#its funny cause i would still technically be a better person than taylor swift | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siriushxney · 3 years

Text

* . PAPER RINGS !

pairing — lando norris x reader

rating — fluff

wordcount — 2.3k

warnings — cursing (it's me who are we kidding)

song — taylor swift | paper rings

note ! — before y'all jump down my throat about "what the hell is a toque” — it's a hat. us canadians call it a toque. also this is long overdue, but I hope you like it!

when the light of day melted into the dark of night, and long, tiring shifts slowly came to an end, it wasn't an odd sight to see large groups of people piling into bars for a drink or several. with an extra hour and a half added onto your normal shift time due to your bosses inability to do what he was supposed to do — leaving stacks of paperwork you had to go through, along with a few of your other colleagues.

now walking into the packed bar — bags long forgotten in your cars, you couldn't find it in yourself to cringe at the strong smell of alcohol that burned your nose as you walked through the door, nor did you care for the way the heels of your feet stuck to the ground with every step you took.

after a day like today, you weren't sure if you'd mind anything.

sheila — one of your colleagues raised a stiff hand and slammed it down on the counter, gaining the attention of the bartender. “we need like, fifteen shots stat!” the bartender immediately got to work, pouring glass after glass — sliding them in front of the five of you, before turning to serve another guest.

“that asshole gonna get my foot down his throat if he dumps that much paperwork on us again,” she downed her first shot and reached for another one, “all of that should have been sorted out in the morning, not thrown onto us as we were packing up,” the rest of you agreed, downing a shot quickly as you tried to keep up with the loud mouthed girl.

you turned your head away from the conversation that had started between the others, choosing to stare curiously at the screen in the corner displaying reruns of a race that took place today.

feeling a body skim yours as a group of men slid into the barspace to the left of you — a majority of them sporting an orange and blue item of clothing, something you had connected quickly to the orange and blue car that had been on screen moments earlier.

looking back to the tv hanging from the ceiling, you tried to wrap your head around what all the numbers meant — a small bump caused you to look down, a younger man of the bunch staring at the tv proudly, “do you watch f1?” he turned his head to look at you as he finished asking his question.

f1... Is that what this was called?

“no, but I'd rather watch that then the football game that's on,” the boy looked at you with wide eyes, slightly in awe of how blunt you were. he nodded slightly before turning his attention back to the tv. “ I assume you do. you're wearing the colours of one of the cars,” you felt bad as you watched the boy curl into himself slightly.

ha looked over to you once again — “you can say that,” his eyes glinted a little bit as he spoke, a proud smirk coming across his face as he leaned in closer, not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but close enough that he could speak without the bar hearing. “I race for them — see that orange and blue mclaren? thats me.”

that was definitely more interesting than the news.

“so what might that mclaren driver's name be?” his head turned back to you, a slight red tint covering his cheeks, and climbing to the tips of his ears.

with a single hand outstretched to you, he introduced himself, “I’m lando norris — and who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

—

that day had happened a few months ago — and in that time, your friendship with the young driver had only progressed.

days you used to spend simply reading in the comfort of your own home, was now spent bouncing from bookshop from book shop — lando recommending you all the books that he had been in love with at the moment.

you had to refrain from telling him you had already read them, having looked him up on instagram a day or two after the initial meet — the photo of him cozy and comfortable in his bed with the stack of books perfectly visible to his side.

the types of books a person read could tell you a lot about their character — and with lando, it was all good things.

“okay, and then this one is semi based on a true story — like half true but has a lot of action and drama sprinkled in there-” he rambled on about the book he held in his hands, his eyes darting between you and it as his hands ran over the spine and pages of the book.

even knowing the writer, plot, and ending — you couldn't bring yourself to put an end to his ramblings. instead, you stood to his side and nodded eagerly as he spoke words with such excitement.

for any other person, you would have cut them off and told them that you had read it — but for some reason, cutting lando off was the last thing you wanted to do. he wasn't the famous young driver for mclaren who was always eager for a challenge on the track. he was just lando.

the boy who had a mini library growing in his room, filled with books from every genre. he was the boy with the odd affinity for milk. he was just normal.

and for the first time in your life — normal felt nice.

—

“lando, you're insane.”

“maybe a little bit, but insane is fun sometimes.”

when lando said he had something fun in mind for the two of you to do, the last place you expected to end up was on the shore of an ice cold lake — the wind blowing harshly against your body, making it sway slightly with the force.

lando had already taken off his jacket, now standing in just his shirt and bottoms.

“I’m not going in that,” you backed away from the boy as he stripped more and more of his clothes off, dropping them in a neat pile on the ground.

he shrugged, pausing in his action of removing his jeans, “are you not going in because its cold, or are you not going in because you don't have a swim suit?” while the lake technically was still warm enough for swimming, the thought of the water 's temperature that was lowering daily paired with the strong winds, didn’t exactly spark excitement in you.

“both.”

“it’s either your coming in by your own will, or I’m dragging you in.”

“you touch me and I’ll hurt you — that’s a promise.”

a mischievous glint appears in lando’s eyes — he knew what he was about to do was going to get him in trouble, and most likely hurt in the end, but the thought of doing it overpowered his thoughts about what would happen after.

there was no going back.

in a split second lando had his arms wrapped around your waist as he dragged you closer to the lake — despite the heels of your feet digging into the ground, he had still succeeded in getting you close enough that if he threw his body weight towards the water, you would soon follow.

and that’s exactly what he did.

a laugh from lando, a squeal from you, and the whooshing of the air rushing past your ears was all you could hear before you found yourself submerged under the cold water.

you clawed your way back to the surface with the help of lando’s arms, which were still wrapped around your waist — as soon as you felt the coldness of the air reach your face, you were turning in his arms and swinging.

“I’m fully clothed you asshole!” you brought a fist down lightly on the top of his head — the water squishing out at the action.

“stop- don’t- stop hitting me!” lando laughed as he let you go, swimming backwards slightly as a way to get away from your violent swings. “I know that you're fully clothed- that's what makes it so funny,” the curly haired boy couldn't contain his laughter at the end — his voice railing into the squeaky laugher that you had come to love.

without the support of lando, paired with the additional weight of your heavy winter coat and soaked wool toque and mittens, you began to struggle slightly to stay afloat. “lando-” the water climbed its way up your face before washing back down as you kicked harder.

his laugher stopped as he kicked his way over to you — grabbing around your waist once more and holding you to his body.

with the distance closed between the two of you, the feeling of his warm breath against your face was unavoidable — as well as the feeling of the heat radiating from his body, even through the layers you had on. neither of you spoke, both trying not to move — for every movement brought a wave of discomfort with your muscles tensed up from the cold. but as time started to tick slower, and all you could feel was the other — the last thing on both of your minds was the temperature of the water.

“you’re turning blue, lando,” as much as you wished you would've stayed in that position forever, the sight of lando’s cheeks and lips draining of its naturally pink colour concerned you. even with layers upon layers of clothes on, you found yourself shivering — and with lando in nothing but his boxers, you doubted he was doing much better than you. “I think right now is a good time to get out,” lando didnt reply, only bringing the two of you closer to the shore.

with chattering teeth, bodies curled in, and fast feet, lando and you made your way to his car — both jumping in the minute you could get your hands on the door handle. neither of you cared for the seats wetting as you sat down.

“I think I have some towels in the back from my training — can you grab them? I’ll get the heat and everything going,” you leaned into the back of the car to the best of your ability, pulling two towels out of an orange gym bag, and bringing them to the front where lando and you sat.

lando wrapped the towel around his shoulders — the shaking constant and harsh, rocking his body violently.

“I would say I told you so, but I feel too bad to even insult you,” with your jacket, toque, and mittens stippped off and thrown onto the floor, you wrapped your towel around your shoulders much like lando had.

“awe, youre so considerate — I didn’t think it through.”

“trust me — I can tell.”

the sound of the heaters on blast and the clattering of teeth was all that filled the car. lando had seemed aggravated at your comment — the way his body turned slightly away from your own, his eyes never meeting yours, and the fact that there was no laugh following or during his words.

what had you said or done that pissed him off?

“are you mad at me?”

lando turned slowly, his eyes still not fully meeting yours — but he looked like he was less angry and more conflicted. “I’m not mad, I’m just- just,” the words were on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say them. “forget it.”

“no, I wanna know what's wrong — please tell me?”

he angled his body to face yours after a few moments of no response, making it so him and you looked at eachother with ease. “back out there on the lake- did you… did you feel anything?” your body tensed at his question — it was the last thing that you thought would come out of his mouth, so it took you by surprise. “because I know I did — and that scares me.”

you struggled to find a string of words that made sense to you, “I mean, yeah I guess I did — what did you feel? just so I can make sure that I felt the same thing.”

“I felt like I wanted to stay in that position forever — like I wanted to kiss you,” the words he spoke were soft and genuine. “all I felt was you.”

it had taken months for you to put a name to the feelings you had when you were around the british boy, but now, more than ever, did you finally know what they were.

they were love.

“I felt the same thing — all that I could feel was you and your stupidly perfect body against mine,” both of you giggled slightly at that. “and all that was running through my head was that if you had asked me to do anything with you, I would have done it — hell you could have asked me to marry you with paper rings and I would’ve said yes.”

lando stared at you with a calm look on his face — his eyes drinking you and all of your features in. “I’m glad — because I was thinking the same thing,” his hand fell on top of yours, bringing a warmth to the back of it. “and no need for paper rings when I can promise you the real deal when the time comes.”

“like I said before, I would marry you with paper rings lando,” you leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “now kiss me you goof.”

he didn’t have to be asked twice.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #::lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

91 notes · View notes

elatedmarvel · 5 years

Text

After All This Time, You and I (1/4)

Summary: Bucky has known you your entire life. Snapshots through the years.

Word Count: 1948

AN: Hello! Long time no see! This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Follower Celebration! Congrats to you Star, you deserve every single one!! My prompt was Best Friend’s Sibling. This was originally going to be a long oneshot, but I felt like the flow was better to separate it into a two-shot. Title is from Mary’s Song by Taylor Swift for obvious reasons. Thank you for hosting this awesome writing challenge Star! I had so much fun writing this!

Warnings: tiny mention of violence, swear words

“The building burning up Buck! You gotta get out of here!” Steve shouts staring down his best friend from across the bridge.

“No! Not without you!” comes Bucky’s fierce reply. His eyes scan over the wreck, trying to find something to save Stevie.

Steve takes a deep breath and prays that the crumbling bridge will hold a little longer, and he charges across the chasm. He almost makes it to the other side when his foot gets caught on a pillow. Tumbling over, he avoids landing on Bucky, but knocks over the unsuspecting person on his right.

You land with a thud on your hands and knees, and quickly scramble to look at your right knee. There’s a moment of silence, and the boys hold their breath waiting for the inevitable wail.

“I’m sorry!” Steve cries before wrapping his arms around you in a clumsy hug. He really didn’t see you playing next to him, it was an accident! Your bottom lip sticks out and your eyes become more and more glassy.

“Please don’t cry” he begs, partly because it breaks his heart, and partially because he doesn't want get in trouble. He knew what kind of hellfire Sarah Rogers could rain down.

“We’re sorry, what can we do to make it up to you?” Bucky asks, scooting himself to face your tear stained face. He felt bad for making Steve run across the bridge, he never meant to hurt you.

“I-I need a groom for my wedding.” you state without hesitation, wiping at your eyes. “And I can’t marry Steve cause he’s my brother, duh.” Your wet eyes turn to look intently at Bucky.

“You can’t get married, you’re 6.” Bucky tries to argue.

“So? You’re 8! That’s only 2 years older! ‘Sides, it’s not real anyway.” you fires back, your bottom lip juts out again, ready to cry if that’s what it takes.

He’s taken a back for a moment at your reply, and blue eyes meet Steve’s pleading ones. He’d do anything for you, and of course Steve was the cherry on top.

“Ok. Fine.”

On a rainy day in April, Steve walks you down the aisle.

Clad in his nicest, unstained, khaki pants, Bucky’s heart skips a beat when he sees you. You’re wearing your Cinderella costume from Halloween, and some stolen red lipstick from your mom, smiling like you got an extra juice pop. Somehow, he already knows your the prettiest girl in the world.

In front of your moms, stuffed animals and barbies, Bucky promises to always make you laugh and smile, and to protect you. You promise to always share her toys and food with him, and to make him feel better when he’s sad.

The ceremony ends after Steve pronounces you both husband and wife, and while your moms cheer and tear up slightly, Bucky leans in and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. It won’t be so bad being married to her, he thinks.

~~~

School sucked for Bucky today. Steve got into a fight with Zemo, which lead to Bucky getting in a fight with Zemo. That punk couldn’t even breathe right, it frustrated Bucky to no end that he couldn’t stop being stupid. Turns out, being punched in face hurts more than it looks in the movies. And of course, his parents weren’t thrilled and took away his TV privileges for the week, which meant he couldn’t find out what happened on his favorite show the Howling Commandos. Last week was even a cliffhanger! Captain America and the Winter Soldier were stuck on a plane with bombs on them and fast approaching Manhattan!

Wallowing, both Steve and him were relegated to “use their imaginations” and playing in the backyard. Bored out of their minds, they played hide and seek, a babies game really if you asked Bucky. But, Steve was nice enough to let Bucky hide first, and Bucky couldn’t say no to that bruised face.

So here he was, climbing the ladder to the old tree house, hoping Steve wouldn’t look here right away. Sniffles drew his attention you, crying softly in the corner with your knees to your chest. You were blasting music from your walkman, Endless Love from what Bucky could hear. It was really bad then. His chest hurt seeing your red rimmed eyes, and crawled next to you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked lowly, taking her headphones off of your head and pausing the song. You didn’t look him in the eye, but leaned into him more when he put his arm around you.

“Stupid boys.” you sniffle. Wiping your face, you finally meet Bucky’s worried eyes. “Jake dumped me for Sierra, cause she always has chocolate snack packs in her lunch.”

“That weasel! Want me to rough him up a little?”

“Thanks, but I think you and Stevie are in enough trouble as it is.” you chuckle, placing your head on his shoulder. He gently rubs his hand up and down your arm, wishing he could take away your pain.

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend, make him jealous your going out with a 6th grader.” he offers.

“You can’t be my boyfriend, you’re already my husband!” you joke. His eyes go wide, remembering your lovely wedding ceremony and the massive amounts of cake you both ate at the “reception”.

“Hey! That’s right! Technically you were cheating on me with him! I want a divorce.” he jokes, bumping your shoulder with his.

You giggle and place a hand on his, “Please forgive me! It’s been so hard being separated from you now that you’re in middle school! He didn’t mean anything! Promise!”

You both erupt laughing so hard that Bucky falls over and brings you with him, which makes you both laugh even harder. Managing to calm down, he places a kiss on your forehead and hugs you closer to him. His heart does a funny dance in his chest, but he ignores it. You’re so warm against him, and your shampoo smelled so good, he could lay here with you forever.

“I guess I’ll forgive you this once, but don’t let it happen again.” he says solemnly.

You nod, hair tickling his face, “It won’t, you’re the only one for me Bucky Barnes.”

~~~

The room’s getting dark, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn on the light. Not when Lional Richie was pouring his heart out. He couldn’t go down to dinner, his whole family had heard her breaking up with him. Did Dot really have to come over and break things off in the driveway? It would kill him to see the pity in his mom’s eyes, and sit through the uncomfortable talk with his dad about his feelings. He knew they were worried about him, and wanted to help, but he couldn’t stomach facing them.

They hadn’t been going out for long, but being dumped for the first time, he didn’t know how to handle his heartache. Honestly, he didn’t know if he was even heartbroken, or just wallowing in self-pity of being blindsided by the breakup.

A knock on the door brought him out of his misery. Must be his mom, bringing food up to him like the saint that she was. He stands up slowly, acutely aware of how his muscles ache from being curled in a ball for most of the day, and stretches as he makes his way to the door.

Your bright eyes stare back at him when he opens the door, and in his shock, he takes in the box of pizza you holdand the enormous bag of junk food.

“What’re you doing here?” voice cracking from underuse.

“Steve told me what happened with Dot. I brought pizza and your favorite snacks and movies. I can drop them off and leave though if you would rather be alone?” your voice hopeful that he won’t turn you away. Like he could, he’s never turned you away before and he won’t start now.

A small smile makes its way onto his face, and he opens the door wider so you can come into the bedroom. Your grin soothes the ache in his chest. You put the pizza down on his nightstand and cue up Star Wars. Getting cozy on his bed and patting the spot next to you, it seems like you fit right in. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

By 4 AM, he’s forgotten all about what’s-her-name, and his earlier self-pity and heartbreak. Not when Star Wars was playing in the background and your blinking sleepily at the TV, head on his shoulder.

~~~

“Bucky, we have a situation.” Steve announces, flopping onto Bucky’s bed. Bucky looks up from the laptop in his lap with a confused stare, waiting from Mr. Dramatic to explain. He didn’t have time for his antics, his last college final of the semester was due next week.

“Y/N’s prom date bailed on her, and it’s tomorrow.” was all Steve said, and looked at Bucky, waiting for what he knew would happen now.

“That dick.” Bucky replied, mentally searching for his tux. “If I leave now, I can make it with enough time to shower and get ready.” And he hops off the bed, grabbing his duffle bag, he stuffs whatever he may need for the impromptu trip home. Steve just stares at him with a smile on his face like the little shit he is.

A 5 hour drive home, shower, frantic search for his tux, and a quick power nap later, he knocks on your door. He wishes he could photograph the look of surprise on your face, your jaw literally drops when he see him in his tux.

“Bucky?!” And he swears he forgot how beautiful you were. Literally glowing, and he doesn't think it’s from the makeup, he can’t help himself as he takes in your dress. You’ll be the most beautiful one there, no contest. “Hey doll.” he smirks at you, still amused by your shocked state. He can tell when your brain catches up when your eyes soften as you look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in a soft voice.

“Taking you to prom, what else would I be doing?” and he can see you calculating in your head.

“Bucky, you must have driven all night!” you exclaim. Bucky loves when your eyes grow wide, it’s so cute.

“It’s fine, who needs sleep?” he says as he steps inside, past your frozen, and shocked state. Steve must have told your parents he was coming, he can see your parents waiting with the camera in the living room.

“You told me you were going to work on your final all weekend.” you fire back, closing the door.

“This is more important to me.” and he can tell you don’t quite believe him. You have a scowl on your face that reminds him of when you would catch him stealing a piece of candy as kids. He’s pretty sure you think it’s intimidating, but he finds it adorable.

“I promise that I worked on it already, and I’ll be ok.” and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You look beautiful.” your glad your foundation hides the sudden flush of your face.

“You’re not too shabby yourself.” you tease back. But really, seeing him like this does inexplicable things to your heart. He’s so handsome, and he had driven all night to take you to prom. You could just kiss him.

Taking your hands in his, you look into his eyes. “Thank you.” you say earnestly.

And Bucky knew in that moment, he would drive days to get to you if needed.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #star’s multi fandom follower celebration #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfiction

192 notes · View notes

redantsunderneath · 5 years

Text

Marlene Dietrich/Josef von Sternberg marathon: The Blue Angel, Morocco (1930), Dishonored, and Shanghai Express (1931)

I watched all of these films, the Blue Angel in German (which surprisingly didn’t hurt, though I might have missed some puns), so I could be prepped for the great movie podcast “There’s Sometimes a Buggy” that is covering the collaboration that made Marlene Deitrich as we know her. I don’t have a lot of exposure (more on my movie history later) to the early talkie years so these movies were a bit surprising to me on a lot of fronts, not the least reason for which was that I wasn’t brought up in rape culture, I guess (is this what people mean when they say that? cause, jeesh! every movie, the threat is just there). Funny enough, I felt that The Blue Angel was the only one that was really political to me along axes that felt vital, which is peculiar as the other three were about political conflict of factions/nations and make statements about war, nationalism, and the other, but I guess they don’t seem political in a sense that fits with current discourse. I didn’t see the CPC officer in Shanghai Express as pro communist but as a tentative stab at ambivalent nuance of the other’s perspective, a tipping of the hand that there’s a western-centracism in his absurd rape code (this is a common feature through the films of a “first claim” that a certain type of man has on a woman that has nothing to do with what she wants), and as ultimately an example of the brutality of violent conflict (more pointed because he’s been fleshed out). But I admit, by the films' equalizing the other side (the Russians, the CPC and even the Tunisian rebels if only by making the French Foreign Legion look so terrible) that is in itself a statement. Kubrick’s Paths of Glory seems to pick up where this leaves off.

The Blue Angel is the film I have the most to say about, and was the most interesting conceptually, but was hard to sync with for technical reasons (me not speaking German maybe being one of them). Through the films, we watch Dietrich get better at being a talkie actress and the Blue Angel doesn’t push her that hard, but this may be more a function of the camerawork and editing than anything else. Jannings somehow works better with her as a leading man than anyone but Dishonored’s McLaglen because he can fill the space created by her silent movie style of encapsulated performative moments then stasis/posing, though the let it breathe editing doesn’t help (I almost think her hand on ribcage pose starts as a need for her to have something to do when reacting that seems like a reaction). Morocco’s Gary Cooper sometimes seems like he’s in a different space than her and Shanghai’s Brook is super clipped (though she’s better adapted by then).

In Blue Angel, the effort to create composite Mise-en-scène with the ominous foreground frames is terrific (those anchors hanging down! the professor’s approach to the club!) and we have some of that German expressionist inner state stuff going on, especially at the end (the shadow of the chandelier!) but the cameraman doesn’t seem to know where to be and maybe that explains the ostensibly crappy blocking. The cinematography on the others is much better – the superimposed tracking shots in Morocco are phenomenal – and have just as many knockout myth buildingly shot scenes (too many to mention but her in a tux in Morocco, the final escape in Dishonored, the prayer in Shanghai Express). All the movies have enough differences in approach that you could think they were done by a different team (were the external shots in Morocco the ones shot by Peckinpah’s eventual AD, Lucien Ballard?).

There are all sorts of motifs running through the films: clocks (and calendars), racially insensitive dolls, men’s hats on women, skein-like drapes sometimes burned by irons vs drawn opaque shades, a man eavesdropping to get mood altering information from behind a louvered door, clowns/harlequins, throwing stuff that will need to be cleaned up on the floor/wall, makeup application in a number of functions (e.g. highlighting her performative nature, emasculation of men), sitting/sprawling on things as an act of feminine claiming of the space, guttural and animal noises as announcement we’re in a libidinal space positive or negative, the stockings, the kept animals, and all sorts of recurring human archetypes. But it’s The Blue Angel, with its full bore usage of these things plus more (eggs, nautical detritus, clock figurines, etc, that the subliminal story is the most present (though Dishonored is pretty potent).

The reason why I say Blue Angel is the most socio-political is that as a 2019 person on the internet who sees the culture war, is aware of the history of Weimar imagery as handled post Nazi, and knows what’s coming (spoilers for Hitler), the statement being made looks really complicated with a first pass of: the intelligencia’s embrace of the subaltern as primarily an instrument-possession both losses them cultural power and leaves them outside of the outgroup too, which is how, maybe, regressive populism (the students as rabble) wins. Granted this is an Iser-type hermeneutical hot take and it is complicated by the possibility that Jannings codes as pre-Hitler German populace’s growing conflation of left wing and Jewish as “dark other” (problematic, hard to bring the 1930 and 2019 horizons together on this, mileage may vary, but a case can be made) which would almost make this an anti-radical (on both sides) statement that meshes with the other movies’ anti-violence, anti group/idea allegiance, pro-people take. This is just the "bad decision" version. As for Jannings, the lumpen here is fine with him as long as he performs correctly. Maybe this is an artifact of Dietrich not being the protagonist by a director who wants her to be. The thing that really overlays this from a now standpoint, though, is the rhyming with a kind of 4chan framing where he has lost his “rightful” power, is “cucked,” and has an entitled-male rage tm (i.e. this can be read as an anti incel-ideology movie). The other movies don’t have this kind of congruence for the most part.

But the way the symbols work is pretty neat. His descent from prominent social capital to internationally renowned cock-a-doodle-do jester is marked by the change in the relationship with eggs as sexual enticement vs humiliation (and the humiliation was there from the beginning to be sure). The clown is there as a warning/future self. The special clocks that eerily suggests his/society’s demons are coming and no one can stop the forward mechanism of time. The caged bird is as you would expect. The dolls are a sort of self possession that she does test runs giving away. There’s too much to talk about.

Morocco has Cooper’s charisma going for it (which works best with Dietrich’s when they cut back and forth), the best non-closeup camerawork (the exteriors are great), large scale staging, and that cool woman in a tux mythmaking performance piece. It contains Cooper’s great non-verbal performance in the scene where he eventually writes “changed my mind” on the mirror (you can see him decide). The last scene of her trudging across the desert and throwing away her heals is great, and there is so much motion in the frame so often – the superimposition of movement that turns a dissolve into a long transitional double shot, the scene where she looks for him in the marching parade, etc. The relief map was hinky, though.

Dishonored was my favorite of the four. I liked all these films but, broken down, it had a couple of “bests” in it, but was #2 for everything else. It had the best-functioning male lead (the always in a mask non-naturalistic thing was perfect as that how she is and it balanced the space well) and a greater share of my very favorite scenes: the final escape scene, the party, the firing squad, and any any fucking piano playing (the first shot of her playing piano is my favorite shot of all the films). It’s the second best as a subliminal story (after Blue Angel), was the only one other than Shanghai Express that seemed like it had a screenplay - a story story rather than a loose idea, the idea of certain shots, the actors types, and dialogue. It had the most convincing sweep other than Morocco. The cat was a nice setting free of agency, progressing the doll as totem of self/other possession but with a mind of its own, with the power to ruin everything. This movie really vibed with me perfectly.

For Shanghai Express, see above, but I have to say I love the Disney villainess (before there were Disney villainesses) dress. The multi note secondary characters with actual performances and arcs was unique... the pastor who changes his mind on what is morally good is terrific, as are the exchanges between two fully fleshed out prostitutes and an old prude. My list is close, but If I had to order it would be Dishonored, Blue Angel, Shanghai, then Morocco, but it’s tough because the great things about each vary so much (I kept dithering on the bottom three more than #1, I considered putting Morocco 2nd).

It’s odd I’ve written this much and I haven’t broached the gender archetype pushing and pulling here, mainly because this seems pretty well mined territory. I’m under-read on this and feel like my take would be super cold -- cross dressing, Gary Cooper with a flower behind his ear, the unflinching depiction of how tough a time women have it while still depicting a kind of unique female cruelty to men, and the constant sexist statements undermined by the POV and what actually happened. Hopefully my naive viewpoint, coming at this fresh eyes will be valuable. So, like, are all these movies from this time period about class? It kind of reminds me of Impro, the Keith Johnstone book, which basically boils all theatrical character interaction to being about status.

Anyway, I’ve ignored my exegesis of Taylor Swift’s Lover to write this, so I must be back to work.

1 note · View note