Westward Ho!

I never met a Western I didn’t like until I watched this film. Occasionally films have poor production values, or stilted acting, or a plot that just is too implausible, but not usually all at once.

Released in 1935 (originally in B&W) starring a young John Wayne as John Wyatt, this is the story of two brothers and their paths in life after the brutal murder of their parents on the trail (and the theft of all their cattle). The elder brother (Wayne) is left for dead while the youngest is taken as a protégé of the bad guys. As soon as he can swagger and wear a gun, John Wyatt commences his personal vendetta of tracking down and killing the men who murdered his family. The film is dedicated to a group called “The Vigilantes” active in the 1860s, and that’s exactly what happens, Wyatt can’t get funding for an actual police force so he assembles a posse of likewise wronged, angry and gun-wielding men to bring ‘justice’ to the area.

I wanted to start at the beginning of the genre, and here it is. The “good guys” (ie Wyatt’s Vigilantes) all ride white horses (I kid you not!) and most of them sing (yes, this verges on being a musical). The bad guys all have poor personal hygiene and frankly are not that bright. With the focus on vigilante justice and a moral code that makes it ok to shoot some men but not others, I found myself seeing parallels to the Batman origins stories. Batman doesn’t kill, that’s his personal line over which he will not knowingly cross, in Westerns it seems that the willingness to make that decision to shoot to kill and move on with life is what constitutes a man and it is just whether you use your power for good (killing bad men, men in your way, or anyone who cheats at cards) or for stealing cattle.

When watching older films it is useful if one has some personal sense of the period from which they spawn. This is not really a film about the 1860s so much as it is about the 1930s idea of the 1860s and possibly also about something that was topical in the 30s that the director thought might be discussed well by analogy through this story. I have enough understanding of most periods of the 1800s in Europe and North America to be comfortable getting half-way towards the mindset the filmmakers were aiming for. This film made me realise how alienated I am from the 1930s. I don’t really know what was going on, and I certainly don’t understand what was being said in this film implicitly.

The best things for me in this film is that many of the horses are part-Arabs and so are very easy on the eyes, and that it is only 60 minutes long. I had borrowed my Brother-in-Law’s 2 volume set of John Wayne Westerns to watch this film, I skipped the other 11 hours of films. Westward Ho! is sometimes listed in the top Westerns of all time. It might be a great film in the history of the genre, but it didn’t tickle my fancy.

Weather update and Plot Engine Drama

The storms have eased back ofter the mid-week catastrophe which was very considerate and allowed folks to start clearing away the stinky muck that flooded their houses, pushed over fences, and basically terrorised the place. I didn't know what a big news story I was living inside of until friends rang to check I was alive (thank you!), and then I started to notice how many choppers were buzzing around the place. I decided not to participate in watching the news, the mild hysteria at work was (perhaps uncharacteristically) enough sensationalism for me. Today is blustery (yay for laundry!!) and hot. Expectations about the storm du Soir (? am I making that up?) are mixed, some say just thunder and lightening, some say a bit of rain and wind. I say, it's poker night, and unless someone can get a clue, we'll all be heading off shortly (well, not Rumi, he cares nothing for cards) to get a swim and a good spot at the table. Once we're there, we'll take any storm as it may (or may not) come.

My attention is really on Edwina, Lady Kenthurst and the agonisingly slow process of getting her into a lot of trouble with Soames. I've put them on a boat, I've removed the protective male figure from her life (mouldering in a Belfast cell awaiting his death by hanging) and I've got 10 600 words and still they haven't met!! ARGH!! Although it turns out the Captain of the ship might be up for some trouble too. Saucy types, those captains! I hope it turns out this is great tension, but of course from inside the plot engine it feels like we've lost power to the main thrusters and are dropping away from our target minor climatic peak. It's hot in the engine room where my oiled men in loincloths are shovelling coal into the furnace as hard and as fast as their lithe bodies possibly can, but there's something gumming up the cogs and we can't seem to translate this sexy raw power into plot traction. The editor is screaming down the tubes at me "DEADLINE AHEAD! More words!" the inner critic from the bowels of the engine is heard, "I *told* you the beginning of the story was shit, and now look where it's lead us. We're fucked, and I *told* you so from the start."
"Keel-haul that traitor!" I scream and two idea monkeys shoot out to drag the bastard off. Fuck I've been wanting to do that for years. The last thing I need in a crisis like this is sedition within the engine room. I also make a note in my day book to check the correct formation and usage of keel-haul for use in the third act.
It's hot in here, I can't think straight. Why can't we turn away from the deadline? I wonder, but that's not my decision. I have an idea.
"Let's try mixing it up - where'd we store the typewriter?" The men give a cheer, and in lifting their arms in encouragement, inadvertently flex and tense their abdominal muscles. I'm swooning from the heat and the sight of so many hot fictional bodies. I can barely spell, but taken on a wave of hope and pheremones, we bolt the typewriter into place, re-route the production crank and set the ribbon in place. This could just save us...
The words start to come, the ribbon spools, the cogs begin to inch forward, the little bell tings and the carriage return shoots back. Yes! We're still in with a chance.

G'day, how the heck did August start so Early?

Well it's been nearly a month , actually a whole month, since i posted, and I can't remember if there was a thread going, or a theme, so I'm going to just start again from here. Hi. I've been sick and you can fill in enough of the blanks from there.

Great news is that the seedling tray little Sister gave me, some potting mix and the dodgy seed packets I've been carting around for over a year (half of them had expired!) came together in a small spasm of hope last Sunday week ago, and already many of the little blighters have decided to give life a chance. It's exciting watching the tiny stems pushing the husk of the seed casing up through the soil and into the air to wave their first two triumphant leaves in the air - proud and free!! How marvellous! The pumpkins have taken a strong early lead, and look to need planting out this weekend - what am i going to do with them now? I hadn't really thought that far ahead! The seed tray is great, I've never had one with such a good lid (I usually improvise and it becomes a bit touch and go) and the resulting moisture retention is fantastic. So far almost half of the seeds have sprouted, but some have longer lead times, so I'm not giving up yet. I did make a little map of what I put where (this seeding tray is massive, about 8 or 10 punnets!!) thank goodness (i did a little x-y axis charting hehehehhehehe) (seedling battleships!) but in true style, i'm not really certain where I put the map. I'm sure I'll find it by the weekend.

So that's fun.
I've got the banana lounge of my dreams - it's a plastic and aluminium folding number (also gratis from little Sister. She's very generous!)(actually she was going to put it into the tip! So I begged it off her) and it's had a few test runs and works *perfectly*. Still a bit cold to use at night, but has had some good workouts for weekend mornings and afternoons. I'm imagining the Stig laying on it holding an air-steering-wheel.

Speaking of the Stig, Audrey is really complaining about the cold mornings, and conks out on our short commute at the slightest pause (say, to change down for a corner). I'm being understanding, but the knob has come off the choke, and it's hurting my fingers to hold onto the thin little metal spike the knob was once mysteriously attached to. She started to shake this afternoon - a full body shake. That was pretty disconcerting. So not great there. Maybe a tune-up would help her? I wonder when I last sent her to the mechanics? I've been daydreaming about buying a muscle car, pimping it, and converting it to LPG and electric. My inner bogan and the inner hippy seeming to find common ground in an unusual forum. I'm not sure I'd ever put my money where my mouth is on that one, but a charger turned my head today, and I found myself admiring a well-kept and tight-arsed Datsun 120Y in cherry red in the parking lot today. Have I caught some kind of virus?

Also, the family obsession with Texas Hold-em continues to gather more momentum. Middle sister has, using the wonders of Ebay, sourced a 1000 piece set (easily enough for 8 of us to play) of poker chips, and now, the piece de resistance, the wild turkey poker table to do it all at! Oh the illicit pleasure of well laid felt, the satisfying heft of weighted clay chips, the joy at a perfectly pitched deal. *sigh*.... It's not that I don't want to go out anymore, it's that the cards are calling. Can you hear their siren song taunting and lilting as we speak?

Papa Bear has his birthday on Friday, and I am trying to finish knitting the bedsocks he requested (one down, and one a quarter done) before the tournament on saturday. You might think, that, having been ill I would have been finishing knitting projects off at a cracking pace. Alas, my mental and physical capacities have been greatly diminished, and many nights I have simply dozed listening to music until it's late enough to take my final daily medicines and then go to bed! How exceedingly vexing. Even watching tv is too draining. Consequently, I have had a bit of tv detox (always a very good thing), heard a lot more of the recent piano competition than I thought humanly possible, and got my recipe scrapbook into much better order. Living it up :o)

There's been some changes at work, but I'm not quite up to that story just yet. I'm sure in another week my humour systems will be patched, refuelled and back on-line and I can share the highlights with you then.

Until then, and as way of parting, I say unto you: "Batman". That is all.

More Poker Madness

My nieces were on Easter break last week and stayed with us at the farm so Sis2 could work.
Hilarity all 'round.

Then of course, they want to play games in the evening after dinner and before bed.
What do you think is the favourite game of the eleven and six year olds?

That's right - Texas Hold 'Em!

Yup, gambling teaches great numeracy skills, as well as process, rule interpretation and statistical likelihood. Not only that, but who to be a gracious looser, and in their case, non-gloating winners.

Little one had a bit of a tell though, when she had a strong hand she would say:
"I'm liken' *that* pot!"

Fold, fold, fold around the table.