TELL TALE SIGNS

My friend Mary Zahl was in New York last week and snapped these pics of a store at 83rd and Lex — sent them along to me knowing of my deep and abiding love of Coca-Cola.

I'm actually not a big fan of the Coca-Cola that's made in this country these days, sweetened with corn syrup.  The old-fashioned Coca-Cola, sweetened with real sugar, is my drink.  It's still made in Mexico, and other countries, and can be had here if you look for it.

My local chain grocery store, which has a lot of Hispanic customers, just started carrying it — to my great delight.  It's a quality-of-life issue for me.  The Cokes in the window of this candy shop look like they might be Mexican Cokes — you usually find them in these tall 12-ounce glass bottles, never in cans.



My love of the Coca-Cola logo involves other issues — memories of its ubiquity in the South of the 1950s when I was growing up, and a sense that it's a kind of alternate American flag, a symbol of my country . . . my country right or wrong.

CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF

The performances by Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor in this film are stone cold brilliant.  The supporting cast is pretty damned good, too.

The filmmaking sucks, with over-lit sets, including some very unconvincing exteriors built on a soundstage, and nervous cutting that distracts from the playing of the scenes.  And yet one has to marvel that such pitch-perfect performances emerge from editing like this — it's very expertly done.



The play is a hoot — rarely persuasive as a psychological portrait of a dysfunctional family but wildly entertaining and eventually moving.  The self-dramatization and outlandish language will be familiar to anyone who grew up in the South back in the last century, where the storytelling tradition often spilled over into the theatrics of everyday life.  The play's explicit references to homosexuality were removed for the screen, which makes the remaining subtextual implications seem coy and dishonest.

The cool, jazzy score is uncredited, due to a musicians' strike in Hollywood at the time.  What's used was lifted from the MGM vaults — most of it was by André Previn, recorded for the soundtrack of a 1949 noir called Tension.  Parts of the Tension score were released as extras on the soundtrack recording of Bad Day At Black Rock, whose score Previn also wrote.

ACROSS THE BRAZOS

The girls of Little River they're sweet and they're pretty
The Sabine and the Saber have many a beauty
The banks of Nacogdoches have girls by the score
But down by the Brazos I'll wander no more

Another wonderful Western painting by Robert McGinnis.  Horses and wagons crossing rivers are seminal images in movie Westerns — for Ford and Boetticher they had a spiritual quality.  They would create little poems out of them, little arias, stopping the narrative to show the process in detail.

Here's Don Edwards singing the cowboy song quoted above — a Homeric catalogue of Western river names, laced with rue over a lost love:

Down By the Brazos

[Right grateful to Golden Age Comic Book Stories for the image.]

LUNAR



Percy Bysshe Shelley howls at the moon:


Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

[Image by John William Waterhouse.]

THE SEA

Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.

— Tennyson