#Curt Courant

[byneddiedingo]

Gerda Maurus in Woman in the Moon (Fritz Lang, 1929)

Cast: Willy Fritsch, Gerda Maurus, Klaus Pohl, Fritz Rasp, Gustl Gstettenbaur, Gustav von Wangenheim, Tilla Durieux, Margarete Kupfer, Alexa von Porembsky, Gerhard Dammann. Screenplay: Thea von Harbou. Cinematography: Curt Courant, Oskar Fischinger, Konstantin Irmen-Tschet, Otto Kanturek. Art direction: Emil Hasler, Otto Hunte, Karl Vollbrecht. 

Classic space-travel science fiction, Woman in the Moon was hugely influential on movies up until the time when human beings actually began to travel into space. You can find its traces in everything from the Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers serials to Destination Moon (Irving Pichel, 1950) and Forbidden Planet (Fred M. Wilcox, 1956), and even into the space age in TV series like Lost in Space (1965-68) and the first Star Trek series (1965-69). None of this should be surprising: Willy Ley, a German rocket scientist who was a technical adviser on Fritz Lang's film, came to the United States in 1935 and became an ardent popularizer of space travel and consultant to many science fiction writers and film directors. Actual space travel made some of Woman in the Moon obsolete: the notion that the moon has a breathable atmosphere and a temperate climate, for example. But Lang and his wife, Thea von Harbou, also consulted with another rocket scientist, Hermann Oberth, while writing the screenplay, and got a few things exactly and presciently right, like multistage rocketry, the need for zero-gravity restraints, and the firing of retro-rockets to slow the descent of the ship to the moon's surface. But perhaps their most influential contribution is the suspenseful (and often hokey) melodrama of the plot. They invented the familiar clichés: the discredited scientist whose theories turn out to be right; corporate villainy and greed at odds with the idealism of the scientists; the romantic triangle heightened by the isolation of the spaceship; the unexpected but useful stowaway; the need to sacrifice a member of the crew to return to safety. Fortunately, Lang never lets things bog down in the nascent clichés, and he has a capable cast to work with. Willy Fritsch is Wolf Helius, an idealistic rocketeer who has planned the space flight with the help of the discredited professor, Georg Manfeldt (Klaus Pohl). Gustav von Wangenheim and Gerda Maurus are Helius's assistants, Hans Windegger and Friede Velten, who have just gotten engaged, to the dismay of Helius, who is in love with Friede. Fritz Rasp is the evil mastermind Walter Turner, who threatens to destroy the rocket unless Helius allows him to come along on the voyage to advance the interests of the greedy corporate types who want to get their hands on the gold deposits that Manfeldt has theorized are plentiful on the moon. (With his hair slicked back across one side of his forehead, Rasp has a surprising resemblance to Adolf Hitler in this movie.) And the stowaway is Gustav (Gustl Gstettenbaur), a boy obsessed with space travel who brings his collection of sci-fi pulp magazines along with him. Even today, Woman in the Moon is good, larky fun.

[byneddiedingo]

The Man Who Knew Too Much (Alfred Hitchcock, 1934)

Cast:  Leslie Banks, Edna Best, Peter Lorre, Frank Vosper, Hugh Wakefield, Nova Pilbeam, Pierre Fresnay, Cicely Oates, D.A. Clarke-Smith, George Curzon. Screenplay: Charles Bennett, D.B. Wyndham-Lewis, Edwin Greenwood, A.R. Rawlinson. Cinematography: Curt Courant. Art direction: Alfred Junge. Film editing: Hugh Stewart. Music: Arthur Benjamin.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (Alfred Hitchcock, 1934)

[entomoblog]

Harriet Creighton - Strange Stuff And Funky Things

See on Scoop.it - Insect Archive

Voici le second épisode de la nouvelle chronique "Not Just The Wife", [Pas seulement “femme de”] sur Podcast Science. Pour rappel, il s'agit des traductions des épisodes du Dr Kat Arney du Podcast Genetics Unzipped, le podcast de la Société de Génétique du Royaume Uni. Genetics Unzipped est produit par First Create The Media. Retrouvez Kat Arney, Genetics Unzipped et First Create The Media sur twitter (@Kat_Arney @geneticsunzip @FirstCreateMe). La traduction a été réalisée par Élise et Pierre Kerner et son incarnation par la jolie voix d’Élise Kerner. Cette seconde chronique s’intéresse à l’histoire d'Harriet Creighton (Épisode Originel).

  Par taupo, jeudi 9 janvier 2020

À l'époque, de nombreux généticiens sont perplexes face à un phénomène observé pendant la méiose, c’est-à-dire la division cellulaire qui se produit lorsque les cellules sexuelles sont fabriquées - les ovules et les spermatozoïdes chez les animaux ou le pollen et les ovules chez les plantes. Ils observent que des versions particulières de gènes, appelées allèles, semblent parfois passer d'un chromosome à l'autre.

  Ensemble, Creighton et McClintock parviennent à montrer que cela est dû au croisement physique des chromosomes, qui entraîne l'échange de fragments d'ADN entre eux. À Berlin, le généticien travaillant sur les mouches du vinaigre, Curt Stern, avait fait une découverte similaire, mais Barbara et Harriet le devancent de quelques semaines en publiant leur article dans Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences en août 1931, alors que Stern est en vacances.

Il s’avère qu’un célèbre généticien, Thomas Hunt Morgan, avait eu connaissance des résultats de Creighton et McClintock alors qu’il se trouvait à Cornell pour donner une conférence, et les avait exhortées à publier au plus vite. Il a avoué plus tard qu'il était au courant des résultats concurrents de Stern, mais avait décidé qu'il était peut-être temps que les difficiles expériences réalisées par les deux femmes sur du maïs, plante caractérisée par une croissance lente, méritent la vedette en comparaison avec les recherches exploitant les mouches du vinaigre, dont la reproduction est rapide, et qui récoltaient tous les honneurs en génétique. La carrière scientifique de Creighton atteint un point culminant en 1932, lorsqu'elle participe au sixième congrès annuel de génétique, qui se tenait à Ithaca cette année-là. McClintock donne une conférence sur leurs travaux, et les deux femmes organisent une petite exposition expliquant leur découverte du crossing-over."

(...)

  Streamez l'épisode Harriet Creighton du podcast Strange Stuff And Funky Things - 2020 https://soundcloud.com/taupossaft/harriet-creighton

[waste-it-on-something-useful]

Jean Gabin as Jacques Lantier in La Bête humaine (Jean Renoir, 1938)

Cinematography by Curt Courant

[dweemeister]

Woman in the Moon (1929, Germany)

By the end of the 1920s, humanity could envision a world where spaceflight might be possible. Several decades before that, the science fiction books of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, and others thrilled viewers with promise of adventure and the unknown. Also capturing that interest in space would be Georges Méliès’ film, A Trip to the Moon (1902, France) – even if you have never heard of this film, you may be familiar with its most iconic frame. A Trip to the Moon is one of the first science fiction films ever made and, for the 1900s decade, among the most innovative of its time. Though other filmmakers around the world dabbled in science fiction, the genre never truly took off until mid-century.

One of the few filmmakers bringing a sense of spectacle to sci-fi silent films was German director Fritz Lang, best known today for Metropolis (1927) and M (1931). Because of its release in between Metropolis and M, Woman in the Moon tends to be underseen and undermentioned. But, like Metropolis and A Trip to the Moon, it is a silent film exemplar of science fiction. It is a remarkable piece of entertainment in its second half, even as it wastes too much of its runtime on a tiresome subplots that involve gangsters and romance. When Lang brings his showmanship during the crew’s trip to the Moon, the results are unlike any other filmmaker working in cinema at that time.

Businessman Helius (Willy Fritsch) meets with his friend, Professor Mannfeldt (Klaus Pohl), to discuss developments over Helius’ plans to journey to the Moon. The mission was inspired by the Professor’s hypothesis that the Moon, “is rich in gold” – something that has attracted the mockery of his fellow academics. In the shadows, an unidentified gang sends a man calling himself “Walter Turner” (Fritz Rasp) to spy on Mannfeldt and Helius. More trouble comes to Helius when he learns his assistants Windegger (Gustav von Wangenheim) and Friede (Gerda Maurus) announce their engagement. Helius, who has never confessed his love for Friede, finds himself in an awkward romantic bind in the events leading up to launch. On launch day, Helius, his assistants, and Professor Manfeldt board the Friede. But their crew complement includes two others: Walter Turner (who threatens his way onboard) and a stowaway child, Gustav (Gustl Gstettenbaur).

Thea von Harbou, Lang’s wife from 1922-1933, wrote the screenplay, adapting her book The Rocket to the Moon. Just a quick glance through her filmography recalls a number of great Lang-von Harbou collaborations: Dr. Mabuse the Gambler (1922), the Die Nibelungen saga (1924), and Metropolis. She truly is one of the great screenwriters of early cinema, but Woman in the Moon is an underwhelming display of her talents. Von Harbou mires with its Earth-bound scenes, and Woman in the Moon reaps no benefits from its spy subplot. There is a straight science-fiction story buried somewhere in this overlong 169-minute film, but von Harbou overstuffs her screenplay with the potential sabotage of the rocket to the Moon. Never does the viewer feel that Lang’s astronauts are in danger of being blasted to smithereens in outer space or that “Walter Turner” will ever succeed in whatever murderous plots he has hatched. Isolated from whatever themes Woman in the Moon wishes to present, the love triangle that slowly overtakes the rest of the film always feels vestigial to this overcooked story. Compare this overwrought, yet underwritten romantic drama to Metropolis, where the relationship between Gustav Fröhlich’s Freder and Brigitte Helm’s Maria outlines perfectly the tension of their society’s industrial hierarchies and the geography that separates the classes.

Woman in the Moon truly defies gravity only after its launch and touchdown on the lunar surface. The cinematography team led by Curt Courant (1934’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, 1938’s La Bête Humaine) capture the terror of early spaceflight better than some of the more expensive American sci-fi productions would in the 1950s and ‘60s. The speculative lunar sets – which look more like Méliès’ vision for A Trip to the Moon than anything recognizable from the Moon – tower over the movie’s intrepid astronauts as they explore this lifeless (unlike Méliès’ vision) celestial body.

The screenplay, camerawork, production design, and special effects seen in The Woman in the Moon come from the most widely accepted scientific theories of the late 1920s concerning astrophysics and the nature of the Moon. Where some aspects might feel dated (that includes the appearance and breathable atmosphere of the lunar surface and the submersion of the rocket into water before launch), others are prescient. The explanation of how the rocket’s flightpath is so prophetic that it seems as if Thea von Harbou and Fritz Lang sat in on an Apollo mission briefing by NASA. Woman in the Moon also contains the first countdown to launch seen in a sci-fi film (yes, the launch countdown is an invention of Woman in the Moon), as well as a multistage rocket that jettisons parts of the rocket as it exits Earth’s atmosphere. Prior to launch, the rocket’s assembly in a separate structure before transportation out to the launchpad – where it will blast off to space. For a film released in an era that did not make much use of seat belts and Velcro, the utter violence and human disorientation of a rocket launch requires the astronauts to strap themselves into their bunks and hold onto surface restraints.

The frantic editing and startling cinematography of these scenes, coupled with the film’s undercurrent of distrust and ulterior motives, are a Lang staple during the most technically accomplished scenes of his filmography. It is there in the worker montages of Metropolis, the elaborate assassination scene of Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, and the horrific battle sequence of Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild’s Revenge. Those Lang hallmarks find their way late in Woman in the Moon, well past the point where they might have been effective in alleviating the film of its structural issues. Though Woman in the Moon might not be as influential as any of those aforementioned movies, Lang’s propulsive sense of action is apparent in the film’s second half. Like a silent era John Frankenheimer, Lang is in full control of the film’s tension – knowing when and when not to apply these techniques to heighten the viewer’s adrenaline.

Not nearly as a widely-discussed for Woman in the Moon is its final moments. The film’s concluding dilemma is startling. It precipitates into a situational solution that does not grant a narrative resolution. Are Lang and von Harbou attempting to comment on the lengths of selfishness, of the tension intrinsic between science and human avarice that can endanger others? Or is it more cynical of scientific discovery and technological progression than it might appear? Woman in the Moon wastes too much time on its romantic triangle before even approaching questions as nuanced as these.

However one interprets this, Woman in the Moon – more popular with general audiences than film critics and those noting that Universum Film AG (UFA) executive Alfred Hugenberg was beginning to align himself with the Nazi Party – arrived in German theaters at a time of political upheaval. Among the politically inclined, Woman in the Moon proved divisive: leftists derided its alleged Nazi subtext and the Nazis approved of this depiction of a technologically advanced, forward-thinking Germany. Shortly following Hitler’s ascendancy to German Chancellor in 1933, the Nazis banned A Woman in the Moon and seized the film’s rocket models due to how accurate its depiction of rocketry was. At this time, the Nazis, with a team led by Wernher von Braun, were deep into researching the V-2 rocket – the world’s first long-range guided ballistic missile.

Detractors of Woman in the Moon dismissed Lang and the film as curios of Germany’s cinematic past. With synchronized sound films all the rage since 1927, Woman in the Moon proved to be Lang’s final silent film. Today, the movie is Lang’s final epic, before he transitioned into a career leaning heavily on film noir. The scenes of greatest interest to silent film and sci-fi fans arrives deep in the film, after too many stultifying conversations and lovelorn looks from the main characters. In its greatest spurts, Woman in the Moon’s scientific speculation heralds a future beset by self-interest, yet heaven-bound.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[tvln]

perfect understanding (uk, gardner 33)

[davidhudson]

Curt Courant, May 11, 1899 – April 20, 1968.

With John Halliday on the set of Cyril Gardner’s Perfect Understanding (1933).

[lottereinigerforever]

Curt Courant & Jean Renoir on the set of La Bête Humaine (1938). Photo : Sam Lévin.

[lyslily]

Le directeur de la photographie Curt Courant et sa caméra au flanc de la locomotive « Lison » pendant le tournage du film La Bête humaine de Jean Renoir (1938). Photo : Sam Lévin

[manganic-malaria]

Le jour se lève (Daybreak), 1939

[byneddiedingo]

Peter Lorre, Leslie Banks, and Nova Pilbeam in The Man Who Knew Too Much (Alfred Hitchcock, 1934)

Cast: Leslie Banks, Edna Best, Peter Lorre, Frank Vosper, Hugh Wakefield, Nova Pilbeam, Pierre Fresnay, Cicely Oates, D.A. Clarke-Smith, George Curzon. Screenplay: Charles Bennett, D.B. Wyndham-Lewis, Edwin Greenwood, A.R. Rawlinson. Cinematography: Curt Courant. Art direction: Alfred Junge. Film editing: Hugh Stewart. Music: Arthur Benjamin.

The first version of The Man Who Knew Too Much  was Alfred Hitchcock’s breakthrough film, a critical and popular success that also established Peter Lorre as an international star. It was Lorre’s first English-language film. (He is said to have learned the role phonetically.) Lorre had made his reputation with M (Fritz Lang, 1931) in Germany, which he left in 1933 he had left because of the rise of the Nazis. His performance is perhaps the most memorable thing about The Man Who Knew Too Much, which sometimes feels slack and disjointed, as if Hitchcock hadn’t yet mastered the technique of seeing the film as a whole. Comparing it to his 1956 remake, Hitchcock told François Truffaut, “The first version is the work of a talented amateur and the second was made by a professional.” Lorre plays Abbott, the mastermind of a group of radicals who are plotting the assassination of the leader of a European country – the politics are the film’s MacGuffin, a vague motive that spurs the action. When Bob Lawrence (Leslie Banks) accidentally learns of the plot, his daughter (Nova Pilbeam) is kidnapped to prevent him from going to the police, but his wife (Edna Best) manages to foil the assassination by screaming when she spots the killer at the point in a concert at the Royal Albert Hall when a cymbal crash is supposed to cover the sound of the gun. Even so, there’s a lot of action left as Lawrence frantically tries to rescue his daughter while the police shoot it out with the bad guys. Banks and Best are a rather pallid couple – he’s given to “stiff upper lip, old girl” exhortations, and although she’s a champion sharpshooter who fires the shot that kills the assassin, she has little to do the rest of the time but dither and emit that crucial scream – so it’s no wonder that Lorre steals the film.

[meilas]

The Opera Ghost

The Opera Ghost a parody of this by meilas and @from-aldebaran, without whom this would still be a mess of chaotic, half-formed ideas With apologies to @glassprism‘s portrait Dashing and daring And not really caring About all the people that he just might hurt Dropping set pieces It’s Christine he teaches When he’s with her he is not quite so curt

Opera Ghost! Sneaking high and low around the stage Demanding the managers must pay his wage He is the Opera Ghost Angel of Music Behind the mirror His plans thrown askew by that insolent boy Fog begins rising It’s time for surprising He takes Christine through, it’s all part of his ploy Opera Ghost! Lurking here and there and everywhere Bringing Christine down into his lair He is the Opera Ghost! She loves all the pillows And his cape as it billows The way that he tosses his hat with a flick His arms go around her As his music astounds her She has to admit that he’s really quite slick Opera Ghost! Even in his fantasies he always knew He’d never walk with anyone along the Rue He is the Opera Ghost He brings down the grating His lust not abating He anchors his hands and sprawls for her gaze She drops all defenses And presses against him She has to admit that he’s got legs for days Opera Ghost! Then he has to go and blow it all By uncovering that bridal doll He is the Opera Ghost Christine’s a stranger When it comes to danger The Phantom is scrawling his notes on the page Girl please rethink this It likely won’t be bliss Christine is unmasking, sending him into a rage Opera Ghost! Look at him crawling across the floor Hoping fear will turn to love once more He is the Opera Ghost A Christine in pants Leaves us all in a trance But the Phantom’s convinced that Carlotta must go To assure Christine’s rise He laughs from on high While Carlotta begins to croak like a toad Opera Ghost! Creeping here and there and everywhere He told them Box Five was not meant to share He is the Opera Ghost Buquet’s end has come And Christine’s on the run Into Raoul’s arms on the roof up above The Phantom can hear them He’ll make sure that they fear him For breaking his heart with their cursed vows of love Opera Ghost! They will rue the day they did not do Everything the Phantom asked them to He is the Opera Ghost Red Death’s bedazzled The party gets frazzled When he makes his entrance descending the stair Crashing the party He thinks he’s a smarty Steals Christine’s ring, disappearing with flair Opera Ghost! Making sure that he remains the star It’s easy when you know where all the trapdoors are He is the Opera Ghost! Now Christine’s twisted She’s very conflicted But Raoul wants to lure the Ghost with his plan She rises to flee He tries to make her agree That the Phantom is nothing more than a man Opera Ghost! Dicking with the managers by sending notes Outrageous demands and then he gloats He is the Opera Ghost Within the graveyard He plays his last card Saying she’s far from his fathering gaze Sing out the trio In allegro con brio This is fast going wrong in all the worst ways Opera Ghost! Shooting fireballs with his pew-pew stick In general he’s acting like a dick He is the Opera Ghost Romantic, alluring Yet trouble is stirring When he takes his place on the stage in a robe Piangi is napping Raoul’s foot is tapping No one shoots straight and he escapes down below Opera Ghost! Yeeting poor Barbara out of his chair Welcoming Raoul down into his lair He is the Opera Ghost! Raoul is soaking And now he is choking The Phantom has Raoul on the end of a rope Pitiful creature That was Christine’s teacher She kisses his face and he cannot cope Opera Ghost! Disappearing back into his throne We’re pretty sure he’s gonna die alone He is the Opera Ghost! He is the Opera Ghost!!! BONUS LYRICS meilas: Opera Ghost Look at how he moves that pole Makes you think he’s got another goal He is the Opera Ghost Opera Ghost Look at him crawling across the floor Calling Christine a picky whore He is the Opera Ghost Within the graveyard We know that he is hard Saying she’s far from his fathering gaze Sing out the trio In allegro con brio This is fast going wrong in all the worst ways @from-aldebaran had this to say: "This was tons of fun--I have seldom even eaten a Gummi Bear and was unaware of/have never seen the possibly hellish cartoon whose theme song is the basis for this parody--and I would like it known that I, while simultaneously both proud and vaguely appalled, am solely responsible for the filthiest, most topical and au courant rhyme in the piece.  I blame ALW.” Romantic, alluring Yet trouble is stirring When he takes his place on the stage in a robe Piangi is napping Christine is WAP-ing No one shoots straight and he escapes down below

[etlunainmorte]

~ 1st May, 1884 ~

Sous le dome epais ou le blanc jasmin,

A la rose s'assemble,

Sur la rive en fleurs riant au matin,

Doucement glissons De son flot charmant,

Suivons le courant fuyant,

Dans l'onde fremissante,

D'une main nonchalante,

Viens, gagnons le bord,

Ou la source dort et,

L'oiseau, l'oiseau chante.

So, this was the song that everyone was talking about. The Flower Duet from Lakme. It does sound enchanting. It calmed your mind and filled your head with happy thoughts. And everyone seemed to think so, as well. You could clearly see the elated expressions on their faces from one of the upper boxes you and your companions were watching the play from. Act One in and you're fully taken in! The grandeur, the bright lights, and the flowers! Yes, the flowers! Everything was so enchantingly beautiful,...

Apparently, focusing hard on Lakme was the only thing you could do that one evening in May. Why?

You carefully peeled your (E/C) eyes off the flowery stage without putting down your Galilean binoculars and gave a sideways glance to the man sitting right next to you on your left. And, surely, for the third time that evening, you caught the man gazing at you, his cold eyes seemingly giving your senses the opposite effect and making your head spin.

You suppressed your little cough, shrugged your shoulders a bit, and pretended to sit up straight as you focused your sight back to the stage. And still, you could feel the man's gaze boring into you.

There was,... something truly different about the Duke and you noticed it the moment he arrived from London to visit you here in Paris. It's as if an intimidating kind of aura surrounded him with the way he carried himself. You swore you even felt smaller than ever before when you stood next to him to greet him. Or maybe it was just your imagination playing tricks on you? After all, you haven't seen the man in ten years. You remembered him telling you that he had some urgent matters to attend to with regards to the land ( far too massive ) and the titles ( far too great ) that his father has left him ( his younger brother inherited the lesser title of Earl from their late uncle, as customary ) and that he needed to go to London for them. 

Of course, your friendship thrived despite the long distance. The two of you continued to exchange letters, lengthy, in fact, about your daily lives, your etiquette lessons, his thriving businesses, your passion in the arts, the expansion of his father's land, your fondness of your family's little garden, and his hobby in music. And in these letters, he promised to bring you to London one day, to see his humble home, to attend both the Season and the Little Season with him, to bask in the rustic countryside, and to wander about the garden he claimed he has built just for you.

Oh, how your heart fluttered when you read those words from the man! And from that point onward, you waited for the day of his return. Everyday, you hoped to see him in your doorstep, smiling at you and sweetly calling your name,...

And after ten long years of waiting, he has finally arrived! But, there was something truly different about him. It seemed that London has morphed him into a different kind of person.

Gone was the boy who always skipped his Latin lessons just to play pirates with you. Gone was the little trouble maker who often has to dress up like his younger twin to escape his duties as the eldest son. Gone was the little man who always read William Blake's poems for you.

For, standing before you that one sunny morning, was none other than the man, himself. The intimidating, the tall one,...

... The Duke of Red Grave, himself.

Vergil Sparda.

As your sight jumped back and forth from Lakme to Millika, your mind went over everything that occurred the moment Vergil returned. During the last fortnight of his stay, he has graciously sent you gifts, taken you to Balls, has sent you flowers every morning, and has sent you poetry every evening.

However, despite all this attention you were receiving from him, you could not help but wonder why he still felt somehow absent. Yes, he has given you gifts. Yes, he has sent you letters. Yes, he has engaged with you but, somehow, it felt as if the Vergil you have known has disappeared. It's as if, suddenly, there was this man who barely actually spent time with you. To actually talk with you, to laugh with you, to exchange stories like how you used to. Simply put, he was always very busy. And now he seemed,... cold. Distant.

The Vergil you came to know,... was gone. That even though he was around, you felt empty.

You were still thinking deeply about it when you came out of the Grecian house of the theatre arts that you barely noticed it when the man took your hand and led you towards his own lacquered carriage bearing his symbol. And when you finally came to your senses, you found yourself sitting comfortably across the long - legged Duke, feeling your bottom sink deliciously amidst the deep blue velvet cushions of his luxurious vehicle.

"Y - your Grace?" You mumbled in confusion as you looked into his unfathomable eyes. "Where are the others?"

The Duke didn't even smile. Instead, he gave you a curt nod and gestured at the window to his left. "Dante and his lady are on their way to Morrison's. It's,... getting quite late. I must keep my word to your father that I would bring you home as early as I could."

"Oh."

Vergil didn't say anything else. Instead, he looked away from you and gazed at the streets of Paris outside the window as the carriage started to move.

As if those same, stoic eyes didn't stare at you for the whole duration of the play.

The thirty - minute ride back home was spent as unimaginably quiet as possible. Not that either of you don't want to speak to the other, no. It just felt like starting a conversation somehow felt awkward between the two of you. The silence even went so far that you could already feel your neck aching with the way you're forcefully focusing on the window to your left.

And, just then, when the carriage finally entered your family's estate, you heard the man clear his throat, making you turn towards him.

"Did you enjoy the play, my lady?" He asked all of a sudden.

Surprised at the question, you answered, "Why, yes! Yes, of course, Your Grace."

Vergil cleared his throat once more as he looked back outside. "Good."

When the Duke's vehicle came to a halt just in front of your house, the man swiftly opened the door, went outside, and opened the door for you. He took your hand and gently helped you step out of the carriage. By this time, the household has already settled down for the evening, with only the Head Butler left awake to open the door for you.

Then, as you were expecting him to lead you straight to the door, he turned to the right, forcing you to quicken your pace due to his wide strides.

Your dainty hand still on the crook of his left arm and the other lifting your long, (F/C) chiffon skirt to prevent yourself from tripping, you looked up at the man and saw,... something strange in his eyes.

Strange, and yet,...

... it felt really familiar, somehow. And exciting.

"Your Grace? I - is there something wrong?"

The man's eyes widened. He looked down at you and gave you a slightly awkward smile.

"Nothing! Nothing, dearest."

"Where are we - ?"

"Do you still remember? I used to escape my Latin tutor to spend time with you on your little garden."

Wha - ? "Y - your Grace?"

"Then we pretended we were pirates. I let you be the Captain for one day and we played and played, until the sun went down and my mother came looking for me."

"I,... ah,... well, yes! Of course. How could I forget?"

"Then, father gave me an earful. And Dante was so jealous when he found out I spent the whole day with you! I remember he sulked all day and didn't talk to me for a week. Did you know he has such a huge crush on you back then?"

You gave out a little laugh at the reminder. "Yes, I remember that huge crush but, I didn't know he ignored you like that for a week!"

Vergil chuckled. What's,... going on? "Then, when I heard you were sick, I borrowed Dante's clothes and knocked on your window."

"Yes, and nobody noticed it was you and not your brother. But, I did."

"My lady, how did you recognize me again?"

"You were carrying around your book of poems. Dante would never do that."

"Why, yes. Indeed, you are right." The man nodded.

"And I let you in because I was scared that someone would see you outside my window." You added. "It was,... such a huge breach of etiquette. Inviting a boy inside a girl’s room."

"It was such an experience."

"Yes. And it was,... actually quite nice. Being read poetry to you when you're sick."

"And I did that a couple of times. Even when you're not sick. The Garden Of Love was your most absolute favorite.”

“Why, yes, it still is.”

“Hmm.”

"You were such a naughty boy, Your Grace."

Vergil's eyes lit up, and when he looked at you, despite his facial features staying a little bit stoic and awkward, you felt something really warm within them.

Could it be,... ?

But, no. You decided to not let your hopes up.

Then again, the way he talked to you just now. It's as if the old Vergil you knew slipped through the very small kink of his intimidating armor and said hello to you once more.

It's as if somehow, deep within the shell of this cold man, lie still the soul of an old friend that you spent most of your childhood with.

And the way he looked at you,...

... it felt as if this old Vergil really wanted to be set free.

"Vergil."

Huh? "Your Grace?"

"I'm just Vergil." The man quietly said when you two finally arrived at the garden. "Please, call me Vergil." He spoke, not taking his eyes off you as he led you towards that old stone bench.

"Isn't it wrong to call you just by your name?" You asked him, the sweet scent of the white roses before you drifting to your nostrils.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Yes,..." You answered uncertainly, helplessly watching as the man settled next to you and took both of your hands.

"Not in my book, my dearest." He said, raising both of your hands and giving each one a chaste peck.

Just now,...

Did you feel your heart skip a beat just now?

The way he's gazing at you, his eyes not leaving yours. The way he held your hands, his own, big ones gently rubbing them. The way he sat next to you, his closeness giving you more warmth than you could handle on a summer evening,...

What,... is going on?!

"Your Grace - "

"Vergil."

"Vergil." You repeated. "Is there something wrong? Something you wanted to say?"

"Is it wrong to stay like this for a while?"

God! This is getting really uncomfortable,... "W - what I mean is - "

"Come with me to London, (Y/N)."

All of a sudden, your tongue decided not to cooperate with you. Yes, you were excited when the man promised you in those long letters that he would bring you to London one day.

But, now that he's asking you, why did it feel so,... different?

"I'm sorry but - "

"So, you will not go with me?"

"I will! I mean,..."

"Yes, (Y/N)?" The Duke asked, not a hint of amusement in his tone. "I told you in my letters. I promised to take you there with me. You said, yes. And, here I' am, fulfilling that promise to you. So, I will ask once more: will you go to London with me?"

You felt your heart doing flips, and you even had an urge to pry your trembling hands from him but, his grasp was just too tight.

"Is it just - ?" You nervously asked, fearing you might be wrong in your assumption. "Just the two of us?"

"Yes."

Oh, my God,... "T - then, I should tell my parents that - "

"Let me make this clear for the both of us." The man interrupted you. "Marry me, (Y/N)."

Were your ears deceiving you,... ? Just now, did he just ask you,... ? "Y - yes? I mean - !"

"What is it? What's the matter, my dearest?" Vergil asked, closing the gap between the two of you and leaving you no choice but to face him head on. "I couldn't help it. I have loved you ever since I've known you. And my feelings for you only became deeper when I went to London. When I was separated from you. You don’t have a single idea how much I’ve dreamed of this very moment. I want to be with you. Always.”

"Your Grace, I - "

Were your senses deceiving you? Or did he just press his incredibly soft lips against yours? Did your eyeballs just roll up your eyelids at the incredible sensation of his mouth moving gently and yet firmly against yours, urging you to reciprocate? Did that same mouth, which rarely blessed anyone with a smile, render you totally useless right before him? Did those same hands, that held yours a moment ago, and which started to move up and down your back in a soothing rhythm, hypnotize you? Did that deep voice of his, which softly moaned your name, just make you forget everything else as you finally held onto him for dear life? Did the way he uttered those three words finally move you to the point of surrender?

You never knew, and you never wished to find out. For there was only one thing in your mind at that moment,...

You awfully missed this man. This fiercely loving, unbelievably caring, and absolutely adoring man, who was mysteriously hiding behind his cold, cynic, and intimidating shell for some reason you wish to find out. You missed him too much for your own good.

And now that he's holding you, and loving you, and caressing you this way, you wished this sweet moment would last longer. You fervently wished for this contact to not end. Your heart longed for this man to stay with you forevermore.

However, as the popular belief went, all good things must come to an end, for just when the rhythm of his caresses started to change, he decided to stop. And this earned him a little, almost unnoticeable whine from you.

The corner of the man's lips went up in an unmistakable smirk, and just when you felt the heat creep up to your ears, he tipped your chin up to make you look straight into his darkened eyes and said, "I'll take that as a yes."

Once again, your own words failed you as you tried to let out a comprehensible argument. After what happened, how could anyone just say no to this handsome devil, anyway?!

"And now, I must make my preparations." The man said as he gave you a chaste peck on the forehead. "I will go back to London this instant."

"Wait! I thought you said - ?"

"I know." The man interrupted as he cupped your cheeks. "And I will be back before you even know it. As a matter of fact, you will never notice me coming towards you."

You helplessly shook your head as laid your hands on his, feeling the joy and mirth go back to your system after such a long time of this man's absence. "That's so Vergil of you, I guess. You creeping up on me and surprising me like that."

"For your information, my dearest, I don't creep." The man answered, clearly frowning at what you just labeled him as, but still not letting you go. "You should leave the creeping up to Dante, for I would only sweep you off your feet. Ouch! That hurt!"

And how could you not pinch him?! How could any stoic man such as him stay calm and serious and collected as he tell jokes?! It was so,... Vergil of him!

Oh, God! How you missed this side of him!

"You're so unfair, Vergil." You told him as you shamelessly wrapped your arms around his neck. "Leaving me for ten years, then going back just to propose to me out of the blue like that? You know you could've done that before going to London in the first place, and I would say yes. I would always say yes to you, Vergil."

"Forgive this fool for not doing it earlier, then." He answered as he held you, wrapping you in his embrace and pressing your body closer to his.

You hummed in satisfaction as you basked in his embrace. Burying your face in his fragrant shirt, you said, "You're so unfair. And mesmerizing."

"Well! We'll see about that."

"About what?" You asked as you looked up at him. "About you being unfair, or you being mesmerizing?"

Vergil smirked and inched closer to your ear. And with a voice that sent your senses to oblivion, he whispered, "Both. But I'm afraid we'll both have to wait until our wedding night to find out."

Even before his meaning sank, the man swiftly stood up and offered you his hand. "It is really getting late. You must go to bed now, my dearest. I insist."

"And you, My Lord?" You asked in a playful voice, matching the same degree of mischief that he has a while ago.

Vergil gave out a theatrical sigh. A very rare sight, indeed. "I'm your Lord now?" He asked, his eyebrow raised skeptically once more. "Anyway, to answer your question, as I've said, I would immediately go back to London. Probably to wake up the whole household with the good news. And make my preparations."

The little walk back to your house was enjoyable but, the parting proved to be really difficult. The man bid you good night and sweet dreams, and you bade him farewell for now with a forlorn wave of the hand. You don't know how long you'd wait for him this time around, however, he has assured you that he would be back before you even know it. And you trusted him, for he never broke his promises.

Until then, you would eagerly wait for his return. But, right now, you must go to sleep,...

... and dream of this one evening in May,...

... when the man of your dreams, your childhood love, the man you adored and waited for for ten years,...

... has finally declared his love for you.

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🌸 I hope you still remember this little prize of mine for you, @harlot-of-oblivion . Thank you so much for supporting my work! 🌸

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[bigspoopygurl]

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

“Tell her they may soon be leaving us. Leaving us for a long, long journey. How is it that Shakespeare says? "From which no traveler returns." Great poet.”

Director:

Cinematographer:

[mattszy]

La Bête Humaine (1938)

[davidhudson]

Curt Courant, May 11, 1899 – April 20, 1968.

With Fritz Lang during the making of Frau im Mond (1929).