#Harold Warrender

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Scott of the Antarctic (1948) Charles Frend

December 30th 2024

[giraffe44]

Conspirator, 1949, Is Playing on TCM on May 15 (USA)

Conspirator, 1949, is rarely shown on TV.  It will show on Turner Classic Movies on Monday, May 15 at 8:00 a.m.  This is the first film Elizabeth Taylor and Robert Taylor made together. Most of the anti-Communist films of the 1940s – 1950s are crap. No doubt about that. Thrown together they had preposterous plots emanating from the Kremlin to sap our national resources or strength. For example…

[bremont]

La promenade des Anglais ou Prom' est une avenue longeant le bord de mer face à la baie des Anges, à Nice. Son histoire, liée aux débuts du tourisme international, et sa situation exceptionnelle, en bord de mer, longée par des hôtels prestigieux, en font l'une des plus célèbres avenues du monde. Emeralds & rivers inside the emeralds. 😉💅🥢🍾

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[byneddiedingo]

Ava Gardner and James Mason in Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (Albert Lewin, 1951) Cast: James Mason, Ava Gardner, Nigel Patrick, Sheila Sim, Harold Warrender, Mario Cabré, Marius Goring, John Laurie, Pamela Mason, Patricia Raine, Margarita D'Alvarez. Screenplay: Albert Lewin. Cinematography: Jack Cardiff. Production design: John Bryan. Film editing: Ralph Kemplen. Costume design: Beatrice Dawson. Music: Alan Rawsthorne. James Mason was a handsome man and a very fine actor but he seems a little miscast as the doomed and dashing Flying Dutchman, especially opposite the earthy Ava Gardner as the embodiment of the Dutchman's lost love. It's a role that calls less for Mason's cerebral, inward qualities than for a swashbuckling ladykiller of the Errol Flynn mode. That said, Mason's presence in the film is one of the things that have kept Albert Lewin's romantic fantasy Pandora and the Flying Dutchman on view for so long, even giving it minor cult status. There's a gravitas to his Dutchman that makes it possible for him to quote Victorian poetry -- Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach" and Edward Fitzgerald's translation of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam -- without looking foolish. There's also Jack Cardiff's Technicolor cinematography and John Bryan's handsome sets to the film's credit. Lewin's screenplay, unfortunately, tends to the portentous and the pretentious, including maxims like "To understand one human soul is like trying to empty the sea with a cup" and "The measure of love is what one is willing to give up for it," not to mention purple passages like the Dutchman's "My mind was a hive of swarming gadflies, whose stings were my remorseless thoughts." But above all there's Gardner's scorching beauty, which transcends the absurdities of the role -- and her rather limited acting resources -- to make it credible that Reggie (Marius Goring) should take poison, Geoffrey (Harold Warrender) should send his racing car over a cliff, and Juan (Mario Cabré) should die in the bullring, all for her sake.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

"😓A misunderstood character is ostracized, perhaps even threatened, for their peculiar habits, interests, or studies" - this is gonna be v specific but like.... Drabble where vetinari and downey giggle about people gossiping about vetinari being a vampire? Perhaps? Pls?

Thank you so much for the ask! i’m not sure if this is quite what you were hoping for, but I hope you enjoy. 

--

Midnight and Downey hears clicking so he’s half-awake, then fully awake and thinking there’s someone in the room with him. He can’t see them but knows a presence when it is felt, only: he can’t move. The clicking increases, an insect-noise, as something prowls near his head and he does not wish to look over but does, because he can’t help it, and there sits a monstrous creature poised with stinger above his face and the weight on his chest holding him down reminds him of that one poor man accused of witchcraft, or was it being vampire?, all those hundreds of years ago who was pressed to death in the main square. The rocks they put on his chest were later used to build the base of the Brass Bridge. When you walk over them you walk over his ghost. 

And now Downey is awake. Awake and sitting upright, which means he can move, but he’s still seeing the insect so there remains whispers of the dream. It is a dream, he reminds himself, because he has had such before and, more importantly, he knows all the insects on the Disc and the one he imagined next to him is not one of them. If he is going to go and discover a new species it won’t be whilst half-asleep in the middle of the city. 

He rubs eyes, looks to pillow beside him and finds it empty.

Sinking back into bed he pulls the eiderdown up around his head and burrows in an attempt to reclaim even a shred of disturbed sleep. 

But it’s gone. His mind is already going fast-fast-fast there are so many things he must do as Term moves into exam season and holiday festivities must be planned and budgeted for and rooms prepped for new students joining them for Winter term after Hogswatch. Then there’s City Council matters and Guild matters and three jobs lined up, hasn’t he already decided he’s too busy, tired and old for this?, and then there’s the never ending social calendar. Which he enjoys. But, it can be a bit much. 

Bedroom silence is as maddening as his racing mind. He’s staring at the thin pool of moonlight on the floor. It’s autumn, so skies are a perpetual grey with only a weak sun to splash watery gold and pink across horizon at morning and evening. The grey continues into the night obscuring stars. So everything is a shadow of its summertime self. 

He is restless. His nerves are up. He has spooked himself and remains half-convinced there’s someone in the room with him. The presence, he repeats to himself, was the dream and the dream was made of stress.

He rolls around for a bit. Then, out of a sense of paranoia, he retrieves a blade from between mattress and headboard, and prowls about his room but finds nothing and neither do Alsace nor Harold. He ought to be content if not pleased.

Fear is an anathema to him. One of the first rules of performing assassin is knowing that you are the most dangerous thing that walks the streets. And if you don’t know it in yourself, for certain, then at least exude it to others. Smoke and mirrors &tc. 

One autumn, as a boy of seven, he developed a deep fear of vampires. They can turn into mist, slide into bedrooms through keyholes and hide under the bed or in the closet. They drink your blood and make you one of them whether you wish it or not. 

The fear left him as he grew up. At first, because he learned how to kill them. Then, later, he met a few, became friends or an approximation of friends, with a few. Olivia Hunter, one example, said, it’s being damned for a sin you’ve no part in. People look and say ‘We know your kind’ when they know nothing of anything. What is my kind? Genuan? Black? Woman? Secretary? Vampire? Omnian? 

And that’s a sentiment he understands, was raised to understand, for his grandmother would talk about the bad old days in Brindisi when she was a girl and they had to leave, which happens sometimes, because people decide they know your kind and whatever it is, it’s unwanted. 

He dresses. Alsace and Harold become very excited at this sudden change in events. As always, he takes a circuitous route through the city to the palace. He weaves through alleys, up and down stairs and closes, trots this way and that across streets. For a time, he loiters on the Brass Bridge and peers at different stones. The foundation stone’s date has worn away with time so when you trace fingers over it there is only the merest indentation. Was this the stone that finally killed that man all those years ago? He’s never seen a witch stoning and has no desire to. There are some violences and brutalities that go too far. 

The palace is shades of moth-wing grey. Downey slips in between shadows and up to the patrician’s bedroom where, as expected, Vetinari is up. The man is seated at his desk half-dressed with robe wrapped around him and a blanket over shoulders. 

‘Have you considered a brazier?’ Downey asks upon entrance. Vetinari flicks a look at him. ‘It would help with your consistent lack of heating.’ 

‘I am quite content, Downey. If the temperature was comfortable people might wish to stay.’ 

Downey feigns offence. He drapes himself across the bed and stares up at canopy. Alsace and Harold make themselves at home by the meager fire next to Mr. Fusspot who remains unphased by the sudden presence of dogs easily three times his size. He snores on in peaceful slumber. 

‘May I be of assistance?’ Vetinari’s voice drifts over coupled with the ruffle of paper. 

‘Oh no, you’re fine.’ 

‘Is there a reason you’re here?’ 

‘Must there always be a motive for my coming? I had a desire to be mildly chilled and to stare up at your canopy.’ 

Vetinari makes a noise, a scoff or snort. Downey smiles at the fabric above him. 

‘We didn’t have plans,’ Vetinari says, quietly, to himself and his desk. Downey does not respond. Vetinari’s penchant for exact order crops up time to time. They are both men with strong affinity for order, but applied in very different areas of their lives. 

Downey orders butterflies and beetles and natural and manmade poisons. He also orders accounts, aligns the debit-credit column of the guild, his wardrobe, his drinks cabinet. He does not order his personal life. He doesn’t need to, Vetinari orders it for him. 

‘You know,’ Downey drawls as a thought occurs. ‘Your desire to have cold rooms and no creature comforts is probably why people think you’re a vampire.’ 

A cough from the direction of the window. 

Downey props himself up and looks over. ‘Tolerant of extreme temperatures? Lack of expected, human reactions to circumstances? Patience of a rock? Never seen sleeping?’ 

‘You have seen me sleep.’ A lofty, disinterested expression, ‘and you can attest to my ability to react appropriately in certain, ah, circumstances.’ 

It’s a lascivious grin on Downey’s face. Vetinari tells him that he is being lewd. Downey replies that he is not being lewd at all. Vetinari says, ‘very well, your face is making lewd insinuations.’ Downey begs his pardon with great animation, delighting in the other man’s long suffering sigh. He delights in most things Vetinari does, including his more obsessive ticks. It’s a pleasure to know there’s someone who won’t judge you for talking to your plants and will understand the extreme stress of holding one’s tongue when someone is wrong about biology in public. Which happens with great regularity. 

A huff, Vetinari decants from his desk to the bed where Downey, who has pried boots off and deposited cloak, scarf, hat, gloves, frock, and so on, on the floor, happily scoots beneath covers. 

‘And you have very cold hands,’ Downey continues. 

Vetinari snorts, ‘the people of this great city really have nothing better to do than speculate upon my supposed inhumanity?’ 

‘I think it’s an improvement over their wildly inaccurate speculations about your manhood.’ 

Vetinari’s face is a portrait. Downey kisses it. 

He continues, ‘I would correct them, of course. But that would cause more grief than it’s worth. Now, you as a vampire on the other hand, I can see their reasoning.’ 

‘I’ve eaten food in public. I drink…wine.’ 

Downey snorts, ‘Mr. Warrender at the Cloak and Dagger believes it all to be an elaborate ruse.’ 

‘I see,’

‘He was going on about this the other night,’ Downey begins plucking at Vetinari’s robe which he considers an affront as it is another layer of clothing to take off. ‘I think he managed to make a few converts to his cause. He says that he’s never seen you handle coin before therefore you’re avoiding silver. You don’t attend religious ceremonies because of holy ground. Your robe is annoying me deeply. And you rarely go out, uncovered, in daylight due to discomfort in the sun.’ 

‘I’m not sure Mr. Warrender would have any opinion on my robe. Downey, I’m quite busy tonight.’ 

‘Yes, I’m here now. Your metaphorical dance card is full for the remainder of the evening.’ 

Vetinari stares. Downey stares back. Vetinari opens his mouth to reply, apparently reconsiders it, and sighs. Downey kisses him again as it seems the right course of action. 

Downey rolls Vetinari over to his back, snaking a hand beneath robe, down, pulling up nightshift beneath. Vetinari liftst hips to allow the clothes to be hitched up, ‘why are you here, Downey?’ 

Downey raises an eyebrow. Looks down at their bodies then back up.

‘That’s not why you’re here. This is a symptom, not the cause.’ 

‘I dislike that. Being associated with disease isn’t something I enjoy, but I’ll save my annoyance for tomorrow. I was awake and restless.’ 

‘Right.’ A beat. ‘My apologies.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Downey hums. He cannot think how to explain: I had a dream and spooked myself. So he chooses not to. He continues with vague answers and determined exploration of Vetinari’s body, a boney, you’re-a-bit-of-a-shut-in sort of experience. Being opposites in most regards, Vetinari has nothing spare, all strung together with skin and only the amount of muscle needed to operate a body compared to Downey’s more, as he puts it to himself, comfortable, frame.  

As teenagers, therefore posturing with great energy and determination, Vetinari once said: I’m an aesthete. Downey hadn’t been entirely sure what an aesthete was so made some general scag-dog-botherer related insult and went off to ask Ludo what it meant. Ludo explained asceticism with a wry expression. Downey then spent the remainder of the day mocking Vetinari for being a nerdy prat. 

Downey thinks that to be fair to sixteen-year-old Vetinari the young man hadn’t been wrong. He was, and is, very much an aesthete. But, Downey adds on, he was also a nerdy prat. 

Not that he, himself, was a joy and pleasure to be around at that age. Eleven to five-and-twenty, he thinks, those are terrible years where no one is at their best.  

Vetinari scoops an arm around Downey’s neck and leans up, pressing their mouths together. ‘Would you still be here if I was a vampire?’ 

‘Yes. Though, there’d be very strict boundaries.’ 

‘Naturally.’ 

‘’I’ve no desire for immortality. The one thing I wonder is,’ Downey settles on his side. ‘Would you still be you if you were one? It’s a rude question so I haven’t asked anyone I know.’ 

Vetinari shrugs. How does never dying change a person? How does not tasting, not needing sleep, not bodily changing, shape an individual? Would that change be any different from the normal changes all people go through as life forms them forever into something new? 

Neither choose to answer the questions. Downey figures they were rhetorical more than anything. But even if they weren’t, he has no answer. He likes his humanity. He’s content with being merely mortal. There is a thrill to life that he thinks wouldn’t be there if you knew you weren’t going to die. Pleasures would lose their meaning. He likes luscious fox fur, richly patterned cambric, heavy brocades because he knows they are his but for a limited time. When he dies they’ll be of no use save to cover the body until it’s cremated. But doesn’t that limitation of enjoyment make it all the sweeter? There will be a finite end to champagne and oysters and music and dancing and gold and silver. 

But as a vampire, at least with regards to the clothing and objects, you would have it forever. One fades, buy another. 

Perhaps they find meaning in other things less worldly than clothes and beautiful things. 

What a terrible concept. 

‘You had a mistress who was one, didn’t you?’ Downey asks. 

‘Mistress,’ Vetinari’s bemused by the word. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ 

‘What was her view?’ 

‘On how she was before? She didn’t speak of it much, but I think she takes the long view of things. So time is both fast and slow. She said that because relations with humans are so fleeting she found them more precious.’ 

Downey pulls a face. See, finding meaning in less worldly things. Vetinari flashes a smile, returns to his usual impassive self. 

‘I don’t think it’s life that would suit you, Downey.’ 

‘I’d have to become philosophical, which is a horror. I would be required to place value in things other than material wealth. Absolutely terrible.’ 

Vetinari props himself up on an elbow and takes to considering Downey’s face with great intent. Downey looks away. He frets that Vetinari is going to say something about him being more than what he intends himself to be. Which Vetinari tends to do because he enjoys telling Downey home-truths. 

Life delivers. Vetinari says, ‘I think you hold things beyond material wealth as important. A limited amount,’ he amends. ‘Perhaps a very limited amount. But nonetheless, they exist.’ 

This is too much, Downey can feel a flush crawling up his chest and neck so leans up, gives a messy kiss, then rolls over in search of his clothes. He says he should go back to the Guild. It’s late, he has much to do in the morning. Vetinari sits up and watches him dress. Downey swans about, makes it a bit of a theatrical moment, then the final flourish, he places his hat on. 

‘I will see you tomorrow,’ Downey says. 

‘You will. Or today, as the case may be. We are well into the small hours.’ 

At the door Downey pauses. Behind him is the sound of Vetinari dressing. The shift of linens, bare feet on soft, wooden floors. 

‘I don’t think it would be a life that suits you either,’ Downey says to the doorframe. His palm rests flat against it, a profile to Vetinari’s line of sight. 

‘Immortality, or vampirism in particular?’ 

‘Both.’ Or maybe, Downey doesn’t think, he wishes to believe that for his own sake. He doesn’t like to think of Vetinari going on, existing as some lonesome, grey rock in the midst of human life for any longer than he already has. 

‘Possibly. Quite possibly you’re very right.’ 

Downey sucks in a breath through teeth then, because he enjoys hurdling head first off cliffs from time to time, ‘I’m glad things are working out, you know. Between us. Despite the fact that you’re a nerdy prat, Dog-botherer.’ 

He’s gone before Vetinari can reply though he imagines he heard a soft exhale of a laugh. One of those dry ones Vetinari gives when amused but feeling many things at the same time. It’s a ghost of a sound and follows Downey through streets homeward. He wishes to remember it forever.

[statguypaul]

Brief Review: Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951)

Rated the film 3.5 stars out of 5. By far, the best part of this motion picture is Jack Cardiff’s cinematography, brilliantly capturing the many bright colours on display, be they in the sets, the costumes, or in the beautiful face of Ava Gardner, arguably this film the best at capturing her dazzling pulchritude. James Mason counters her relatively talkative character with many moments of stoicism and quiet poetry recitations, briefly engaging in a powerful monologue in flashback, both scene types showing his incredible acting skills. Secondary characters portrayed by Nigel Patrick, Harold Warrender, and Mario Cabré help move the plot along, but the film belongs to Gardner and Mason, playing off each other to enhance both of their performances, and that camerawork by Cardiff. Surprisingly, he did not receive any nominations for his work, but with the film later recognized on the 1001 Films to See Before You Die list for equal parts artistic thought stimulation and multicoloured cinemagic, it is a film not to be missed. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0043899/

[thepeoplesmovies]

Win StudioCanal Vintage Classic Scott Of Antarctic On Blu-ray

Win StudioCanal Vintage Classic Scott Of Antarctic On Blu-ray

On Monday 6th June Studiocanal will release the new DVD, Blu-Ray and EST release of Ealing Studios classic Scott Of The Antarctic, beautifully restored in 2K and for the first time ever from a Technicolor 3 strip negative.

Based on the real life adventures of Robert Falcon Scott and his fellow explorers Scott Of The Antarctictells the story of the infamous but ill-fated 1912 expedition – a race…

[giraffe44]

Conspirator, 1949, Is Playing on TCM on January 21 (USA)

Conspirator, 1949, Is Playing on TCM on January 21 (USA)

Conspirator, 1949, is rarely shown on TV.   The movie will be playing on Turner Conspirator, 1949, is rarely shown on TV,  although it was in March.   The movie will be playing on Turner Classic Movies on Thursday, April 12 at 10:45 a.m.  Closed captioned.  This is the first film Elizabeth Taylor and Robert Taylor made together.Classic Movies on Friday, January 21 at 8:15 a.m.  This is the first…

[bryancroidragon]

People say Russell Crowe was too old to play Robin Hood?

I don't hear anyone complaining about Sean Connery (46, same age as Crowe when he played Robin Hood) or Harold Warrender (49). So why complain about Crowe?

[movies-derekwinnert]

Where No Vultures Fly [Ivory Hunter] *** (1951, Anthony Steel, Dinah Sheridan, Harold Warrender) - Classic Movie Review 9798

Where No Vultures Fly [Ivory Hunter] *** (1951, Anthony Steel, Dinah Sheridan, Harold Warrender) – Classic Movie Review 9798

Director Harry Watt’s 1951 Where No Vultures Fly [Ivory Hunter] is based on Watt’s own story, with a screenplay by W P Lipscomb, Ralph Smart and Leslie Norman.

Anthony Steel and Dinah Sheridan star effectively as Bob Payton, the East African national park game warden of Mount Kilimanjaro Game Reserve, and his wife Mary Payton, in this sharp and swift-as-an-arrow, brisk, realist-style Ealing…

[giraffe44]

Conspirator, 1949, Is Playing on Thursday April 12 (USA)

Conspirator, 1949, Is Playing on Thursday April 12 (USA)

Conspirator, 1949, is rarely shown on TV, although it was in March.   The movie will be playing on Turner Classic Movies on Thursday, April 12 at 10:45 a.m.  Closed captioned.  This is the first film Elizabeth Taylor and Robert Taylor made together.

Most of the anti-Communist films of the 1940s – 1950s are crap. No doubt about that. Thrown together they had preposterous plots emanating from the…

[eanpue-blog]

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman Film

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman movie download

Actors:

John Laurie Marius Goring Harold Warrender Mario Cabré Ava Gardner Nigel Patrick Pamela Mason Sheila Sim James Mason

Download Pandora and the Flying Dutchman

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