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Author Topic: Film Trivia  (Read 9630 times)
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madupont
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« Reply #75 on: December 08, 2007, 11:53:25 AM »

Listen Up!  Microsoft has just discovered what a friend phoned to tell me their Computer Tech  has put up bulletins throughout their workplace that a New Virus gets into your e-mail and then sends you an e-mail which tells you that A FAMILY MEMBER IS TRYING TO CONTACT YOU

DO NOT OPEN.  IT WILL TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER. WHEN YOU START YOUR COMPUTER AGAIN, IT WILL DESTROY YOUR HARD DRIVE
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madupont
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« Reply #76 on: December 16, 2007, 01:22:37 AM »

Sorry, I put a wet blanket on the Holiday Movies. Nevertheless, I saw the worst that I can recall. Anbody know the one about Ben Affleck with an endless supply of money who buys a Christmas in his old childhood home, played opposite James Gandolfini?
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barton
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« Reply #77 on: December 16, 2007, 02:08:51 PM »

Saw a few minutes of it, surfing around on the tube (ABC?).  It looked pretty unwatchable.

CBS ran The Notebook last night, which tries to advance the plot concept that a woman who has always wanted to paint in her spare time will be thwarted if she marries a rich man who doesn't want her to work.

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"History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes."
harrie
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« Reply #78 on: December 16, 2007, 05:55:53 PM »

The Notebook is nothing without a pint of New York Super Fudge Chunk and a spoon.
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madupont
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« Reply #79 on: December 16, 2007, 06:13:43 PM »

Harrie, Did you observe fireworks and wedding, or wedding and fireworks, or wedding-fireworks?

We had sleet.
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jbottle
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« Reply #80 on: December 16, 2007, 06:13:46 PM »

"Dazed and Confused" is nothing without a bowl packed by Martha Washingon.
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harrie
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« Reply #81 on: December 16, 2007, 06:57:30 PM »

Harrie, Did you observe fireworks and wedding, or wedding and fireworks, or wedding-fireworks?

We had sleet.

madupont,
Sanity (aka the hubby) prevailed, and we did not attempt a beach maneuver.  And it's just as well, because the picture below was posted at 9:19, and our concert wasn't over 'til about 10. So we would have missed pretty much everything anyway.  I'm all about the fireworks, not much about the wedding and/or guests (though the list was semi-impressive).

http://www.westportnow.com/index.php?/v2/comments/18889/
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harrie
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« Reply #82 on: December 16, 2007, 07:03:24 PM »

And the bad weather held off until after midnight.  Here's the complete write-up, with partial guest list and totally non-juicy details, in case anyone's interested. 

http://www.westportnow.com/index.php?/v2/comments/18896/
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madupont
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« Reply #83 on: December 16, 2007, 10:39:57 PM »

Well, I never.

On at least this occasion,the Westportnow resembled the New York Social Diary.

I can't find a good word for this but, it is not that I am naive, merely that it still astounds me for a second, after which I immediately say,"Why,of course...." That's what you would do as a Weinstein Brother. Call the Westport Police and make arrangements for them to provide security. Wouldn't everybody?

 Factually, no, because it doesn't always work out that way. In this circumstance, no doubt the community police department's guys on duty get to enjoy the observation, maybe even a few social amenities, whether one may tip a police man is another matter entirely. You probably consult your attorney about that one;but, he,she, or they are no doubt already there as guests.

But seldom would the remainder of us do something so natural as to make this arrangement. Why? Simple. We are not one of the Weinstein Brothers.

I did see this unusual shot the other day of a wedding at Mary Pickford's, for a comparison, where she and her current spouse were hosting the wedding for a special couple that they. The bride was piquant, and she simply could not take her eyes off Mary's husband; a man on whom I had never laid eyes on before. (Please do not shorten that sentence; as Barton sometimes does. He catches those little details.)

Not only that, I had never heard of him before. But, when Mary Pickford picks them, she knows how to pick them.

I'll go see if I can round those wedding shots up.
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harrie
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« Reply #84 on: December 16, 2007, 11:06:48 PM »

madupont,
Weinstein had tents and thus probably had to take out a permit. Once you get the permit, you are required to get security/traffic control, depending on the event and/or venue; and the WPD (Westport, not Weinstein, Police Department) allocates these shifts, which are given out based on a seniority and rotation basis, to the ranks. 

But IIRC, Harvey would have footed the bill and/or any gratuities for a job well done. (Which, who knows, with discovering at least one crasher maybe not a job so well done, but the kid may have snuck in from the Fairfield side.) But tips are by no means frowned upon, and the cops do not come close to mingling. (I worked for the WPD for a couple of summers.)

Scrooged.
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madupont
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« Reply #85 on: December 17, 2007, 12:54:07 AM »

Not your usual line of work, I gather?

The situation reminds me of one circumstance where  the law officers became the unexpected crashers.  Long before I got there, but directly across from where I lived in Hopewell, I could look up to Highfields which Charles Lindbergh had designed as an air-strip for himself on a hill top which he terraced for the strip and then build a nice white brick house with two wings that gave it courtyard for the main entrance on the opposite side of the house from the air-strip.

After the fateful day that they discovered the baby was not in his crib in the morning, the law officers showed up including the guys from the state police barracks and Colonel Norman Schwartzkopf, senior, was in charge of what then developed.  They set up a communications center in the garage.  They never left. Long after the case resolved itself around a dead baby found discarded in a wooded area  along side the connecting road between Hopewell and Princeton; after the trial in Flemington; after the electrocution of Bruno Hauptmann at Trenton State Prison; the state police were still enjoying the premises with a butler still in attendance.

The housemaid  had committed suicide in a very grim way, after the police questioned her once to often up at the Morrow house in Englewood(Anne Morrow Lindbergh's parents' home).  Betty Gow the Scots baby's-nurse was retained as Anne went on to have another child; but it soon became obvious that the same kind of over-curiousity on the part of the public was repeating itself, following the car to catch a glimpse of the replacement child.

With the police showing no signs of leaving, it was finally decided that the Lindbergh family would leave the country, planning to resettle in Europe (by now Hitler is in power).  Anne takes children, there is now more than one addition so you can imagine the length of time involved in this stand-off  at their Hopewell home, and goes to stay with Vita Sackville-West, the Honorable Lady Nicholson, at Long Barn, Seven Oaks,Kent to get her bearings before taking up residence on a island off the Brittany/Normandy coast where, when the tide comes in, you stay until the tide goes out again (a bit like Mont St.Michel). Charles Lindbergh goes on to Munich; and nothing is ever the same again.

Ps. I still can not lift and print those photos from Pickfair....
« Last Edit: December 17, 2007, 12:56:13 AM by madupont » Logged
Donotremove
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« Reply #86 on: December 17, 2007, 12:22:15 PM »

Maddy, thanks for that addtional info about the Lindbergh baby affair.  I hadn't realized that a dead baby was found in the woods nearby.  Or about the police "occupying" the Lindbergh home.
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madupont
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« Reply #87 on: December 17, 2007, 01:54:26 PM »

donotremove,

I had to pass that spot everytime I went into town from Hopewell . There used to be an orphanage in the vicinity as well, on the other side of the road which has since been demolitioned, not a trace of it, but having read so much about it, I found that very curious. I had the opportunity, by living in hopewell for about three years, of being able to ask people questions,if their families  had been there a long time (like my friendly helpful volunteer librarian's assistant). It's a small town,with mainly such families in residence; but also an interesting cross-section of people who came from every part of the world and opened new service shops, etc.

There is also a strong Hungarian base to the population, which meant unimaginable Sunday Brunches at the Hopewell Inn with a pastry table of tortes,etc. which helps off-set the Porkholt hot with garlic somewhat stirfried with sauerkraut. We had gypsies, up on the hill beyond the Purina Ralston Company's family mansion;they were modern and they lived in apartments made from the rooms of the abandoned factory of PR company on the edge of the woods. I looked up there when seeking a place and they are definitely Hungarian Romany who were provided housing by the guy who bought the property, a real heavy of a slick operator who gives you nothing and was always accompanied by his hench-man, somewhat a dolt who moved  oddly; and you would swear that they were putting you on because they had seen one too many movies, where you get the Renfrew episodes of Dracula.  I  did this by the full moon by the way, which had risen before I was out of there (so I was quite content to take an apartment in the abandoned former newspaper offices that had been made over into dilapidated apartments).

People were investing at this point because there was rumor that the commutter line could come in if the railway depot was revived. Never happened. This was a fantasy of many people* who had left overgrown cities like Philadelphia or even New York (having found out by sheer coincidence, when visiting our swimming hole, in summer desperation; but then people have been coming out from New York,and Philadelphia to both sides of the Delaware River for their summer week or two off, as I mentioned to the Fiction forum posters Nathael West was in the habit of doing by staying in Frenchtown, up river from Hopewell, and crossing over to visit the lady writers: Josephine Herbst, who had been in Spain with Hemingway, and her lover Jean Garrigue,poet. That tin-pan alley song,"There's a Small Hotel, a wishing-well..." was written for Broadway,at the hotel that inspired the song-writer, just across river from the Papermill Playhouse in New Hope, Pennsylvania).

Of course, you have to remember, that before your time or mine, people had come streaming out to Hopewell because of the kidnapping (yes, that baby face down in a shallow depressed area covered with leaves was little baby Charles; they had to take him to Trenton for an autopsy to be sure of his identity, since it was thought that perhaps one of the orphanage ward's had somehow wandered. But Charlie was still quite young, though tall and big boned like his father. Mrs. Lindbergh never sold that property, once she had bought it. She passed away several years ago.

Incidentally, up where the gypsies live behind the Ralston-Purina mansion, from the driveway as you exit, there is a cemetery built on the slope of the hillside directly opposite. It rises parallel the road as you turn out of the driveway and from that vantage point you can see how easy it was to climb up to the house, in the dark since this was a country town, and you can also see that there is the lumber company on the other side of the cemetery on a parallel side-road. This is where the abandoned ladder was found, left behind below the window of the baby's nursery, within plain walking distance of the lumber company  where they had to use ladders to get stacked milled-wood down. And, yet, a trumped up theory was concocted to explain that Bruno Hauptman must have built this ladder from floor-boards in his attic, because he was a carpenter.  Quite openly, he did his swimming elsewhere, at Hunters' Point,northeast of New York City; it was one of the other German swimmers, and boaters, who left him the unknown about money in a wrapped shoebox to keep for him because he had to go to Germany "on business"; but this did coincide with the finding of the kidnapped baby's body. This little machter had the same uncanny bad karma as Bruno, because he arrived in Germany just in time for the new order and, when he ended up in a hospital because of tuberculosis,they disposed of him; more than likely in a closed van from carbon monoxide  which had become the custom.
« Last Edit: December 18, 2007, 03:00:46 AM by madupont » Logged
madupont
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« Reply #88 on: December 17, 2007, 02:06:56 PM »

Ps. about that asterisk in above body of post, "people*".

I can see how incoming residents may have gotten their hopes up falsely about not having to drive the commute to their city jobs.

After all, didn't Jackie Kennedy do that on a daily basis, she was practically their neighbor, up in Huntingdon County by the way (where Flemington Court House actually was and the hotel across the street where all the famous journalists and broadcasters stayed during the trial).

I'm pretty sure that I recall her doing that by chauffeur driven car taking her into the city where she worked for a publishing house, even if she did live someplace where she could keep horses and ride regularly. During the last part of her life, she returned to the 5th.Avenue apartment just north of Washington Square.  I always felt that it was somehow a blessing that she passed away before that  tragedy in which her only son was killed in a freak flying accident.
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weezo
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« Reply #89 on: December 17, 2007, 06:32:27 PM »

Just read through seven pages of this forum. Still interested in Christmas movie?

My latest fav is Polar Express. It is a nice movie, with great graphics and wonderful train shots that keep hubby watching.

An older fav is one I can't think of the title or the lead actor. Someone give me a hand. Kate Hepbern is in it, as the head of a tv research department, waiting to be asked in marriage by one of the big shots. In comes non-handsome what's his name, with a computer that will take over the jobs of the research librarians. It is set at Christmas, and such a fuss over gifts. In the end, Kate hooks up with the non-handsome what's his name instead of the handsome but reluctant swain. I want to think that what's his name was Gene something, but it's a wild guess. I'm sure Maddie can put a name on the man whose computer spitted out pink slips to everyone in the company on Christmas Eve.

I'm also inclined to like the children's line-up of Christmas movies/shows. I know all of them by heart from seeing them year after year. I'd indulge in them still, but, as I said in another forum, hubby commands the remote.

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