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#Contraband
onnabox · 2 years
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*German accent* HIGH QUALITY PAPER AND INK
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sci-firenegade · 2 months
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card-of-the-day · 7 months
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Today's Card Is: Martell
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oakendesk · 9 months
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book cover - Contraband - 1951
Carl Bobertz
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scotianostra · 3 months
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17th December 1798 saw a skirmish at Collieston, Aberdeenshire that reulted in the death of smuggler, Phillip Kennedy.
Scotland's love of gin has been long forged with smuggling of the clear spirit hitting its peak in the 18th Century as demand for cut price contraband soared.
In 1707, the excise duty on spirits was dramatically hiked in a bid to put drink out of reach of the lower classes with the tax opening up a thriving illicit trade with Holland.
So hard fought were attempts to secure the booty that excise men - known as gaugers - were in repeated running battles with the smugglers over the cargo.
Violence was regularly used to secure the liquor and, according to a 19th Century account by William Alexander, the exciseman was deemed “a fit subject for rough handling as occasion offered.”
“To tie his legs together and fasten his hands forcible behind his back and leave him lying helpless on the lone hillside was not deemed out of place by any means,” Alexander wrote.
One moonlit encounter between the exciseman and smugglers on the Aberdeenshire coastline led to the brutal death of Philip Kennedy, one of Scotland’s most notorious gin smugglers
In December 1798, the lugger Crooked Mary landed 16 ankers of gin at Cransdale with Kennedy, who also farmed in the area, among those charged with moving the alcohol ashore.
Part of the cargo was due to be shifted across land by night by cart, with the gaugers tipped off about the planned movement.
Three excise men lay in wait - fully armed with swords - near the Kirk of Slains for the passing consignment.
As a precaution, the smugglers sent several men, including Kennedy, to check the route was clear.
Alexander wrote: “One of those who first encountered the excise men was Kennedy, and being a man of feared courage as well as powerful physique, he seized and then threw down two of them, calling to his companions to secure the third.”
However, his associates fled and hid in the bushes as the violent encounter unfolded with Kennedy’s brother believed to have been among them.
Kennedy was soon struck over the head by a sword held by the third exciseman.
Alexander wrote: “The savage gauger who was still free was then observed by some of the cowards lying perdu in the adjacent bushes to hold his sword above his head as if to make certain that he was using the edge.
“With a sweeping and relentless stroke, the smuggler’s skull was laid open with a frightful bash.”
With blood streaming, Kennedy staggered around a quarter of a mile to Kirkton of Slains, where he collapsed and died.
Now encounters like this must have been quite common, what makes this a wee bit more memoravle is that it is said the death of Kennedy inspired parts of Sir Walter Scott’s novel Guy Mannering.
A simple gravestone in the Slains Kirkyard is now the only visible reminder of the smuggling run that went disastrously wrong.
According to Duncan Harley in the A-Z of Curious Aberdeenshire, the skull of Philip Kennedy has been occasionally dug up during later internments at the graveyard.
“Gravediggers can easily identify it by the deep cut of the exciseman’s cutlass,” Harley wrote.
The stretch of coastline between Aberdeen and Peterhead was a smugglers’ paradise during the 18th Century given the never ending network of caves that can be found here.
According to accounts from the early part of the century, more than 1,000 ankers of foreign spirits were landed here every month.
Contraband as also hidden on the beaches with pits dug deep into the sand.
Dry sand and wet sand were used to cover the booty to conceal any changes to the ground caused by digging.
According to accounts, the pit was lined with bricks or timber, and the roof was always at least six feet underground in a bid to defy the probes used to locate hidden caches on the beach, which were six feet long.
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boxcarwild · 4 months
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Contraband (1940) is a wartime spy film by the British director-writer team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, which reunited stars Conrad Veidt and Valerie Hobson after their earlier appearance in The Spy in Black the previous year. On this occasion, Veidt plays a hero, something he did not do very often.
The title of the film in the United States was Blackout. Powell writes in his autobiography, A Life in Movies, as saying that the U.S. renaming was a better title and he wished he had thought of it.
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ask-the-becile-boys · 6 months
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Story. Contraband
Previous | Next
[ID: 9 digitally sketched panels in greyscale.]
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[Panel 1: In the darkness of his bedroom, Scratch sits upright in terror, saying out loud "[wheeze] What?!"]
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[Panel 2: Scratch hurriedly starts to attach his prosthetic leg while Locksmith fretfully stands by the foot of the bed. Locksmith says, "A car arrived just minutes ago. It has their emblem."]
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[Panel 3: Locksmith pulls aside the curtain of a window, revealing to Scratch a car with the Becile Industries logo on the side. It's headlights are on and it is parked just before the treeline. Locksmith says, "We must get you and your contraband to safety."]
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[Panel 4: A stylized black silhouette of Becile Manor, with Locksmith leading Scratch down a white set of stairs. Locksmith and Scratch are also white silhouettes. Locksmith says, "This way is most direct. We'll find Mr. Szarka to drive you after."]
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[Panel 5: In the Archives below Becile Manor, Locksmith opens The Vault for Scratch, who hurries in.]
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[Panel 6: The empty floor just inside the Vault. Scratch thinks, "Wait…"]
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[Panel 7: Scratch, shocked, backlit with the light from the Archives, thinks, "It's not here--"]
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[Panel 8: Locksmith, in black silhouette with only his left eye in white, begins to shut the Vault door with a SFX: [creeak]]
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[Panel 9: Total darkness as the door closes with SFX: "TH-CHUNK" End ID]
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obscuredilfoff · 8 months
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Propaganda below the cut! (Note: contains spoilers for Contraband.)
Musashi Miyamoto
The manga will never update but I swear irl he adopts like 7 kids he was a father. And he loves his fictional wife.
Captain Andersen
Because Capt Andersen is played by Conrad Veidt, he has a seductive blend of fem and masc characteristics. (Spoilers upcoming) As part of the plot, he consensually ties up an ally so they don’t arouse suspicion. Later he and a band of buddies punch Nazis.
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junkyardromeo · 20 days
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ratt flyer compilation
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youandtom2 · 2 years
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OMG YES to the sequel to Contraband AND YES to the little drabbles of soldier!Tom. I can't wait for this!!
EEEEEEEEEE I'm excited tooooooo fuck it here's one for you! Here's how I imagine firearm training would go with Sergeant Holland ;) *set during the contraband storyline*
Ready, Aim, Fire.
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"For fuck sake," you quickly mumble to yourself, reloading your small pistol with yet another magazine of 17 rounds. There's a dirty smudge on the lens of your glasses, your headphones sit askew on your head and your uniform scratches even more than usual. It doesn't take the multiple missed bullet holes on the target to know that your head's not just quite in it today, and you don't know why.
The day has run on a little longer for you being the last soldier left in the firing range while the rest of your squadron left a little over half an hour ago. There's no one but you, a puddle of bullet shells by your feet, the wooden dummy and 45 meters of empty space separating you. Your heart is set on making the centre of the dummy's head your primary target; an immediate death shot in reality and you're stubborn enough to not leave until you do it. Just one bullet to the head, that's all.
You take your stance again, legs shoulder-width apart, two hands grappling the pistol with straight, sturdy arms, shoulders bracing to take the recoil. You line up your shot, your gun falling into a blur as your eyes focus on the wooden target at the far end of the range. A steady breath flows easily in and out your lungs as your finger curls around the trigger. You think you've got it this time...
"Too low."
A rumbling, critical voice appears behind you just as you shoot your shot, somehow managing to slot itself in between appearing just a fraction too late and soon enough to predict the outcome.
Fuck. Too low. And a little to the right. You barely hit the shoulder.
Blame it on him anyway.
"Well I would've gotten it if you hadn't thrown me off," you grumble, clicking the gun into safety and whipping around to meet Sergeant Holland who stands with his arms folded and leaning against the entrance of your cubicle. Uncharacteristically, he wears a simple blue, muscle-fit t-shirt paired with his cargo army trousers and sturdy boots. There's something about Sergeant Holland after training hours that always emanates attraction like never before.
Despite it, his expression falls flat with judgement, a challenging brow craning with just an ounce of annoyance at your tone. His eyes flit over to the wooden target meters from the firing range, noticing how the human-shaped target is riddled with charred coin-sized holes, a few magazines' worth at least. But none of fired shots tarnish the pristine wooden oval head.
"So you're not aiming for the head?"
"No, actually." Deny. Deny. Deny.
"No?" He knows you're lying.
"Nope."
"Then go ahead. Headshot. Between the eyes. Right now."
"I--"
"Is there a problem with that, soldier?"
The sincerity behind his tone has you conditioned to shake your head no, swallowing the heavy lump of guilt down and leaving behind a bitter taste of regret. Damn him. He knows fine well you can't make that shot.
Like before, you position yourself as close to the boundaries as the cubicle will allow you and with the sharp raise of your arms, you aim down the barrel of the gun with a feigned confidence, the oval head in your sights. Slowly, when you're almost certain you've got it right this time, your finger curls around the trigger and fires.
You hit the neck. Your closest shot yet. But not close enough.
Defeated, you begin to think it's an impossible shot. Perhaps you should be using a rifle from this distance...
"Your stance is all wrong, your hips aren't positioned correctly and you focus too much on the target that you barely pay attention to where you are pointing your gun."
Fuck off. "I don't think there's anything wrong with my stance, actually. The target is at 45 meters. Accuracy lessens with distance. It'd be pretty hard to aim--hey!"
Sergeant Holland, eyes rolling, snatches the pistol from your hands and assumes the position at the front of the cubicle, and without a moments hesitation, he fires one, two, three, four, five shots in quick succession, absorbing recoil like it is nothing. He barely blinks, barely stops to aim as each shot lands exactly like the last; directly between the eyes. He stands poised, stoic, unbothered by the sheer display of his own skill, one that you would literally kill to have and as much as he aggravates you, you would be lying to yourself if you said that him shooting those five rounds like that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever seen.
Steady, dark orbs find yours again, now twinkling with a certain arrogance he wears as plain as his uniform. You fucking hate it more than having missed hitting that headshot. "Show off."
"Like I said," he hands you back the gun which you take with a sulk. "Positioning."
You whip off your glasses and headphones in a huff. "Whatever. I'm done for the night."
"I haven't dismissed you yet, soldier." This man. "You're not finished here until you hit that target square between the eyes."
You're sure he can hear your teeth grinding together. "Yeah, well we're going to be here all night. I can't make the shot, okay? I can't do it."
"Is that the excuse you're going to make when you've been ordered to shoot and kill an enemy from the firing line? When there's miles of bombs, mines and traps ahead of you, what are you gonna do? Wait it out until one of you get closer? Get real, soldier, that's never going to happen, one of you will have to take the shot and I won't have you being the one falling to your own weaknesses. Not under my watch. Now, take that gun and make the shot."
The frustration is getting the better of you and your confidence is slipping. You hold his glare for just a second too long that it overwhelms the shame, and you cast your eyes downward at the cold, metal gun in your hands. He's right. As ever. You should be able to use this with the best of your ability at the very least. It seems so inconsequential now, but that won't be the case in a couple of years time when you're at the front line, staring death in the face at every turn.
"Sorry."
Wordlessly, he sidles behind you, slipping out of your sight to let the target take lead and with a sigh, you step forward and raise your arms, cramp slowly settling in.
"Lift your arms, they should be in a straight line at eye level--" His presence suddenly surrounds you. Standing directly behind you, his arms slither down the length of yours, teasing them upwards as he lowers himself to share your line of sight. He's so close to you that you could feel the intensity of his breath skimming over your ear just as easily as you can hear it. Yours wobbles the second his warm, earthy scent invades your sense of smell and replaces the burnt lead of empty bullets. He's so close.
"Your hips should be at a 45 degree angle, like this..." Those hands curl around your belted waist yet somehow squeeze even tighter, twisting you ever so slightly to your left. "And bring this leg back a little bit." His voice reduces to a whisper, salacious like the hand that sinks lower between your thighs, salacious like the small gasp in the back of your throat when his palm cups over your cunt and teases with a soft pressure, but no where near as devilish as his decision to divert his hand over the curve of your thigh, pushing it a step backwards.
"Now that you're relaxed..." His cheeks raises into a sinful smirk and it brushes against the heat of yours. "Find the target. Lock onto it."
Teeth sink nervously into your bottom lip. You're trying so hard to listen to his instructions but you're struggling to concentrate, especially when your mind is screaming obscenities about the way his body burns against you, the way his hands tug at your hips, the way your ass sweeps against his hips.
"Focus, soldier." He gently prompts. "Find the target."
Between the eyes. Between the eyes. Between your thighs--Between the eyes.
"Ready, aim, fire."
When you pull the trigger, your arms take the brunt of the recoil but a small percentage of it forces you back just a fraction closer to him. Promptly, you click on the safety before you truly take a look for yourself, and when you find another black, charred bullet hole just millimeters above Sergeant Holland's, your lips split into a smile. "Holy shit. I did it."
Soft lips press themselves tenderly against your cheek, his fingers squeezing with reassurance. "Well done, soldier. A little above where you were instructed to shoot but I'll allow it."
"I can never win with you, can I?"
"Hmm," he hums, softly chuckling. "Don't get ahead of yourself, soldier. You've still got a lot to learn."
"True, but can I at least tell the others I made that shot by myself when they come in tomorrow? Please? It's the only thing I have over them." He leans away ever so slightly with a smirk stretching across his lips and you twist in his arms with a hopeful glint to your eyes.
A strand of your hair gets swept away by his thumb, leaving behind the lingering buzz of a kiss to your forehead. "Don't push your luck."
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technicolorfamiliar · 1 month
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Technicolor Familiar Watches Too Many Conrad Veidt Movies Part 5 of ?
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4
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Contraband (Blackout), 1940 Dir. Michael Powell ⭐4/5 Watched Dec 18, Archive.org Uncle Erik: Your Captain, he is a beautiful man! From the first moment, I loved him! Me: Hard same. So much fun. By far my favorite of the Connie Spy Thrillers I've seen so far. Valerie Hobson is so slick, and the rest of the ensemble is pretty good for a change, especially the guys at the Danish restaurant. The bondage scene (not really, but... yeah, it is) lives up to the hype. The screenwriters really went off on this one, didn't they? I mean, this movie gave us Conrad Very-Serious-Actor Veidt whispering lovely things in the dark like "good girl" and "do you trust me?" The scene with the music box in the pocket watch? Too much, can't handle it. Connie's dry humor is a delight and all the sexy, flirtatious fun he's having in this role is like a precious balm for my tortured soul.
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Above Suspicion, 1943 Dir. Richard Thorpe ⭐3/5 Watched Jan 3, Vudu Oh, filmmakers. Bless you for having Fred MacMurray get strangled in greeting by Conrad Veidt. A great film it is not, but it's definitely cute. And while it's a semi-tough watch as Connie's last film, I'm so glad it was this one where he's clearly having a ball -- whether on the dance floor (does Hassert always go out in the middle of the day to tango with mature, voluptuous women?), getting stepped on by Joan Crawford, sticking his fingers in bowls of cake batter, or climbing down trellises with his knees all out in the wind. He's very obviously living his best life and I love that for him. The movie is riddled with very silly, eyeroll-worthy one-liners, but the plot is enjoyable. Joan Crawford looks like she's having a good time too, and Fred MacMurray is pretty tolerable. I haven't seen Basil Rathbone in a lot of other movies, but I wish he got to be nastier and that he and Connie got to have some scenes together. Connie's physicality is so subtly funny, I really wish he had gotten to do more intentionally comedic films/roles.
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Lucrezia Borgia, 1922 Dir. Richard Oswald ⭐3/5 Watched Jan 10, Archive.org I've been trying to watch at least one silent every once in a while. And while I have to lodge my typical complaint of these older films being a bit too long, this film is clearly a feat of production for the year it was made. The huge, open sets and beautiful costume details were incredible. As always, Connie 100% steals the show. He's delightfully wicked and nasty, slimy and pathetic. I wish he had better scene partners to receive and react to his intense performance as Cesare Borgia. But it's ok, it's like a Game of Thrones episode without the dragons or misogynist nudity.
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Nazi Agent, 1942 Dir. Jules Dassin ⭐4/5 Watched Jan 14, Youtube I admit I chose to watch this one because I was charmed by the idea of Double Connies. But not even five minutes in and Otto had won my heart. I didn’t know anything about the movie itself going in, but was completely prepared for it to be cringey and mediocre. So I was pleasantly surprised that it was actually decent. Maybe I'm rating this one higher than it really deserves, but really those four stars all belong to Connie's performance/s. Daggers in my heart. So many moments in this little movie affected me more than I expected: Otto's line to Richten about being only one of however many million citizens willing to rise up against fascism; his look toward the Statue of Liberty at the end; the little glittering tears in his eyes when Fritz says, "We do what we're told because we must…"; his gentleness and deeply tragic sense of loss that permeates the film. And, perhaps most of all, how cute he was with his pet canary. Cue the waterworks. I have so many more thoughts about this and about his time in Hollywood in the 40s in general, but I'll save that for another time.
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Kreuzzug des Weibes, 1926 Dir. Martin Berger ⭐3.5/5 Watched Jan 20, Snowgrouse's masterpost This movie was made nearly 100 years ago and we're still having the same conversations about reproductive rights today, especially now in the US after Roe v Wade was overturned in 2022. It's pretty disturbing how much of the script could be lifted from a dozen different arguments between contemporary conservative lawmakers and the people trying to better advocate for and provide safe reproductive healthcare. It's a pretty bare bones film, the story and performances clearly more important, appropriately so, than cinematic bells and whistles. Thought it was an interesting choice to have the lawyer's office so stately and huge, like the patriarchal systems he's operating in -- overbearing, empty and impersonal. The movie does feel like a public service announcement (which I guess it was), but that didn't really bother me. What bothered me was the ending, because OF COURSE the woman has to comfort the man even though she's the one who went through a major trauma. But the way Connie's character broke after the doctor told him what happened to his fiancée? I've never seen anything like that. He went fully offline. His whole nervous system got unplugged and rewired. P.S.: The extra half star in my rating is for all the monocle twirling.
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diegolunalovegood · 7 months
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sci-firenegade · 2 months
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mycollectionmylife · 5 months
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Happy birthday Scott Weiland que hoje estaria completando 56 anos
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sigelfire · 11 months
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Diego Luna as Gonzalo in Contraband, 2012
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metalcultbrigade · 2 months
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Tracii Guns 20/01/1966
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