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Double Indemnity
Sep. 12th, 2010 10:36 amSo I finally got around to watching Double Indemnity last night. I know, I know. I'm not sure how I missed seeing this film, but somehow I did.
Other than the hideousness of Barbara Stanwyck's wig, what struck me was how much things have changed since 1944:
1. Everyone, but everyone, is smoking non-stop. Part of this is the film-noir tradition, of course, but it's not just villains or shady types. The camera lingers on the cigarettes, the matches, the very act of smoking, lovingly, reverently; smoking even becomes a minor part of the plot, a motif for character interaction.
It's simply not possible to have that many characters smoking that continuously, exchanging matches and cigarettes and cigars like that, in films these days. Even in films portraying the late 30s, these days.
2. Fred MacMurray drives up to a drive-thru – and gets a beer.
3. $30,000 for a house is a horrifying price – for slightly different reasons.
4. The film's insurance company is saturated with casual sexual harassment – not just from Fred MacMurray, but from everyone. It's not just that the women workers at the company are all in at best secretarial roles, but the men continually call them sweetheart, honey, and treat them with mild contempt.
5. The entire plot would have gone far differently had everyone had the use of pre-paid cell phones.
And how much things have not changed since 1944:
1. Insurance companies? Still evil.
**************
Sometime after the ending of the film the Grey One appeared from nowhere and leapt upon me in an ecstasy of affection.
Now, some of you are doubtless thinking, "How sweet!" I, a more cynical sort, immediately thought, "How suspicious!" It's not that the Grey One never indulges in affectionate gestures – she does, usually when she's decided that she needs to be scratched, right now. Said gestures usually consist of coming up to me, squawking, running off, returning, squawking, leaping on my stomach and/or legs and walking on them in a very determined manner, and rarely managing to quite settle down. Upon occasion, she does allow me to come up to her while she's resting and scratch her little head, and she's also been known to stalk up and down the bed or near the couch until I reach over and scratch her chin, at which point, she will stand firmly at attention until the chin has been scratched to an acceptable level, at which point she promptly disappears again.
This time, she flopped on my chest and began frantically rubbing herself all over me, flipping over on her back and exposing her belly and purring.
"What exactly did you do?"
The Grey One attempted to appear the picture of cuteness and affection and innocence. This is not necessarily something she is good at.
Nonetheless, I spent some time scratching her belly and her chin – really, I wasn't given much choice in the matter – before heading out to investigate.
Sure enough, she had thrown up right on the bed.
Just to clarify, she had a perfectly useable and more to the point, EASILY CLEANED bathroom floor just a few feet away, and no, she did not, as a point of fact, actually need to use the bed.
I glared at her. She rolled over on her back and worked on the adorable look.
Other than the hideousness of Barbara Stanwyck's wig, what struck me was how much things have changed since 1944:
1. Everyone, but everyone, is smoking non-stop. Part of this is the film-noir tradition, of course, but it's not just villains or shady types. The camera lingers on the cigarettes, the matches, the very act of smoking, lovingly, reverently; smoking even becomes a minor part of the plot, a motif for character interaction.
It's simply not possible to have that many characters smoking that continuously, exchanging matches and cigarettes and cigars like that, in films these days. Even in films portraying the late 30s, these days.
2. Fred MacMurray drives up to a drive-thru – and gets a beer.
3. $30,000 for a house is a horrifying price – for slightly different reasons.
4. The film's insurance company is saturated with casual sexual harassment – not just from Fred MacMurray, but from everyone. It's not just that the women workers at the company are all in at best secretarial roles, but the men continually call them sweetheart, honey, and treat them with mild contempt.
5. The entire plot would have gone far differently had everyone had the use of pre-paid cell phones.
And how much things have not changed since 1944:
1. Insurance companies? Still evil.
**************
Sometime after the ending of the film the Grey One appeared from nowhere and leapt upon me in an ecstasy of affection.
Now, some of you are doubtless thinking, "How sweet!" I, a more cynical sort, immediately thought, "How suspicious!" It's not that the Grey One never indulges in affectionate gestures – she does, usually when she's decided that she needs to be scratched, right now. Said gestures usually consist of coming up to me, squawking, running off, returning, squawking, leaping on my stomach and/or legs and walking on them in a very determined manner, and rarely managing to quite settle down. Upon occasion, she does allow me to come up to her while she's resting and scratch her little head, and she's also been known to stalk up and down the bed or near the couch until I reach over and scratch her chin, at which point, she will stand firmly at attention until the chin has been scratched to an acceptable level, at which point she promptly disappears again.
This time, she flopped on my chest and began frantically rubbing herself all over me, flipping over on her back and exposing her belly and purring.
"What exactly did you do?"
The Grey One attempted to appear the picture of cuteness and affection and innocence. This is not necessarily something she is good at.
Nonetheless, I spent some time scratching her belly and her chin – really, I wasn't given much choice in the matter – before heading out to investigate.
Sure enough, she had thrown up right on the bed.
Just to clarify, she had a perfectly useable and more to the point, EASILY CLEANED bathroom floor just a few feet away, and no, she did not, as a point of fact, actually need to use the bed.
I glared at her. She rolled over on her back and worked on the adorable look.
