Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


YELLOW PLATE, SHORTBREAD, LEATHER SOLES, ME, NERVOUS DOG, HUMMEL FIGURINE, RECORD ALBUM ALBUMS, GREEN MODERNIST CHAIR, WEIRD CURTAINS, XMAS TREE, PRESENTS.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Friday, December 18, 2009

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


BY BRITTA BACCHUS
(Britta's blog can be seen here)

Monday, December 14, 2009


1300 BLOCK KINGSWAY
(TOP CIRCA 1940s by JACK LINDSAY)

Saturday, December 12, 2009


The Bitter Tea of General Yen, 1933, was the film that opened Radio City Music Hall, where it was a disastrous flop, not doing the career of director Frank Capra any good. That fact alone tells you how serious racism must have been at the time. This film is irresistible.
A young New England missionary, Barbara Stanwyck, is in China, her honeymoon delayed when her husband goes off to save an orphanage besieged by General Yen, a warlord who regards the children as "ancestorless brats." She is more or less kidnapped by Yen in his palace, masterfully shot by cameraman Joseph Walker.
Yen is played by a tall dashing Swede, Nils Asther, who coolly observes on his prisoners as the gunshots ring out, "Surely it is more humane to kill them quickly than to let them starve." His Aryan good looks complicate the dialectic of the film, certainly, but this is the element that gives it such erotic appeal. What can one say about the scene of Stanwyck's sensational nightmare, where her husband comes to rescue her, only to strip off his facial mask and reveal General Yen?
The dynamic is purely Cocteau — Beauty and her ravishing Beast. Finally draped in the General's most elegant wedding gown, Beauty begins to fall strongly under his spell but it is too late. He has already drunk his bitter tea.
Only one of the things that make this movie so remarkable is that it dared.
Dec. 14 (5 pm) on TCM.
— Lloyd Dykk

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


BY BERNIE LYON

Friday, December 4, 2009


SKATING AT LOST LAGOON (CIRCA 1920)
BY WALTER H. CALDER

Wednesday, December 2, 2009


WOODWARD'S WINDOW DISPLAY (1946)
BY JACK LINDSAY