We'll get back to the stories soon enough, where Steffan is curiously poised after that interview with Master Octavius in 'The Glove', and the smooshed up version of 'Wordspace' heads into the middle third after a sickness-induced hiatus. This is instead going to about the much loathed third and final season of 'Star Trek', that aired over 1968/69, and how ready fans seem to be to jump straight to hatred. Who do so many professed 'fans' of things seem so ready to hate? Well, 'fan' isn't a shortened term for 'fanatic' without reason.
The third season of 'Star Trek' was made under ridiculously horrible circumstances, with little money or time, and minimal access to the creative writers and directors that made the first two seasons such a monumental success. Despite all that, the third season isn't that bad, except for a couple of debatable and monumental turkeys. In fact, it's a miracle that the season is actually good at all. However, and this is puzzling, if you ask almost any 'Star Trek' fan they will respond with the trained response that it's utterly dreadful, abominable, and equivalent to a crime against humanity. This is odd, when you consider that even in its diluted state, 'Star Trek' was still one of the smartest shows on television (See 'Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea' and 'The Man From UNCLE' for examples of series that plumbed real depths, falling from sublime grace in the second instance), and still rather well shot in places. Working through the season now, it's fascinating to see how much more experimental and interesting the photography is. It may even be better in that respect.
The problem is that the fans react disproportionately, as they do in so many other arenas, or take the entrenched and accepted view that it's all rubbish. How strange it must be to just accept the opinions of others and not make your own from the evidence at hand. It's very much like accepting the newspapers and newscasters as purveyors of factual truth rather than biased interpreters with their own agendas. As any researcher will tell you, you must go the source! The worst part is the fandom, though, those apparent haters of all things they profess to love. It's a strange thing indeed. Right now, I'm watching the first episode I ever did see ('For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky'), and it's a great highlight of the season, but you'll have trouble finding someone who will admit it. Could it be that I'm incredibly more tolerant of flawed television than everyone else? It's a theory, at least.
There's no question that the third season is less good than its predecessors, and less nuanced in it's writing, but it's still interesting and smart with occasional bursts of brilliance. It's not hate-worthy, and if you don't believe me then check out 'For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky', 'The Tholian Web', 'The Enterprise Incident', 'All Our Yesterdays' or even 'Is There In Truth No Beauty?'. Some of the others are pretty watchable too!
O.
Subsequent note:
In production order, some of the last six could be considered just plain awful, which is a shame. However, it's still not a season that should be written off! Oh, and 'Plato's Stepchildren' is just plain horrid.
Wednesday, 14 October 2015
Monday, 12 October 2015
The Ritual
It is a sacred ritual, known only to the few others who have the Knowledge and the courage. That little container in the cupboard is to be treated with great care.
The maker reaches for the container of cocoa, and then the jar of honey, holding them reverently as the world collapses down to this fixed little sequence of events, before placing them on the counter. Then, methodically, a teaspoon, handpicked measuring jug and microwaveable mug join the two ingredients. Suddenly, with a crescendo of light, the bottle of milk!
Some moments pass as the majesty of the occasion grows, and then the mug is filled with milk. The milk is transferred messily to the jug. Spillage is mopped up. A little milk is poured back in the mug, and the jug goes in the grand heating device. Oh, the joys of the microwave, making hot milky drinks easier for many decades now! High power for two and a bit minutes. While the microwave plate rotates, the maker of the cocoa takes the Teaspoon of Fate and places some cocoa in the mug of remaining milk. Then some honey. The two are mixed, and with zealous lack of restraint, the maker of the cocoa guzzles some of the sweet paste while waiting for the microwave to finish! The honey stuck to the spoon has to be removed, after all. It's only decent.
Finally, the dreaded moment arrives, and the 'ping' is heard. No more eating the cocoa paste, the closest thing to chocolate available for someone sworn off sugar. Hot milk drowns out the contents of the mug, and the cocoa mixed, before being drunk in a few sips. The ritual is near completion, awaiting only the washing of the mug, spoon and jug.
It is over. The ritual completed. The cocoa drinker looks confused, suddenly feels a bit tired, and departs for places unknown. Until the next time.
O.
The maker reaches for the container of cocoa, and then the jar of honey, holding them reverently as the world collapses down to this fixed little sequence of events, before placing them on the counter. Then, methodically, a teaspoon, handpicked measuring jug and microwaveable mug join the two ingredients. Suddenly, with a crescendo of light, the bottle of milk!
Some moments pass as the majesty of the occasion grows, and then the mug is filled with milk. The milk is transferred messily to the jug. Spillage is mopped up. A little milk is poured back in the mug, and the jug goes in the grand heating device. Oh, the joys of the microwave, making hot milky drinks easier for many decades now! High power for two and a bit minutes. While the microwave plate rotates, the maker of the cocoa takes the Teaspoon of Fate and places some cocoa in the mug of remaining milk. Then some honey. The two are mixed, and with zealous lack of restraint, the maker of the cocoa guzzles some of the sweet paste while waiting for the microwave to finish! The honey stuck to the spoon has to be removed, after all. It's only decent.
Finally, the dreaded moment arrives, and the 'ping' is heard. No more eating the cocoa paste, the closest thing to chocolate available for someone sworn off sugar. Hot milk drowns out the contents of the mug, and the cocoa mixed, before being drunk in a few sips. The ritual is near completion, awaiting only the washing of the mug, spoon and jug.
It is over. The ritual completed. The cocoa drinker looks confused, suddenly feels a bit tired, and departs for places unknown. Until the next time.
O.
Saturday, 10 October 2015
Random Words on the Wing
It was a weird week of being a little bit sick, and often a tad short of words. Many things fell by the wayside, and now a small mountain of chores awaits. What horror lies in piles of small tasks? What does it all mean? It's nice to be comparatively well again, whatever else might be happening.
Being a mathematician errant has some advantages but also quite a few penalties. The worst of those penalties is the lack of support and ignorance of what might be in the literature. The isolation also breeds some mistakes. For example, I just debugged one of my calculations and discovered a massive problem (Alpha close to zero instead of close to unity!!!), and now the calculation doesn't work in a whole different way! Isn't mathematics wonderful? Before catching the problem, it was a disgusting and non-linear mess, and now it's just a nothing. I may have to change vocation to hat skimmer once again.
Oh, those jolly days of hat skimming in the local skimmery. It was a boom industry until very recently, amongst the bohemian intellectual set of the valleys. Rarely would you find a hat skim anywhere in the United Kingdom without the three red dots that indicated its origin in the great green vales. Even now, if I close my eyes, and imagine a colander in my hands, the old technique comes right back to me... I'm amazed they ever let us all out of political prison...
Reverting to reality, the editing down of 'Wordspace' was hit by sickness, but will come back off the back burner on the morrow. Thanks to a generous helping of season three of 'Star Trek', I also feel a need to write about how it's not so bad as people seem to think. Truly, it's not as subtle or nuanced as the previous two seasons, but it's not worthy of so much hate! However, let us not jump the gun. It's time to get back to sleeping the glooms away, and waiting for the solstice.
That's another session of wordsmithing done. Someone needs to explain why this is supposed to be difficult again. Oh, I suppose it might be difficult if you keep the idea of an audience in your head, but wouldn't that be silly?
O.
Being a mathematician errant has some advantages but also quite a few penalties. The worst of those penalties is the lack of support and ignorance of what might be in the literature. The isolation also breeds some mistakes. For example, I just debugged one of my calculations and discovered a massive problem (Alpha close to zero instead of close to unity!!!), and now the calculation doesn't work in a whole different way! Isn't mathematics wonderful? Before catching the problem, it was a disgusting and non-linear mess, and now it's just a nothing. I may have to change vocation to hat skimmer once again.
Oh, those jolly days of hat skimming in the local skimmery. It was a boom industry until very recently, amongst the bohemian intellectual set of the valleys. Rarely would you find a hat skim anywhere in the United Kingdom without the three red dots that indicated its origin in the great green vales. Even now, if I close my eyes, and imagine a colander in my hands, the old technique comes right back to me... I'm amazed they ever let us all out of political prison...
Reverting to reality, the editing down of 'Wordspace' was hit by sickness, but will come back off the back burner on the morrow. Thanks to a generous helping of season three of 'Star Trek', I also feel a need to write about how it's not so bad as people seem to think. Truly, it's not as subtle or nuanced as the previous two seasons, but it's not worthy of so much hate! However, let us not jump the gun. It's time to get back to sleeping the glooms away, and waiting for the solstice.
That's another session of wordsmithing done. Someone needs to explain why this is supposed to be difficult again. Oh, I suppose it might be difficult if you keep the idea of an audience in your head, but wouldn't that be silly?
O.
Thursday, 8 October 2015
Film: 'Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut' (2006)
I should begin with two things: One, I never particularly liked the theatrical version of 'Superman II' (the Lester version), and two, this alternate version is an unprecedented occurrence. Let's begin with the background. 'Superman: The Movie' was produced by the Salkinds (a father and son team?) and directed by Richard Donner, with a script extensively rewritten by his friend Tom Mankiewicz. The movie was made simultaneously with 'Superman II' (SII) until financial and studio pressure forced them to put the approximate seventy-per-cent of 'Superman II' completed into a drawer and finish off 'Superman: The Movie' (STM). The relationship between the Salkinds and Donner and Mankiewicz had deteriorated to such a condition during STM, however that the producers didn't bring back the super-hit-making duo to finish SII and put their own crony Richard Lester (who directed 'The Three Musketeers' and 'The Four Musketeers' for them) in the director's chair, remove the Marlon Brando sequences, and reshoot some pivotal scenes in addition to finishing the film, and proceeded to ruin the charm and spirit of that original first film. Many years later, after the discovery of the lost footage, and after popular demand to see the 'Donner version', an editor called Michael Thau made an alliance with Donner to recreate as closely as possible that version of SII. It was released in 2006, and is apparently the canonical direct prequel to that year's 'Superman Returns'. Oh, yes, point number three: I did like 'Superman Returns', and I really don't understand the hatred for it. Why do people hate things so?
'Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut' (RDC) is a much better film than the theatrical SII. It's dramatically stronger, funnier, more stylish, and feels more of a piece with STM than SII. However, it does repeat the time travel sequence that climaxed STM, as that was originally supposed to end SII and not STM, and it does have material from the Lester version as well a crucial scene built from screen test footage, in order to make the story whole. Does that jar? To be honest, I would love it if there was a matching version of STM to go with RDC, one with its own original planned ending of the super villains being released from the Phantom Zone, and Superman simply saving Lois instead of bringing her back to life with badly planned time travel. I would absolutely adore it, since the ending to STM doesn't make any sense whatsoever and the cliffhanger would be a far better way to go. RDC works as its own movie, and the 'world turning' time travel is incredibly beautiful and far more interesting than the cheap looking version in STM. The scene built from the screen test is a very good and powerful scene, so you buy it, and the movie benefits so much from the reinstatement of the Brando footage that it blows SII out of the water with sheer gravitas. The Lester/Donner disparity does jar, though, with the other disadvantages being that it does require a bit of explanation to anyone you might want to show the movie, and that it does weaken STM's end. The latter point is really more the fault of the first film than the Donner cut, to be brutal, which I say while still loving 'Superman: The Movie'.
The Donner cut of 'Superman II' is lively, entertaining, has some brilliant moments, and some scenes you would literally not believe would ever be cut out of a film. It's amazing the theatrical version was a hit when you consider what was lost! To be very clear, I rather like it.
O.
'Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut' (RDC) is a much better film than the theatrical SII. It's dramatically stronger, funnier, more stylish, and feels more of a piece with STM than SII. However, it does repeat the time travel sequence that climaxed STM, as that was originally supposed to end SII and not STM, and it does have material from the Lester version as well a crucial scene built from screen test footage, in order to make the story whole. Does that jar? To be honest, I would love it if there was a matching version of STM to go with RDC, one with its own original planned ending of the super villains being released from the Phantom Zone, and Superman simply saving Lois instead of bringing her back to life with badly planned time travel. I would absolutely adore it, since the ending to STM doesn't make any sense whatsoever and the cliffhanger would be a far better way to go. RDC works as its own movie, and the 'world turning' time travel is incredibly beautiful and far more interesting than the cheap looking version in STM. The scene built from the screen test is a very good and powerful scene, so you buy it, and the movie benefits so much from the reinstatement of the Brando footage that it blows SII out of the water with sheer gravitas. The Lester/Donner disparity does jar, though, with the other disadvantages being that it does require a bit of explanation to anyone you might want to show the movie, and that it does weaken STM's end. The latter point is really more the fault of the first film than the Donner cut, to be brutal, which I say while still loving 'Superman: The Movie'.
The Donner cut of 'Superman II' is lively, entertaining, has some brilliant moments, and some scenes you would literally not believe would ever be cut out of a film. It's amazing the theatrical version was a hit when you consider what was lost! To be very clear, I rather like it.
O.
Tuesday, 6 October 2015
What Is The Secret Of Life?
What is the secret of life? Would finding the answer be a good thing, or an utter anti-climax? Would knowing that ultimate philosophical truth negate the need to explore the rest of the universe?
As I sit here, listening to 'The Last Starfighter' commentary, and being generally lackadaisical, it seems fitting to consider such grand questions. What would it mean to actually answer that most primal question? Captain Kirk said it best when he said we needed our pain, and we do, but we also need our doubts and open questions to give us something to work towards. Could answering the Question be damaging or simply lead to bigger Questions? What bigger question could there be?
It seems like madness to talk about working towards a philosophical goal when the world is mired in the dirtiest of political eras, where no-one takes reponsibility for anything, and the environment is being driven into the ground zero of global warming while the ocean acidifies and we all face a slow armageddon. Will we ever reach enlightenment? Hopefully, one day, yes. What does all of this have to do with custard and how the revisions to the 'joined up' version of 'Wordspace' are going? I have no idea.
Thankfully, the utterly unanswerable nature of the question makes the whole topic academic at best. What kind of answer would be satisfying, anyway? Would it be better to know that life in this universe is the result of someone on a higher plane accidentally knocking over their test tube, or that we were supposed to grow peanuts as part of some intergalacting trading plan? Were we plunged into consciousness so that one day the aliens of Zeta Zeta II would have 'Star Trek' to watch on Friday nights? The largest questions have the most profoundly dull answers, and it's the journey to reach them that is more important.
What would be an even bigger question than the secret of life? That's an interesting idea to mull over. Leave suggestions at the bottom of the page, and we'll turn them into apple crumbles as a gesture of the madness of the cosmos.
My, 'The Last Starfighter' is a great example of pre-blockbuster film making. I'll have to write about that one day. It's got to be more interesting than existentialism, and how best to rewrite the rapidly inflating 'Wordspace'. Yes, an already lengthy set of episodes is becoming lengthier in the merging. Welcome to the Quirky Muffin, where concise things get longer, and longer, and longer...
O.
As I sit here, listening to 'The Last Starfighter' commentary, and being generally lackadaisical, it seems fitting to consider such grand questions. What would it mean to actually answer that most primal question? Captain Kirk said it best when he said we needed our pain, and we do, but we also need our doubts and open questions to give us something to work towards. Could answering the Question be damaging or simply lead to bigger Questions? What bigger question could there be?
It seems like madness to talk about working towards a philosophical goal when the world is mired in the dirtiest of political eras, where no-one takes reponsibility for anything, and the environment is being driven into the ground zero of global warming while the ocean acidifies and we all face a slow armageddon. Will we ever reach enlightenment? Hopefully, one day, yes. What does all of this have to do with custard and how the revisions to the 'joined up' version of 'Wordspace' are going? I have no idea.
Thankfully, the utterly unanswerable nature of the question makes the whole topic academic at best. What kind of answer would be satisfying, anyway? Would it be better to know that life in this universe is the result of someone on a higher plane accidentally knocking over their test tube, or that we were supposed to grow peanuts as part of some intergalacting trading plan? Were we plunged into consciousness so that one day the aliens of Zeta Zeta II would have 'Star Trek' to watch on Friday nights? The largest questions have the most profoundly dull answers, and it's the journey to reach them that is more important.
What would be an even bigger question than the secret of life? That's an interesting idea to mull over. Leave suggestions at the bottom of the page, and we'll turn them into apple crumbles as a gesture of the madness of the cosmos.
My, 'The Last Starfighter' is a great example of pre-blockbuster film making. I'll have to write about that one day. It's got to be more interesting than existentialism, and how best to rewrite the rapidly inflating 'Wordspace'. Yes, an already lengthy set of episodes is becoming lengthier in the merging. Welcome to the Quirky Muffin, where concise things get longer, and longer, and longer...
O.
Sunday, 4 October 2015
Story: 'Diary of a Laundry Robot', Week II
( Week I , Week III )
Sunday
My maintenance engineer and therapist, BoomBoom, has suggested that I continue this journal in the hopes of becoming a more enlightened and efficient laundry robot. Given the choice between this and competitive shirt folding, which I have loathed ever since the Laundry Olympics of the year 2622, I choose this. The maintenance period has been wonderful, but now I feel the pull of work. Celia just came in and started moaning about the new robot, Fred's replacement. I will have to wait until tomorrow to see if the ever-exaggerating Celia has been accurate.
Monday
Celia wasn't accurate about our new workmate Bobbie at all. In fact, Bobbie is a complete wacko! Just this morning, when faced with Professor Bramble's mustard coloured trench coat, she doused it with gin and tried to set it on fire! Yes, she functioned well most of the rest of the time, but at closing time she started doing comedy routines by twenty second century robot comedienne LoobyLoo and tried to shred the contents of Fred's tie closet. Oddly, the manager Rocktop Beta, is reluctant to get rid of Bobbie. I suspect a conspiracy...
Tuesday
Celia has returned from maintenance, and for once her twittering is a great relief. Not only has it been a day free of the erratic Bobbie, off on her first maintenance period, but Mrs Wilberforce has regained her status as the laundry's nemesis. Having exhausted the global supply of handkerchiefs last week, she has now tapped in to the wacky world of novelty jumpers. The note says that they're required for the upcoming Buddy Awards, the prizes for the most ludicrously costumed politicians, being part of the prizes. Does the woman never sleep?
Wednesday
Professor Bramble has sent in his coat again, with instructions to treat it more kindly. Thankfully Bobbie is still off on break, so Celia and I will give it special treatment over lunchtime. Whatever could that eccentric loon have been thinking with the gin? Bramble is reputed to be one of the leading scientific geniuses of the day, which is evidenced by his ridiculous choice in clothing! Celia is at this moment checking it for forgotten fragile items.
Friday
Calamity. Madness. Lunacy. Professor Bramble, mad genius, left some items in his coat which caused mayhem! Let it be merely said that an ion-powered egg whisk was compounded by some powdered water and a strangely coloured cloud of gas. Then, inside one of the pockets, we discovered a strange written treatise on the nature of the galaxy as compared to a gigantic cosmic washing machine. A small blue being with a red hat then appeared as if by magic, declared the whole laundry a space-time crisis event horizon, and everything went white. Before we knew what was happening, it was today, and Thursday had gone by without a trace! Rocktop Beta said he would review the video records, but never came back from his office. Thank goodness that my maintenance period is over the weekend!
To be continued...
Sunday
My maintenance engineer and therapist, BoomBoom, has suggested that I continue this journal in the hopes of becoming a more enlightened and efficient laundry robot. Given the choice between this and competitive shirt folding, which I have loathed ever since the Laundry Olympics of the year 2622, I choose this. The maintenance period has been wonderful, but now I feel the pull of work. Celia just came in and started moaning about the new robot, Fred's replacement. I will have to wait until tomorrow to see if the ever-exaggerating Celia has been accurate.
Monday
Celia wasn't accurate about our new workmate Bobbie at all. In fact, Bobbie is a complete wacko! Just this morning, when faced with Professor Bramble's mustard coloured trench coat, she doused it with gin and tried to set it on fire! Yes, she functioned well most of the rest of the time, but at closing time she started doing comedy routines by twenty second century robot comedienne LoobyLoo and tried to shred the contents of Fred's tie closet. Oddly, the manager Rocktop Beta, is reluctant to get rid of Bobbie. I suspect a conspiracy...
Tuesday
Celia has returned from maintenance, and for once her twittering is a great relief. Not only has it been a day free of the erratic Bobbie, off on her first maintenance period, but Mrs Wilberforce has regained her status as the laundry's nemesis. Having exhausted the global supply of handkerchiefs last week, she has now tapped in to the wacky world of novelty jumpers. The note says that they're required for the upcoming Buddy Awards, the prizes for the most ludicrously costumed politicians, being part of the prizes. Does the woman never sleep?
Wednesday
Professor Bramble has sent in his coat again, with instructions to treat it more kindly. Thankfully Bobbie is still off on break, so Celia and I will give it special treatment over lunchtime. Whatever could that eccentric loon have been thinking with the gin? Bramble is reputed to be one of the leading scientific geniuses of the day, which is evidenced by his ridiculous choice in clothing! Celia is at this moment checking it for forgotten fragile items.
Friday
Calamity. Madness. Lunacy. Professor Bramble, mad genius, left some items in his coat which caused mayhem! Let it be merely said that an ion-powered egg whisk was compounded by some powdered water and a strangely coloured cloud of gas. Then, inside one of the pockets, we discovered a strange written treatise on the nature of the galaxy as compared to a gigantic cosmic washing machine. A small blue being with a red hat then appeared as if by magic, declared the whole laundry a space-time crisis event horizon, and everything went white. Before we knew what was happening, it was today, and Thursday had gone by without a trace! Rocktop Beta said he would review the video records, but never came back from his office. Thank goodness that my maintenance period is over the weekend!
To be continued...
Friday, 2 October 2015
A New Project
I'm listening to a radio play, the legendary 'Mercury Theatre on the Air' adaptation of Gillette's 'Sherlock Holmes'. It's very much an adaptation week, in fact, as Blish's 'Star Trek' prose adaptations sit not too far away. For some time, I thought that perhaps the Blishes were only good in my memory, but no they are good in reality. So is the 'Sherlock Holmes'. Apparently, this week's inclination in blog writing is the phrase 'in fact', which has been pushed to the brink of actualization four more times than it actually appears on the screen so far. Presumably, I picked it up at some point in the day, while struggling with a new proofreading project.
Proofreading or copyediting projects are very difficult jobs to begin, as they require a transition to a different mental mode. Yes, it really is that difficult to dig in, with the first few days only seeing a few minutes of work each, before things begin in earnest (blast, 'in earnest' is clearly a stand-in for today's 'go to' phrase!). The size of the project makes no difference, as it is merely a question of getting the brain into the right frame for rewriting. Rewriting is difficult, worse than editing your own stories, as you have to make far more involved informed and thoughtful choices about what to change and what to leave untoucned. With your own writing, you're free to just throw your replacements and edits around in glee, with other people's work it needs to be justified, and all in the context of understanding just what is being written to begin with. Similar to translation, but different, very different.
As 'The Immortal Sherlock Holmes' rolls on, and 'The Cocoanuts' moves through the postal system to this secret lair deep in Carmarthenshire, you might expect to enter a mini-Groucho season in coming days. It's really too early to say, with seasonal blues creeping in as they always do, and job hunting being the soporific that beats all others. However, Groucho might win out, along with Chico, Harpo and Zeppo. Harpo's weirdness could fill a series all on its own, after all... Yes, the Marx Brothers remain untouched in the Quirky Muffin so far, which is remarkable when it is revealed that they, along with Buster Keaton and a little of Abbott and Costello made almost all of the 'purebred' comedies that I can accept and appreciate. Yes, there are many other funny films, but they all live in the overlaps with other kinds of films. We're talking about 'straight down the line' comedian-led comedies here! Go, Groucho, go!
Oh, and for those curious, Moriarty didn't win out. Thank goodness.
O.
Proofreading or copyediting projects are very difficult jobs to begin, as they require a transition to a different mental mode. Yes, it really is that difficult to dig in, with the first few days only seeing a few minutes of work each, before things begin in earnest (blast, 'in earnest' is clearly a stand-in for today's 'go to' phrase!). The size of the project makes no difference, as it is merely a question of getting the brain into the right frame for rewriting. Rewriting is difficult, worse than editing your own stories, as you have to make far more involved informed and thoughtful choices about what to change and what to leave untoucned. With your own writing, you're free to just throw your replacements and edits around in glee, with other people's work it needs to be justified, and all in the context of understanding just what is being written to begin with. Similar to translation, but different, very different.
As 'The Immortal Sherlock Holmes' rolls on, and 'The Cocoanuts' moves through the postal system to this secret lair deep in Carmarthenshire, you might expect to enter a mini-Groucho season in coming days. It's really too early to say, with seasonal blues creeping in as they always do, and job hunting being the soporific that beats all others. However, Groucho might win out, along with Chico, Harpo and Zeppo. Harpo's weirdness could fill a series all on its own, after all... Yes, the Marx Brothers remain untouched in the Quirky Muffin so far, which is remarkable when it is revealed that they, along with Buster Keaton and a little of Abbott and Costello made almost all of the 'purebred' comedies that I can accept and appreciate. Yes, there are many other funny films, but they all live in the overlaps with other kinds of films. We're talking about 'straight down the line' comedian-led comedies here! Go, Groucho, go!
Oh, and for those curious, Moriarty didn't win out. Thank goodness.
O.
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