The Killers

Thursday, 29 August 2002

i am a chick­en with my head cut off. this will con­tin­ue till mid de­cem­ber. grad schools, re­sumés, job in­ter­views, work, web de­sign, prac­tice, home­work, pa­pers, tests, quizzes. it makes one fair­ly pant just read­ing it. i need to prac­tice bilo­cat­ing or go clone my­self over at the bio build­ing. with that done i could then spare enough en­er­gy to di­rect my army of mu­tant squir­rels in their quest to con­trol the world nut mar­ket. i al­so need to be­gin writ­ing our sec­tion ‘news’letter as i did two years ago. noth­ing i quite like so much as mak­ing fun of every­thing and every­one in my hall­way us­ing hor­ri­ble vul­gar­i­ty and in­sult and get­ting away with it as a se­mi-le­git­i­mate form of me­dia.

here is an old one from two years ago. rather hor­ri­bly vul­gar.

Film Noir Screening: The Killers by Robert Siodmak (1946). The first two scenes are based on a short sto­ry by Ernest Hemingway, but the con­vo­lut­ed tale that fol­lows is a rather good ex­am­ple of ear­ly noir. Burt Lancaster is an in­sur­ance claim in­ves­ti­ga­tor whose can­ni­ness is un­can­ny. His in­ves­ti­ga­tion un­folds the sto­ry through a se­ries of flash­backs rem­i­nis­cent of Citizen Kane. The femme fa­tale is played by Ava Gardner, and when she is around there are bod­ies every­where. of course, she pays the price in the end. Some of the plot mech­a­nisms were con­trived, and the script­ing could have been done much bet­ter, but over­all it was a de­cent noir flik.