Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Clash by night by Susan Gillespie One Night in Sarsaparilla: 2050. Of all the postcodes, this one explains what happens next. The suburb one over (and where is Virgil when you need him?) is full of sunny women, but in Sarsaparilla—since the plague and after the war—the frauen snap like whiplash with divine anger at the simony of their lives. Better and brighter than their employed husbands, they are by law housebound, by disposition dangerous. But Friday nights are glorious— on Friday nights (for you might as well live) they party, masked, anonymous, un-curfewed, free, until dawn. Tonight, the bash is at Donna’s, so watch out wild world, and yeah, Not tonight Satan, and Not tomorrow either Santa. Dominus Domina Donna. But where is Donna? Marianne can’t find her anywhere. She’s not in the darkling plain of the pantry slumming it with the drunken servants where, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight and too much vodka, ignorant armies clash by night. ‘Give it back, give it me back, give it up you—’ and so on, their motto did not could not but maybe might. But life is not a Margaret Atwood novel, there are no endearments beneath the bed. The bedrooms? Upstairs she goes, singing— ‘Donna Donna Donna?’ On the landing the stairs split like two roads diverging in a wood. ‘I secretly long for the apocalypse. Then I could remember what is truly important ,’ said a naked woman to a suited man. He kindly wrapped her in her discarded robe and replied ‘As uncertainty breeds anxiety and ill-being, we witness institutions reacting to protect the fabric of their existence rather than of our being.’ They kissed. Marianne took the empty stairs, to the left, less travelled by sadness, and that has made all the difference. Swelling from the living room below: breaking glass, crying, laughing, music, shouting, snatches of conversation— That was decades ago|Frenzied fists fighting to hoard toilet rolls, emptied shopping aisles | Even lying under a heavy duvet makes me claustrophobic|I have been putting off my dental work, but now I go|I love leaves. They are so reliable. There is, well, there was—this is absolutely true—a country that spoke in the language of leaves|Are they dreaming of escape? |Apples taste better this year, I find. Don’t you think? |I have the dog at least. Eventually, all faded to nonsense. Aside from the business Marianne found in every bedroom (where no time was wasted on love) and the party-drug laboratory in the bathroom (where devotees were being squeezed and dried till blue is black by that terrible dye, thinking of a dawn that might not come), evidence of— what exactly was she looking for? Outside in the garden by the pool where she washed her eyelids in the rain Marianne began to drink, joining in, trying.But—Sorry this isn’t more profound I feel like everything is surface at the moment Our friends become dead announcements at the same desk where we stream our hope There is no ergonomic set-up that softens the silence of a just-closed collaborate Something’s happening in Laos The Rosedale eggs didn’t break if you dropped them on the floor—little made sense. She forgot to pray for the angels and held onto herself like a crucifix. The party was unfolding on the edge of itself. Shortly after 9pm— Donna found her. They vowed to say yes to everything. In the kitchen, Marianne took off her bra, and kissed everyone in the room. She could feel her legs growing again. Her legs! All the better to strangle you with. Donna’s friend from Suburb Seven arrived, and talked too much. She was a bad smell, a bad bet, a bad joke, she was. Her breasts were enormous, planets demoted to dwarfs. The evening soured, knowing they were all, anyway, on a wagon bound for market. She was drunk, and bored with having legs, praying now for the return of her thick, shocking, private, fishy mermaid tail. She wanted everything back. The whole evening had become— too much, too mournful eyed, too wallflower-at-the-disco. With the chef’s knife last used for necking champagne bottles, Marianne began to make delicate cuts on her arm. Just beneath her skin one gash revealed a howling baby, another a nest of gold coins, yet another (deeper now) five soiled petticoats. Cut cut cut—look! There is peace, how pretty it is!—until the opera reached its certain conclusion, the knife heading towards gooseflesh for the final act. We know how this party ends: this poem is an appetite. Dominus Domina Donna, mea domina. CREDITS. ‘One night in Sarsaparilla: 2050’ is a dystopian plague prose poem devised using a social poetics methodology referencing the cento form, composed by Susan Bradley Smith with original and mashup contributions from Sandra Adams, Deepti Azariah, Robert Briggs, Cathy Cupitt, Lucy Dougan, Madison Godfrey, Stewart Ennis, Christina Lee, Julia Mary, Bri McKenzie, Suvendi Perera, Rachel Robertson, Robin Teese, and acknowledging these artists and their work: The Divine Comedy by Dante; Rozanna Lilley on Facebook; ‘Call the Police’ by LCD Sound System; ‘Resumé’ by Dorothy Parker; ‘Dover Beach’ by Matthew Arnold; Weather by Jenny Offill; ‘The Road not Taken’ by Robert Frost; ‘So Long, Marianne’ by Leonard Cohen; ‘Falls Country’ by Judith Wright; ‘Covid-19 and the Hopeless University at the End of the End of History’ by Richard Hall; ‘Dona Dona’ (popularly known as ‘Donna, Donna’, from the Yiddish ‘Dana Dana’, a song about a calf being led to slaughter) by Aaron Zeitlin and Sholom Secunda; The Season at Sarsaparilla by Patrick White; and ghosted by the party at the heart of Malcolm Bradbury’s The History Man . 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Wikipedia. 1960 British crime film directed by Montgomery Tully and starring William Hartnell, Betty McDowall and Eddie Byrne. William Hartnell as Superintendent Frawley Wikipedia. Harriet Parsons, Film Maker; Daughter of Louella Parsons. Harriet Parsons, one of the first women film producers and the daughter of the Hollywood columnist Louella Parsons, died Sunday at St. John's Hospital after a two-year battle with cancer. She was 76 years old. Among her more notable films were ''I Remember Mama'' (1948); ''Enchanted Cottage'' (1945); ''Clash By Night'' (1952); ''Never A Dull Moment (1952), and ''Susan Slept Here'' (1954). She also co-produced the Broadway play, ''The Rape of the Belt.'' Before becoming a movie producer, Miss Parsons was a screen and magazine writer. She had her own radio program, ''Hollywood Highlights,'' in 1938. It’s a return to the dark side. This second wave of film noir titles from Warner features several fixtures of the genre at the top of the craft: Lawrence Tierney, Robert Ryan, Barbara Stanwyck, Marie Windsor, Claire Trevor, Robert Mitchum and Charles McGraw. Lawrence Tierney, who was just as tough and two-fisted off screen as he was on, was introduced to movie audiences in this scrappy 1945 crime melodrama -- a highly fictionalized account of the Depression Era bank robber and killer John Dillinger. “Dillinger” was Oscar-nominated for Philip Yordan’s taut screenplay. Extras: The trailer and subdued commentary from the usually gregarious John Milius, who wrote and directed the 1973 “Dillinger,” and interview excerpts from Yordan. After World War II, Hollywood began to tackle social issues in films. And in 1947, two films -- “Gentleman’s Agreement” and “Crossfire” -- examined anti-Semitism. The thriller revolves around the brutal murder of a Jewish man (Sam Levene) by a psychopathic, bigoted World War II veteran (fearlessly played by Oscar-nominated Robert Ryan). Robert Young is the low-keyed police detective, and Robert Mitchum is a levelheaded Army sergeant. A young Gloria Grahame also picked up an Academy Award nomination as a sultry dance-hall girl. Extras: The trailer, a mini-documentary “Crossfire: Hate Is Like a Gun,” which includes vintage interviews with the late director Edward Dmytryk, and commentary from film historians Alain Silver and James Ursini with interview excerpts with Dmytryk. Though Robert Wise is best known for directing the Oscar-winning musicals “West Side Story” and “The Sound of Music,” he began his career in the 1940s at RKO working on such atmospheric horror films as “The Body Snatcher” and this tantalizing “B” movie from 1947. Lawrence Tierney plays a handsome psychopathic killer who meets a newly divorced socialite (a terrifying Claire Trevor) just as ruthless and heartless as he is. Extras: The trailer and informative and often amusing commentary from film noir historian Eddie Mueller as well as interview excerpts from the soft- spoken, 90-year-old Wise. The Narrow Margin. Fast-paced, exceptionally done little thriller from 1952 directed by Richard Fleischer. Two Los Angeles detectives (the gravelly voiced Charles McGraw and Don Beddoe) are dispatched to Chicago to guard a tough-as-nails gangster’s widow (a perfect Marie Windsor) -- who is going to give evidence against the mob -- on the sleeper train from the Windy City to L.A. The plot twists are clever and surprising -- no wonder the screenplay was nominated for an Academy Award. Extras: The trailer and enthusiastic commentary from Oscar-winning director William Friedkin -- “Narrow Margin” is one of his favorite films -- and interview excerpts with Fleischer. Fritz Lang directed this well-cast 1952 adaptation of Clifford Odets’ Broadway play from the early 1940s. Barbara Stanwyck strikes just the right note as a cynical woman who returns to her hometown, a small fishing village in Northern California, after happiness eludes her in the big city. The restless Stanwyck marries a burly fisherman (Paul Douglas) but soon begins a passionate, clandestine affair with a hotheaded movie projectionist (a sexy Robert Ryan). Marilyn Monroe also stars. Extras: The trailer and astute commentary from director Peter Bogdanovich with excerpts from the interviews he conducted with Lang 40 years ago. Susan Slept Here. If Susan Slept Here (Frank Tashlin, 1954) is a Frank Tashlin film you haven’t seen, an I.B. Technicolor print is playing the New Beverly on November 16 and it would be a shame for you to miss it. It may not be the most comfortable film that Tashlin ever directed, but it is subversive as hell. A satire based on the play by Steve Fisher and Alex Gottlieb, the film deconstructs Hollywood, the industry “image,” and playfully reveals the male inclination towards sexism, ignorance and poor communication, especially when it comes to romantic partnership. Made in 1954, it is still shockingly relevant, worth revisiting and befitting of discussion. The sexual politics that Susan Slept Here engages in and its gender dynamics are intentionally difficult. Everything in this film is meticulously chosen and painstakingly done, from dialogue and costume changes to Hollywood location references and character meal choices. One of Tashlin’s common themes is how clunky men are and how they should really “get it together.” This can be seen in every male character from the cops to the main character’s best friend Virgil (Alvy Moore). Much of Tashlin’s comedy comes from his mockery of men. However, this film ventures into much darker territories than Tashlin is commonly known for. Themes this film works with: the kidnapping of an under-age female juvenile delinquent by law enforcement officials, overt discussions of statutory rape, and a highly suspicious act of marriage (the term “child bride” is mentioned on more than one occasion). Many of Tashlin’s early live action films (he worked in animation previously) do not get screened as often as his later work. This is not because the films are not well-loved, it’s just because they’re just not as cotton candy-esque or caricatural as Girl Can’t Help It (1956) or Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957). While those films are certainly heavy on social commentary and media criticism, they maintain a much lighter tone than Tashlin’s earlier movies. 1952’s The First Time is narrated entirely by the unborn child of Robert Cummings and Barbara Hale who, as parents-to- be, spend the film exploring the “joys” of economic stress and more. Marry Me Again (1953), a domestic comedy, begins with the male lead getting drafted for the Korean war then coming home and almost losing his wife-to-be due to his inflated sense of masculinity. Frank Tashlin didn’t fuck around. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t care. A Union Activist and leftie, when the writers of the short story for The First Time were blacklisted, Tashlin decided to scale it back a bit. So he did and the films after 1954 got considerably lighter in tone. Filmmaking is a community effort. So as much as Susan strongly reflects Frank Tashlin’s style, it could not have existed without others involved. Susan Landis, played by Debbie Reynolds, is excellent, exploding off the screen. Susan was Reynolds’ first real major success. Playing Mark Christopher, Hollywood writer and Susan’s complicated love interest, Dick Powell displays a uniquely evolving masculinity that none of the other male characters show. Not always perfect and certainly not always the good guy, he’s definitely not the bad guy. He struggles and that’s refreshing. This was the last film that Dick Powell did before he moved on to directing and creating the television production company, Four Star Productions. The consistently brilliant actress Glenda Ferrell plays Maude. Her transition from Mark’s bored and boozy secretary to Susan’s BFF is magnificent. Anne Francis and Alvy Moore keep the film’s rhythm going perfectly and add the heat and comedy from scene to scene. This film is hilarious and this top shelf cast pushes it from good to great. Billy Wilder’s Sunset Blvd (1950) may have been the first film to be narrated by a corpse but Frank Tashlin’s Susan Slept Here was the first (and only, as far as this writer is aware of) to be narrated by an Oscar Statuette. The talking Academy Award narrative is a concept that is exclusive to the film. It does not exist in the play. Although Alex Gottlieb adapted his own play to the screen, I was unable to verify authorial responsibility for the Oscar Statuette. He seems to have had his own “life.” Why question the genesis of this? While the film is singular, the Oscar narration (done by radio announcer Ken Carpenter) is even more unique. Tashlin had successfully used this style of narrative in his previous film with the unborn child. His background in comics and animation would certainly have promoted this kind of quirky, offbeat and anthropomorphized character creation. I posit that Tashlin advised heavily with the writing of the Oscar character. From beginning to conclusion, Oscar serves as a fun narrator, either reminding the viewer where the story and characters are going or giving us a comedic respite from a tense moment. Oscar is more useful in Susan Slept Here than he probably is in most people’s houses. In Oscar’s intro, he drops a Famous Person’s Name and it’s really obvious . While talking about his history in LA, “the business,” and whom he was eventually awarded to (Mark Christopher/Dick Powell), he mentions Louella Parsons. In Gottlieb and Fisher’s play, Hollywood gossip columnists Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper are given equal time since they were both Bigtime Public Figures. But not anymore, baby. Hedda lost the tussle in the film version. Why? Louella’s daughter, the dynamite and groundbreaking Hollywood producer, Harriet Parsons, produced Susan Slept Here . Harriet Parsons was a hellova woman. But she worked for Howard Hughes at RKO and that was pretty much the worst. Hughes’ opinion on Harriet had been made crystal clear in one of his memos. The topic was a publicity event for Clash by Night (Fritz Lang, 1952), another film she produced, and Hughes was not in favor of said event or, really, any public knowledge of Parsons as an RKO producer. Apparently women really were “box office poison” in his eyes. “I don’t think that we want to accentuate and publicize Harriet Parson’s connection with any picture. I don’t think it helps sell the picture. I don’t think we want to publicize that any picture is made by a woman producer or director because this immediately places the film in some kind of freak classification and leads the audience to believe that it is probably not as good or as strong as a picture made by a man.” (File Memorandum, RKO Publicity, May 2, 1953) Hughes may have thought that people would run from a lady’s name attached to a movie but people didn’t and they hadn’t. Harriet had been in the business for over 20 years and she knew what she was doing. Susan Slept Here was one of the things that helped RKO from going under. It was made for a very moderate budget, and was the studio’s most financially successful picture in 1954. Harriet was significant both on and off set. She got Mom a small part in Susan and she was most likely responsible for the name drop in the opening Oscar statuette bit. Whether or not she was the one who called for the line in Susan that subtly knocks The Outlaw (Howard Hughes, 1943) is anyone’s guess. If you had been in a theater in 1954 you would most certainly have gotten that joke. To this day The Outlaw remains linked with Howard Hughes’ name as one of his biggest and most sexually charged publicity ventures due to the bra he designed for Jane Russell. But it also remains linked to his ungodly misogyny. There is a lot of material in this film that could be considered questionable, especially for 1954. The Catholic Legion of Decency gave it a B, meaning that it was “morally objectionable in part for all” but it still passed. Their issues were with the film’s “light treatment of marriage” and “suggestive dialogue and situations.” Then the film hit Chicago. Chicago considered banning the film altogether. Instead, they decided that Susan Slept Here would just be Adults Only. When Harriet Parsons heard about this, she blew a gasket and flew directly to the Windy City. In the August 10, 1954 issue of Variety she was quoted as saying, “This is tremendously unfair. I’ve never made a dirty picture in all my life and if there had been anything indecent or offensive in this one, I would have taken it out myself!” Upon being told that having the “Adults Only” tag might actually help the film and not harm it, Harriet said, “I don’t care to profit by a picture’s notoriety. This one can make out on its own. Besides, I’m thinking also of the neighborhood theatres where the adults-only label won’t make such a good impression.” Harriet Parsons was tough as nails and smart as a whip. When she made Susan Slept Here she was the only woman member of the Screen Producer’s Guild. Aside from Joan Harrison and the occasionally uncredited Virginia Van Upp, she was one of three women in the Studio System producing films, which was a rough place to be. But it was her last film. When she finished Susan she left to produce theater on Broadway. While there was probably sexism there, it had to have been easier than putting up with Howard Hughes’ bullshit. Susan Slept Here is a remarkable film for many reasons. While the film presents many challenging situations, it is the opening scene and its introduction to Susan Landis that is most telling. Her “juvenile delinquency” is the result of hitting a sailor on the head with a beer bottle because he was being untoward. The cops interpret this as criminal behavior. She is a criminal because she was trying to defend herself. Yet not every man in the room interprets it this way. Mark was in the navy. He doesn’t see her as having committed a crime. He knows what those men are like. She’s not a criminal. Mark Christopher is still on a learning curve but he listens to what Susan says even if those things upset him because he knows that he is not “one of those guys.” The entire rest of that scene, everything Susan says in Mark’s apartment about what men say or think or what they might do…should make you more uncomfortable than anything else in the entire film. Because it means that all of those things,everything she mentions may have happened to that 17-year-old girl. She knows all your tricks, men. She knows what you mean when you want to “put her in a movie.” She’s streetwise. So engage in this film. Look at it critically. Watch Susan and how she deconstructs the men in the film versus how the men try to understand her (or any of the women for that matter). Susan Slept Here is not a film to be ignored. It’s unique, relevant and particularly timely. Here’s to Susan Landis and her brutal honesty!