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The dearest things I know are what you are
And it came to pass that being unable to attend the Catgirl Goth Rave, to which I had non-hyperbolically been looking forward for months, I resigned myself to doing not much of anything with my Friday night beyond experimenting with molasses cookies and reading the second volume of Michael Powell's autobiography, both of which are fine things in their own right, but rather lacking in glowsticks and cat ears. And then I saw that TCM was showing something called A Letter for Evie (1946) with Marsha Hunt and Hume Cronyn, the former a stranger to me, the latter—I tracked down Lifeboat (1944) and The Seventh Cross (1944) and The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) in the days long before Netflix just so I could see him in another role besides Professor Elwell, all right? I imprinted on him and Walter Slezak at an early age. And it was a variation on Cyrano de Bergerac, taking place between a shirt-factory secretary, a shy dendrologist, and the platoon lothario during World War II, with recurring motif by Jerome Kern. Jules Dassin did tempt me and I did watch. And considering the mood I was in at midnight, it was kind of exactly what I needed. Thanks, TV. Who knew?
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Nine
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I hadn't even known there was a retelling of Cyrano de Bergerac with Hume Cronyn. If I had, it's exactly the sort of thing I would have wanted to see—Cronyn was a prolific and lovely character actor, but he was almost invariably cast as a heavy or a weasel: the sleazy lawyer in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), the sadistic prison guard in Brute Force (1947), the aforementioned killjoy of People Will Talk (1951), out to ruin a preternaturally benevolent Cary Grant; all the positive roles I associate him with are much, much later in his career—and therefore the sort of thing I would have despaired of ever seeing, because it's not on DVD and not famous enough for the Brattle and since when does TCM cater to my every oddity-loving whim? But there it was, unasked for. All things considered, I would probably rather have been well enough to attend the Catgirl Goth Rave. But A Letter for Evie was awesome enough to avoid being a consolation prize.
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Nine