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I remember a film that I’ve no doubt would have been quite disturbing at the time,
called Peeping Tom. It was a photographer who photographed young women with an old
style box camera on a tripod. I think it was one of the tripod legs that was also
a knife and as he moved forward and they realised what was happening he recorded
their dying expressions of terror. Sounds awful but it was ahead of it’s time. Directed
by Michael Powell, it wasn’t a horror as such, it was a strangely absorbing film.Not that I’m aware of but I’ve stayed in plenty of cheap hotels and Airbnbs so you never know.
I don’t know about porno, and it’s my opinion the five letter word defines itself very much in the eye of the beholder.
I am was born a shy, quiet, introspective, and retiring individual with a rather large head, who was later inoculated against smallpox, however let it be known that abetted by appropriate and suitably mind bending drugs, I have always had the propensity to come out of myself, in strange and unpredictable ways.
Any pornographic filum that might have rolled my name in the credits would have either been fraudulent, or if genuine, would have had a certain artistic leaning and resonance that was akin to Picasso’s Blue period with the classic blue nude quite probably demanding and provoking an obvious presence – with the added probability that Ludwig Van Beethoven, found himself secretly watching the performance secreted behind a long velvet purple coloured curtain, and taking painstaking notes of various and extreme overtures, for a gamble derived masterpiece, in a totally different time period !One of the things I miss about living in London in the 1980s and 1990s was the arthouse cinemas and the often dreadful movies I went to watch.
Kiss Napoleon Goodbye, starring Henry Rollins and Lydia Lunch, is a strong contender for most pretentious, God awful, but admittedly intriguingly-disturbed, movie I ever saw.
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It's the "Millwall FC" of Point broadcasts: "No One Likes Us - We Don't Care"Anyone been in a porno film ?
I don’t believe most of the TRF hardliners would understand the question. I don’t and I have travelled the world !
I watched a filum last night called the drop. Unusual really, in that a particularly dim person, turned out to be the main protagonist.
Every time I see “filum” I think of Father Ted.
I always did have a very narrow frame of reference.
I am "The Horse Racing Punter" on Facebook
https://mobile.twitter.com/Ian_Davies_
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It's the "Millwall FC" of Point broadcasts: "No One Likes Us - We Don't Care"I had recorded ” For your eyes only ” and watched that last night. It was a Bond filum for those not into filum.
I drank two bottles of Big Daddy an M&S lager that is being discontinued and I picked that up on Sunday for half price – £1.50 a bottle.Roger Moore was 54
I was on the floorNot really it just nicely rhymes.
The film has got a lot of snow scenes ( not quite as enthralling as on HMSS ) which were very action packed. I have always liked snowy movies and this filum is underrated.
The lager was good too – never drunk it before – or will again. I am teetotal once again and with a good conscience !Chief makes the reference to Father Ted and connection with filum. I do rewatch these from time to time. It’s a quaint world to escape to.
Ever since writing Paddy Mcginty’s goat the other day it has left a curious effect. When I take the oat milk out of the fridge ( which I do rarely ) I read, instead of IN OATS WE TRUST (emblazoned in bold on the side of the packet ) IN GOATS WE TRUST.
Color
By TechnicilorAlfred Hitchcock..
” Tonight viewers I have created a complex plot for the basic instinct in all of us – the peeping Tom. Watch it and be criminally amazed – How I got Grace Kelly to seductively play one of the leads is not that difficult to fathom – Tippi Hedren was fed up with my fandom and I just needed a leading man who was Grace’s senior and reminiscent of her father.
Rear Window is what my wife calls my nightmare – sorry about the banality of the script – it was very bleak but back in ’54 we didn’t think the audience would notice that one man wrote all the lines. I feel sorry for James Stuart – and I thought he was an intelligent man but he just went along with the banality of it all – but be loves the lights and the paycheck.
. Psycho was different – I got my mother to help ! ””
Ivory Madonna
Doesn’t know he’s dead ”Inside Out …
But you’re turning me…
That’s the bottom line
you’re turning me
Inside out.That’s UGLY
ARREST and dig up the flagstones !
I was on the Hitchcock channel last night. Rear Window was an interesting watch – During the film I almost choked to death on a chicken bone 🍗 I decided to try to lazily swallow it rather than pick it out. It consequently got stuck deep in my throat, and I was then in a real horror and went to the bathroom to perform several coughing and retching exercises that resulted in the small pronged bone finally presenting it’s evilness on the porcelain. Be extremely careful of stairs and chickens !
I must have passed out before the end of Rear Window as I don’t remember the ending – well a little of it – but it is all a bit burred.I shall take pleasure in watching it again. In the fifties if people clicked there was a strong societal pressure back then to get married. The nurse stated this view in the film. You only had to look through the back window to spot all the happy couples living out their bliss.
In the late sixties, early seventies, it was different – a lot of single girls got pregnant to get free accommodation and a handout life. They invariably lived alone with a baby in a council flat, but had a reasonable standard of living, and had importantly escaped the clutches of the parents and gained some independence. You could say they got themselves Hitchcocked.It’s barmival round here – the whistles will start soon and they have positioned an open latrine outside the front door – for the massess excesses.
In these lean times – it’s good to let your hair down occasionally and have some cheap fun.
I met these lot – the 40’s in an airport lounge, forget where – Frankfurt it was yes
– when their cockiness was sort of revered.
As for the message – it hasn’t changed much in texture – just the inevitability of it and it’s now BANG HERE on our very own western doorstep. I shall now have a nice cup of tea and wait for the partying hordes.In betting terms August Bank Holiday Monday reminds me of a sweltering hot day in 1981, when I was working in a dingy purpose-built betting shop in a pub car park somewhere in East Hull and No Bombs ridden by Tim Easterby landed me a nice little multiple bet (all short prices though) – listened to the commentary on Extel.
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It's the "Millwall FC" of Point broadcasts: "No One Likes Us - We Don't Care"No bombs is not a filum I have ever heard of but will certainly now keep an eye out for – oh very gifted one with a memory to match !
I declare before you all
that Remains of the day
is a very odd filum
but nonetheless
it seems to capture a
notable and worthwhile message…
Life is invariably
SH*TI saw Angela Lansbury
a while ago walking with
a bag up Kensington Church Street in central London.
I was in a bus travelling in the same direction.
I felt quite excited to see her away from the cameras.
I thought I never really cared for Murder She wrote, but I watched it, on occasion, quite captivated because of Angela.
Angela was a great actress !
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