The Slimy Flapjacks of Death

Most people don't see any drawbacks in trying to cure cancer, many don't consider the process might produce a new species of rapidly multiplying slime creature that sucks all bone matter from human bodies with its proboscis. For the edification of the scientific community and sober contemplation of the general public 1966's Island of Terror presents the possible nightmare resulting from what many presume is a perfectly innocent and noble endeavour. This Terence Fisher movie starring Peter Cushing not produced by Hammer actually features a moralising coda warning the viewer against the dangers of science gone to far. You have to love such sincerity. Less charming is the film's misogyny but the film's mainly enjoyable for its odd succession of cosy, chatty scenes and Cushing in a very affable mode.

After establishing a super high tech lab hidden on a small island off Ireland's east coast, the film becomes a mystery unravelled in scenes of people going to visit other people who in turn go to visit yet more people with their own questions. This sort of relay of concern is kicked off when one of the villagers on the island visits the constable (Sam Kydd) complaining that her husband is three hours late getting home and he's not at the pub. The constable investigates and finds the man's body turned into a squishy, rubbery mass.

So he pays a visit to Dr. Landers (Eddie Byrne) who is confounded after doing an autopsy of the boneless body. So Dr. Landers goes to England to pay a visit to Dr. Stanley (Cushing), one of the leading men in his field.

Stanley doesn't know what to make of it so the two of them go and pay a visit to Dr. West (Edward Judd) who's even more of a leading man in this field it seems. He's also a sort of knock-off James Bond, trading corny sex jokes with a beautiful woman named Toni (Carole Gray) who's wearing only a shirt.

This was the only truly insufferable part of the movie. To get to the island on short notice, Toni offers her rich father's helicopter on the condition, imposed with a mischievous smirk, that she be allowed to come along. Throughout the film, she insists on joining the men for every adventure and then panics and cries and fouls up everything every single time. It occurs to me the wrong way to write women might be exactly the right way to write children.

By contrast nearly all the men are uncannily cool throughout the film, which is sort of fun. I liked the cosy, relaxed vibe of Peter Cushing and Edward Judd poring over notes in an inn after finding a massacre of boneless scientists at that lab. It's a little while before they meet the creatures.

It's not the most inspiring special effect--not quite having as much fascinating weirdness as the creatures in movies like Fiend Without a Face to make up for being unconvincing but they are pretty fun. I liked how they seemed to slowly secrete spaghetti whenever one creature divided to become two.

Twitter Sonnet #984

Pineapple juice adorns the leaden brick.
The vault's computer dust's too full to-day.
As runners tread like graves they'll slowly stick.
In thoughts triangles pin a bad delay.
In batt'ry temples acid sips the scalp.
Condemned for plastic hair the men retreat.
Repeating slogans captured Pez for help.
The webs of wardrobe finalise the street.
A bubbling counterfeit collects a car.
Divested hands compose an itch to sleep.
A fading laugh obliged the comic's bar.
In radios the signal carries deep.
Forgiving paws disrupt the leaves outside.
When phones make ghosts our hearts'll coincide.

Better Wake Up Saul

And it was another exciting episode of Mike watching things. We watched Mike in the new Better Call Saul watch a guy from an overpass, we watched Mike watch from across a street, and we finally saw Mike outsource watching to Jimmy. I like a good procedural but, honestly, if I'm going to watch a Mike watching something from now on his last name better be Nelson. The episode had some good moments but mostly, like last week, it felt like it was killing time.

Spoilers after the screenshot

Jimmy and Kim picking out a receptionist was fun and I liked the Cracker Barrel joke. And the ending of the episode where Jimmy confronted Chuck was very nice. But it was a long way to go for a . . . oh, what objective should I use? How about a chicken sandwich. It was a long way to go for a chicken sandwich. Which brings me to Gus Fring.

The promos for this season were really coy about teasing the appearance of the Breaking Bad character in this season of Better Call Saul. Watching Gus appear blurry in the background of Jimmy watching in a shot that, like many others . . . was held . . . for a . . . long . . . time, I couldn't help thinking Vince Gilligan overestimated just a tad how excited people were going to be about Gus. He's a cool character, I like him, but he's not so exciting when he's sweeping and digging through the trash for someone's watch. This episode definitely demonstrated that sometimes less is most emphatically less. I guess it's fitting this episode actually involved paint drying.”

No Fury for Fury

The ends and outs of virtuous crime may have gotten more complicated four hundred years after the time of Robin Hood, but the eighteenth century set 1961 Fury at Smuggler's Bay is a pretty satisfying swashbuckler. Featuring two effective rogues, one handsome lad, three comely maidens, and Peter Cushing, the film's surprisingly morally shaded plot is an intriguing enough garnish for a fun landlocked pirate adventure.

In late eighteenth century Cornwall, it seems virtually everyone's livelihood is dependent on smuggling so Squire Trevenyan (Cushing), the local magistrate, has always looked the other way. But then a group of rogues lead by the vicious Black John (Bernard Lee) become "wreckers"--luring ships to wreck so they can steal their cargo.

The Squire's son, Christopher (John Fraser), is in love with Louise (Michele Mercier), the daughter of a Frenchman and smuggler named Francois (George Coulouris). Francois finds he's helpless to combat the threat posed by the wreckers--he can't complain without exposing the fact that the wreckers are a problem because they're impeding his own criminal activity.

There's also a virtuous highwayman called simply The Captain (William Franklyn).

The film takes these basic elements and uses them to find excuses for Christopher to wield a sword, for the Squire to brood in moral conflict, and for Louise and a barmaid (Liz Fraser) to be menaced by Black John, while each is on desperate missions that require them to run alone through the forest. Harry Waxman's cinematography is a gorgeous mix of shadows and lurid colour and the performances are all good. John Fraser looks like a young Jean Marais but a little leaner; Michele Mercier is absolutely luscious, particularly in red.

Final Rabbit Ranking

I hope everyone's having a nice Easter. I thought I'd take the time to-day to create a definitive ranking of rabbits, the top five best and the top five worst. Careful consideration went into these rankings and if you wish to dispute any rabbit's placement or omission you must lodge your complaint in the form of an essay of no fewer than ten pages and you must cite a minimum of five peer reviewed sources.

Keep in mind this is a ranking of rabbits and doesn't necessarily reflect on the quality of the books, television shows, video games, or movies in which these rabbits appeared.

Let's get the worst out of the way first.

Fifth Worst: Steven Spielberg

The maker of some of the finest popular films of the past fifty years, Spielberg is arguably a bad rabbit because he's not a rabbit at all. But I'm specifically referring to an incident on the set of Close Encounters of the Third Kind where Spielberg took on the form of a rabbit to manipulate child actor Cary Guffey. From TCM:

Spielberg got the wondrous expressions on Cary Guffey's face, in the scenes where his character sees the UFOs and aliens, by using visual aides, such as slowing unwrapping toys at a height that made it look like the boy was peering up at the sky toward the UFOs. In the scene where the boy looks into the kitchen, Spielberg had a make-up man in a gorilla suit on one side of the set. The boy's expression revealed a certain alarm when he saw it, then a partition on the other side was dropped, revealing Spielberg in a bunny suit, making the boy smile but still wary of the gorilla. The make-up man took off the gorilla mask and Guffey, seeing his friend there, began to laugh.

Through this ingenious method Spielberg was able to capture genuine reactions from a child for his film but in the process made himself a bad, bad bunny.

Fourth Worst: The Rabbit of Caerbannog

If body count were all that mattered for this list this one would be unsurpassed. Vicious and unstoppable, terrifyingly quick and possessed of a capacity for destruction that defies human imagination, this rabbit must be counted among the foulest, the most dreadful.

Third Worst: American Rabbit

Maybe he's not such a bad guy but roller skates are kind of an underwhelming power and, let's face it, he's kind of wishy washy, which in its way is worse than the more impressive examples already listed.

Second Worst: Eden Prairie Centre Easter Bunny

Everyone knows the Menlo Park Mall Easter Bunny is more convincing. And really, what's worse than a guy who's supposed to be there, transporting children to a magical world where hope and imagination are alive but who chooses instead to phone in a lacklustre display?

The Worst: The Ice Cream Bunny

I don't think anyone with any serious knowledge of bunnies could have imagined this spot could be taken by any other. Introduced to the world by Rifftrax--we can safely assume Santa Claus and the Ice Cream Bunny was not widely distributed--this dead eyed, nightmare chauffeur seems to constantly scream even as he makes no audible sound. But more than any mediocrity or sense of physical threat the most horrible thing about the Ice Cream Bunny is the impression he conveys to us of life's worthlessness. Somehow this misguided and poor rendering of a rabbit in a peculiar way makes everything else seem equally pointless, like a personification of a black hole.

Okay, enough of that, onto the good stuff. Here are the five best rabbits:

Fifth Best: Fran

Fran represents the ultimate in evolution for the bunny girl, far removed from the concept origins at Playboy. In Japan, bunny girls have long had a life of their own and in Final Fantasy XII Fran brought an elegance and dignity to the classic, undeniably fetching silhouette.

Fourth Best: Bugs Bunny

A lot of excellent cartoon rabbits are absent from this list. With such a wide field to choose from, I chose the first bona fide cartoon rabbit star who remains, arguably, one of the best. Crafty and insolent, Bugs could also switch to taking pratfalls with the best of them, without question a versatile performer who's never been equalled.

Third Best: Harvey

Demonstrating handily that less sometimes really is more, this pooka's presence is felt entirely by the reactions he inspires. Hints of Harvey's actual existence are so few that one is forced to contemplate the nature of reality and the worth of fiction. Harvey selflessly forsakes the spotlight so that we can more clearly see the power impression can have to enrich human life.

Second Best: The White Rabbit (Carroll/Tenniel)

The events of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland are famously instigated by Alice's irresistible urge to discover just why this fellow is in such a hurry. He has something of Harvey's light touch in his creating so much presence with his absence but also manifests the subtle logical conundrums that make Carroll's work so endlessly delightful and intriguing.

The Best: DAICON IV Bunny Girl

Triumphing over Darth Vader, the xenomorph, the starship Enterprise, the entire roster of Marvel and DC's Superheroes, as well as over copyright infringement, the girl created by the fledgling GAINAX in 1983 has a power beyond time and space. And she owes it all to an enormous radish. I think.

Twitter Sonnet #983

In opals stirred beyond the pale to stand
Reflections flounder gasping from the space
Permitted in by stewards rash and bland
Too dull to press against a gleaming face.
Availing hay encrusted pleas the horse
Refrains affronting tamer chows for pens
Appointed ink in tubes along the course
Where lightning breaks the greenly feathered fens.
Internal yellow shells reflect the yolk
Of passing jaundice danced in time for saints,
For clovers ranged in even eggs we broke
Revealed in purple beer and mad complaints.
Important rabbits pillage with regret.
On days like these messiahs hit reset.

The Same Reflection is Different

Finally, a new episode of Doctor Who, the first one, not counting Christmas specials, since 2015. "The Pilot" sees the return of Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor, the best incarnation of the Doctor since the 2005 relaunch, with a story based on Echo and Narcissus--kind of an odd coincidence not long after I'd read a Sirenia Digest story based on Ovid's tale of Narcissus, the man obsessed with looking at his own reflection, and the nymph who loved him, Echo, who could only speak in repetitions of what another person said. The episode gives us a very sweet version of the story but I would have liked the relationship between Bill and Heather developed more. Though by itself it works well as a sort of metaphor for a longer relationship, the danger of Bill getting attached to the reflection like someone obsessed with a relationship. I'm a bit annoyed that apparently no-one else liked how last season was composed entirely of two part episodes--that was a big improvement to my mind. Oh well.

Of course, another big thing with this new episode, something everyone's really excited about, is the Doctor's new companion--Matt Lucas as Nardole!

Okay, no-one really seems to care one way or another about Nardole. I thought he was a nice, amusing, not too obtrusive presence, there offering some funny reactions to instructions and info. So thumbs up, Matt Lucas.

And I thought Pearl Mackie was really good as Bill. I like how she dresses like a gymnast from the 80s. There's something kind of Mork and Mindy-ish about her attire too.

In addition to the nice reworking of Echo and Narcissus, the reflection thing was of the nicely subtly weird variety. It's kind of become standard, these stories about things that seem slightly off-kilter in the world ending up having an alien explanation, and maybe they are getting a little tired. Though the new companion learning the basic details of the TARDIS and the Doctor also had the feeling of a well worn song and dance at this point, too. I do like Steven Moffat and I liked this episode but I left it feeling, yeah, it's time for some new blood.

It was nice they went to Australia. Though it reminds me, is anything happening with Peter Jackson (I know, he's a Kiwi, not Australian) directing an episode? There was that clip of him with Capaldi and a Dalek and then nothing. What gives?

I like the idea of the Doctor being a university professor for 50 years. I wonder if it's Steven Moffat subtly suggesting that Class isn't canon--I'd be whole heartedly in support of that.

Hoskins' Holiday

Normally gangsters only need to worry about cops and other gangs but one ganglord suddenly finds another, formidable thorn in his side in 1979's The Long Good Friday. The film obviously intends to use its story as an allegory for British politics and foreign relations in the late 70s but it's more entertaining now as a straight-forward gangster film dominated by a vigorous performance from Bob Hoskins.

The film begins with two seemingly unrelated sequences of scenes. One sequence in which Paul Freeman in an unspeaking role picks up a guy who gets beaten up by unidentified assailants before Freeman himself is beaten and killed by a guy pretending to flirt with him, and sequence in which gang lord Harold Shand (Hoskins) is getting ready to meet some U.S. mafia guys in the hopes of starting a partnership. The film is set during Good Friday and Harold's mother attends a church service where a bomb destroys her car. Eventually we learn than Freeman's character is named Colin and is Harold's best friend and associate so, along with the attack on his mother, it's starting to look like someone has a vendetta against Harold's operation right at the time such instability would look bad to his prospective American partners.

The fact that Harold knew Colin was gay and apparently had no problem with it seems remarkably progressive for a gangster, particularly in the 70s, which makes me wonder if a homophobic audience was meant to be repulsed by Harold's acceptance of his friend. Director John Mackenzie presents Colin and the first man he flirts with without any apparent condemnation, though, so it just comes off as normal, except one wonders why so much time is spent with Colin when he doesn't even have a speaking part. It might be part of the film's intended political allegory representing toleration in Britain. The police are almost totally absent from the film, even in scenes where one figures the police must have shown up and been something Harold would have to deal with. It seems a deliberate attempt to separate the story from reality and with a speech Harold gives at the end where he talks about the difference between Britain and the U.S. he seems as though he was meant to be a personification of British identity or administration.

Helen Mirren gets second billing but her part is relatively small as Harold's lover and second in command, Victoria. She's very good, of course, her best scene being essentially a miniature thriller film where one of their lieutenants, Jeff (Derek Thompson), seems to be threatening her in a lift.

But the main event in this film is Hoskins. Just watching him getting increasingly pissed off and violent as things go further and further south is great. He's short but his thick arms seem powerful and he moved very quickly, his wide eyes and flaring nostrils and the way he used his bottom teeth, he's like a were-badger on speed but restrained, like a kettle of rage always just on the point of boiling over.

The Cucumber Sandwiches of Fate

Last night's new episode of The Expanse, "The Monster and the Rocket", was another refreshing example of the show moving away from the trend in the best television shows of the past few years, like Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones, to focus on ruthless protagonists. This was a story about how doing the stone cold, destructive thing is sometimes the wrong choice.

Spoilers after the screenshot

Holden (Steven Strait) really seems to be losing himself going after that guy without a spacesuit. Meanwhile, Naomi (Dominique Tipper) has to tranquillise Amos (Wes Chatham) so he can't stop her from trying to save half an unruly mob. A more cynical writer would've had Naomi torn to pieces when she opened that door, it was a nice thing to see the group actually calm down and organise so the half of them who could leave, could leave. It's nice to see a show with some faith in human nature.

That doesn't make Errinwright's (Shawn Doyle) reversion to villainy any less satisfying. I'm looking forward to seeing how the stand off on Mao's ship resolves next week.

I knew Bobbie (Frankie Adams) was going to accompany Avasarala (Shohreh Aghdashloo) to the meeting with Mao and I wondered how the writers were going to justify it. It shows how much I like the show that I don't mind the explanation that Avarsarala's bringing her along so she can't be a bargaining chip. Bobbie's a little too valuable to be risked on a mission like this but, okay, I liked watching her stuff herself with cucumber sandwiches. Not since The Importance of Being Earnest have cucumber sandwiches been so memorably employed.

Twitter Sonnet #982

In tangerine the tie invests in sand.
The soil swirls about the bones of trees.
In faces sipped through needle straws we stand.
Electric blue we burned the skies and seas.
A quarter claimed accustomed tallies late.
Allowed inside the froth, a river loops.
No chance the gum in orbs'll yet abate.
Between the eyes the beaks align the coops.
A paper bird aligned with stars of wind.
In tattered canvas gowns the cops relaxed.
The guards reviewed the Martian tourists pinned.
Additional ink stains were quickly faxed.
The dimes between the pennies picked the ace.
Exposed in glass the car'll run the race.

The Raven Brings Word of the Expanding Setsuled Empire

Here's a great lovely raven I saw at school a few days ago. I wish there were something nearby for scale but, take my word, this fellow's big as a chicken, at least.

This is my first post that I'm also posting to my new Dreamwidth account, where I'm going to start cross posting my journal to-day mainly to stay connected with any and all of my Live Journal friends who are moving there. Since Live Journal, owned by a Russian company, has recently updated its terms of service to seemingly prohibit controversial opinion regarding Russian politics, many people are understandably wary of remaining. I've been cross posting to Blogger for almost as long as I've been posting to Live Journal so I'm not in the boat a lot of my friends are, finding they need to transfer their whole journals to another service, but I really like my Live Journal and am not eager to leave it. I kind of want to wait 'til I get thrown off instead of leaving on my own volition.

Let's try something;

So, the other day, I saw Vladimir Putin wearing nothing but a tutu and a neck tie gently painting the tip of his penis with red nail polish. He became erect, though, possibly spoiling the polish, as he informed me of his infatuation with Justin Bieber, at which point I realised Putin's tie was decorated with crude nude drawings of Bieber.

Maybe it's all not as pertinent now since Trump heroically bombed part of a Syrian airfield that did not inhibit planes from launching from that field within an hour and did not take out nearby chemical weapons stores. But apparently the piles of evidence amased regarding Trump's contacts with Russia have been dazzled out of the eyes of Brian Williams and the like by the pretty missiles. But who can deny Trump wasn't motived by the deaths of children by Assad's chemical weapons despite the fact that Trump was still praising Assad after the last time he committed such a crime?

Anyway, for future reference, here are the four places I'll be posting my blog to for the forseeable future.

http://setsuled.livejournal.com

http://setsuled.blogspot.com

https://kinja.com/setsuled

https://setsuled.dreamwidth.org

Saul is Called Forth Once Again

Speaking as someone who likes malls, I have to say I really like the one Saul Goodman is shown working at in the beginning of last night's third season premiere of Better Call Saul. Breaking Bad creator Vince Gilligan returned to direct and co-write this episode for the first time since season one and it's not bad. Though I'm not sure quite so much time needed to be spent on Mike's car.

Spoilers after the screenshot

I understand the point of spending so much time with Mike (Jonathan Banks) taking apart his car and finding the bug is to show how good Mike is at this stuff and how good his opponent is, too. I think the point could've been made in half the time, though. I also thought those pistachios were an oddly noisy snack for him to be eating when he didn't want to be noticed. I did really like how believably filthy that junk yard lounge was. Well, it's probably a real location. I guess this shows how used to clean sci-fi show sets I've gotten lately.

I remember hoping at the end of last season that they wouldn't spend too much time this season on Jimmy's (Bob Odenkirk) confession being secretly taped by Chuck (Michael McKean). I suppose they kind of had to, though. I did really like how the moment is complicated by a much less plotty bit about a book they'd read as a child and trying to take duct tape off the wall without tearing the varnish. It's important to remember these two guys are brothers whose antagonism is largely born of their closeness. Still, I'm getting impatient for the story to move on to other things. I want Jimmy to start wearing those loud suits.

Van of Mayhem

Two gangsters are shot in a prison van and it's only the beginning of a relentless series of well conceived, slightly surreal, fast paced action in Seijun Suzuki's 1960 yakuza noir Take Aim at the Police Van (１３号待避線より　その護送車を狙え). Less experimental than Suzuki's later, better known films, this one still bears plenty of his characteristic ingenuity. Its sense of motion conveyed by meticulous blocking and creative compositions are really exhilarating along with the movie's free range plot.

The protagonist is a pretty non-descript prison officer named Tamon (Michitaro Mizushima). He takes it on himself to investigate the killings, a process that brings him to sleazy underworld streets and bars until he witnesses the murder of a stripper by an arrow, shot through the paper wall from an unknown assailant outside.

This brings him to an escort agency temporarily being run by the surprisingly straight laced Yuko Hamajima (Misako Watanabe), who's running the business for her father. She's into archery, as Tamon witnesses shortly after meeting her, but could she possibly be the killer? She also likes the toy guns Tamon keeps in his apartment for some reason.

The set ups Suzuki puts together for shots probably strain credibility a bit--the idea that Tamon just happens to stumble across so much murder and mayhem is a bit hard to believe. But I never questioned it while I was watching because Suzuki puts this stuff together like a ballet. Whether it's a man Tamon just happens to see get thrown off a cliff when he drives by or an expertly chaotic gaggle of teenagers who pile into a car before one leans out the window to tease him.

The plot's a little confusing and I'm still not exactly sure how Tamon and Yuko ended up in a fuel truck about to explode at the climax--one of the thugs who brought them there does helpfully acknowledge that he could have just shot them but then he wouldn't have had a chance to see this. And, you know, he's right.

Twitter Sonnet #981

A buried bottle prods a head of curls.
Beneath the sand some fingers fall to crab.
The choicest clouds reflect the canvas furls.
A pint of ale awoke the Queenly Mab.
A scoffing parrot plucked a plastic quill.
Arrayed along the topsail yard they watch.
To life frayed halyard hairs invoke a will.
Where once was coin there's now only a notch.
Abnormal flags appear on ev'ry mast.
A message drifts from merchantman to war.
The ivory die is splintered 'fore it's cast.
Inside the crate her wooden feathers bore.
Entangling weed evicts the gunner's foot.
Ashore next day there washed a handy soot.

Cinema to Illuminate a Trumpian Darkness

In talking about 1984's 1984 on Friday, I indicated it might not be the best film to screen in protest of Trump unless everyone seeing the film had read the book as well. So this got me to thinking, if I were to put together a film festival for people living in Trump times, what movies would I show? I came up with this list of some of the films.

Viridiana 1961

This list wasn't meant to be in any particular order but, if it were, this movie would probably be number one. Luis Bunuel's 1961 sinister satire of how governments form and evolve, represented by a single household, has it all--the disenfranchised poor, the sexual abuse and barriers to leadership faced by women, the failure of the ideals of the upper class to meaningfully connect with the working class, and, above all, the rise of an arrogant strong man. Jorge may actually be a better person than Donald Trump but a scene like the one where Jorge helps a dog only to fail in noticing another dog being treated just as badly shows how short-sighted a rule based on one man's narcissism can be.

Brazil 1985

Wikipedia says, "Brazil's bureaucratic, totalitarian government is reminiscent of the government depicted in George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four except that it has a buffoonish, slapstick quality and lacks a Big Brother figure." Sounds about perfect, right? The way terrorism functions in the film and the patronising, contented attitude of Mr. Helpmann are more reminiscent of Thatcher Britain but its portrayal of a consumer society disconnected from its own suffering is certainly resonant to-day. And unlike Michael Radford's 1984, Brazil illustrates the breakdown of imagination and meaning in language and how it infantilises society.

The Bad Sleep Well 1960

Akira Kurosawa used Hamlet as a template for this contemporary tale of government conflict of interest with private business. It's not the first time Kurosawa criticised the capitalism that transformed Japan after World War II but the portrayal of politics and business being separated from personal responsibility is here shown in a familiar corporate setting.

The Lower Depths 1957

I couldn't help it, I had to list two Kurosawa films. There are two geniuses behind this story, though, Kurosawa and the author of the play the film's based on, Maxim Gorky. The play had been adapted to film several times before, including by Jean Renoir in the 30s, but Renoir himself said Kurosawa's was the better version. And Kurosawa's is much closer to the original play, despite its setting being moved to 19th century Japan. Rashomon might be the obvious Kurosawa film to recommend when talking about different perspectives, but The Lower Depths shows how human beings depend on a fragile dream in constructing their institutions and figures of authority. This film depicts a diverse group of very poor, living together in a flophouse and the insight with which an out of work carpenter's pride or a gambler's cynicism are depicted has plenty of resonance now. Tentative romance between a thief and the landlord's daughter, their dream of escaping this life leaning on the words of a man who may only be pretending to be a monk, show how vulnerable the connexions and trust in society are and how dependent they are in trusting figures of authority. And how disastrous it can be, on a very personal level, when that trust is lost.

A few more films I'd probably include:

Hands Over the City
Chinatown
Citizen Kane
A Face in the Crowd
When a Woman Ascends the Stairs