Something that remains near constant across time and cultures is that when one group of people successfully invades, dominates, displaces, or conquers another group of people, members of the victorious group often, not always but often, decide to build their important political, social, or religious buildings and monuments on top of those of the defeated peoples, change the functions of those older buildings to something more in line with the values of the winning side, or just gleefully destroy the older structures altogether.
It's a spike of the ball in the end zone complete with touchdown dance. It's hanging on the basketball rim after a particularly vicious dunk. It's watching the baseball soar out of the stadium, glaring at the pitcher, flipping the bat and taking a slow jaunt around the bases. In other words, it's something specifically designed to let the other group know that they lost and there's not a damn thing they can do about it. It's not a very nice thing to do. And that's the entire point.
It's not often remarked upon or noted but Islam like Christianity, has its own history of invasion, conquest and imperialism. The Turks, who are originally from Central Asia, not only conquered the region known as Anatolia, now modern Turkey, but also much of Eastern Europe, including the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire (Byzantine), Constantinople, renamed Istanbul.
The Hunted (1948)
directed by Jack Bernhard
This is a workmanlike noir movie. It hits most of the major noir themes, alienation, loneliness, untrustworthy femme fatales, uncaring or corrupt officials and of course a few criminals.
But it rushes through all of those plot points, rarely giving its two leads a chance to bite down into them. It looks great though.
From a purely visual standpoint if someone wanted to know what film noir looked like, you could show them this film. The framing of light and shadow, the blinds, the darkness, the streetlights, all let the viewer know that he or she is in an untrustworthy world. This could have been a better movie with a larger budget and stronger secondary actors.
Johnny Saxon (Preston Foster) is a world weary homicide detective. He's just learned that his former special rider Laura Mead (Belita) has been paroled from serving her prison sentence for her role in a robbery. It seems that not only were Johnny and Laura an item but Johnny was the one who arrested Laura.
Despite her protestations of innocence Johnny thought Laura was guilty. He apparently didn't even bother to visit her during her stint in the Big House. As you might imagine this has caused some strain in their relationship. Laura has sworn to murder Johnny and her lawyer Simon Rand (Pierre Watkin) once she gets out. And since she's out her parole officer feels legally and morally honor bound to warn the two men.
The Rental
directed by Dave Franco
The Rental is Dave Franco's directorial debut. Franco wrote it with director/actor Joe Swanberg (The Sacrament, You're Next).
It is inspired in part by some dodgy experiences that Franco had in hotels or private rented homes as well as some even more negative experiences that some of Franco's non-white friends or acquaintances had when trying to rent lodgings.
It is true that it is illegal to refuse to do business with someone because of their race, religion or ethnic origin. It's also true that such discrimination can be difficult to prove. This discrimination remains so common that often it's not worth the time or trouble to take someone to court, which is usually what the offenders hope will be the case.
Franco and his co-writers combine those elements and mix them up with a few more generic thriller cliches to make a quality story that doesn't set the genre on fire. It was fun to watch and had the requisite double crosses and misdirection. I think that because the cast was small with a very tight focus the viewer was able to understand the characters a little better. That doesn't necessarily mean that the viewer will sympathize with the characters.
At least two of them are real scumbags while the other two are only marginally better. But they are very real. People make mistakes. People act selfishly. If you dig into anyone's past you're going to find a few things that might give you pause. So it goes.
The Big Town
directed by Ben Bolt
This 1987 neo-noir film wasn't earth shattering in terms of story, acting, or direction. The viewer can call out most of the twists and turns ahead of time. I still found it entertaining.
A fatherless young man has an awesome once in a life time skill. Supported and trained by his enigmatic father replacement figure the young man decides he's ready for the big time. Becoming (in)famous the Kid proceeds to shock and awe his rivals while making time with two attractive ladies.
One lady is a good girl, the other not so much. The Kid must determine which woman is good for him and not just good to him. The Kid learns that people aren't always what they seem. Eventually the Kid must make some life and death moral choices.
This movie's brash young man is J.C. " Cully" Cullen (Matt Dillon, who apparently has aged only slightly in the intervening thirty three years: good genes and clean living or deals with Infernal Powers?), a small town Indiana gambler and gas station worker who wants more. Although his mother discourages it, Cully loves hearing stories of gambling and fun times in Chicago from his mentor, Carl Hooker (Don Francks) who, along with Cully's father, once ran with the Windy City's gamblers.
Hooker has looked out for Cully ever since Cully's wastrel father died. Hooker thinks that Cully is the best craps player he's ever seen. Hooker believes Cully will be far better than Hooker ever was. Cully quits his job. Armed with Hooker's lucky silver dollar, Hooker's enthusiastic support and his mother's reluctant approval, Cully departs for Chicago.
Apparently some women have been watching Waiting to Exhale too many times without understanding that (a) setting someone's vehicle on fire to express your disappointment with them is illegal and immoral and (b) gasoline vapors are just as flammable and dangerous as liquid gasoline.
I'm sure the next time one Ms. Sydney Parham decides to set an "acquaintance's" vehicle on fire she will consider using a fuse and/or ensuring there are no witnesses or surveillance cameras around. You learn all about such things when you go to prison, which is hopefully exactly where this nitwit is headed.
Each Dawn I Die
directed by William Keighley
This was a 1939 crime movie that shades over into film noir territory. It featured superstars James Cagney and George Raft.
Raft was the boyhood friend of notorious mob boss Bugsy Siegel. Raft had not only grown up around gangsters but also allegedly had spent some time on the mob fringes before finding success as a dancer and actor. Even during his successful reign in Hollywood, Raft maintained some friendships (and business relationships?) with mobsters such as Siegel, Lepke Buchalter (head of Murder Inc), and Mickey Cohen, among others. So Raft's work here as an imprisoned mobster certain seemed to have the whiff of realism. Raft is cool, debonair and charismatic.
There weren't many actors who could hold their own onscreen with the lightning in a bottle force that was Cagney but Raft was certainly such a man. And he did it seemingly without effort. Where Cagney is boom-zip-bam all over the place at 150 mph, Raft is laconic, behind the beat and as mentioned cool....
