Saturday, June 15, 2013

Tears cannot restore her. Therefore I weep.

One of my sort-of-forbidden pleasures is the cinematic stylings of the Self-Styled Siren. I am a great fan of the studio films of the Thirties, Forties, and Fifties and she has a studio full of stories, observations, critiques, revelations, and appreciations of them.

Here's the thing, though. She so often writes about the cinematic and movie-related things she enjoys that it's easy to forget that the Siren can flat-out, pure-D, stomp-down, kick-ass, tear-the-roof-off-the-muthsucka fucking write.

Every once in a while, though, she reminds us. Here's a terrific little story for your enjoyment; Manhattan Thoughts on a Hot Evening

"...she was most likely weeping because Citibank has plenty of money, and she does not."

Pure brilliance.


basilbeast said...

Cool thing about it, Stanwyck could've played each epoch to a "T".


FDChief said...

No kidding. Babs was the real thing...