One of the Howard Hawks movies I'm fondest of is 1939's Only Angels Have Wings. Cary Grant runs an air freight company in South America. Something about the story of men merrily living between potentially fatal missions in a decrepit little bar appeals to me, I guess.
Jean Arthur is a singer who comes to town. Two flyboys immediately try to pick her up. They succeed in convincing her to let them take her to the bar--she's just happy to be talking to two Americans for once. The flirtatious encounter is interrupted when their boss (Grant) swaggers in wearing the biggest panama hat worn by a lead actor in cinema history. One of Arthur's would-be wooers has to brave the storm. He doesn't make it.
That's just the beginning. Arthur can't understand how the men carry on when life's like this all the time. Of course, she starts to fall for Cary Grant's character. Rita Hayworth shows up as his old flame.
It's about as good an adventure noir as you'll ever see. It's on The Criterion Channel this month as part of a Howard Hawks playlist.
X Sonnet 1968
On closer look, the world's a woeful dog.
His plaintive, searching eyes are seas of ink.
His nose, a molten rock that's spouting fog.
His mouth, a sloppy wet and toothsome sink.
On closer look, the sun's an angry cat.
Her piercing eyes are flares of solar flame.
Her fur, a roiling vast and burning vat.
Her fiery core, a spiteful, sleepless brain.
On closer look, the moon's a frightened mouse.
His floppy ears are secret country flags.
His twitching nose, a small surveillance house.
His little guts are buried body bags.
Our math was wrong, the sun has chased the moon.
The earth is still and waits for violent doom.
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