Meet Me in St. Louis Rated 3.2 / 5 based on 802 reviews.
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About The Author Ashley Marie
Bio: Carolina girl living in Florida 🌴 Future Mrs. 💍 Corgi Dog Mom 🐾 UOAP 🌎 Disney AP 🏰
Rating - 19298 Vote director - Vincente Minnelli user Ratings - 7,7 of 10 Star Judy Garland Release Year - 1944. Meet me in st louis under the bamboo tree. Meet me in st. louis trailer. Meet me in st. louis 1944 movie. Meet me in st louis cast list. Meet me in st. louis sheet music. Meet me in st louis tootie.
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21 Posted by 1 month ago 1 comment 96% Upvoted Log in or sign up to leave a comment log in sign up Sort by level 1 1 point · 1 month ago I'm planning on using this at an audition for Mamma Mia in about a week-ahhh! More posts from the MusicalTheatre community Continue browsing in r/MusicalTheatre r/MusicalTheatre Welcome to r/MusicalTheatre 5. 7k Members 1 Online Created Oct 27, 2009 help Reddit App Reddit coins Reddit premium Reddit gifts Communities Top Posts Topics about careers press advertise blog Terms Content policy Privacy policy Mod policy Reddit Inc © 2020. All rights reserved.
Meet me in st louis musical cast list. Meet me in st. louis in theaters. Meet me in st louis judy garland. Meet me in st. louis full movie. A very intriguing fact that many researchers are unaware off, is that the 1930 Hollywood Production Code was drafted by a Jesuit--Daniel A. Lord S. J.. This code is known as the Hays Code, named after Papal agent, "Episcopalian" Will H. Hays {further reading: The Memoirs of Will H. Hays (1955), Will H. Hays), who was from 1922–1945, the first chairman of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA). There is a incredible amount of disinformation on the internet claiming that the Jews control Hollywood and it is completely baseless. I encourage the reader to read The Jesuit Contribution to the Theatre, Henry Schnitzler, Educational Theatre Journal Vol. 4, No. 4 (Dec., 1952), pp. 283-292, an academic journal that goes into the history of how the modern stage theater and motion pictures originate with the Society of Jesus--Jesuits. Here is a link to that in full: Here is the cover of the 1930 Hollywood Production Code: you can read the code here, as published on March 31st 1930: Under the section titled Religion is stated: "Ministers of Religion in their character as such, should not be used as comic characters or as villains. " Jesuit priest Father Daniel A. Lord, was helped by his brother Jesuit, Father FitzGeorge Dinneen S. J. in drafting the code, in addition to Jesuit trained Papal Knight Martin Quigley, who was the owner of the Hollywood trade journal Motion Picture Herald. " On Chicago's censorship board sat Father FitzGeorge Dinneen, S. J., pastor at St. Ignatius parish in Chicago, a close friend of Quigley and confidant to one of America's most powerful Catholics, Cardinal George W. Mundlein of Chicago. "..... " When Father Dinneen suggested bringing in Father Daniel Lord, S. J., to write the document, {Hollywood Production Code} the Cardinal(Mundelein) gave his blessing "---- Hollywood Censored: Morality Codes, Catholics, and the Movies, Gregory D. Black, pg. 36 () " Reverend Fitz George Dineen, SJ joined the parish in 1924. Under his guidance a rectory attached to the church, gymnasium, a new school for boys was built, and a pipe organ designed by Stephen Erst was installed "( source:) Daniel A. J., the Jesuit of Hollywood, wrote about his secret authorship of the 1930 Hollywood Production Code in his autobiography titled Played by Ear: The autobiography of Daniel A. (1956) pg. 301/302: " It was an impressive group of leaders who gathered round the luncheon table for my presentation of the code. Mr. Hays himself presided. Martin Quigley could feel that the moment was largely of his management. I came with the code in my hand, and instructions to take half an hour to present it as only the actual author of the written document could do. For half an hour of the most rapid possible talking, I laid the code before them, explained what seemed to need explanation, and stressed less the actual "law" of the code than the reasons for its existence and what I thought could grow out of the acceptance of the code. To me it seemed to open possibilities for simply magnificent pictures that never would be done as long as the industry floundered and lazed about in gutters and dirt and crime. At the end Mr. Cecil B. de Mille made a brief speech of thanks, stressing the fact that my work had been done through interest in the motion-picture industry, and with no financial consideration. Hays adjourned the meeting for whatever time and place would be agreeable for signing the code. The leaders of the industry left in agreement that they would sign and that the code would be effective almost immediately. My work was then transferred to the Hays office, where I sat down at a series of meetings to explain to the men responsible for enforcing the code and explaining it to the individual companies exactly what each section of the code was intended to mean. I found this a charming group of honorable and well-intentioned men. They had been selected for personal honor and their ability to stand before the public and represent the companies of the industry in all matters of policy. " pg. 303/304: " My own connection with the code was kept almost unexplainably secret. It surprised me a little that none of the gossip columnists of the day made it a point. I was much relieved that bigotry got no chance to scorn the code because it was the product of a Jesuit. I agreed completely with the policy of silence, and for years never mentioned my authorship except in Hollywood, the Hays office in New York, or among close friends. The code seemed to me no occasion for personal claims. I had done it because the cardinal of Chicago had appointed me, because Mr. Will Hays had invited me, because Mr. Martin Quigley had seen the attempted codes which had been written prior to this and found them wanting, and because it was a wonderful opportunity to do what seemed to me a worth-while job. Years later my name began to appear in connection with accounts of the code. The Luce publications referred to it, as did some of the Hollywood columnists. I continued to make no mention of it as mine. It belonged to the industry and it was much better that it be that way. At long length my name came into the context with growing frequence. And then, as often happens, a sort of blur began to overcast the authorship. The idea of a code was not new. Dozens of industries had accepted responsibility in various ways by signed documents. The "Do's and Don't's" had carved a sort of precedent for the movie industry. The Will Hays office had made other agreements which turned out to be valuable and profitable to the industry. Martin Quigley felt sure that an adequate code would be welcomed by the motion-picture producers. My own continued interest in the theater and the films and my close connection with the very zealous Father Dinneen made me a "natural" to give the code its form and wording. 297/298: "Martin Quigley was convinced that the time had now come for the presentation to the industry by the Hays office of a morals code, a code of responsibility for their relationship to the audience. The "Do's and Don't's" had been a beginning. He knew that a number of people had drawn up amplifications of these, among them the boy wonder of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Irving Thalberg, and several men in the Hays office. None of them was complete, comprehensive, simple, and in a way foolproof. If the cardinal of Chicago could become interested in more than just police censorship, if he could be sold on the value of the industry's assuming its own censorship, if he could bring this to the attention of the bankers who now controlled much of the industry, if he were ready with a morals code, not Catholic but basically decent, moral, and acceptable to all rightminded people, this might be the precise moment to present it to the industry itself. Martin Quigley's belief convinced Father Dinneen. On his next meeting with Cardinal Mundelein about the rising tide of evil films, Father Dinneen suggested to his eminence that the time might be ripe for the industry to do its own censoring. Would his eminence propose this to Halsey Stuart and Company? He promptly did, and the bankers, relieved at the possibility of cleaning up the dirtiest and most annoying of their financial babies, agreed to pressure the companies. " Martin Quigley's New York Times obituary shows he close he was to political Catholicism, one his sons even became a Jesuit priest--John S. Quigley S. "Mr. Quigley held a number of papal decorations, including the Order of St. Gregory the Great and the medal of the Knight of the Order of Malta, and he was a Knight of the Grand Cross. He held honorary degrees from Loyola University of Los Angeles(Jesuit) survivors include his widow, Gertrude; two sons, the Rev. John S. Quigley, S. J., and Martin Quigley, and two daughters, Mrs. Mary Q. Eller and Mrs. Martha Q. Burlinson. " To sum up the total Jesuit control, it was Jesuit educated, Papal Knight, devout Catholic Joseph Ignatius Breen who was the top censor of Hollywood after the production code was written by the Jesuit priest Daniel A. Breen was the head of the Production Code Administration (PCA), the bureaucratic office which was assigned to levy penalties and fines on those films whose spiritual and temporal messages did not align with the morality layed out by Jesuit Priest Daniel A. in the Hollywood production code. Lord writes about his relationship to Breen in his autobiography (pg. 311/312). :" "For the code became effective. The companies gave the Hays office the power to pronounce on scenarios, to say that this script conformed and this did not conform to the code, to order specified changes, and to give or refuse its seal of approval as it saw fit. Largely at the suggestion of Martin Quigley, Mr. Joesph I Breen was put in charge of this new and powerful department of the Hays office. He brought to it high integrity, fine personal courage, a great belief in the value of the code for the industry itself and for the audience, and a technique that made the recalcitrant among the producers come to time. The films now had a chance to do decent stories without having to compete with the salacious and the evil. San Francisco was filmed and proved so successful that the producers grasped the fact that films which conformed in every detail to the code were probable box-office smashes. The audiences notably increased. The good directors got a chance to do stories that had long been held in abeyance. The whole industry learned that good morals are good business. I returned to Hollywood at times to work with Joe Breen and his associates. We had some modifications, very few, to make. We had to write in a section on suicide when sloppy and lazy directors started to solve their plots with the suicide of some uncomfortable character. As late as 1953 I sat in with the board of the Breen office to listen to scripts and to watch the formulae that grew out of the code applied to questionable situations. Joe Breen has told me that a situation seldom arises which the code does not cover. " Further reading---Thomas Doherty, Hollywood's Censor: Joseph I. Breen And The Production Code Administration, Columbia University Press ( 2007): pg. 14: " Upon graduation from Catholic High in 1906, Breen followed the path of his brothers into the all-male classrooms of St. Joseph’s College, Philadelphia’s flagship Jesuit university and the house college for the Breen boys, all of whom maintained lifelong links with their alma mater. Founded in 1851, St. Joseph’s was an ardent proponent of a rigorous Jesuit curriculum and a fierce propagator of the faith. 21: " As the Roaring Twenties reached cruising altitude, Breen had earned a seat in the front pews of American Catholicism—rubbing shoulders with an elite brethren of politicians, businessmen, and clerics, men who if not ordained Jesuits tended to be Jesuit-educated or Jesuit-fixated. The Jesuits, or “Jebbies” to their familiars, were the shock troops of the Catholic clergy, an exclusive fraternity within an exclusive fraternity, priests with a special devotion to higher education, the Virgin Mary, and the propagation of the faith. As an honorific, the initials S. (Society of Jesus) were harder to earn and, among Catholics, more revered than a Ph. D. Two of Breen’s most helpful mentors in the priesthood were Wilfrid Parsons, S. J., editor of the Jesuit weekly America, a sort of New Republic for the Catholic intelligentsia, and Monsignor W. O’Brien, editor of Extension Magazine, a slick Catholic monthly. Throughout the 1920s, under the pen name “Eugene Weare, ” Breen contributed numerous articles to both publications on a mélange of political and cultural issues: immigration, Catholic education, communism, social welfare, private charity, and the blighted condition of postwar Europe. 42: " Figuring Breen knew the Jesuit psyche, Quigley asked him to arrange a meeting with Father Dinneen to consider an alternative plan of attack that would be more effective and principled, Quigley thought, than church boycotts, censor board fiats, or legislative action. On or about October 1, 1929, Quigley, Breen, and Dinneen met at the Chicago Athletic Club for a power lunch to plot an ambitious motion picture project. Quigley explained his idea for a program of industry selfregulation to be guided by a written contract. In a spirit of compromise, he suggested that one of Dinneen’s fellow Jesuits collaborate in the composition of the document, Rev. Daniel A. Lord, S. J., of St. Louis, Missouri. Father Lord was the Jesuit version of a Hollywood multi-hyphenate. In a lifetime spent propagating the faith, the prolific priest churned out twentyfive plays, thirty books, forty-eight children’s books, and a raft of booklets, pamphlets, and speeches. He was also a gifted musician who, like some kind of ecclesiastical hybrid of Thomas Aquinas and Flo Ziegfeld, delighted in staging extravagant religious pageants and composing show tunes. If applied to the pursuit of earthly profits, Lord’s talents might have made him a Broadway impresario, but he was called early to the priesthood and channeled his energies along a more celestial career path. “I never wrote without A. M. G. and B. V. H. on the page, ” averred Lord. Perhaps the tooperfect surname—the tag of a lazy screenwriter with a penchant for sledgehammer symbolism—preordained his ordination. 16: "In 1918, settling in New York, Breen was back behind a typewriter. By the fall of 1919, he was employed “as a ‘feature writer, ’ so called, ” for “the big daily newspapers in New York. ” Keeping up the Catholic connection, he also served as secretary to Father Edward Tivnan, president of Fordham University, like St. Joseph’s a Jesuit institution. He described himself in those days as “an overworked newspaperman with a houseful of babies to feed, clothe, and keep warm. "" pg. 17:" In May 1921, trading on his proficiency in domestic Catholicism and foreign affairs, Breen secured a position as European Representative at the Bureau of Immigration at the National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC), a private relief agency and protean political action committee. “Mr. Breen has had extensive Consular work in Europe, has a good personality and judgment, and seems to appreciate the needs for Catholic welfare work, ” wrote the bureau’s director, after Breen nailed the interview. Though dedicated to all things Catholic, the NCWC focused on immigration and overseas charity work. Breen’s job was to survey the plight of European Catholics, suggest the best means of relief, and facilitate the emigration of worthy Catholics to America. 184: " As Breen presided over the Code and prospered in Hollywood, he accrued the tributes due a prominent Catholic layman, including honorary degrees from Loyola University of Los Angeles{Jesuit} in 1937 and his nominal alma mater St. Joseph’s{Jesuit} in 1954. On July 14, 1938, in a ceremony in the Vatican presided over by his old acquaintance Pope Pius XI, Breen accepted the honor he most treasured, the designation as Knight Commander of the Order of St. Gregory, a coveted pontifical decoration bestowed for meritorious service to the Church. The man who had ridden into the mouth of the dragon in Hollywood had literally been dubbed a knight. " In 1933, the Vatican also formed the "Legion of Decency" organization to exert even more control and censorship over Hollywood. A Jesuit Francis Xavier Talbot S. was the official chaplain to the Legion. Naturally, the Jesuit Daniel A. would be involved in the Legion of Decency as-well. "In the early 1930's just as the Catholic campaign against the movies was beginning, the church also began to intensify its attack on "obscene" and dangerous literature. At the annual meeting of Catholic bishops in Washington in 1932, just one year before the Legion of Decency campaign against the movies was launched, the hierarchy adopted a resolution deploring the lack of "uplifting" literature and called on Catholics to avoid "immoral books". Father Lord joined the battle. In a speech to the New York chapter of the IFCA he condemned the writings of such authors as Theodore Dreiser, James Joyce, and Eugene O'Neill because they were fraught with "sordid things of life". Lord was joined by the Rev. Francis X. Talbot S. J., who on radio and in the pages of America demanded federal censorship of novels with "literary pretensions", novels that, he said were hiding behind the protection of the First Amendment. Talbot called Sinclair Lewis, William Faulkner, and Ernst Hemingway "crawling vermin". The priest would later become a major force in the Legion of Decency. "--- The Catholic Crusade Against the Movies, 1940-1975, Gregory D Black(1998), pg. 18: Further reading: The Catholic Church and Hollywood, Alexander McGregor (2013):.
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Meet me in st louis oak ridge playhouse. America Chavez and Veronica Miller sit in a diner on the outskirts of Michigan just off of highway forty. It has been six days since America murdered Allen Crane in the front lawn of his house. The American Crusaders have been playing the footage every few hours on their site and it continued to get thousands of clicks. The decision to run was easy and now the paranoia and fear of what was to come next has begun to set in. America is a little shaky as she sips her coffee and Veronica has not had any sleep the last few nights. “We have no plans and barely any money. ” Veronica was trying to at least map out the next few days, they would run out of gas money soon and needed somewhere to stop and think. America is used to the idea of moving from place to place, but to do it as a murderer was new to her, and the stress had begun wearing her down. “I say we get back on the road and keep going until something stops us. ” Veronica is playing with the USB drive she had picked up outside of Allen’s house and turning it over and over again in her fingers. “Well then we should keep heading west. Any reason to think, now that you’re wanted, the big guys will come after you? Captain America and the like? ” America shakes her head. “No, I don’t think they were ever aware of my existence to tell you the truth. They have bigger fish to fry. ” “That’s a damn shame, I’ve always wanted to meet Captain America, he’s hot. ” America’s face twists in disgust. Veronica pushes the rest of her apple pie towards America. “Eat up, we have a lot more driving to do and we need to be on the lookout for cops. ” The diner is silent this time of night, the waitress leans against the counter reading a book. The cook, her husband, leans through the food window so he can watch the car lights going by. America looks in the corner at the old tube tv and is thankful that it is turned off. She has seen the footage of her punching Allen Crane more times than she could count. This wasn’t some insane right wing conspiracy, the American Crusaders had real footage and the large networks had picked up the story. It’s not every day a teen superhero kills a father of three in his family's front yard. The police had been looking for her, but they did not have much to go on and certainly weren’t expecting her to stay in the midwest, according to the news the expectation was that she would flee back to the east coast or further. The good thing about being a superhero on the run was that everyone assumed you could just head off to space or wherever you wanted. Quintin Jones had been having a banner week and was living it up. During the day it was everything Quintin had dreamed of, the PEACEKEEPERS were licensed out to the Detroit Police Dept. and had been hailed as a massive success cutting down on the rioting and mobs. Quintin had moved up a few seats in the boardroom, now on the right hand of the CFO of Roxxon, not quite where he wanted to be but it was definitely a step up from laughing stock. With Allen dead everything had come up smelling like roses and the city was now his playground, he was a respected and high ranking executive. Quintin was well on his way to getting everything he had ever wanted. Still, there was something in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite place. Quintin was not an evil mastermind, just good at manipulating situations around him. Douglas Thurmond sits in his office as his world seems to be crumbling around him. His campaign is not going well and seems to be pretty much tanked, only the extreme far right are rallying behind him. Douglas has been staring at his news feed on his phone, the article is claiming that Douglas is to blame for inciting a race riot. Douglas’ father has cut him off from his trust fund and was actively distancing himself from his son. The allegations of Douglas being a Neo Nazi could damage the family’s reputation is not something he could risk. The only support Douglas seems to be getting comes from the Alt right members that are hailing him as a beacon of honesty and truth. For the last week he has been exchanging emails with a young woman calling herself “AryanGoddess18”, the emails are not focused on politics. The sun has set and the two lane highway is mostly empty save for the truckers and the only other lights are few and far between. Veronica is on driving duty and has two cups of coffee sitting in the cup holders in front of her. America is supposed to be on map duty and indeed has the map open though her eyes are closed, a highway sign promises six hundred miles to St. Louis. Veronica turns on the radio and Soul Asylum is playing so she quickly turns the radio back off. Veronica takes out a cigarette and lights it, she barely takes a drag and lets the cigarette serve more as a fuse burning down to her fingers to keep her eyes on the road. Veronica had been thinking about Allen’s death. She wanted to feel something about it, remorse, sorrow, joy, or a sense of justice. Veronica felt nothing. She took a long slow drag and wondered if it was because she did not get to murder him herself. America stirs and leans her head against the window of the car, a bit of drool on her lip. On she drove, leaving Detroit and the mess that came from their actions behind them. An hour and a half later Veronica falls asleep while driving, her car veers into the other lane and collides head on with another car. The other driver is not wearing a seatbelt and is flung through the windshield and turned into a material similar to cottage cheese. Veronica and America are dragged off into the night by a hulking man dressed in tattered overalls and a brown and grey mullet. The sun has just started to crest over the horizon and off in the distance a rooster crows signalling the start of the day. A coffee maker is switched on, a tractor is started and rumbles to life somewhere off in the distance and the smell of wet earth and manure fills the air. Veronica Miller opens her eyes slowly and has a pounding headache. The surroundings are slowly taken in and Veronica spots America tied to the center post across from her, the barn is old and damp and has a number of rusty old farming implements hanging on the wall. America has a handkerchief tied tightly in her mouth as a gag. Veronica tries to yell to her and realizes her mouth is gagged as well. Veronica takes in their surroundings and looks for any clues as to what exactly is happening. The barn is dimly lit from streaks of morning sun coming through cracks and missing boards, everything in the barn seems to be from the last century, the barn smelled like old oil and rust. Veronica’s eyes go wide and she spots the only clean piece of machinery in the barn. It is beautifully polished and gleaming with streaks of white light coming off the mirrored surface. A hand crank meat grinder about the size of a small Italian car. A quarter of a mile away in a small ranch style barn house breakfast is being made. The unmistakable sound of bacon frying emanates from the house and Rufus and Dunlop are having a conversation about the quality of the coffee. Dunlop is just over seven feet tall and more brawn than brain and in his forty nine years of life had never set foot off of the property but has lately been trying to develop a broader view of the world around them. Dunlop has been doing this by watching movies online. Last night he watched “Coffee and Cigarettes. ” Which is mostly about people sitting around and talking while drinking coffee. Obviously. Rufus is ten years younger and small and wiry, barely over five foot. Rufus is unscrewing his small bottle of aspirin, Dunlop was already giving him another headache. Rufus was hoping that this damn foolish arty bullshit was going to fade soon, this was as bad as when Dunlop found the dictionary in Walton's creek. Dunlop had been going on about the coffee for the last fifteen minutes and was showing no signs of slowing down. “Rufus I only ask you to consider this. ” Dunlop points at the coffee in his cup, tepid and black with a layer of oil and a few grounds flowing on top. “Say that this, THIS is the last cup of coffee you drink, something happens and I’m not wishing it upon you but dollars to donuts I’m guessing you’d be damn sad this” Dunlop points violently at the offending cup of coffee. “Was the last cup of coffee you had ever had. ” Rufus whips around and holds up the knife he was using to dice mushrooms, Rufus is hoping that he looks threatening. “Dammit boy I just about had enough of your jawing and enough of your ten dollar words, I swear to god boy I will cut the damn cords off of the computer! ” Rufus is unfortunately wearing a “Kiss the cook” apron and it ruins the whole facade. Dunlop returns to his coffee and sips it quietly. Rufus turns his attention back to the eggs and is briefly concerned that he may have ruined the basis for his omelette. The rooster is still announcing the morning and the sun is streaking through the kitchen window. Dunlop loudly sips his coffee. A moment of silence. Dunlop spits something out and Rufus refuses to take the bait. “Can we have it without the grounds floating in it tomorrow morning? ” The razor sharp paring knife that Rufus is using is flung across the room and embedded in the wall next to Dunlop’s head. The room is still. Dunlop resumes sipping his coffee. Rufus pulls another knife out of the drawer and resumes cutting vegetables. Across the house and up the stairs a door is open and closed. Rufus and Dunlop look at each other in silent rage, both using their eyebrows to suggest that the other is at fault for what is about to happen. It takes a full twenty three seconds for the tiny footsteps to work their way down the steps and across carpet and dried and cracked linoleum. Rufus mouths a few dirty words to Dunlop as the figure enters the doorway. “Dammit Rufus how many times I gotta tell you boy I’m deaf not blind and I can spell any of the darn four letter words you’re mouthing! ” Ethel is one hundred and ten years old, seemingly made of stone and ire and can barely stretch her toes to be above four and a half feet. Dunlop stands and places his coffee down on the table. “Aw ma-” Ethel points her finger at Dunlop, almost straight up his nose. “I am tired of your back talk boy, you two idiots damn near scared me straight out of bed coming home in the all hours of night, the hell you doin that time of night anyway? ” Ethel moves to preemptively strike her son. “We got some food ma, a couple of good ones! ” Dunlop is bracing himself for a strike that never comes. “You two did what? ” Rufus is watching and cannot tell if she is happy or mad at the news. The answer soon becomes apparent. “You idiots grabbed two people?! They still alive? ” Dunlop shrugs. “Well yeah, we wanted the meat fresh don’t we? ” “What if they get away, huh? One we can handle, two we start having to ask ourselves what if? We never take more than one! ” Dunlop and Rufus look at their feet and take their scolding. Dunlop speaks towards the floor “I’m sorry ma, I just figured it was too good a chance to pass up. ” Ethel reaches into her grey curls and cranks up the dial on her hearing aid. “Dammit son, speak into my ear. ” Back in the barn Veronica is trying to reach an old budweiser can than lays half crumpled on the floor, her toe is inches from the can, her hope is to kick it at America and wake her up. Veronica is straining against the binding and her breath is coming in short spurts. Her toe is no closer to the can. The door to the barn is pulled open and Veronica can see the shapes of her captors. The two larger ones stand aside and a small woman works her way across the barn to America. America is still passed out and her head moves limply as Ethel examines her. “This one might make for good breeding stock. Hell boys you might have done well, I might have flown off the handle and I owe you an apology. ” Veronica’s eyes have gone wide and she is struggling to catch her breath, spittle is flying out from the sides of her gag. Ethel crosses the room in what feels like a matter of years as the reality of her situation sinks into Veronica. Ethel stands inches from Veronica. “This one will be good eating. Lot of of fat. May taste like brisket. ” Veronica starts trying to yell and scream a slew of foul language at Ethel. Ethel pats Veronica gently. “Hush girl. ” America starts opening her eyes and it takes her several moments to fully understand her predicament, it takes a fraction of a second for America to snap the chains and she ops to run at Dunlop, fist pulled back and ready to knock his head clean off. Things do not go according to plan and Dunlop goes for a fast low punch right to America’s gut knocking the air out of her lungs. America crumbles and drops to her knees and struggles to suck air back into her empty lungs. America’s face is inches from the barns dirt floor and notices the mix of small bones, rusty nails and crumpled beer cans from varying decades. America is picked up by the back of her head and held out at arms length by Dunlop, America is screaming her lungs out and Ethel assumes that she is asking the same questions everyone asks when they find themselves at the mercy of Dunlop. “My son used to eat a lot of lead paint. ” Ethel holds a straight face. Veronica is beyond words. America struggles to suck in air to make some words. Ethel leans down to hear what America has to say. “Must have been a lot of paint. ” Ethel smirks. “Nah I’m just messing with you, the truth ain’t as silly. Seems you snapped the chains pretty presents a problem. ” America is almost ready to get back to her feet. She is currently working out who she is going to pummel first. “Dunlop, get over here boy, her color is returning and I think she’s fixing to do some violence. ” Dunlop takes place behind America and grabs her wrists pining them behind her back and forcing her face into the dirt. America sucks in a breath of air and a hearty lung full of dirt. Ethel paces around and everyone is silent except for the frantic and troubled breathing from the two women. Ethel is thinking and neither of her sons would dare to interrupt her introspection. America’s face is on the ground and from her perspective all she was able to see was Ethel’s orthopedic doctor scholls. Ethel’s voice finally broke the silence. “Let her go, Dunlop you help her up boy. ” Everyone in the room is understandably confused. Dunlop does as he is told and lifts America to her feet. Dunlop attempts to question his mother’s motives but it is not met warmly, soon as he can open his mouth Ethel slaps him upside the head. “Don’t question your momma boy! ” Ethel continues walking around the room clearly lost in her own thought, everyone else practically holds their breath in antici- “I’ve got a theory. I don’t think you are the kind of person that will leave their friends behind, especially in circumstances. You are out in the middle of nowhere and no one to help you. You clearly have some sort of special abilities. I think this will be a good opportunity for my boys to get out of the house, and who knows maybe you'll even shake some excitement into our lives. ” America and Veronica are stunned into silence and for the first time in both of their lives have no idea how to respond to a situation. Dunlop and Rufus smile and Rufus licks his lips. Ethel takes a crumpled napkin out of her cardigan pocket and blows her nose loudly. “Ain’t you girls ever seen The Most Dangerous Game? ” Dunlop interjects. “Ma that movie is from the thirties ain’t no one here seen that but you. They’d have seen hard target. ” Dunlop looks to America for acknowledgement that she has in fact seen hard target. America shakes her head “No. ” “Well that’s a shame, it’s really good. We’re still gonna hunt and kill ya even if you haven’t seen it. Still though. It’s a shame. ” Dunlop is genuinely saddened. Several states away Douglas Thurmond is exchanging text messages with AryanGoddess18 and things are getting serious between the two. There have been mentions of meeting and Douglas’ willpower was breaking down. Douglas has been staring at the blinking cursor for the last forty five minutes trying to think of an excuse to NOT meet up. He had typed out “I’m married” and “You’re too young” but none of those felt honest, he was going to type out “I can’t be seen with any nazis” but that didn’t feel right either. In the end Douglas typed out “I’ll see you at seven thirty. ”.
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Critique sur le Film 127 heure s.v.p. Humm, la chaine Nation Cinéma n'est vraiment pas sûr du potentiel de ce film. Peut-être que néanmoins je ferai une vidéo sur le sujet, qui sait? hehe. In a role that was made for Jean Dujardin, he acts like he has been doing this for a long time. By 'this' I mean executing an eccentric project that is about to take over his life and muddle his relationship with the world. And by 'the world' I mean the sorry village that his Georges character travels to after buying a vintage jacket made of 100% deerskin which also marks his obsession with it, something that both induces laughter in its audience and also highlights the crazy, primal nature of obsessive compulsion characterized by depression, loneliness, and unconditional enmity against the humankind. I have no words to describe the virulent turn Le daim (Deerskin) takes as Georges laughingly has his way by conspiring with himself to take forward his obsession with his deerskin jacket, which I should add is 'killer style' in his own words. Whether it is the inflated price that he pays for the second-hand jacket or the newfound skill of videography or mistaking a film editor with a creditor, Le daim has been written in a way that is guaranteed to make you laugh every five minutes. The outlandish plot, accentuated by terrific performances by Dujardin and Adele Haenel (who acts with her face and that's enough) and also by the peculiar style of referral writing (where the aftermath of an event in a scene is shown in the following one or the one after that) by director-writer Quentin Dupieux makes this comedy crime drama a blast experience. I can't recommend it more and I am definitely going to be watching more of Dupieux's work. Bravo! TN.
