The greatest of all the wood-people, Pomona herself

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Happiness is a duck in the oven and a glaze of quinces and cider simmering on the stove. In one of its forms, anyway. Another is new books—papersky's Ha'penny, desperance's Shelter, Ben Parzybok's Couch, Growing Back: Poems 1972—1992 by Rika Lesser. Yet another is lesser_celery, in person, talking about Tom Stoppard and beef stock and dirty bombs. Music I haven't heard yet. An enameled plaque of squid. My brother, dozing. TCM appears to be playing film noir for Christmas, of which I totally approve. Tomorrow, the Museum of Science; first, I must attend to the duck.

Comments

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(I'm just starting to do the western thing, and I cut my Wayne teeth last year with those Lone Star serials that are so, so bad, and then there was the whole High Noon affair and the resultant Rio Bravo-- which is as silly as any JW/Gabby Hayes Lone Star feature)

I can recommend him in both The Long Voyage Home (1940) and True Grit (1969), although those are not in any other way similar films.

I just saw High Noon (1952) a few nights ago. It was terrific.

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I just saw High Noon (1952) a few nights ago. It was terrific.

It is! I didn't expect much from it, as Gary Cooper has never done anything for me, but he really outdid himself in there. Even if you don't get the underlying vitriol (and honestly, is anyone under the age of fifty going to if Robert Osborne doesn't tell them about it?*) it's a fantastic piece of work.

*save movie geeks, of course.