They played in the Blueberry Hill's basement Duck Room in St. Louis, Missouri about four years ago, and yep, the venue was packed like sardines. 'Cannonball' was the fourth song, and the room seemed to bounce with the force of heads and bodies moving in rhythm with that crazily infectious guitar thread.
Oh what a night, indeed.
I remember the movie quite well, but I also remember feeling non-plussed about its ending. Spike Lee had the confounding knack of writing and visualizing great set-up premises and narratives for his films, but that initial energy and passion always seemed to drain away into an abrupt and unsatisfactory epilogue. It was as if he spent so much of himself getting those two qualities spilt on the celluloid that he was too drained to then take the proper amount of time needed to decompress and think of a coherent way to wrap up the whole experience.
Still, Hollyweird badly needs, and sorely misses, the man's serious and fresh directorial product between the mid-1980s' up to 'Bambozzled'.
Stewart's brief bar-room encounter with Dan Duryea (never better in his patented on-screen 'smiling cobra' persona) towards the film's ending just hinted at what his bounty hunter undergoes when attempting to escort Robert Ryan's even more compellingly devious murderer character to justice in Stewart/Mann's follow-up film 'The Naked Spur'.
The Belmont should run all five Stewart/Mann cinematic collaborations in order on five consecutive days to really give film buffs a treat.
'Spartacus' is a MUCH better movie than 'Ben-Hur', regardless of what the Academy of Motion Pictures & Other Visual Drivel believed. Kirk Douglas made its three hour length go like his on-screen persona---terse, driven, and endlessly compelling.
Whereas probably most people sit, or more likely squirm, through 'Ben-Hur' just to see the justly-famous chariot race sequence, a viewer can even put up with the obligatory love scenes between Douglas and actress Jean Simmons, since Kubrick's visual staging of settings ranging from intimate rooms to legislative chambers and wide-screen outside battle scenes as well as Trumbo's witty and eloquent script makes 'Spartacus' a reminder that Hollywood can make 'em big, beautiful, and great at the same time when it wants to.
When I lived in Nashville over ten years ago, I used to read the Scene religiously every week for its diverse and fascinating cover stories ranging from Paul & Linda McCartney's combined business/sightseeing visit into town to a great profile on one of the Vanderbilt Fugitives literary figures, Peter Carey.
I remember the Marcia Trimble cover piece well. Gripping and haunting at the same time, particularly the toll that the tragedy ultimately had on the family.
Moved to Nashville from southeast Missouri over a decade ago, but it wasn't for the music or academic facilities like Vanderbilt. I just wanted to live in a city, and a prior weekend visit to Nashville as well as a good job offer sold me on the place. I enjoyed my three years as a resident and still return periodically to visit a special lady friend.
Nashville has everything to be proud of and little to be ashamed of or defensive about. And, oh yeah, I just might watch the TV show, 'cause any program savvy-smart enough to have Powers Boothe strutting about with that lopsided/menacing grin of his for forty minutes a week HAS to worth more than a remote-flipping moment.
Lived in an apartment complex on Fairfax Avenue for two years, and to had to drive to the Krogers' in the West End for grocery shopping---until the Harris-Teeter was built up the road. My car stayed in its parking space, and I walked to the store with both my coupons and a good brisk exercise opportunity.
I'm pretty sure that I wasn't the only Hillsboro Village resident who did a metaphorical happy dance when HG Hill put that store there.
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