Meeting the Movie Requirements

It has stars, fabulous international locations, and all the bare bones of a movie. But 1957's Interpol, aka Pickup Alley, hardly feels like a proper movie. It's like a sandwich made entirely of bread.

Victor Mature stars as Charles Sturgis, on the trail of an international drug fiend, McNally, played by Trevor Howard. Howard plays the role surprisingly broad, putting on a cartoon villain's sneering tone and maintaining it at all times. His favourite victim is Gina, played by the always glorious Anita Ekberg. The best moment in the movie is when she shoots a guy who's trying to assault her and there's some hints at a plot revolving around her legal peril in the aftermath, but there's little drama in it.

Mostly it's just a movie about a good cop chasing a bad drug dealer, a procedural but not one with much of a sense of authenticity, portraying its villains as the usual raving madmen stereotypes you see in most '50s movies about drugs. I guess the filmmakers may've felt justified in building a movie around such a plain plot by using real locations in London, Rome, and New York. Maybe in the '50s that would've been enough but I don't think so, judging from all the film's unimpressed contemporaneous reviews.

Pickup Alley is available on The Criterion Channel.

X Sonnet #1899

The biggest sandwich ever fully crushed the shop.
Courageous cads condemn the use of boats.
United suits promote the android cop.
The naked castles sold their stylish moats.
A plane of smoke was flat against the face.
A bunch of bags were burnt to harvest prunes.
The warping deck rejects its only ace.
A vital source was killed and writ in runes.
The shapes if friends were burnt across the glass.
With savage dreams, the pickle cured the roast.
Balloons arise, propelled with magic gas.
No science hat was won with idle boast.
The lying dogs would dream of honest cats.
The walls were filled with stupid, greedy rats.

Another Dubious Milestone

Yesterday came the news that Japan has fallen even further from its already low ranking in English proficiency. It ranks 92 out of a list of 112 countries where English is not the primary language. Notably, it ranks far below South Korea, which is at number 50. Since the difficulty for Korean speakers in learning English is comparable for a Japanese speaker learning English, this deepens the mystery of Japan's consistent decline.

A lot of articles and videos have been made offering various theories and explanations. One common criticism, with which I certainly agree, is that Japan focuses too much on grammar and translation, leading to a deficiency in oral communication skills. The impression I often have in a Japanese English classroom is of watching an alien autopsy. English is the cold and bizarre corpse on the slab whose minutiae are endlessly described in technical details to an audience which struggles to pay attention.

I intend to write at greater length about my own experiences teaching English in Japan but I want to work in a bigger city before I offer a comprehensive view. I currently work in a town particularly hostile to English, which I think is a useful experience in truly understanding the problem but not enough in itself. I can see this from how Japanese teachers from out of town are astonished by the culture here. I've even heard students ask Japanese people from the city if they're "gaijin", foreigners.

I think one thing that sets Japan apart from other countries with low English proficiency is that Japan seems to believe it's very good at English. One might judge this from the abundance of English signage throughout the country. All over the world. certainly in America, people marvel at the apparently professionally produced signs in weak English. Here's an example from the town I live in:

It's hard to imagine what "For your JUST" is even supposed to mean. In this case, the English is accompanied by Japanese to give us a clue: "あなたの暮らしに、ちょうどいい。" It means something like, "Exactly the right thing for your professional life." The sign is for an electronics store similar to Best Buy.

This sign must have gone through layers of the bureaucracy Japan is famous for. One might wonder, how do signs like these consistently make it through committees of people who have been studying English since elementary school? The problem is that confidence levels are disproportionate to proficiency levels because the whole educational system is geared towards something different from actual language learning. I've frequently noticed that students who are best able to communicate with me in English do poorly on the tests while students who routinely get scores of around 100 are unable to have simple conversations with me. So the vast majority of students must have the sense of working towards something and achieving it after struggle. Who wants to be told that their whole struggle was meaningless? But, of course, the flipside is that students who deserve praise for their English skills frequently receive abuse instead.

Sharks are All Wet

A team of researchers face off against cgi sharks in 1999's Deep Blue Sea. If you're looking for an effective shark horror movie, watch Jaws. If you're looking for a big ball of cheese clutched in a massive ham fist, you might enjoy Deep Blue Sea.

What's the best way to research cures for Alzheimer's? Turns out it's to genetically modify sharks into massive killing machines. Well, except when they're small enough to swim around half flooded corridors and chase LL Cool J and a parrot.

What a cast. Samuel L. Jackson, Stellan Skarsgard, and Thomas Jane. I feel like, this late in a solid career of supporting roles, Skarsgard has only recently crossed over into true stardom thanks to Andor. It's funny seeing him in this role in which his character is put through quite a lot that does not require a performance of any quality from Skarsgard. A big chuck of it is him strapped to a gurney with a mask covering most of his face. He has very few lines.

Thomas Jane is the right guy to lead a movie like this. Someone really needs to give him a breakout Duke Nukem kind of role. Maybe he should play Duke Nukem? Does anyone still care about Duke Nukem? I guess I should say, someone should give him a role like Bruce Campbell's in Evil Dead or Roddy Piper's in They Live--you know, one of the characters Duke Nukem ripped off.

I was really surprised by how bad the cgi was. I think there's a "bad cgi valley" from the late '90s to about 2010. Sure, there's a lot of bad cgi now but I think that was a period, after the scrupulous work on Jurassic Park, when people routinely underestimated how much effort it actually required to make cgi look good.

Anyway, who doesn't like some cheese now and then? Deep Blue Sea is directed by Renny Harlin, a man practically made of gouda.

The Momentum of Clouds

I couldn't sleep a few nights ago and found myself watching Naruse Miko's final film, 1967's Scattered Clouds. I hadn't seen it since coming to Japan and, like all Japanese movies I saw in the U.S., I see it through a much different lens now.

One thing I often marvel at with these older movies is how much they look exactly like the Japan I live in to-day. The trains look different but I see the same rows of wooden posts by the tracks. Apartment buildings look the same with the same external utility boxes and pipe systems.

Scattered Clouds was one of the few colour films Naruse made. It has a lovely, doggedly consistent colour palette. Pale greens like matcha paired with yellowish tans and faded pinks.

I found myself noticing how much the music seems to borrow from Bernard Herrmann's Hitchcock scores. The story is about a man and woman in a strange romance, which is a little like Hitchcock, I guess. There's certainly a lot of tension in it.

Yumiko (Tsukasa Yoko) is a young woman whose husband is killed after being struck by a car. The car was driven by a man named Mishima (Kayama Yuzo). It was found to be an accident but Mishima, a deeply conscientious man, feels the weight of responsibility and wants to give the widow any financial aid he can. She, however, wants nothing to do with him or his money.

Yet, fate draws the two of them together and they have an accidental meeting at a hotel where they deliver drunken speeches to each other. As time passes, they develop feelings for each other. But of course Yumiko can never forget her first husband.

You could look at the movie as a more melodramatic version of Tokyo Monogatari. Is Yumiko really so devoted to her first husband or is her pulling away from Mishima motivated by a guilt over how disloyal she truly is in her heart? She cares for Mishima when he falls ill which excites her sympathy for him. It's suggested also the psychological pain he feels for having killed her husband also attracts her. It's a short step from that to wondering if she's attracted to him, on some level, because he killed her husband.

It's such a sedate, gentle film but the premise ultimately recalls the idea of brides won in battle and how fundamentally a woman might be attracted to status, even against her will. It could be seen as a war between Yumiko's morals and Yumiko's instincts. Mishima's, too. Considering how guilty he felt, surely, every time he takes the liberty of smiling at Yumiko, some part of him must say, "I have no right."

Scattered Clouds is available on The Criterion Channel.

Twitter Sonnet #1898

The little minds would steal a soul a day.
With empty hearts, the bugs devour life.
The ugly stamp of brutal feet delay.
The glacial tackle blunts a lazy knife.
Averted war has left a stock of bombs.
A cloudless sky was choked with ash and ghosts.
Ironic fields distort the peace of psalms.
The wayward lad was took by heartless hosts.
A raven passed through countries sans a name.
A blend of birds obscured the view of God.
A morning song would shift the guilt to Mame.
But luck would spare nor even yet nor odd.
Pervasive sloth reduced the woods to mulch.
The river cut has trickled down to gulch.

Consider the Grizzly

A wild grizzly starts eating people but has cute cubs in 1999's Wild Grizzly, an unmistakably made-for-TV movie set in a beautiful mountain town and featuring Daniel Baldwin in a minor role. It's exactly what you'd expect but there's something oddly sincere I found engrossing about it.

So the grizzly eats a guy's leg one night and it's tranqed by a guy inexplicably dressed as Indiana Jones (as a fedora wearer myself, I shouldn't laugh). There's a town hall meeting about having the bear with her cubs displayed in the middle of town. Daniel Baldwin and the mayor (John O'Hurley, J. Peterman from Seinfeld), being villains, oppose this idea. With a grin of malevolent satisfaction, Baldwin plots to kill the bears so that he and the mayor can get rich . . . somehow. The nature of their scheme is never remotely clear.

Rachel (Michele Greene) and her moody teenage son, Josh (Riley Smith), move to the small town from L.A. When Josh accidentally breaks the windshield on a sheriff's car, the sheriff (Fred Dryer) drafts Josh to help take care of the grizzly and her cubs. Naturally, Josh is framed when they escape. In his attempts to capture the bear, which he alone realises is suffering from a toothache, he's joined by a plucky blonde with a captivating rack (Courtney Peldon). The writers give her a lot of stuff that's supposed to be endearing and quirky but come of as psychotic. When Josh is sneaking around the woods looking for the animal, she sneaks up on him with a recording of a bear roar and a bear claw glove to grab him on the shoulder. This is after the bear has killed someone.

Sometimes I thought the movie might be intentionally bad, like someone was aiming for "it's so bad it's good." Whenever a filmmaker claims this about their own film, I tend to doubt their sincerity (to be clear, I don't know if this filmmaker has done so). But there are shots that are so flagrantly lazy that I wonder. In the first attack scene, the man's little boy sneaks out of the safety of the car, ironically to retrieve his teddy bear. We get a shot of the teddy bear and the boy runs into frame, picks up the item with a blank expression, then turns to look off camera with an expression that clearly says, "Okay, I hit my mark. Now what?"

But the weirdest bits were when the grizzly ate people. There are these long, slow shots of people writhing in stage blood and guts and shots of the actual bear and shots of the dummy bear head being shoved in the fake gore. There's something so peculiarly detached about the tone of these shots, I can't explain it. It's like the filmmaker had no instinct for composing violent sequences but decided to just linger anyway hoping inspiration would eventually strike. As though he were gently contemplating his inability to express any feelings in the shots. It's sort of like listening to a tone deaf person sing "Ave Maria" with a total lack of self-consciousness. I guess that sums up the movie.

The Vital Past

I read the newest Sirenia Digest to-day, which contains a new series of vignettes by Caitlin R. Kiernan called "THE ULTRAVIOLET ALPHABET". Each vignette corresponds to a letter, from A to M. A few of them are just like nice miniature lectures from a palaeontologist, which Caitlin indeed happens to be. I particularly liked "K is for Komodo Dragon" which discusses the komodo dragon's effect on the human imagination since its relatively recent discovery in 1910. Caitlin also goes into detail about an Australian ancestor of the komodo dragon, a much larger lizard that coexisted with aboriginal humans. I hadn't heard about it and it was interesting.

Other vignettes harken back to the Digest's original purpose, as a showcase of Caitlin's weird erotica. "C is for Clit" is an affectionate rumination on that renowned female body part while "J is for Journey" ponders a strange and exceedingly beautiful naked woman. All the vignettes have good qualities though I was a little puzzled by a reference to An American in Paris paired with a reference to Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn. Was Caitlin thinking of Funny Face? I enjoyed the vignettes in any case.

I walked along a river to work yesterday and got this song stuck in my head:

Survival of the Mutilated

Peter Lorre immigrates to America only to find remarkably evil luck in 1941's The Face Behind the Mask. His luck is so bad as to defy credibility but Lorre is an excellent anchor for this nightmare.

Janos (Lorre) is an improbably talented young man arrived from Hungary in New York. He's an expert watch maker and a pilot so his hopes of getting a job and being able to send for his girlfriend back home are not unreasonable. Unfortunately, the hotel his stays in burns down and the fire hideously scars his face. Unable to find work or even kindness in the law-abiding world, he turns for aid to the first man too kind to be bothered by his looks, a cheap crook hanging out on the docks.

Janos gets a creepy mask and turns his talents to crime like a Batman villain without a Batman. Lorre is vulnerable and tenacious, dominating the screen and breathing a lot of life into this noir melodrama. The sequence of extremely bad luck put me in mind of Detour, though The Face Behind the Mask doesn't lend itself to an "unreliable narrator" interpretation, due to multiple points of view. I suppose it's best taken simply as a particularly cruel nightmare, which it succeeds at being.

The Face Behind the Mask is available on The Criterion Channel and on YouTube.

Superfluous Weasel

Above is the only picture on my Instagram so far, real_setsuled. It's a weasel I saw on my way to work recently. "Real" because, if you remember, I was banned from Instagram despite never having used it. I had somehow violated their terms. My best guess is that someone impersonated me on Instagram at some point.

It felt like such a triumph to finally get an Instagram but now I don't know what to do with it. I usually post photos here on my blog. It may end up like my tumblr or other online platform accounts I created which I've forgotten about.

I've seen a few weasels around here but they're usually too quick for me to photograph. The above photo is cropped, here's the full image:

He was jumping back and forth across that little irrigation canal.

X Sonnet #1897

Another Swiftie shook the haters off.
Another frisbee took the schnauzer's air.
Another bug forsook a stranger's cough.
Another army brooked the serpent's dare.
Diminished dimes revert to metal lumps.
A standard gold replaced the running tabs.
Across the stars, we felt the spacial bumps.
A stack of kings control the haunted cabs.
Repeated masks conceal the smothered face.
As digits stick to dials, feathers fly.
The paper birds collide with wooden grace.
There's many tales to scar the storied sky.
A team of monkeys smuggled steel to phones.
Diverging planes could write a cloudy tome.

It Takes a Village

Christopher Reeve and Kirstie Alley team up to fight a town of white haired kids in 1995's Villageof the Damned, John Carpenter's remake of the 1960 film of the same name. It's not as effective as the original film, and drifts pretty far into camp, but it's an effective premise. The first act is the best part.

One day, for no apparent reason, everyone falls asleep in a small town. When they wake up, all the women are pregnant. That's a great start. All the mystery and dread is both personal and public. Alley plays a swaggering FBI agent who comes to investigate and she, along with Mark Hamill in a small role as a priest, is primarily responsible for bringing the camp.

Hamill almost sounds like he's doing his Joker voice. There's nothing in his dialogue to suggest he's evil, I guess it was an interpretation Hamill decided to bring. I guess maybe he figured there just aren't enough evil priests in American cinema.

Christopher Reeve gives a more earnest performance. That poor guy should've gotten more work. So what if he was really buff. I guess that's what kept him from a diversity of roles. It is kind of odd here that this small town doctor just happens to look like Superman.

Actually, I'd say the most effective performance in the film is Meredith Salenger as a virgin who's impregnated by the phenomenon, something I was surprised the priest didn't make more of. Her husband dies in a car crash and she's unsurprisingly depressed. She was the one sincere note in the movie that otherwise felt very tongue-in-cheek, perhaps unintentionally, once the kids started showing up and being creepy. That stuff is fun, though.

That Deadly Noir Rail

Gloria Grahame is trapped in an extraordinarily tangled web of abuse and misogyny in 1954's Human Desire. Fritz Lang directed this film noir based on Emile Zola's 1890 novel La Bete humaine, deviating from the source material in intriguing ways. The film ends on an oddly ambiguous note but I suppose, in the '50s, it was the best possible conclusion to such an impressively messy human drama.

Grahame plays Vicki, the wife of a big train conductor named Carl (Broderick Crawford). She used to work at a magazine stand where he started flirting with her. The two eventually married despite, as is repeated several times throughout the film, the fact that he was substantially older than her--my guess would be about 20 years. It could be no less than that for it to be seen an issue in the '50s.

One really interesting point where the film deviates from the novel is that, after losing his job on the train, Carl sends Vicki to see his boss, Owens (Grandon Rhodes), who's implied to have once had feelings for Vicki. Carl seems to insinuate that Vicki ought to seduce Owens to some degree in exchange for getting Carl his job. What else could Carl think he was doing by telling her to go see him alone? And yet, when she's gone, he works himself into a jealous rage as though the idea were only just occurring to him.

Vicki is very much at the centre of the film and the problem she finds herself in is captivating as you wonder along with her just how she's supposed to navigate these waters of psychosis, how she's supposed to deal with the man who will hit her for doing what he told her to do, what she'd made clear she didn't want to do. It's hard to be loyal to a spouse who can't control his own train of thought.

Top billing goes to Glenn Ford who plays another railroad worker. He's poised as one of those noir heroes torn between the sweet girl next door (played in this case by Kathleen Case) and the femme fatale (Vicki). But Vicki, while positioned as the deceiving, adulterous woman, always has good intentions but is presented with impossible choices. There seems to be some attempt near the end to morally simplify her, to make the film fit into a more typical framework, but the ambiguity remains strong enough that most people watching will be hard pressed to imagine what Vicki ought to have done.

I was kind of reminded of Francois Truffaut's Shoot the Piano Player, which has a similar problem of a woman's infidelity arising from her loyalty to her husband. Shoot the Piano Player presents a more plausible and effectively tragic scenario but Human Desire is plenty impressive.

Human Desire is available on The Criterion Channel.

Amish Paradise

In addition to Trump getting voted into office again, there were a few smaller stories that caused me to despair for humanity a bit. Many young American voters are now unable to sign their names, causing "chaos" with mail-in ballots. It's funny, in Japan, people are trying to phase out the hanko, the traditional stamp used as a personal sign on documents, in favour of written signatures. Maybe the U.S. should switch to hanko. Eventually perhaps the pantomime of digital signatures will be done away with as various algorithms assign to happily accepting users a lifetime of work and consumer habits.

The other story that made an impression on me was the unprecedented turnout of Amish voters for Trump. The Amish, a religious community in Pennsylvania dedicated to living without modern technology, as long been a quaint, bemusing presence in the U.S. But they're not so cute when the reason they're voting for Trump is that they feel the government was overreaching by investigating illnesses related to milk production at an Amish farm. Hey, I love traditions. But everyone getting sick from bad milk doesn't sound like a good one to me. Fucking idiots. And I'd bet good money Trump isn't going to do shit about this issue.

Tony Todd

Tony Todd passed away a few days ago at the age of 69. While rarely a headliner, Todd is one of those few actors indelibly stitched into the fabric of genre television and film roles due to a remarkable number of supporting roles and guest roles. He played multiple characters in the Star Trek franchise, including Worf's brother on The Next Generation and an older version of child character Jake Sisko for an episode of Deep Space Nine. That episode, "The Visitor", quickly became one of the most beloved Star Trek stories in the franchise history, in no small part due to Todd's performance.

Todd was also part of the fan made Axanar project, which may explain why he hasn't been seen on "official" Star Trek media in a long time. Like many Star Trek exiles, he appeared on The Orville.

An imposing figure with a distinctive, deep, raspy voice, Todd's best remembered leading role is of course as the titular character of 1992's Candyman and its many sequels.

Sci-fi, horror, and fantasy media have lost a core presence. But we'll all be seeing him again, I'm sure, as long as people watch movies and TV.

The X is Not for Nudity

Mulder and Scully chase naked cannibals in the 1993 X-Files episode, "The Jersey Devil". This is one of the silliest episodes of the series.

A man is found with his leg chewed off and the autopsy reports that the bite marks are human. Mulder therefore assumes it's a missing link in the human evolutionary chain. I dimly remember finding this hilarious when I first watched the episode, too. Evidence says it's human, therefore Mulder says it's not. What?

The episode, written by series creator Chris Carter, is so invested in the idea of a missing link, it forgets to provide a shred of evidence of it. Mulder appears to be excited about naked people living in the forest. His inferences get more ridiculous when, after the man is killed, he immediately presumes, for no reason whatsoever, that he had a mate and this naked woman is now running around an abandoned industrial district in the city. SWAT teams and scores of officers converge onto the scene. I bet she would've felt really special had she known. You know how many naked homeless people there are in my hometown who don't rate attention from even one cop?

I imagined some alternate dialogue for the episode.

MULDER: We could've done it, Scully. We could've caught a naked woman.

SCULLY: *sigh* Mulder . . . You only had to ask.

The naked woman was played by Claire Stansfield. Wikipedia notes she was the first of many guest stars to have also appeared on Twin Peaks, not counting David Duchovny himself.

Context Makes Devils

I've been watching the first season of Daredevil again lately, from 2015. It sure holds up, particularly since this is the kind of story Marvel desperately needs to be telling now. No postmodernism, no mulling over civil rights issues from the '60s. Instead, the hero is pitted against Wilson Fisk, a man whose power was primarily in his finances and his control of the buildings in New York where people lived. I've heard he was even partly modelled on Donald Trump. The show's still a fantasy, but at least it's dealing with issues that are actually critical to people to-day; the effects of a shitty economy and the powerful people who keep the corrosive status quo. Andor did this, too, taking the story away from literary theories and showing how economic and political oppression actually effected people's daily lives.

One criticism I've heard about the Democrats is that they've become too attached to white collar votes and have thereby lost the working class. That's painfully clear. Hollywood is obviously part of the Left's apparatus, inconveniently popular new Clint Eastwood movies notwithstanding. If they were wise, they'd be focusing more on things like Daredevil and Andor, showing exactly how someone like Trump negatively impacts their lives. There was a rumour the new Spider-Man movie would feature Wilson Fisk and Daredevil but that Sony wanted it to be about Venom. After the success of the recent Venom film, I'm afraid Sony might get their way, but a Spider-Man versus Wilson Fisk movie would be so very much the story we need right now. If done properly, of course.

Daredevil is available on Disney+, despite Netflix being written all over the above trailer. It's from nine years ago when Daredevil was on Netflix. It's weird Netflix doesn't take down those videos. They're basically hosting commercials for their competition.

X Sonnet #1896

The legless leap o'erreached the shortened pant.
With short'ning bread, the mother ship was taxed.
Arrays of sensors marked the spacial rant.
The Klingon vessel's shields were set to max.
A pace behind the Devil walks a crab.
In silent shades, the picture turned to fall.
A brittle leaf directs the villain's stab.
The dragon's blood ordained the hero's fall.
A fighting dog replaced a singing cat.
In ev'ry tree, the birds were making eggs.
The squirrel's dreams could squash a soulless gnat.
A swarm of bugs retains a million legs.
Coyotes yip and howl on phantom phones.
Conversing wolves and dogs agree to bones.

Another Lump of Trump

Trump's victory was inevitable. I felt that way before Harris took over the campaign from Biden. Harris was more qualified than the ailing Biden so I hoped that might turn it around but, let's face it, Harris had lost the primaries when she'd properly run for president and when she became the presidential candidate this time she had a fraction of the time to campaign most candidates get. Trump had at least two traditional edges, being a former president and a man. But he had a lot of uncommon assets, too. He'd survived a public assassination attempt. His followers generally have the sense of him being wrongly persecuted.

It's remarkable that we have a convicted felon for president. Think back to over twenty-five years ago when Democrats fought tooth and tail to argue Bill Clinton didn't deserve to be removed from office for cheating on his wife (the surface argument about him lying was just that, a surface). Expecting the public to go that way on the issue then adopt a different standard for Trump was deranged.

As in 2016, but even more clearly this time, I have the sense this is an election the Democrats lost rather than one Trump won. You're not crazy if you think Trump is obviously unqualified, but the key word for his supporters is not "unqualified" but rather "obvious". Trump's motives are always plain. Even when he doesn't follow through, people excuse him because they understand the motive behind his bluster and hyperbole. Trump is dumb, but he lives in reality. The Democrats have failed to adapt to a culture whose zero fucks for traditional values have been reduced further into the negative range by a steadily diminishing economy. So, yes, people feeling oppressed by grotesquely high rents preferred to vote for a greedy landlord. They're that put off by the obfuscations and radical politics of the Left.

Trump's interview with Joe Rogan really made it clear, contrasted with the Harris interview with Howard Stern. Hardly anyone even deigned to notice the Harris interview with Stern, or Biden's interview with Stern. In the '90s, a presidential candidate going on The Howard Stern Show would have been big news. To-day, it's all but meaningless. Things changed. The Democrats didn't.

Oh, well. Here we go again. Hopefully next time the Democrats can find themselves another Obama. Someone who seems real and qualified.

Purif the Pure

A woman tests a small town's morality and patience in 1963's Il Demonio. It's a film that avoids giving the audience easy answers and highlights how abominably people can behave in ambiguous situations.

A beautiful young woman called Purif (Daliah Lavi) is passionately obsessed with Antonio (Frank Wolff), a young man of her village. He vigorously rebuffs her as she continues to physically cling to him, but he can't resist a few kisses. Nor can he resist the wine she gives him. After he drinks it, she tells him she mixed her blood into it.

Purif is a practicing witch and as her antics become more severe, she's subjected to religious punishment and exorcism, which inevitably becomes sexual abuse. The spirit of a dead boy seemingly converses with her. There are signs that Purif really is in contact with Satan, yet this actually contributes to a sense of the villagers' diminished moral standing. As their punishments of Purif become excessively cruel and clearly driven by sexual compulsion, Satan starts to look like a fellow of comparatively good integrity. At least Purif has no delusions about who she is or what her motives are. Of course, provoking the town into brazen moral hypocrisy may have been Satan's plan all along.

The film's beautifully shot and Daliah Lavi gives a brave, unrestrained performance. Il Demonio is available on The Criterion Channel.

Dog Dreams in a Dangerous Park

I've been having some interesting dreams lately but I've been doing a bad job of remembering them. So, a few nights ago, when I woke at 2am after having one, I immediately typed up a description as best I could with eyes that were not quite ready to open and look at my bright computer screen. Here's the description I wrote, typos and all:

Dream about a big yellow dog
girl looking for him
Indoor park
dark street
she stares at tehe camera, short hair, big eyes
Dog is mustard cooour
eats cildren
is sometimes '80s acto

I have no idea what "'80s acto" is supposed to mean. I guess the dream must have been set in the '80s. I do remember the dog seemed dirty, streaked with black and dark green, like egg yolk with black, melted rubber.

Anyway, Happy Guy Fawkes Day, everyone. It comes early to Japan, where it's unobserved. In America, where people used to not know about it, of course it's election day this year. Quite a confluence since one candidate is accused of inciting a mob that stormed the U.S. capital. I think the left has largely mischaracterised that event but, all the same, I want to urge any Americans reading to vote for Kamala Harris. If you're worried about getting a president manipulated by powerful outside interests, Trump's the one you gotta worry about, not Harris. If the demons spinning yarn around his head can be considered outside interests. I'm not just talking about his bizarre hair style. He's clearly possessed by ideas, recklessly fueled by resentment, possibly also by the inability to cope with his position on the world stage, about his own unrecognised merit. He'll cling foolishly to anyone who flatters him as a consequence. This speaks to the basic lack of the maturity requisite in the leader of a country. Please, don't make us joke again. Or not more of a joke, anyway.

X Sonnet #1895

The heartless robber stole the horse's hoof.
A captive plant would dream of aphid death.
Entire teams were seen on Scrooge's roof.
The track could only lead to Walter Neff.
The clown was routed back to Hades' court.
Reversing time required counter spin.
The game's diminished, it's a console port.
When all the lot would conquer, none could win.
With helpless hands, the gloves discussed a meal.
Without the buns, the burgers changed in shape.
A simple food would prove its health is real.
The flying man would wear a crimson cape.
A whale collision rocked the briny deep.
Pervasive error coos itself to sleep. A whale collision rocked the briny deep. Pervasive error coos itself to sleep.