You’ve seen my photographs of Penelope the praying mantis; now you can see Penelope from the point of view of Sarah, her guardian.
Juxtapose these images with my last three images. Yes, Penelope was quite the celebrity.
Photographs © 2013 by Sarah Stewart. All rights reserved.
Here are the same tulips about two weeks after the previous shots. The enlarged images are much easier to see, so be sure to view those.
Last year, I was disappointed by the early disappearance of my tulips, which I had fortunately photographed before they met their fate (q.v.). This year, my tulips returned and lasted their entire natural cycle. Here are three from this month:
For some reason, my first post of the year (at the end of May), is a photo essay about a praying mantis named Penelope whose guardian is Sarah.
It will soon be time to celebrate the New Year with song, and that song is invariably the one composed by Robert Burns, the Scottish Bard. To properly express our gratitude for this contribution to our lives, this ceremonious moment of our collective transition in Time, it is incumbent upon us all to learn the words of that song, Auld Lang Syne, and sing them as they were meant to be sung — with conviction (and with perhaps a wee bit of whisky or champagne if such is your inclination).
So learn the words (as the Cuparium has been reminding you since 1999), sing loud, and have a joyous, prosperous, wonderfully preposterous New Year!
It is time to congratulate myself for putting an end to my cigarette habit ten years ago in the ominous month of October. I have remained steadfast for a decade. I think I have reason to be proud of that. Just three nights ago I had a dream in which I was chain-smoking, but in the waking world I remain free of its enslavement. Cuparius.com as a domain owes its very existence to my determination not to waste any more money on cigarettes, so it seems appropriate for my annual self-back-patting to be recorded in its accompanying Web log. Hurrah!
This was photographed in July 2011. For a summer flower, it is strangely evocative of autumn.
This month, some of my flowers decided to make a late appearance. Once again we have the coral dawn rose, a red rose, and some honeysuckle. Owing to the weather conditions, they may not be perfect, but they are certainly welcome.
It would be easy in a review to spoil the fun of a film such as Fanfan la Tulipe by offering even the barest of descriptions of its plot. Much of the delight in watching it is derived from the simplest surprises, so much so that one cannot even describe how its titular protagonist, Fanfan, earned the sobriquet of la Tulipe without depriving the audience of one of the film’s pleasures.
Suffice it to say that Fanfan (played by Gérard Philipe) is a happy-go-lucky rogue, meaning no one any harm, who is merely minding his own business (i.e. having a tumble in the hay with the farmer’s daughter), when he is rudely interrupted and pursued by a mob with the intent of forcing him to marry said daughter. Set in France during the reign of Louis XV, it is a time of war, and recruiters for the King’s armies are working hard to replenish their ranks so the grand game of war can continue. This, Fanfan decides, is his opportunity to escape imminent matrimony, so he makes his break to enlist. Fanfan, alas, is not the soldierly type, but he is the swashbuckling type, and his antics are the stuff of legend against the backdrop of earnestly waged European warfare.
Being a French (and Italian) film set in France during a romantic era, there is, of course, l’amour, and it is naturally the prime motivator. Without revealing too much, the cast includes Sylvie Pelayo as Princess Henriette, Geneviève Page as the Marquise de Pompadour, and Gina Lollobrigida as Adeline, all three of whom are distractingly beautiful, and all three of whom play their parts perfectly.
Philipe is flawless as the iconic hero of the film. Whimsical, rambunctious, charmingly naïve, and disarmingly wise, his Fanfan propels the story like a charging D’Artagnan. To his credit, Philipe performed most of his own stunts — of which there were many — and performed them extremely well. (Fanfan la Tulipe is replete with daring stunts and combat scenes, and its carriage chase sequence is one of the best chases ever filmed.)
If the film were a triptych, the Folly of War would be the third panel accompanying Love and Adventure. Indeed, beginning with the introduction, the 18th century European institution of (ostensibly) civilized warfare is roundly mocked, and this mockery continues throughout the film with satirical depictions of recruitment, training, tactical planning, battles, and espionage. The primary antagonists, as all three elements converge, are Marshal d’Estrées (Henri Rollan) and Louis XV (Marcel Herrand), both of whom are played impeccably.
Fanfan la Tulipe is deservedly regarded as a classic of French filmmaking and the swashbuckling genre. In both regards, its greatness is undimmed and it remains a joy to behold.
Overall Rating: Great
Swashbuckling Rank: Great/Superb
The Flame and the Arrow (1950) was Burt Lancaster’s first foray into the swashbuckling genre. Set in medieval Lombardy, Lancaster plays the role of Dardo Bartoli, a man naturally inclined to live by his own rules, apart from civilization, and who, like Robin Hood, finds himself at odds with the authorities and ultimately destined to lead others in rebellion. The authorities in this case are the Hessian invaders led by Count Ulrich, otherwise known as “The Hawk” (Frank Allenby). In addition to territorial invasion, “The Hawk” has also encroached on Dardo’s marital bliss. Although Dardo has given up hope for his faithless wife (and indeed has no shortage of fair village damsels willing to take her place), the center of Dardo’s world is his son, and it is only when his son is abducted by Count Ulrich that he takes up arms. Further outrages, however, will force him to consider the larger scale of events and cause him to assume his predestined role.
The story is a perfectly suitable framework for a swashbuckling film, but there are elements that render it surprisingly unconventional. Our hero Dardo, for instance, is not a swordsman. As the title implies, he is likelier to fight with a bow (in which his expertise is unchallenged) or, if it comes to close combat, a torch or anything else handy. This makes for an unusual climactic duel in which Dardo apologizes for his genuine lack of expertise.
Lancaster’s performance is convincing and more complex than is normally the case for such roles, but there are moments when one wonders whether the screenwriter meant the character to be Dardo Bartoli or Burt Lancaster himself. One of the greatest strengths of The Flame and the Arrow is its creative and effective use of stunts. The fact that Lancaster and Nick Cravat (who played Piccolo) did their own stunts is a testament to their talent and training as acrobats. This is to be applauded in any swashbuckling film. The fact that there is no explanation for how Dardo came to master these specialized skills — skills so specialized that he is able to impersonate a professional acrobat and execute stunts before an audience — is a failure of writing or editing. This error is further underscored by Dardo’s spontaneous gymnastic routine later in the film. It is entertaining in its own right, but it breaks the spell.
Although most of the parts are somewhat simplistic, much of the cast is above average. Nick Cravat is well cast as Dardo’s mute friend Piccolo, who communicates in pantomime. Frank Allenby is effective as Count Ulrich. Robert Douglas is convincing as the foppish Marchese Alessandro de Granazia, the local Italian nobleman who defies Ulrich only when it comes to taxes. Norman Lloyd is darkly amusing as the Troubador (and imaginative with insults). Last but far from least, Virginia Mayo is quite engaging as Anne de Hesse, the beautiful and strong-willed niece of Count Ulrich. The remaining members of the cast are basically functional.
The Flame and the Arrow is not a masterpiece and not without flaws (halberds that fall apart at the slightest impact spring to mind), but it successfully introduces new ideas to an old genre without trampling it, which is a worthy goal.
Overall Rating: Good
Swashbuckling Rank: Great
