused by the fact that the teenaged damsel was named Rose and spent much of the film trying to dodge the advice and aid of a blowsy middle-aged blonde with a more than passing resemblance to Jackie Tyler...
I swung by the Barneys Warehouse Sale over the weekend, but no joy. Whither the bargains of yesteryear?
Important safety tip: DO NOT go to Bed Bath & Beyond if you see a bus full of NYU freshmnn and their parents parked out front.
My brother will be staying with me next week, so I’ve been excavating the living room. I’m hoping to have the space for his inflatable mattress cleared and vacuumed by the time he arrives, unlike last year.
I don’t think the Tsirkus portrait is a very flattering shot of me (do I really have that much jaw?), but I like it as an image — the chiaroscuro, the blue tint.
Then there’s this:
Taken by Gabi Porter for Metromix. Framing could be better, and I wish Guy Who’s Not Even Trying wasn’t in the background, but I’m tickled that the green highlights/shadows match my ring and the garnish in my drink.