It is pouring right now, but this morning we had a fantastic sunrise. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch got the best picture of it, melding the literary angles of my office into the commercial-residential lines of Somerville. Edward Steichen, eat your heart out.
I watched Pen Tennyson's Convoy (1940) because I couldn't get hold of The Cruel Sea (1953) and I'm glad it was the most popular British film of 1940 according to Kinematograph Weekly because it had to have something going for it. I overstate—I can't totally hate any war film that answers a German "Heil Hitler!" with a British "Heil my fanny!"—but despite its efforts away from triumphalism and some impressive if awkwardly integrated location shooting in the North Sea, it's the most conventional propaganda I've seen from Ealing. I like that its love triangle isn't and that both the ex-husband and the ex-lover who have been performing their accustomed roles of cuckold and cad get snapped out of it by the reappearance of the woman who's cheerful to be on friendly terms with both of them and no more, but in a naval picture it is probably not ideal that Clive Brook's most interesting scenes should be with Judy Campbell and not HMS Apollo. John Clements remains an ornament to every film in which I've seen him and until he's overtaken by the moralistic necessities of self-sacrifice, I enjoy how ironically he plays down to his reputation as a dashing slacker on a ship where he's best known for breaking up the captain's marriage. "Glass must be falling," he remarks to no one in particular, rapping the barometer in the wardroom his mere presence drinking has cleared. "Deep depression." In other news, I seem to be able to watch and think about movies again. Unfortunately, what I need to be able to think about is my job.
spatch got the best picture of it, melding the literary angles of my office into the commercial-residential lines of Somerville. Edward Steichen, eat your heart out.
I watched Pen Tennyson's Convoy (1940) because I couldn't get hold of The Cruel Sea (1953) and I'm glad it was the most popular British film of 1940 according to Kinematograph Weekly because it had to have something going for it. I overstate—I can't totally hate any war film that answers a German "Heil Hitler!" with a British "Heil my fanny!"—but despite its efforts away from triumphalism and some impressive if awkwardly integrated location shooting in the North Sea, it's the most conventional propaganda I've seen from Ealing. I like that its love triangle isn't and that both the ex-husband and the ex-lover who have been performing their accustomed roles of cuckold and cad get snapped out of it by the reappearance of the woman who's cheerful to be on friendly terms with both of them and no more, but in a naval picture it is probably not ideal that Clive Brook's most interesting scenes should be with Judy Campbell and not HMS Apollo. John Clements remains an ornament to every film in which I've seen him and until he's overtaken by the moralistic necessities of self-sacrifice, I enjoy how ironically he plays down to his reputation as a dashing slacker on a ship where he's best known for breaking up the captain's marriage. "Glass must be falling," he remarks to no one in particular, rapping the barometer in the wardroom his mere presence drinking has cleared. "Deep depression." In other news, I seem to be able to watch and think about movies again. Unfortunately, what I need to be able to think about is my job.
