Alexa from Pop Elegantiarum here, sneaking in some April Showers before the month is up. When I walk into my bathroom I really just want to see a fully-dressed Cary Grant in the shower. Sadly, I still can't find a shower curtain that realizes that dream, so here are some other ideas to film-ify your bathroom.
Of course you can always resort to the obligatory Psycho homage. This $5 bathroom makeover doesn't require much more than a black sharpie and some acrylic paint. If that sounds like too much work, you can just buy the shower curtain here.
This bloody curtain and math mat set brings to mind the bathroom scene from The Conversation.
But really, if you want to scare yourself at 2 a.m., I think thisNosferatu curtain is the way to go.
After inviting a killer to your shower, it's probably a good idea to bring in The Enforcer.
Finally, your sweetest option is probably this Singin' in the Rain curtain (available at fredflare.com).
halfway house halfway through the day, we stop a movie 'bout halfway through... what do we see?
As you may have noticed, I tend to get hung up on film structures and timing. Not sure why but I live for opening scenes, I'm totally enthralled by filmmakers who can stick landings (i.e. the ending -- so difficult) and sometimes I just get hung up on random timed ideas like 20:07, first and last or Halfway House.
Using Singin' in the Rain for a screenshot series is kind of like cheating because every single thing about it is delightful.
"AAAAAAAAA" Donald O'Connor and Gene Kelly sing, 51 minutes into the most purely pleasureable 102 of film, ever.
I love the "Moses Supposes" number for the electricity of the dancing but I always thought it was so weird that the boys decide to bury their vocal coach in random props to end the number.
Now I propose that this pile-up is merely a neat coded illustration of the movie's generosity. Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly literally can't stop themselves from entertaining you. In most movie musicals "Moses Supposes" would be an unquestionable highlight. Here it's just a break inbetween (and simultaneously about) the movie's best recurring gag: Lina Lamont's inability to speak. Consider and marvel that "and I caaaann't stand 'em" comes immediately before this dance number and Lina and Don's hilariously disastrous 'Recording in Session' immediately follows it. This movie is all about piling it on. No breaks. Unless they're wildly entertaining dance breaks.
... that Jean Hagen didn't win the Oscar for Singin' in the Rain.
Lina Lamont: Gee, this wig weighs a ton! What dope'd wear a thing like this? Rosco: Everybody used to wear them, Lina.
Lina Lamont: Well, then everybody was a dope
Hagen would've been 86 today. She never got the big film career she deserved after her Lina Lamont triumph and soon transferred over to television. Ironically, the actress who gifted us one of the cinema's all time funniest vocal characterizations died of throat cancer when she was only 54.
I'd love to watch Singin' in the Rain back-to-back with Bullets Over Broadway to see Lina's closest modern equivalent, Jennifer Tilly as "Olive Neal", in direct succession. What is it about fine actresses playing bad actresses that thrills so?
Lina Lamont: 'People'? I ain't 'people.' I am a - 'a shimmering, glowing star in the cinema firmament.' It says so right here.
If someone invokes the title Singin' in the Rain you're probably instantly transported to memories of the arguably the most famous dance in film history, as Gene Kelly joyously splashes through the streets, a fool in love grin plastered all over his face. But the greatest thing about Singin' in the Rain is that you don't even have to wait 67 minutes and 48 seconds for the title song and the joy it imparts. You don't even have to wait twenty seconds.
Singin' in the Rain is so generous of spirit that it just hands you the joy the moment the MGM lion stops roaring. And it hands you the title song as soon as the stars names have flashed on their umbrellas in its wicked fun gleefully literal intro.
Here's your stars. They're dancing and singin' in the rain. After all, why make the audience wait? If your movie is overflowing with classic sequences, perfect moments, and exuberant performances you can get away with a lot. There's no need to worry about peaking too early, outstaying your welcome.
It's bliss from frame one on. The bliss increases exponentially. Once Gene (♥) starts splashing around again sixty-seven minutes later, it's become the happiest movie of all time. *
