November 26th, 2003



today was a good writing day.

the next three months are going to be filled with little comments like this as i work towards finishing the first readable draft of my novel/thesis. if it's not done in the next three months... well, i'll become one of those doctorate students who sit around and claim to be in their fifth and sixth year and boiling the found meat bones i take from butcher bins for food. so, i'm going to avoid that. hence, comments like, good writing day, or bad one, and if there isn't one for a while, people can say, hey, what the fuck? you better still be working.

of course, this last bit of november is for finishing a couple of short stories that i've had around, and to get some of the weirdness out of my system that won't fit in a walking tour of the dreaming city. so, today, i sat around, typed, retyped, retyped some more, and then reached the end of my retyping. tomorrow, there will likely be more retyping, but today was good, and i nailed down the pacing, the final touches of the character, and the bits and pieces that will hopefully work as motifs and which navigate the central narrative to create a stronger read.


tomorrow might have me sitting there and saying, 'well, that didn't work,' and i'll rip bits and pieces out of it, but otherwise it was a good day.
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watched rififi the other day.

made in nineteen ninety five, it remains a fine example of noir film making. it opens with tony, who has just gotten out of jail for a five year stretch, in a poker game, continually nagged by a cough that he picked up in the dampness of his cell. he's been ravaged, broken, and, played by jean servais, tony's conveys the knowledge that prison has slowly eaten away his flesh along with his health; but yet he is still an imposing sight. you wouldn't call him pretty, like joe, and he lacks a certain charm, such as cesar has, but like all good noir protagonists, he's fascinating to watch, even when he is brutalising his ex-girlfriend for ditching him once he went to prison.

the word 'rififi' means rough-n-tumble. at least, this is what the film tells you, in a fabulous number from magali noel. it also shows that the film was made at a completely different time--it's hard to imagine a scene when the protagonists, in suit and jacket, walk into a night club, and listen to a five minute song that links their nature and the promise of their future together. but it does. and better yet, it works.

the centre of this film is a jewel heist. it takes up about fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes, and there is barely a sound. no music, no speaking, just the faint shuffle of the actors feet as they cut slowly through the floor, trying not the cause the alarm to trip. it's kind of hard to image a film where there was such absolute silence--i can just see the hollywood remake putting in some harsh electronic babble or something equally as poorly considered. if you've never seen the film, then really, this scene is a gem--absolutely captivating and full of tension, because of the song, and the nature of the characters, you know that, inevitably, something will go wrong.

it's a fine film. i enjoyed it. (and yes, i mainly did write this entry to talk about the heist scene that's done in silence. it's such a great scene.)

anyone have any other old little noir films they want to recommend?
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