Make It Noir . . .
The vast majority of the time I can watch a film just like any other normal person. But there are two things that - should they happen on screen - cause me to fidget about in a most restless - and even twitchy - way. The first thing is someone eating a carrot. If I see someone on screen eating a carrot I just have to have one too. It’s something about the crunch that a raw carrot makes when you bite into it. The second thing is someone brushing their teeth. As soon as I see this on the screen I experience the almost irresistible desire to go and brush my own teeth right away. Again, it’s just something about the sound of it. The problem is that you never know when a carrot-munching or a teeth-brushing scene might pop up in a film. I suppose I could make sure to always carry a carrot and a toothbrush into the cinema with me but - let’s face it - that would be taking this eccentricity thing just a little bit too far. So I try to stifle these impulses as best I can.
But yesterday I discovered an entirely new third impulse. It all started when I sat down to watch The Dark Corner as research for the Amazing Genius Idea TM that I’m working on making into a short film with my cousin (it was, in actual fact, his Amazing Genius Idea TM, but I am sharing in the glory). I’ve watched other noir films before but either this one was different or I am now different because I couldn’t stop looking at the telephones! There seemed to be one in practically every scene and they were all so gorgeous! So deliciously vintage, so fantastically retro, so stupendously stylish! They were, in fact, fabulous, in every sense of the word. I’m not sure what it is about them that appeals to me so much. Perhaps it’s how solid and clunky they look, not like these silly, cheap, plastic, horrible phones we get today. Half of which look like some kind of mobile rather than an actual honest-to-goodness, real life telephone.
In the end I was actually finding it hard to concentrate on the film because I couldn’t stop thinking about the phones. They were there on every desk, in every office and even in the femme fatale herself’s house. So, finally, I had to pause the film, go online and track down a vintage phone. I would have dearly loved a genuine restored original, but they were just too expensive. I did, however, finally find a lovely replica on http://www.presentprovider.com. I promptly ordered it, and only then was I able to go back and finish the film.
It arrived early this morning despite the fact that I paid no postage whatsoever. Here is a picture of it - feel free to marvel, and to seethe with jealousy:
Seriously - is this not an awesomely cool phone? Is it not utterly perfect in every way? I think you’ll find that it is . . . In addition to a sudden urge to procure a vintage phone, this film also made me want to get a car that looks like this:
Obviously I didn’t go onto the Internet and order one of these because, um, I don’t want to blow my publishing advance all on just one thing, aha ha . . .
I was just losing myself in the fervent, hopeless desire to live in the 1930′s or 40′s when I came across this photo of an old hoover:
Is it a rocket? Is it a hoover? Who can tell? Either way, this picture made me remember why I want to be alive now in the glorious, prosperous year of 2009: it’s because I love my Roomba, and don’t know what I’d do without that industrious little robot to vacuum my bedroom every day.
