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Chrissie

Gregory Peck in Court

By the way, we watched the Hitchcock courtroom drama The Paradine Case (1947), starring Gregory Peck, last night. We’d taped it off BBC2 on Monday afternoon.

It couldn’t be called the best work from either Hitch or Peck (some of the melodrama is rather overacted), but it has a strong cast and was worth seeing again. Mr. Peck was 30 years old at the time and wears a few dashes of grey in his hair for added maturity! Although he’s supposed to be English, he doesn’t try to fake the accent, which somehow works in his favour. The actual courtroom scenes are the best moments (Charles Laughton is terrific as the judge). Trivia: it was the Hollywood debut for both Alida Valli and Louis Jourdan.
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Just a Job, Honest

I’ve just finished reading Doug Warren’s official James Cagney biography. After the Orson one, I was in a biog mood (actually, a mood to read more on Orson, but that’ll have to wait), and mom recommended this, which she’d read and enjoyed some time ago.

I’m not a big Cagney fan, really. I think he was a great personality and a fine actor, but many of the films he appeared in were not to my taste. (Reading this book, ironically, I find they often weren’t to Cagney’s taste either.) With Cagney being a rather private person, and this book being authorised, it’s a pretty slim volume, and eschews a lot of in-depth probing… but there’s still some interesting insight.
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Der Fuehrer Sez Jump!

I was talking to mom about this New Deal stuff earlier, and in particular having a moan about how I felt misled, i.e. that this work placement would be waged, etc. She said: ‘Well, they’ll do anything to get you on these things. They’re just doing what Mein Fuehrer says.’

(Mein Fuehrer probably meant Tony Blair. I didn’t bother asking.)
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I Must Be Serious

I do watch sport occasionally. Just not football. Football is the work of the Devil. (If you’re American: I mean soccer.) Mostly it’s athletics or tennis I tolerate fairly well.

So Tim Henman’s into the second week of Wimbledon. Again. Will he actually make it through to the final this time? I think, probably not. Having said that, this tendency to slag him off because he’s never won does piss me off a bit. I mean, let’s bear in mind the stream of no-hopers (at least in the men’s game) England has produced, like, for as long as I’ve been alive, pretty much. Tim’s track record is incredibly consistent and creditable.
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Going, Going, Gone! [redux]

We drove past our new flat today. There’s an estate agents board out the front which says SOLD… and for once, I’m looking at those words and knowing it means the place is ours. Bar the formalities.

That’s an incredibly peculiar feeling. Apart from several brief, abortive periods of moving away to my own place, I’ve lived in this house for just over 19 years. Which is the bigger part of my life. Even worse, I’ve never really liked this house, or the street, or the neighbours. It’s a long time to be living somewhere you don’t like.
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Reading the Small Print

Yes, I am reading something at the moment. Watching Touch of Evil a couple of weeks ago gave me the urge to read the eponymous Orson Welles biography by Barbara Leaming.

This has been in our house for a while now, and mom’s already read it. She didn’t like the writing style much. On the whole, I tend to agree—the sentence structure and phrasing is often awkward, and somewhat quaint… but there’s a lot of interesting stuff underneath the stylistic problems.

I’m much more keen to read the Frank Brady bio, Citizen Welles, but it appears to currently be out of print in the UK. If anyone sees a copy going cheap in a second-hand store, hey, drop me a line.
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