And when you go, you shoot the lights, you blow us all to bits
I leave this image as a sort of placeholder for The Beast of the City (1932), which I will have to write about some night when I don't have to get up early for a molasses flood commemoration. I was just watching it for Jean Harlow, but then there was the ending. I knew I liked Wallace Ford from Freaks (1932) and various older appearances as a character actor, but he appears to have joined the ranks of nicely weird-looking people I could watch all night. I haven't seen a body count like that since Tarantino.



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I think so! All slightly off-kilter to a leading man, but what's wrong with that?
I don't know if that face could twist into tears or a bitter laugh.
Both, in his plot position.