Monday, 26 February 2018

Humphrey Cobb to thank

Eyes Wide Shut is a pretty rubbish name for a film, isn't it?

It's like something I'd name a blog post. Just a mildly interesting turn of phrase.

It doesn't even have anything to do with the plot of the film. No, it doesn't, Stanley. No, it doesn't.

It should have been called Sydney Pollack's Day Out.

*Googles Sydney Pollack*

*checks spelling*

*checks he was in Eyes Wide Shut*

*closes tab*

*nods and smiles*

In fact, that's what it should have been called.

Nods and Smiles.

Stanley Kubrick's Nods and Smiles.

Stanley Kubrick's divisive swansong: Nods and Smiles.

It reflects the themes of the film just as much as Eyes Wide Shut. Especially the nods.

Eyes Wide Shut... jeez.

Eyes Wide Shut UP, more like!

Ha! Good one, me.

You can't shut something wide.

Doors can be wide open, they can't be wide shut.

Legal cases can be blown wide open by a new, crucial, piece of evidence. They can't be blown wide shut.

And you can't shut something narrow either. Even the negation is incorrect.

He had such a good track record with film titles up until then, too.

The Killing has a killing in it. I assume. I haven't seen that one.

Paths of Glory had a bitter irony to it, but I think we have Humphrey Cobb to thank for that (he wrote the novel on which it was based).

Spartacus had Spartacus in it.

Lolita had Lolita in it.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb had Dr Strangelove and some jokes in it.

2001: A Space Odyssey is probably Clarke's work.

A Clockwork Orange has a clockwork orange in it, in the extended cut that's just been released, partially filmed at a now-citrussy Beaverbrooks.

Barry Lyndon has Barry Lyndon is it.

[What? Yes, I am going to do them all. Yes, I know I've already made my point. Yes, I know I didn't include Killer's Kiss for some reason.]

The Shining has the shining in it.

Full Metal Jacket probably refers to some kind of jacket in the film. I haven't seen it for a while.

But Eyes Wide Shut does not have eyes that are wide shut in it because, as I said, that's not a thing.

And the sort-of-Kubrick A.I. Artificial Intelligence is almost giving us too much information, but that's probably on Spielberg.

I suppose he was probably ill, so he can't really be blamed for such complete artistic failure. The title of the film, I mean. Not the film itself. Which was only a partial artistic failure.

***

I'm not going to publish this. I'm just going to throw it on the pile of draft blogs that is slowly accumulating. I'm happy to include weak stand-up from the year 2000.

And then, when I have enough of a backlog, and the banks of my river are about to burst, I'll drop the whole lot of them onto an unsuspecting public, like a... uh... baker, who.... hasn't baked bread for a long time, and then suddenly reveals that he has been baking bread all along, and here it is everyone! And sorry that most of it is stale now. It's probably not good to eat - it's been sitting in the larder for months and months. And - what's that? Who am I? Oh, you've forgotten who I am? Because I've been gone for so long. I see. I'm the baker. Hmm? No, not a professional baker, no. I used to bake for fun. I was quite prolific. I'd do a farmhouse loaf here, and a Chelsea bun there; a massive baguette one week and a crouton the next. Did they taste good? I thought so, yes. Did anyone eat the stuff I made? No, almost no-one.

Almost no-one.

Anyway, here's three hundred kilos of mouldy baps.

It's in a big heap on your lawn. Sorry, I didn't have any bags.

And now the dump-truck's driving away.

I'll wave and see if he can come back...

No, he didn't see me.

...

...

...

See you later.

***

That's how it will go.

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