Parsifal and Valentino riding winged palominos
For various reasons, this weekend was not the exercise in recuperation I had hoped for. I am achingly tired and feeling weirdly severed from myself. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisbluespirit set me five questions for a reciprocal film meme, however.
1. A book that you'd like adapted into a film.
If I could be assured of as matter-of-fact a treatment of fluid gender and queerness as the mid-century novel leaves more than textual room for among its classical allusions and supernatural nods, I would give a lot for a well-cast film of Josephine Tey's To Love and Be Wise (1950). It should preserve the post-war setting without preciousness and perhaps know a little more than its author about the quirks and eddies of attraction which attend its rope trick throughout the ensemble. Reading the novel for the first time fifteen years ago, I thought that another fifteen years back it would have been tailor-made for Tilda Swinton. These days I might vote Emma D'Arcy for the role of Leslie Searle, the innocently beautiful American photographer who dazzles and discomfits all Salcott St. Mary before disappearing with the elusiveness of a daemon lover and the entanglements of a crime. "I am quite sure that he was something very wicked in Ancient Greece."
2. A missing film/TV that you'd like to watch.
Lance Comfort's Squadron Leader X (1943), co-written by Emeric Pressburger and starring Eric Portman. The BFI wants it and so do I. John le Carré alluded in his memoirs to having seen it as a child and I wanted to write to him about it. If I can't have it, I'll take the original cut of Anders als die Andern (1919), the complete Flaming Youth (1923), or just about any of the missing productions of Esther Eng. Out of the vast reams of lost television, for the moment I've chosen DuMont's The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong (1951) with Anna May Wong and the 1955 BBC The Browning Version with Peter Cushing.
3. Do you have some recs for old films that I might like?
If you are not the person who originally recommended me Blanche Fury (1948), I can only commend it in your direction with all possible superlatives as an extravagantly Gothic showcase for one of the best performances I have seen out of Valerie Hobson that plays like the Technicolor missing link between Gainsborough and horror-era Hammer. It has a plot and it's a cruel, clever one wound round the historically inspired schemes of two poor relations of the same landed family, but it's one of the few films of its decade that can challenge Powell and Pressburger for telling its story through the vividness of its mise-en-scène as much as the action unspooling therein. Audrey Erskine Lindop had a hand in adapting the 1939 novel by Marjorie Bowen and I can't tell if she contributed to the dramatically artificial weirdness that soaks a surrealist portrait out of every other frame, but the supernatural punch which only comes really visible in the last few frames is breathtaking. I kept meaning to write about it at deserved length—if I ran a series of movies which could have been written by Tanith Lee, it would rate near the top—and foundering on liking it too much. Once again I conclude that Lean misdirected Hobson in Great Expectations (1946), because if she had played the adult Estella like Blanche Fury, John Mills would never have had a chance. Michael Gough and Stewart Granger certainly do not, but really, in this genre, neither does she.
In the same vein of films which you may have seen and simply not discussed with me, Laughing Anne (1953) has the budget of traveling mattes and its essential sentiment wrecks any literary cachet it attempts to claim with the frame device of narration by Joseph Conrad himself, but it stars Wendell Corey and Margaret Lockwood as a pair of vexed lovers rattling around the Java coast in the late nineteenth century, so naturally I would have watched it even if it were dreadful and instead at its best it's a rather lovely, bittersweet and adult romance with a garnish of sea-longing as well as the human kind and at its worst the dedication of the actors to the material keeps the tropically overheated melodrama from breaching total plausibility containment. It was made during the late slump of Lockwood's film career and did little to decelerate it, but she shines in the picture even through a Dietrich-y French accent. Oddly it may be the only time I have seen her in color, which seems unfair when her hair is dyed for an entire act. Since it is close to the only film in which I have seen Corey as a straightforward hero, I appreciate knowing he can be just as credible as when romantically losing out. A marmalade cat and Ronald Shiner feature in the supporting cast.
And just to notch a recommendation for Hollywood, Come Next Spring (1956) suffers from a slight case of third-act escalation which feels all the more redundant when so much of its emotional power has built up through the fragile commitment of quotidian routine, but it is otherwise a frank and fascinatingly vulnerable movie about the rewards and difficulties of rebuilding a relationship that was none too solid to begin with. There isn't much to the plot and what there is sounds saccharine: in rural Arkansas in 1927, nine years after her man came home from the war just in time to run out on his family, a flintily independent grass widow finds herself faced with the re-return of her wastrel husband, painfully sober and hoping to make amends. The sexual current between them snaps on like it's been no time at all. So does the starkness of the damage he dealt his wife and children as an absentee hell-raiser whose reputation clung even after the man himself had gone. None of it can be healed with grand gestures; all he can do is demonstrate that he can be trusted, chore by chore, day by day, working the farm, not touching liquor, not touching his wife unless she invites him, which she may never feel safe enough with this familiar stranger to do. Both Steve Cochran and Ann Sheridan are marvelous, playing sincere and direct against their slicker, snappier types, and the film's folksiness is never allowed to cloy into condescension. The period setting feels optional in light of the timeline which could have run just as easily from the end of WWII, but perhaps it serves the timelessness of the problem. "But I been lonely a terrible long time, Matt. And you only been good a couple of months."
4. A film it surprises people that you love?
Earlier this year I was told that I have dad taste in movies, which seemed in context to mean conservative and dude-centric, so I hope it would surprise at least that person that I love Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women (2016), a soft-spoken triptych of modern Western studies in the women men don't see, although sometimes other women do. Laura Dern, Jared Harris, Michelle Williams, and René Auberjonois all turn in quietly etched and frayed portraits in the first two panels, something melancholy and comic in even the most acrid sketches of patriarchy, but the third should have earned Lily Gladstone their first Oscar just for the way their winter rancher looks at the frazzled night school teacher played by Kristen Stewart in a near-silent suffusion of working-class queer love. When the rancher takes a horse instead of her truck into town in order to treat the woman she loves to a streetlit ride to the all-night diner and back, it's more than just a gesture of old-fashioned romance: it's an unparalleled courtship display of female masculinity, the rancher who has parted and combed her hair and buttoned her clean shirt as carefully as if she were paying a call on a lady friend a hundred years ago sitting her mount, calm, erect, easy on the reins, like a knight-errant, like one of her plains-ranging ancestors, like her pronouns are "cowboy." Her hair shines under its wool hat like the horse's newly curried coat. The clink of the tack and the clop of the hooves sound counterpoint to the lens flare of sodium light. The rancher smiles with the other woman's arms around her waist, pillion as a heroine in the dreamlike slow rock of the night. It's so brief, yet so richly and factually shot by Christopher Blauvelt in the 16 mm that gives the whole film a tint of home movies like memories that even as we sense the gulf between the wealth that the rancher offers with her shy and watchful pride and what the object of her infatuation can read in the quixotic change of pace, we can still feel the thrill as tangible as horsehair or dry high-country cold. My God, get you someone who looks at you like that scene. I got Sayers in Montana: But she now realised that there was, after all, something god-like about him. He could control a horse.
5. Which film were you most hoping could be an answer to one of these question? Because now it has to be!
Ask me anything about Singin' in the Rain (1952)!
thisbluespirit set me five questions for a reciprocal film meme, however.1. A book that you'd like adapted into a film.
If I could be assured of as matter-of-fact a treatment of fluid gender and queerness as the mid-century novel leaves more than textual room for among its classical allusions and supernatural nods, I would give a lot for a well-cast film of Josephine Tey's To Love and Be Wise (1950). It should preserve the post-war setting without preciousness and perhaps know a little more than its author about the quirks and eddies of attraction which attend its rope trick throughout the ensemble. Reading the novel for the first time fifteen years ago, I thought that another fifteen years back it would have been tailor-made for Tilda Swinton. These days I might vote Emma D'Arcy for the role of Leslie Searle, the innocently beautiful American photographer who dazzles and discomfits all Salcott St. Mary before disappearing with the elusiveness of a daemon lover and the entanglements of a crime. "I am quite sure that he was something very wicked in Ancient Greece."
2. A missing film/TV that you'd like to watch.
Lance Comfort's Squadron Leader X (1943), co-written by Emeric Pressburger and starring Eric Portman. The BFI wants it and so do I. John le Carré alluded in his memoirs to having seen it as a child and I wanted to write to him about it. If I can't have it, I'll take the original cut of Anders als die Andern (1919), the complete Flaming Youth (1923), or just about any of the missing productions of Esther Eng. Out of the vast reams of lost television, for the moment I've chosen DuMont's The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong (1951) with Anna May Wong and the 1955 BBC The Browning Version with Peter Cushing.
3. Do you have some recs for old films that I might like?
If you are not the person who originally recommended me Blanche Fury (1948), I can only commend it in your direction with all possible superlatives as an extravagantly Gothic showcase for one of the best performances I have seen out of Valerie Hobson that plays like the Technicolor missing link between Gainsborough and horror-era Hammer. It has a plot and it's a cruel, clever one wound round the historically inspired schemes of two poor relations of the same landed family, but it's one of the few films of its decade that can challenge Powell and Pressburger for telling its story through the vividness of its mise-en-scène as much as the action unspooling therein. Audrey Erskine Lindop had a hand in adapting the 1939 novel by Marjorie Bowen and I can't tell if she contributed to the dramatically artificial weirdness that soaks a surrealist portrait out of every other frame, but the supernatural punch which only comes really visible in the last few frames is breathtaking. I kept meaning to write about it at deserved length—if I ran a series of movies which could have been written by Tanith Lee, it would rate near the top—and foundering on liking it too much. Once again I conclude that Lean misdirected Hobson in Great Expectations (1946), because if she had played the adult Estella like Blanche Fury, John Mills would never have had a chance. Michael Gough and Stewart Granger certainly do not, but really, in this genre, neither does she.
In the same vein of films which you may have seen and simply not discussed with me, Laughing Anne (1953) has the budget of traveling mattes and its essential sentiment wrecks any literary cachet it attempts to claim with the frame device of narration by Joseph Conrad himself, but it stars Wendell Corey and Margaret Lockwood as a pair of vexed lovers rattling around the Java coast in the late nineteenth century, so naturally I would have watched it even if it were dreadful and instead at its best it's a rather lovely, bittersweet and adult romance with a garnish of sea-longing as well as the human kind and at its worst the dedication of the actors to the material keeps the tropically overheated melodrama from breaching total plausibility containment. It was made during the late slump of Lockwood's film career and did little to decelerate it, but she shines in the picture even through a Dietrich-y French accent. Oddly it may be the only time I have seen her in color, which seems unfair when her hair is dyed for an entire act. Since it is close to the only film in which I have seen Corey as a straightforward hero, I appreciate knowing he can be just as credible as when romantically losing out. A marmalade cat and Ronald Shiner feature in the supporting cast.
And just to notch a recommendation for Hollywood, Come Next Spring (1956) suffers from a slight case of third-act escalation which feels all the more redundant when so much of its emotional power has built up through the fragile commitment of quotidian routine, but it is otherwise a frank and fascinatingly vulnerable movie about the rewards and difficulties of rebuilding a relationship that was none too solid to begin with. There isn't much to the plot and what there is sounds saccharine: in rural Arkansas in 1927, nine years after her man came home from the war just in time to run out on his family, a flintily independent grass widow finds herself faced with the re-return of her wastrel husband, painfully sober and hoping to make amends. The sexual current between them snaps on like it's been no time at all. So does the starkness of the damage he dealt his wife and children as an absentee hell-raiser whose reputation clung even after the man himself had gone. None of it can be healed with grand gestures; all he can do is demonstrate that he can be trusted, chore by chore, day by day, working the farm, not touching liquor, not touching his wife unless she invites him, which she may never feel safe enough with this familiar stranger to do. Both Steve Cochran and Ann Sheridan are marvelous, playing sincere and direct against their slicker, snappier types, and the film's folksiness is never allowed to cloy into condescension. The period setting feels optional in light of the timeline which could have run just as easily from the end of WWII, but perhaps it serves the timelessness of the problem. "But I been lonely a terrible long time, Matt. And you only been good a couple of months."
4. A film it surprises people that you love?
Earlier this year I was told that I have dad taste in movies, which seemed in context to mean conservative and dude-centric, so I hope it would surprise at least that person that I love Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women (2016), a soft-spoken triptych of modern Western studies in the women men don't see, although sometimes other women do. Laura Dern, Jared Harris, Michelle Williams, and René Auberjonois all turn in quietly etched and frayed portraits in the first two panels, something melancholy and comic in even the most acrid sketches of patriarchy, but the third should have earned Lily Gladstone their first Oscar just for the way their winter rancher looks at the frazzled night school teacher played by Kristen Stewart in a near-silent suffusion of working-class queer love. When the rancher takes a horse instead of her truck into town in order to treat the woman she loves to a streetlit ride to the all-night diner and back, it's more than just a gesture of old-fashioned romance: it's an unparalleled courtship display of female masculinity, the rancher who has parted and combed her hair and buttoned her clean shirt as carefully as if she were paying a call on a lady friend a hundred years ago sitting her mount, calm, erect, easy on the reins, like a knight-errant, like one of her plains-ranging ancestors, like her pronouns are "cowboy." Her hair shines under its wool hat like the horse's newly curried coat. The clink of the tack and the clop of the hooves sound counterpoint to the lens flare of sodium light. The rancher smiles with the other woman's arms around her waist, pillion as a heroine in the dreamlike slow rock of the night. It's so brief, yet so richly and factually shot by Christopher Blauvelt in the 16 mm that gives the whole film a tint of home movies like memories that even as we sense the gulf between the wealth that the rancher offers with her shy and watchful pride and what the object of her infatuation can read in the quixotic change of pace, we can still feel the thrill as tangible as horsehair or dry high-country cold. My God, get you someone who looks at you like that scene. I got Sayers in Montana: But she now realised that there was, after all, something god-like about him. He could control a horse.
5. Which film were you most hoping could be an answer to one of these question? Because now it has to be!
Ask me anything about Singin' in the Rain (1952)!
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Oooooooh. Now I wish either version of that movie adaptation existed.
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I wish I could bring them into being! I can't believe there's never even been a television version. It should be irresistible.
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(Laughing Anne - apparently no DVD or VHS release ever anywhere afaics; Come Next Spring, not really on this side of the Atlantic, except just possibly in Italy, and Blanche Fury, not in the UK, but there are some European imports, particularly a Spanish one that might be available. Which is not to say they won't turn up on Freeview channels and things anyway, and Amazon seem to offer both Come Next Spring and Laughing Anne via Prime, but, yes, see, like that; that's the problem. *rolls eyes*)
Also "Dad taste" in films?!!!! You???? What???
So sorry about everything still being rotten. *hugs*
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Well, hell. I am both shocked and disappointed, especially since I imagined that the two which originated in the UK would if anything be more accessible to you than to me. I watched all three of them streaming: Blanche Fury on the Criterion Channel, Laughing Anne via *cough* and Come Next Spring on YouTube. I shall hope for at least one of them to come around somewhere you can DVR. As we speak, Blanche Fury is hanging out on BFI Player, for the love of supersaturated Technicolor. It deserves a Blu-Ray/DVD.
[edit] Relevant to this discussion.
Also "Dad taste" in films?!!!! You???? What???
I don't know what to tell you! My father watches obscure mid-century science fiction and indie films! When I watch things like the 1958 Ealing Dunkirk, my mother is the person more likely to join me!
So sorry about everything still being rotten.
*hugs*
We had a riding lawnmower around noon which was hilariously unwanted, but I did in fact sleep a chunk first and am hoping not to jinx it.
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Lol, it's the perfect illustration of what I was saying about UK things sometimes being available anywhere but the UK, especially the ones with only a US release! I hadn't even got to searching elsewhere as yet, because obv that will be the thing to do when/if I feel up to watching that way (or down to it, it can work out both ways, depending) - but thank you for the links. They are things there's a good chance of on the Freeview channels somewhere, too. And Blanche Fury does have the Spanish edition, so that's not a bad result for this kind of film. (I was actually just popping them on the Amazon wishlist, because I find that the most helpful way of remembering the titles! It's the only place I don't lose.)
(I have multiple things in various European editions - the Dutch are surprisingly keen on old BBC TV - I have them to thank for releasing Shadow of the Tower, otherwise it would have been another only-in-the-US release. They are hilariously cavalier about their cover design, though, and use whatever publicity shot for the show they have or like with no regard to whether or not they show a minor character! Germany are particularly good at modern US TV that the UK doesn't have editions for, & also provided me with Breakaway, although you have to watch them for entirely dubbed versions, and I've had a couple Italian editions of things as well. I actually need to recheck some things, because I always forget that it can help to know the title in different languages just in case.)
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Good luck and good grief.
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I've never even seen stills! The history of the DuMont Television Network and the East River is almost cartoonishly frustrating. I'll take The Hazel Scott Show (1950) while we're at it.
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It's on Tubi: enjoy.
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I’ll have you know I said ooh! out loud when I read that.
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Yay!
I've only seen two adaptations of her novels, Blanche Fury and So Evil My Love (1948), but both have been bangers.
(The Mark of Cain (1947) has never come around legally and at this point I might just waive my scruples for Eric Portman.)
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Thank you! I don't think I had read it because in 2013 I was not a registered user of AO3, so I appreciate you making sure. I can hear Jean Hagen saying, "There just aren't many books on rockets, though, unless you count science fiction, which is all very exciting but doesn't tell me how to make them."
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reaads with delight
"Dad taste"? WTF?
Question about Singin' In The Rain: Did Don and Cathy put Cosmo in one of their suitcases when they went on honeymoon, did they send him a day ahead (and spend that day sleeping), or did they just boldly leave arm in arm in arm with him for the cruise ship and dare anyone to say a thing?
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The studio publicists breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Selden and Lockwood departing for their round-their-world honeymoon so to speak solo, but the assembled guests never forgot that night mid-Pacific in the salon when the Hollywood stars made their low-key entrance for dinner and the passenger who had been noodling off by himself at the piano struck up a rag that sounded like Mendelsohn by way of Minsky's and almost got knocked off his stool. Confused fragments of conversation overheard by the tactful are rumored to have included ". . . meet us in Hawaii . . ." ". . . about to start turning cakes inside out . . ." and "Hello, sailor!" The complete absence thereafter of all participants from the public eye until their disembarkation in Honolulu was attributed to the natural want of movie people to be alone. The stateroom bed kept its secrets and the beaches didn't bother.
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beams and beams and beams
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One day I will manage to make it 88 :)
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I will cheer for that day.
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If I can't have it, I'll take the original cut of Anders als die Andern (1919), the complete Flaming Youth (1923), or just about any of the missing productions of Esther Eng. Out of the vast reams of lost television, for the moment I've chosen DuMont's The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong (1951) with Anna May Wong and the 1955 BBC The Browning Version with Peter Cushing.
All the things! We want all the things! :-( Peter Cushing in TBV would definitely be worth seeing, indeed. I can see what you mean now about the Peter Cushing Box, because there clearly was so much of him the BBC decided not to preserve virtually any of it.
In the same vein of films which you may have seen and simply not discussed with me, Laughing Anne (1953)
No! The only later (first period) ML I have seen is that one that we both like that I'm blanking on the name of right now. This isn't her first colour film, though, because Jassy (1947) is also in colour, although that's certainly the only one I've seen. (Jassy is a film one might have many reasonable complaints of: the only review I've come across said it was boring which was about the only thing I thought you couldn't throw at it.) It is another one that is only available on DVD in the US (much to my Margaret Lockwood/Patricia Roc-related frustrations), but Talking Pictures did at least provide me with the chance to watch if not gif.
Anyway, I like the sound of all three of these very much, and I thank you for the recs. Laughing Anne aside, as I said, I put them in the only place I can be sure of remembering them again!
These days I might vote Emma D'Arcy
I haven't read much Tey, because of not being over keen on the two I have read (although I do gather that The Franchise Affair is supposed to be the worst one), but I can see the Emma D'Arcy-Tilda Swinton thing, yes.
Thank you for answering these, and thank you especially for the recs!
I have no real questions about Singin' in the Rain although I have at least seen it (eventually) and liked it, although too late for it to be a formative anything. Or indeed, for me to retain much, so which is your favourite bit, and then I'll probably be able to remember that for at least five minutes. <3
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[Greetings! We are indifferent to linear time and glad to see you. That sounded a lot more ominous than I meant it to.]
Peter Cushing in TBV would definitely be worth seeing, indeed. I can see what you mean now about the Peter Cushing Box, because there clearly was so much of him the BBC decided not to preserve virtually any of it.
Why should they bother? There would always be more!
(Normally I would reserve the time machine for theater, but we're at the point where I would accept it for *checks BBC Genome* 12 July 1955, especially if I could yell at someone to flip on the telerecording.)
No! The only later (first period) ML I have seen is that one that we both like that I'm blanking on the name of right now.
Highly Dangerous (1950)! For the record, she is terrific in Cast a Dark Shadow (1955), which I did not manage to write about in 2020.
This isn't her first colour film, though, because Jassy (1947) is also in colour, although that's certainly the only one I've seen.
I just haven't seen Jassy, so Laughing Anne remains my only experience of Margaret Lockwood in her Technicolor habitat. What you have described of it always reminds me that I have also still not seen Powell and Pressburger's Gone to Earth (1950), which has always sounded like their version of a Gainsborough melodrama. In my defense it wasn't available to me in its original form until a couple of years ago, cf. ongoing regional complaints. For years I just had Powell's account of the co-production debacle to go on.
Anyway, I like the sound of all three of these very much, and I thank you for the recs. Laughing Anne aside, as I said, I put them in the only place I can be sure of remembering them again!
I'm glad! You're welcome. I wish you European DVDs or at least Talking Pictures.
I haven't read much Tey, because of not being over keen on the two I have read (although I do gather that The Franchise Affair is supposed to be the worst one), but I can see the Emma D'Arcy-Tilda Swinton thing, yes.
I do in fact anti-recommend The Franchise Affair—I read it unwarned and really hated it—and while I know some people who loved it, my bounce off Miss Pym Disposes seems in hindsight to have been accidentally self-protective since all descriptions of the plot since have sounded so agonizing that I have never wanted to give it another try. Otherwise my experience of Josephine Tey has been neutral to delightful and To Love and Be Wise is my favorite of her novels.
Thank you for answering these, and thank you especially for the recs!
You're welcome! Thank you for the questions!
I have no real questions about Singin' in the Rain although I have at least seen it (eventually) and liked it, although too late for it to be a formative anything. Or indeed, for me to retain much, so which is your favourite bit, and then I'll probably be able to remember that for at least five minutes.
Many of my ideas about how to be a person were shaped by Donald O'Connor as Cosmo Brown.
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All I could come up with yesterday was Mostly Harmless, and I knew it wasn't that, but, lol, I now see what I was aiming at!
she is terrific in Cast a Dark Shadow (1955), which I did not manage to write about in 2020.
Noted! (Incidentally, it IS available via UK DVD. I think it's the Bogarde factor.)
Otherwise my experience of Josephine Tey has been neutral to delightful and To Love and Be Wise is my favorite of her novels.
I might give it a try if I find it sometime, then.
Many of my ideas about how to be a person were shaped by Donald O'Connor as Cosmo Brown.
Ha, I said that I liked it, but I just didn't remember things properly - clearly including that I went gifhunting and have already liked that gifset at somepoint, lol. Ah well. Be nice if I had a brain! Thank you for putting some memory back into it. XD
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I love this transposition. I am sure it would be as plausible as any other fusion.
Noted! (Incidentally, it IS available via UK DVD. I think it's the Bogarde factor.)
Hooray! Jeez. Kay Walsh and Kathleen Harrison also feature.
Ha, I said that I liked it, but I just didn't remember things properly - clearly including that I went gifhunting and have already liked that gifset at somepoint, lol. Ah well. Be nice if I had a brain! Thank you for putting some memory back into it.
I missed that you had already liked it! I am glad you still do.
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I only know that because for me, logged in, it has a red heart on it! I wouldn't expect you to have hunted through however-many-notes to look, just in case. Besides, if I liked it once, I'll like it again, heh. And also because I did kind of remember I'd seen this one or one like it, vaguely. (THe amount of tumblr posts I see and go "Wow, that's great, I never saw that before/didn't know that" (etc etc) and then scroll down and see a red heart clearly indicating that I did indeed see it before, is quite scary, although not as bad as the times I read a great fanfic for what I believe to be the first time, and then discover a comment left by me saying exactly what I was about to say already left there [insert number of years] previously. /o\)
<3
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You and I share a lot of taste in movies, and I am a dad, but it sounds as though this person was using it as a pejorative, which deserves in return only a growl and forcing them to watch Manifesto.
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I believe it: I encountered her first as a writer of supernatural short fiction. I just haven't been able to get hold of the novel of Blanche Fury for comparison. The novel which was adapted into So Evil My Love is realist at a pitch of extreme irony. Blanche Fury the film is unambiguously supernatural and terrifying as such.
You and I share a lot of taste in movies, and I am a dad, but it sounds as though this person was using it as a pejorative, which deserves in return only a growl and forcing them to watch Manifesto.
I love you.
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Of course, now I have to actually manage sufficient brain etc to watch it, but I am doing a little better at Watching Things Downstairs lately, so hopefully!!
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w00t! I really hope you enjoy it whenever!