The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

El Cine Del Oro #26

Konga Roja (Red Conga)
(Alejandro Galindo, 1943)


Vanwall said...

Ah, Pedro - the ne plus ultra of Mexican cimema, as he embodied all that was good, all that was bad, all that was misunderstood, and above all, all that was expected of the medium. Film is what viewers make of it, and to some extent even greater than profits, (more in some than others!), a movie is made for an audience's appreciation, regardless of how small or large - this is where Pedro, and a select few in all of film, IMHO, represented an entire culture, top to bottom. Like sharks, he was a perfect machine - in his time he meshed so well with the medium, there was no need for evolution in the vast sea south of the border in which he swam.

Vaya con dios, jefe.

slyboots2 said...

Good lord that image is frightening- she looks like Godzilla. Morphing into Carmen Miranda.