Dr. Metablog

Dr. Metablog is the nom de blague of Vivian de St. Vrain, the pen name of a resident of the mountain west who writes about language, books, politics, or whatever else comes to mind. Under the name Otto Onions (Oh NIGH uns), Vivian de St. Vrain is the author of “The Big Book of False Etymologies” (Oxford, 1978) and, writing as Amber Feldhammer, is editor of the classic anthology of confessional poetry, “My Underwear” (Virago, 1997).

Film

  • Every once in a while, I experience something that I call a "cultural convergence" — perhaps an event reported in a daily newspaper that closely resembles something on the very page of the novel that I happen to be reading. A cross-genre overlap, let us say. Here's in example of such a coincidence that amused…

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  •   Just when you think that the repository of amnesia films has been drained dry, along comes this entertaining oddity from 1942. In Crossroads (1942), French diplomat David Talbot, played by William Powell with William Powell's unvarying mustache and accent, contracts a very bad case of movie amnesia. "Retrograde amnesia," it's denominated. He can't remember…

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  • Many years ago, in what sometimes seems like an earlier life, I taught Shakespeare courses to both young and "mature" students. When we reached Othello, halfway through the semester, I would, of course, point out that the play did not take the traditional form of tragedy– of a great man or king gone awry as in…

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  • [Warning, metablogians: do not read the following paragraphs if you're planning to see Black Angel, a curious, interesting 1946 noir. Your viewing pleasure will be ruined by the following "all spoiler" entry.]  Once again, it's amnesia, Hollywood style — an alcoholic blackout that is granted a patina of respectability when a doctor calls it Korsakoff's…

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  • Recently some much-admired old friends recommended a movie called Shadowlands (1993). They pledged that we'd love it. But we didn't. In fact, we regarded it as a film that lacked value and integrity. Of course, we won't mention to our friends that we responded so negatively and that we now question their esthetics. I'm sorry…

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  • Two weeks ago, I wrote some admiring remarks  about a little-known post-WWII film called East Side, West Side. I said then that I was sufficiently impressed and intrigued by the film that I intended to read the novel upon which it is based, but that since ES,WS has evaporated into the mists of time, I…

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  • Here's a game. I've compiled a list of essential "film noir" nouns and adjectives. Your job is to assemble them into the titles of noir films. Nouns: city, death, shadow, night, fear, heat, murder, crime, kiss, street, gun, thief, window, sidewalk, body.  Adjectives:  naked, black, evil, strange, wrong, lonely, raw, secret, violent, sudden. Using an…

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  • How should a person who is an enthusiast of classic cinema react when he finds himself loving a film that has been panned, dismissed and ignored for seventy-five years?  The movie in question is a Manhattan tale called East Side, West Side. It was released in 1947 when I was a mere eight years and…

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  • Alas and alack, I've now known far too many folks who have endured serious memory problems. As a consequence, I seem to have developed an interest in amnesia not only in real life but also in fiction and film. There are many many books on the subject and Wiki offers an astonishing list of 234…

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  • The rip-roaring conclusion to Dodge City (1939), is marvelously dumb. The bad guys, led by really nasty villain Jeff Surrett (Bruce Cabot) have jumped out of the burning railroad car and onto their horses. They are going to make a getaway, we assume. But for some reason, the six schmegeggees don't ride away from the…

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