Vautrin

The Bonnie Parker Story (1958). Dorothy Provine, Jack Hogan (?), Joseph Turkel (?) Dorothy Provine is Bonnie Parker, sort of. Before the critically acclaimed 1967 movie, there was this low budget exploito flick. Of course the story isn't exactly the real deal but it's close enough. And it is the Bonnie Parker story. For whatever reason her partner in crime has been renamed Guy Darrow (no relation to Clarence), and it is Bonnie who runs the show while Clyde/Guy, for the most part, just goes along. Bonnie likes to cut down folks with her machine gun, which doesn't jive with the real, much less lethal Bonnie Parker. And with her Marilyn Monroe looks, Bonnie draws a lot of male attention which she shuts down after a few teases. There are a few harmless double entendres and Provine appears in as skimpy clothes as 1958 would allow, which isn't much. This movie was shot in some kind of wide screen process which makes Bonnie and her gang look like little people from certain angles, makes Bonnie look like she should have a wide load sign on her rear and makes 1930s car look like low riders. Maybe the person who uploaded it to YT goofed up. And in one scene where the gang is fiddling with the radio knobs they hit on a station that is playing a generic 1950s rock song. Whatever. There has been an attempt in recent years to make this into some kind of cult classic, but to me it's just another low budget flick, with whatever highs and lows that go along with the type.

Like some other posters, I think it is an apples and oranges comparison. You're really talking about two different art forms which don't have a lot in common. I would say I like them equally, though sometimes I'm in the mood for one and not the other. I've seen articles for years about how jazz is not popular as concerns sales, though that says nothing about its worth. I also recall reading that jazz and classical music try to juice things up by having provocative covers. Apparently that only helps so much.

I prefer rock 'n' roll. It's noise pollution and it makes no good sense.

I prefer it as it is, otherwise it would have been just another crime film. I saw it a number of years ago and thought there was more about the seance angle, but there wasn't. An offbeat film about some rather strange characters that you don't see too often, at least back in the 1960s.

There are some obvious parallels between the two, though I think the baby in Seance is more likely to have been real than the one in Virginia Woolf. Maybe the two characters in Seance should have been named Victoria and Albert. And at least George usually gives as good as he gets while Richard's character just takes it for the most part. And I can't quite see Kim Stanley breaking out in a wicked Bette Davis impersonation. But despite that, they do remind one of the more caustic couple. I really didn't notice the plant all that much. I guess I was more focused on the Victrola and the bric-a-brac in the house. I would like to give it the alternative title of Beyond the Valley of the Milquetoast.

He had to be one of the most hen-pecked hubbies in a drama film that I can think of. Though this wasn't primarily a crime film, I can't help but think it might have worked if these two folks had a functioning brain between them. I liked their shabby genteel home too. A perfect setting for the bizarre goings on. Attenborough was ten times creepier as John Christie in 10 Rillington Place. Very spooky, claustrophobic movie.

The sight of dorky Dicky Attenborough putting around town and country in his motorcycle/sidecar combo had me in stitches despite myself. His disguise only made it even funnier. Otherwise a very well done movie. I was relieved to find out that the upper class twitette was not dead but only sleeping. And if I was Dicky I would have been boiling mad when big mouth medium let the whole cat out of the bag.

Except that introducing movies is preferable to biting the heads off chickens and Eddie is slightly less handsome than Tyrone.

Eddie is like licorice-flavored scotch, palatable in small doses. The whole czar of noir riff gets pretty tiresome, but I suppose the guy has to make a living.

I recall when Edie had a minor hissy fit a few years ago when someone dissed him on this site. He asked if that person had ever had a book on the NYT's bestseller list as Edie had. Kind of a jerk.

Taking it from grandpa and all Barbi got was a gig on Hee Haw.

Maybe I should have put up a spoiler alert, though the plot isn't exactly a surprise. I watched it on YT in a pretty good print. I remember seeing a publicity shot of Nader lifting weights and he was in pretty good shape. It is most amusing in a weird way.

The Female Animal (1958) Hedy Lamarr, George Nader, Jane Powell. Hedy Lamarr is the female animal. Okay, she's also a middle age big Hollywood star. While walking through the set one day in the merry merry month of May she is almost hit by a falling light. Luckily, extra George Nader is there to push Hedwig out of the way. Hedy is immediately attracted to Nader's large muscles and boyish charm and blank acting style. She wants to play the cougar to George's tabby cat. But being a man of high principles and low intelligence, George refuses to be her paid boy toy and even sends back the expensive suits she bought him. What a sap. He does agree to be the "caretaker" of her swank beach house. Stopping in a bar for a quick brew Nader meets Jane Powell and starts to become attracted to her. Little does Georgie boy know that Jane is actually Hedy's adoptive daughter. You don't have to be a movie scholar to see where this flick is headed. After much heartbreak and fooling around, Hedy pretends she no longer is warm for George's form and lets him go so Jane Powell is saddled with the virile airhead. Campy enough to be humorous at times, though not campy enough to be totally hilarious on every level. Jerry Paris has a nice supporting turn as George's sarcastic buddy and Jan Sterling is wasted as another Hollywood cougar. Jane Powell appears in a number of fashions that shows off her drop down rear end. Sweet. This appears to have been both Lamarr's and Powell's last film. Talk about going out on a low note. Sadly, it was not Nader's.

Of course the fact that I was listening to Gordon Lightfoot at the time was purely coincidental. I had a whole seat full of CDs with me. Maybe Gordo was somewhat of a reverse inspiration for George Costanza's 'it's not you, it's me' routine.

I like Gordon Lightfoot, but I have a bad memory of listening to Gord's Gold while stuck in a horrendous traffic jam around D.C., but I forgave him a long time ago.

There is often some truth in our japes, no doubt about it. TCM and McDonalds are what America means to me . I got a laugh of of the Jimmy Stewart/Robert Mitchum documentary last night with the footage of Bob talking to the troops in Vietnam. Okay boys, let's smoke a little weed and then you go out and kill some red commie bastards. I'll stay here and roll a few more.

Both my parents were mostly oblivious to rock bands. They wouldn't know the Beatles or the Rolling Stones from the Sons of the Pioneers. Looking back, I can now say that HH produced some nice melodic pop songs in their heyday, but at the time I wanted to run screaming, or not, from the room. Just on an appearance level I think Keith looked a lot better in the late 1960s and early 1970s when he grew his hair long, which also covered his somewhat prominent ears.

Yes, I can understand why any mom and dad preferred a cute cuddly guy like Peter Noone to a rough looking type like Mike Jagger. I never worried about my father hating rock stars. He didn't even know who Mick Jagger was.

That was written in jest. I'm sure there are people from other countries who enjoy TCM in addition to Americans who are abroad and like to see something familiar.

I like Winter Light. Though I personally don't have much interest in the silence of God theme, it is also an interesting character study and a look at the claustrophobic environment of what I presume is a very small town. And the tiny attendance at the church always makes me chuckle, though I doubt that was Bergman's intent. I suppose in a way it's a mite pretentious, but in the main it's a rather stark and unadorned look at a certain way of life and the people who live it.

I only posted the song because of its opening lyric, I'm mad and that's a fact. The rest of the song really has nothing to do with it. Animals is not one of my favorites on Fear of Music. I prefer the two you mentioned plus Electric Guitar and Paper. I've always liked the cover too, with the metal grate motif, which is raised on the vinyl release. I'm not sure why certain movies aren't shown in Canada, unless it's another one of those notorious rights issues. OTOH, TCM is mainly meant for real Americans.

The daughter of some friends of my parents was an absolute nut for Herman's Hermits. So when we visited them I had to endure a session of HH in her bedroom, which was filled with all things HH. That was enough of HH to last the rest of my life. I don't remember anyone fighting in school about the British Invasion bands. They were more likely to fight over sports teams, though even that was infrequent.

Hey, how did you know what was in my dad's record collection? Hugo Winterhalter. Sounds like a Nazi who moved to the U.S. but was too dumb to change his name. I guess it beats the old Indian test pattern and the I have touched the sky flyover thingie from years ago. If you live in Canada you just may not see it at all.

O Canada!