Robert Mitchum is a God
I'm kind of delaying the daily media commentary that I plan to begin. Too busy with other stuff. Short observation: Herald is kicking the Sentinel's ass on the homeless beating story. Quote of the day, from a high school kid who knows the assailants, including Tom Daugherty, the bushy haired kid who did most of the beating: "Tom was fairly new to beating up bums."
So I watched "Out of the Past" last night, a great film noir from 1947 starring a 30-year-old Robert Mitchum. After seeing this and The Night of the Hunter recently, he's becoming one of my favorite actors of all time. He's got this strong male presence, but underneath it is this raw emotion and pure child-like reaction to things on the screen. Out of the Past also had Jane Greer, who played the most deliciously amoral femme fatale ever, and more cigarettes per frame than any movie I've ever seen. I went back and determined that Mitchum smoked 17 cigarettes in the picture, and I didn't count any of them twice. Caught one cut-to when the cigarette grew a bit in his hand, though. He must have lit up a couple hundred smokes doing that movie.
And yes, people, this is what I do at midnight, meticulously research Robert Mitchum's smoking habits in a 60-year-old flick.