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

The Art of Cinema #327

The Woman on the Beach
(Jean Renoir; 1947)


Peter Nellhaus said...

When Joan was bad, she was very, very good.

Vanwall said...

This was one of the few films I in which I could take to her.

SomeNYGuy said...

Okay, Joan -- you're no good ... in "Desire in the Dust". Otherwise you're golden, especially in your collaborations with Fritz Lang. "Lazy legs," I love you!