tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21664638196955989382024-03-26T09:20:38.830+00:00Volcano CatVolcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-59206308190379652052024-03-24T02:44:00.001+00:002024-03-24T02:44:18.338+00:00The James Bond AI Challenge - Part Five<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_JBWrJDpwGidkGAxor3qdkR9VyFbpVcObruI__ANeA61E9BShRz4tD4BlPZTIPLVgAzbFC8eCqiYvXjJqRQzih47W-9dayZBhsqaWQdk8diwjAQSft4TJSt79w8tBxrKISejRns5b1kCeyuFaN8ALOEUIQEwwJBOpvDpN6XXRI-qHUHo19ynn1SA0r0/s1024/TITLE%20PART%20FIVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_JBWrJDpwGidkGAxor3qdkR9VyFbpVcObruI__ANeA61E9BShRz4tD4BlPZTIPLVgAzbFC8eCqiYvXjJqRQzih47W-9dayZBhsqaWQdk8diwjAQSft4TJSt79w8tBxrKISejRns5b1kCeyuFaN8ALOEUIQEwwJBOpvDpN6XXRI-qHUHo19ynn1SA0r0/w640-h640/TITLE%20PART%20FIVE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Yes, here we go for the fifth - and last part of our AI Bondy-Challengy thing. Y. We started at the beginning with 'Dr.No' and we'll end with the <i>not at all </i>controversial 'No Time To Die'. As we speak - or rather type, rumors are flying around of a new Actor to fill the role, so hopefully we won't have to wait too long before a fresh movie comes along we can all love/hate/both! </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tWgZYBfN5zSFkLNaCWRvMxfuBZwl_tEDAbw8g2akGykpFG7E2q5oOJi5Rakj8znBZJ-La55AI7Rbb2m81Kv0k7bLbCVnb9XCdwIMTuqZmlx3ckVCVYjzgABUjyfHAr1s562ZRtwanIzU5llytQaZHhlfGbzFdt9ys49OL7aKNRKAfyA10DJnjEBLfnQ/s1024/CASINO%20ROYALE%20REDUX.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tWgZYBfN5zSFkLNaCWRvMxfuBZwl_tEDAbw8g2akGykpFG7E2q5oOJi5Rakj8znBZJ-La55AI7Rbb2m81Kv0k7bLbCVnb9XCdwIMTuqZmlx3ckVCVYjzgABUjyfHAr1s562ZRtwanIzU5llytQaZHhlfGbzFdt9ys49OL7aKNRKAfyA10DJnjEBLfnQ/w640-h640/CASINO%20ROYALE%20REDUX.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBD_kXTGk8nOn1O8wxTI8PwgIVZzAKEcbBquZhSpOCb7udbN2m0PpzIR7zZxnAPBHWPzyjccbeBjHX5JDE-KEhyhcRnk49ayiQ31DE4TvmQGLCPTKlN48TkbgVROab1voiyO3SLeUMdS1usDnx0EPKE4nPhBgMjRzghgjvWjhhcFmz6KeuQK6vXmZnPE/s1024/QUANTUM%20OF%20SOLACE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBD_kXTGk8nOn1O8wxTI8PwgIVZzAKEcbBquZhSpOCb7udbN2m0PpzIR7zZxnAPBHWPzyjccbeBjHX5JDE-KEhyhcRnk49ayiQ31DE4TvmQGLCPTKlN48TkbgVROab1voiyO3SLeUMdS1usDnx0EPKE4nPhBgMjRzghgjvWjhhcFmz6KeuQK6vXmZnPE/w640-h640/QUANTUM%20OF%20SOLACE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And yes, we noticed the AI stuck a weird '70' on there. We would have edited out, but when we asked him, VC just blinked at us and went back to sleep... Ah well!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrznT5zoTPLLefm7e3Xa680S-Ilrkl2yauRwwZ6nc_Gg8M7JV-ok3RiDkWECTbm3PaqdRFp4TW2l6PxQNWfd7OOgq1Gv1TcgW57vF7iv6BHbpWrg7GGJrnWkigdDrvPo8L-Wi2GpmZUWuM9O6AMm5vESw18FIILxAdst3eqjG0kQ28lWd0y-LTrYCh5xY/s1024/SKYFALL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrznT5zoTPLLefm7e3Xa680S-Ilrkl2yauRwwZ6nc_Gg8M7JV-ok3RiDkWECTbm3PaqdRFp4TW2l6PxQNWfd7OOgq1Gv1TcgW57vF7iv6BHbpWrg7GGJrnWkigdDrvPo8L-Wi2GpmZUWuM9O6AMm5vESw18FIILxAdst3eqjG0kQ28lWd0y-LTrYCh5xY/w640-h640/SKYFALL.png" width="640" /><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lGszNClgTFKwlmiaPza8gBTyLx-uZ_QMiFOXDraKTqNB461Qh51qcvpwekQ670ejhwIlcvee8wxeejiIwJK_Oolc6SdQlZ5gsi7Zmmm9NsXWOv-NN96bBJNv1b0IfkkExh3Ql3LzZz4sLXDbFTu3Y4Z7guYrutnRqb4K_nEo6QKifY-WY2PmdruUShA/w640-h640/SPECTRE-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIGAOkLCZvdTV9hQceBCs6rsY_oRnxaogTMPAah5F2Y9J3WeLfIsYlnvq8oed4XHO0Gl3kGhs-1QnKNSBayMHKx3ELz79ZwEGN23jyoE6sK9DMTHbEIT5RQzjt-NtP80xFlr1c73kI6Iac3UPiBxMS76syK3kOCwceuoThKL1o9R1I0WT2TMwGZi2rDVo/s1024/NO%20TIME%20TO%20DIE-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIGAOkLCZvdTV9hQceBCs6rsY_oRnxaogTMPAah5F2Y9J3WeLfIsYlnvq8oed4XHO0Gl3kGhs-1QnKNSBayMHKx3ELz79ZwEGN23jyoE6sK9DMTHbEIT5RQzjt-NtP80xFlr1c73kI6Iac3UPiBxMS76syK3kOCwceuoThKL1o9R1I0WT2TMwGZi2rDVo/w640-h640/NO%20TIME%20TO%20DIE-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">We made it! This was mainly an exercise to try our hand at AI - Microsoft's Bing/Co-Pilot was variously a joy and a nightmare to work with - literally refusing to produce images of Daniel Craig, yet input 'James Bond' and you get... Daniel Craig. Well, that's Microsoft all over - great ideas, often atrociously implemented. But! We'd still say their AI is one of the very best, along with Midjourney - and you get 15 free credits per day with an account, plus you get points which you can put towards gift cards etc (Though not, as yet towards getting extra images on Co-Pilot, which is Microsoft being Microsoft) You aren't limited to 15 creds worth of images, but when you run out, generation is slower. So that's you told. Come back and see us soon, we have no clue what we'll have for you WONDERFUL people, but it WILL be worth it, we hope! </span><br />Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-4329876873295892682024-03-15T16:29:00.002+00:002024-03-15T16:42:54.844+00:00The James Bond AI Challenge - Part Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_cj2y9Y95DOwFIW6jwQftPLRLxhMKS3dqFGnFfBHZmUtxRKzHtYoGLnQbmLHrzZAY41ajxyR9fFBI3V6OiRzbp7llY4ZWinFpXkhXF7zNKvwfIcLUVGcsdHOUAfDcpIzGS9T30me5akDQ0ReIYVh4Q9IWlvn7UXBFwn_-QjuQcqAhsHeTSMC-6ViA-I/s800/TITLE%20FOUR.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_cj2y9Y95DOwFIW6jwQftPLRLxhMKS3dqFGnFfBHZmUtxRKzHtYoGLnQbmLHrzZAY41ajxyR9fFBI3V6OiRzbp7llY4ZWinFpXkhXF7zNKvwfIcLUVGcsdHOUAfDcpIzGS9T30me5akDQ0ReIYVh4Q9IWlvn7UXBFwn_-QjuQcqAhsHeTSMC-6ViA-I/w640-h360/TITLE%20FOUR.gif" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Dan dan-dan-dan DANNN! Yes, off we go with Part Four of the Bond AI Challenge - we knew you were expecting us (But not to talk, so let's get on with it...)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4WGu1l4dSSoP5UNdkYwTNh0CBRSyMhdsKh5wICL6W8mJGjRjdBmun-MNKv4uJk9Y8jMw0reOVay0MVUq_HaClQ3Qh8lBuuV9JCfQkLT6cOuQ4PtxdEhGvaCLjLXTO7NQ0KsgGV3zuOlp9MSD0yyBwq2UCiTwiXIO1lNkceLfLjj5k6vmc92KNkGPGK0/s1024/LTK.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4WGu1l4dSSoP5UNdkYwTNh0CBRSyMhdsKh5wICL6W8mJGjRjdBmun-MNKv4uJk9Y8jMw0reOVay0MVUq_HaClQ3Qh8lBuuV9JCfQkLT6cOuQ4PtxdEhGvaCLjLXTO7NQ0KsgGV3zuOlp9MSD0yyBwq2UCiTwiXIO1lNkceLfLjj5k6vmc92KNkGPGK0/w640-h640/LTK.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5K_jBaCBmRez3gM7b_vLZr7Ju-TwncZds1CSQUyv8p7CBsjpQhV0chyphenhyphenDfF2eM_ivWLCz8FoX3qK0KhxshDzDZuG48MFHoITFh36mbssMRTYTF2ocC8AOKZ6KzsZ5BVYDGAtN6vBINq5_vCiB9IxSSGfTsvyQJ3zgQKtTdcnX5_ELyfKMn3XwGuqPtxF4/s1024/GOLDENEYE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5K_jBaCBmRez3gM7b_vLZr7Ju-TwncZds1CSQUyv8p7CBsjpQhV0chyphenhyphenDfF2eM_ivWLCz8FoX3qK0KhxshDzDZuG48MFHoITFh36mbssMRTYTF2ocC8AOKZ6KzsZ5BVYDGAtN6vBINq5_vCiB9IxSSGfTsvyQJ3zgQKtTdcnX5_ELyfKMn3XwGuqPtxF4/w640-h640/GOLDENEYE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lHJRh2pB_Pa_583kWkb18GcSc8dtXV-4Qqe8RHu_FtMXUSJoyK-ZPFY87FVVK-IXS8C9TXPPJ1I_FfhNf51Ql0V-bkeuGGeY5hGX-5mkLbq2GBX1z7A6sXI3RdgB4-sRLzTHrALKsZGYD9hCsHt8oFxoN-6Np2TOA46yvinkTAL7SMcWey0-x1DiYjA/s800/TMD%20GIF.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lHJRh2pB_Pa_583kWkb18GcSc8dtXV-4Qqe8RHu_FtMXUSJoyK-ZPFY87FVVK-IXS8C9TXPPJ1I_FfhNf51Ql0V-bkeuGGeY5hGX-5mkLbq2GBX1z7A6sXI3RdgB4-sRLzTHrALKsZGYD9hCsHt8oFxoN-6Np2TOA46yvinkTAL7SMcWey0-x1DiYjA/w640-h360/TMD%20GIF.gif" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQithceITAtqQgy1a6xFWtn2k1WabMV5NJaAW1tgLZ6WGEjWKnNdjwtbi2GktO5i1SYaWpnrpzWXYEAbx2_-qBwx66FQiHUQc2ozNJT9TwldJZwOZJvI4UFRZYBS2YkajjPHgv6IiI-tvQ2tdi4XhPNJ1mD29Q9sgk9mjPORMSXZubEG0CbIKyj4hyphenhyphen4o/s1024/TWINE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQithceITAtqQgy1a6xFWtn2k1WabMV5NJaAW1tgLZ6WGEjWKnNdjwtbi2GktO5i1SYaWpnrpzWXYEAbx2_-qBwx66FQiHUQc2ozNJT9TwldJZwOZJvI4UFRZYBS2YkajjPHgv6IiI-tvQ2tdi4XhPNJ1mD29Q9sgk9mjPORMSXZubEG0CbIKyj4hyphenhyphen4o/w640-h640/TWINE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTGOOXsvLrOq2PUo1hGVyAJJ94-9NNz05EEwuDaVFtDxC8GiABh9yZRGKiGr4p1ZmCiKEbA8tM4QdcJKVLTYkIoqLGlnd1AUADoaYb_NfmnMs77rsD3BTvsD0C5mNX4xHkAbuI_ESdhi8CNKlAldA7vPBqNYnEX8XFzx5aoLavOWAukre_9mbuirdcqc/s1024/DIE%20ANOTHER%20DAY.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTGOOXsvLrOq2PUo1hGVyAJJ94-9NNz05EEwuDaVFtDxC8GiABh9yZRGKiGr4p1ZmCiKEbA8tM4QdcJKVLTYkIoqLGlnd1AUADoaYb_NfmnMs77rsD3BTvsD0C5mNX4xHkAbuI_ESdhi8CNKlAldA7vPBqNYnEX8XFzx5aoLavOWAukre_9mbuirdcqc/w640-h640/DIE%20ANOTHER%20DAY.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Well, that brings us to the end of the Brosnan Bonds; The BMW Bond was a bit of a smoothie in a suit for some, but even the haters can't deny finding all the Easter Eggs in<i> 'Die Another Day'</i> (2002) was ENORMOUS fun! Stay Tuned - Or just come back soon as we end our journey with the Daniel Craig era. So no controversy there... </span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"> </span><br /> </p>Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-26136361701514969482024-03-03T22:26:00.002+00:002024-03-03T22:26:16.993+00:00The James Bond AI Challenge - Part Three<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_vXhMHl0WmkXG__FxUHaIaFcrbk1MlOyu6vlg7xlyi0iqi_7MGS3wmNUgkErGpPcJ_P2XOOZFu7GDLPzooWH0iJ0h5H_j9CmtULPEM8vzmY_UsQ0nXU8DtmL1BURJkS8p5lmn1g_dEJ7590Q-5sVk4rroDqh9VKW4tI3C_uuWP1CdeOGLW5-EX5AXMU/s1024/_aa77af32-4200-48c1-9757-3068e0f03699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_vXhMHl0WmkXG__FxUHaIaFcrbk1MlOyu6vlg7xlyi0iqi_7MGS3wmNUgkErGpPcJ_P2XOOZFu7GDLPzooWH0iJ0h5H_j9CmtULPEM8vzmY_UsQ0nXU8DtmL1BURJkS8p5lmn1g_dEJ7590Q-5sVk4rroDqh9VKW4tI3C_uuWP1CdeOGLW5-EX5AXMU/w640-h640/_aa77af32-4200-48c1-9757-3068e0f03699.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Here we go again with Part Three - beginning with 'Moonraker'. Animated - as if you hadn't guessed, using AI. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_O3luChjaZKeNuqM77BiZr4VWkZXdbua6ui4nGaFyvMHsF3IvdTg4GM1XJsAv2vuMLcn5y5f7OAqAYx4MmVbu72d1t73GTmFeOjapwEHXPlvD73wHbzrOryl5IoA1mfPIs6THhPT2JnxhblQclnrVw8_xCEDp1eSPw6Y_M04sYHGLU1arQUnJK-IDlM/s800/MOONRAKER%20ANIMATED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_O3luChjaZKeNuqM77BiZr4VWkZXdbua6ui4nGaFyvMHsF3IvdTg4GM1XJsAv2vuMLcn5y5f7OAqAYx4MmVbu72d1t73GTmFeOjapwEHXPlvD73wHbzrOryl5IoA1mfPIs6THhPT2JnxhblQclnrVw8_xCEDp1eSPw6Y_M04sYHGLU1arQUnJK-IDlM/w640-h360/MOONRAKER%20ANIMATED.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL-pWVnCxhgPdh3_jIKOhqxAWdm-kizqDoVOKa-ZI8P9hjRa000UvtLkT2lV4QYL06aYPmFUXrMyv09hXfCG5TJn53ZysvZ1jiiEjlHx3tW2IyB1cN4uF2UIlv79_PTEH5kgcx_ZvPlwdGyn_EI29BVtxmdHsB6hVALPOFmsfPFbIcebvk4iRbTw_KGA/s1024/FOR%20YOUR%20EYES%20ONLY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL-pWVnCxhgPdh3_jIKOhqxAWdm-kizqDoVOKa-ZI8P9hjRa000UvtLkT2lV4QYL06aYPmFUXrMyv09hXfCG5TJn53ZysvZ1jiiEjlHx3tW2IyB1cN4uF2UIlv79_PTEH5kgcx_ZvPlwdGyn_EI29BVtxmdHsB6hVALPOFmsfPFbIcebvk4iRbTw_KGA/w640-h640/FOR%20YOUR%20EYES%20ONLY.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YRHAZ36Lh4d5S6g3P4DOS1tyywvSqeOqpw1JainKby3Nkk81S-IJFoTPB67GSdCnJIx4C53TIn_iYx3ubYBYZcO9B21byFMxd5nj92zA8loa6ZT45ovdpVA0oyovFk-y-yy7xTQfy1XiVLq0ewBpba6EPw2hYvXu2gg3ERcIuZ3hdyQqKpDngYwei0s/s1024/OCTOPUSSY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YRHAZ36Lh4d5S6g3P4DOS1tyywvSqeOqpw1JainKby3Nkk81S-IJFoTPB67GSdCnJIx4C53TIn_iYx3ubYBYZcO9B21byFMxd5nj92zA8loa6ZT45ovdpVA0oyovFk-y-yy7xTQfy1XiVLq0ewBpba6EPw2hYvXu2gg3ERcIuZ3hdyQqKpDngYwei0s/w640-h640/OCTOPUSSY.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwK8aOYVNq6t_v6lDe3nKfp_PjcRiFyV5KMhfUmM-xubBJq0iFuJKbh7-UrI215-R7kyMzV5y_qAlXNmaLJjqmhCK-B7qJs88RB_LgnIkH9SgBEH7j29JTX67emLntrGGpmf-mly7Lhq620COmfyqieeDAUhlINsi1OtCVuhfRPRS-IqQAhCqcq08wJFg/s1024/_67e4f259-7c30-4cd1-9a48-53d40ad0a68a-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwK8aOYVNq6t_v6lDe3nKfp_PjcRiFyV5KMhfUmM-xubBJq0iFuJKbh7-UrI215-R7kyMzV5y_qAlXNmaLJjqmhCK-B7qJs88RB_LgnIkH9SgBEH7j29JTX67emLntrGGpmf-mly7Lhq620COmfyqieeDAUhlINsi1OtCVuhfRPRS-IqQAhCqcq08wJFg/w640-h640/_67e4f259-7c30-4cd1-9a48-53d40ad0a68a-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxoTswkwXGrxnheXxJb4PEcmrO9JLJX1wCVUFuwLPoEdaCB1L8Rm6blDdMp7PWtS1nzqAwXVh278aq4NEwTj11lNLS1k5rrR2KJH0Nj9Rr_cKkP-Rs_o2MKXZQbyksqRYe8CqaPw9hQxmj2Rinl8FxbZp-rI3ho220mI_U-VGioeZX6OXZnRYk0-Hs8I/s1024/THE%20LIVING%20DAYLIGHTS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxoTswkwXGrxnheXxJb4PEcmrO9JLJX1wCVUFuwLPoEdaCB1L8Rm6blDdMp7PWtS1nzqAwXVh278aq4NEwTj11lNLS1k5rrR2KJH0Nj9Rr_cKkP-Rs_o2MKXZQbyksqRYe8CqaPw9hQxmj2Rinl8FxbZp-rI3ho220mI_U-VGioeZX6OXZnRYk0-Hs8I/w640-h640/THE%20LIVING%20DAYLIGHTS.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">This brings us up to the Timothy Dalton Era - Sadly consisting of only two movies... We'll be back soon with Part Four, as soon as our Licence To Kill is renewed!</span><br /></p>Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-70546753170671552392024-02-21T17:52:00.004+00:002024-03-03T22:25:51.761+00:00The James Bond AI Challenge - Part Two<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfM95UouXxlmAszjmlviipUbOGIFuJvCffmNZ934mCiipl6QNhT_KTORRG4mRc0nPFmrLLZIeuavosmb7AyIwFU29MgQHZyt8gCmeP7iWmHDMzqnFhsrZbfZX3rxoAivfIJdGLs_fzv9a6Z3_8fx1gBjwZEf90m8GU_kn7xQlEov2BwkdhVkWMult2hLI/s1024/_163f1d89-2ecd-48e0-b4a8-070a23d1d007-min.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfM95UouXxlmAszjmlviipUbOGIFuJvCffmNZ934mCiipl6QNhT_KTORRG4mRc0nPFmrLLZIeuavosmb7AyIwFU29MgQHZyt8gCmeP7iWmHDMzqnFhsrZbfZX3rxoAivfIJdGLs_fzv9a6Z3_8fx1gBjwZEf90m8GU_kn7xQlEov2BwkdhVkWMult2hLI/w640-h640/_163f1d89-2ecd-48e0-b4a8-070a23d1d007-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Yes, it's Part Two; the bit between parts One and, well, never mind the technical stuff! Here we go with... On Her Majesty's Secret Service</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cUJS3JJ9bIWbD-Pg9yAwI5YO2LezQ89rO1FgIbpvWhyphenhyphenjka6MQ_9LmTaZvSiqh7w9Yh0gFI-OXcM6Q2yMkJDVLc4D_6mEB9CMzj19JJkhQDKrm7YekQDvhHzT322Wlm3oPt7N-gwMG7W7lqTvNq1SJuYd2lou1hTB0IHBNZ2YDkbkTTSfgRA7k9CeeY4/s1024/O.H.M.S.S.%20BEST-min.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cUJS3JJ9bIWbD-Pg9yAwI5YO2LezQ89rO1FgIbpvWhyphenhyphenjka6MQ_9LmTaZvSiqh7w9Yh0gFI-OXcM6Q2yMkJDVLc4D_6mEB9CMzj19JJkhQDKrm7YekQDvhHzT322Wlm3oPt7N-gwMG7W7lqTvNq1SJuYd2lou1hTB0IHBNZ2YDkbkTTSfgRA7k9CeeY4/w640-h640/O.H.M.S.S.%20BEST-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-UQaCxpzhjCfbkxYJV1NCkG__nmqn4zMSt3rTykPO0d4QoFEAar4fFBoTEy6JjyMcix0HwzSEb7EmONk6jdr0pISKikio62CbEqA8VNHJfxtdJ3uyt_AyY-GCKRTn8RgtSaN91DKMRvG26ZupjswtumiGDiKzUGKSGpWNt5G5h9JPlhLErqhOU9tym8/s1024/_0415aa04-9602-4af9-aa49-e6b5870547ec-min.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-UQaCxpzhjCfbkxYJV1NCkG__nmqn4zMSt3rTykPO0d4QoFEAar4fFBoTEy6JjyMcix0HwzSEb7EmONk6jdr0pISKikio62CbEqA8VNHJfxtdJ3uyt_AyY-GCKRTn8RgtSaN91DKMRvG26ZupjswtumiGDiKzUGKSGpWNt5G5h9JPlhLErqhOU9tym8/w640-h640/_0415aa04-9602-4af9-aa49-e6b5870547ec-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OWP674g6elTcMN-PVfZ5mclKWCRX-kRHiYzAlQv7yLjFI6QbOEsS1JPKHTf-wAKwpyKfANuTRObi7Tz0bDLiNLTX6Bnf_qkxKkpvR8fo6bldMJsoWiK49RE1EH-4pdY9OAGayX2IwPbeexzaUDfZ0ntpG9JL7tcezhOJ-QRDQF0H_lbuQGghG99b77w/s1024/LIVE%20AND%20LET%20DIE-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OWP674g6elTcMN-PVfZ5mclKWCRX-kRHiYzAlQv7yLjFI6QbOEsS1JPKHTf-wAKwpyKfANuTRObi7Tz0bDLiNLTX6Bnf_qkxKkpvR8fo6bldMJsoWiK49RE1EH-4pdY9OAGayX2IwPbeexzaUDfZ0ntpG9JL7tcezhOJ-QRDQF0H_lbuQGghG99b77w/w640-h640/LIVE%20AND%20LET%20DIE-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9yABiHP-0cQ9l7SHKbfbfoI7PTJEw24og9WXus_RlQjBHs_PpdLh4juLuxSZqVsUbpDRhFqBEhciUpqPGRkqPyen0CYNN3pZmSatpYLMgyTMvBEGPnxVuwEFWDa2GzdfU5ViRSgjPEmdiqfY55S2jw-zQksvpCKBvcx6LNhOgm34cQ5HdjfPhZGPyVA/s1024/THE%20MAN%20WITH%20THE%20GOLDEN%20GUN-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9yABiHP-0cQ9l7SHKbfbfoI7PTJEw24og9WXus_RlQjBHs_PpdLh4juLuxSZqVsUbpDRhFqBEhciUpqPGRkqPyen0CYNN3pZmSatpYLMgyTMvBEGPnxVuwEFWDa2GzdfU5ViRSgjPEmdiqfY55S2jw-zQksvpCKBvcx6LNhOgm34cQ5HdjfPhZGPyVA/w640-h640/THE%20MAN%20WITH%20THE%20GOLDEN%20GUN-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4L082gUB9VnSWMwpMNNrqzwsgFkaC3EY5vpSPfCnXxbunCdvGGj-WHwH9pVKJK6D_0haZaGYInPHJ74UoYh9FLOzyM1JyU9HoxIm_hj7bAVhb6saorKeQ-GskvYOmFX40kHptbfz2DwysXIFuehUN2_tMlyKWvwCpCTJifk3kVssB3awSLkC5GidEX8/s1024/THE%20SPY%20WHO%20LOVED%20ME%20BEST%20TEXT-min.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4L082gUB9VnSWMwpMNNrqzwsgFkaC3EY5vpSPfCnXxbunCdvGGj-WHwH9pVKJK6D_0haZaGYInPHJ74UoYh9FLOzyM1JyU9HoxIm_hj7bAVhb6saorKeQ-GskvYOmFX40kHptbfz2DwysXIFuehUN2_tMlyKWvwCpCTJifk3kVssB3awSLkC5GidEX8/w640-h640/THE%20SPY%20WHO%20LOVED%20ME%20BEST%20TEXT-min.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Ok, we cheated a bit on this one; the text was added later, using 'Gimp'. Make of that what you will</span><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">; again, these were the best
of a variable bunch - If you think AI's easy, just try getting it to
understand "a gun made from a pen, a cigarette lighter and a cigarette
case..." Part Three will be with us with the inevitability of an unloved
season. Which means 'soon'. </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p>Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-30939206389657472212024-02-14T14:50:00.006+00:002024-02-14T14:54:27.878+00:00The James Bond AI Challenge - Part One<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7GKs7rZzLUd3WnQ9F-KQ4oXrLcC7paSlVUsFtaPs_Gw7H5UWNosPoNDf5c8qCP49VTzCW3GtaZWG27W97PaXSl6kfmMAcAKiTGlwt7xsdjeUKdch5ycS15jwXWDD07xlsLbQ1IEr_hX2dsrDZLHK26D0a9ll5QPYXZDN4zj0jISs5C-Q3Njzu5NLpY8/s1024/TITLE%20IMAGE-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7GKs7rZzLUd3WnQ9F-KQ4oXrLcC7paSlVUsFtaPs_Gw7H5UWNosPoNDf5c8qCP49VTzCW3GtaZWG27W97PaXSl6kfmMAcAKiTGlwt7xsdjeUKdch5ycS15jwXWDD07xlsLbQ1IEr_hX2dsrDZLHK26D0a9ll5QPYXZDN4zj0jISs5C-Q3Njzu5NLpY8/w640-h640/TITLE%20IMAGE-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">Yes, your favourite Volcano-dwelling feline has discovered... AI. When he discovered Arty-Fishal Intelligence <i>wasn't </i>about actual fish, well - never mind that, the challenge? Could we, Volcano Cat asked, use this AI to produce alternative images for <i>every </i>'official' Bond movie? It sounded easy enough; we went with Microsoft's 'Bing' (Now called Copilot, possibly the worst name since 'Bing') because A: It's there and B: We're too cheap to spring for Midjourney. And we're posting the results of our labor in several instalments. Because we can. Was the challenge easy? No; as the more up to date among you will know, to get an AI program/app/thingummibob to generate an image, you need to feed it a 'prompt'. Like commissioning a Human artist, you have to ask for what you need. And 'Copilot' is EXTREMELY edgy regards 'unsafe content'. I mean, it's not like we asked for nudes of Roger Moore - (Ok, just that one time) but enter 'bullet holes' for instance and Copilot is not a happy AI. So, 'identically shaped small holes' it was. And so forth; even the names of actual Actors are a no-no, but the input 'James Bond' gets you Daniel Craig. To say this was the hardest part of VC's AI Challenge is putting it mildly... But we're not quitters, so here's Part One!</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_3V-oT2My1Hev96960T-YEHhjFYev6HfbyfjCRUDJ7ZQEQgpJGJSwxH_7Sy90N9BvZlGr3QDuFvGYfupdd2iiG07JI2AezqNvD2bPjSQM5reESyBP1JopH3lgz7m-7eturUfQX0L8ckzAuEThwov3gyED8OYMw5L4iAmxdmvmps68aHA5lXXysNgjis/s1024/DR.NO-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_3V-oT2My1Hev96960T-YEHhjFYev6HfbyfjCRUDJ7ZQEQgpJGJSwxH_7Sy90N9BvZlGr3QDuFvGYfupdd2iiG07JI2AezqNvD2bPjSQM5reESyBP1JopH3lgz7m-7eturUfQX0L8ckzAuEThwov3gyED8OYMw5L4iAmxdmvmps68aHA5lXXysNgjis/w640-h640/DR.NO-min.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEEOOK2QRmo7cp4WjjGL3HWGgCEB3HNFRSc8nDR-YyWl8uuCKyKlqHSfyjmboEfECFmbacwP8FoHSlaIfSmpYaIln46HkGIpM63Hn9bXB_OQ_JD9Lxbee-AfHK9yx_s_XMPKbRheMheZOaz7sGpm9ZsNBGi5xWBDkdso0jgZ7wPmo1U9351hyphenhyphen-cXH-IQ/s1024/FROM%20RUSSIA%20WITH%20LOVE%20HOLES%20B-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEEOOK2QRmo7cp4WjjGL3HWGgCEB3HNFRSc8nDR-YyWl8uuCKyKlqHSfyjmboEfECFmbacwP8FoHSlaIfSmpYaIln46HkGIpM63Hn9bXB_OQ_JD9Lxbee-AfHK9yx_s_XMPKbRheMheZOaz7sGpm9ZsNBGi5xWBDkdso0jgZ7wPmo1U9351hyphenhyphen-cXH-IQ/w640-h640/FROM%20RUSSIA%20WITH%20LOVE%20HOLES%20B-min.png" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOFi9_GprFFL7LI_mnyORCTBb4F_Au78ZnOOgZo0lLR3eaj1yuCRQ8Bj7KE1gJAbanYb8PV72Ovxn1DHZS1EXet13oiaNpXhN4Geia0ErEWoKu5S4K6Ltxv69XYFFPyZLlK3GeC8YC-BTtGz5tYWPgHuqF11n2dw9m70X6r9_IDHp1cw1GFItdLIMj-Y/s1024/GOLDFINGER-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOFi9_GprFFL7LI_mnyORCTBb4F_Au78ZnOOgZo0lLR3eaj1yuCRQ8Bj7KE1gJAbanYb8PV72Ovxn1DHZS1EXet13oiaNpXhN4Geia0ErEWoKu5S4K6Ltxv69XYFFPyZLlK3GeC8YC-BTtGz5tYWPgHuqF11n2dw9m70X6r9_IDHp1cw1GFItdLIMj-Y/w640-h640/GOLDFINGER-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2wpz9Wx0bCSSKRl9Cpn9gB82FfgHu7pXuidWiOsIawN3dpPHbGb_GcOLxQ76goQ2mqqS0kZRRP1ot-xPDBEQJVkwZ9J-Fu2I9YGz78VJ4s0yBwhwiTU0NiOq7NUxy6rEgueBasBc96OksY1FFpTHLU-e0-0-rhfj3SxSKvd6YWS2ezT5RvtvvNig6og/s1024/THUNDERBALL-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2wpz9Wx0bCSSKRl9Cpn9gB82FfgHu7pXuidWiOsIawN3dpPHbGb_GcOLxQ76goQ2mqqS0kZRRP1ot-xPDBEQJVkwZ9J-Fu2I9YGz78VJ4s0yBwhwiTU0NiOq7NUxy6rEgueBasBc96OksY1FFpTHLU-e0-0-rhfj3SxSKvd6YWS2ezT5RvtvvNig6og/w640-h640/THUNDERBALL-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJeKjPonV-Hpd5mg-fZrmDONAAHQGiIazFyGaaupNavSyMMGFJPEZh3Oi4nBHL41h3ByFhyptUQV3NlGJ6Wv6HC5OjaDADvEXlvAdyWEAhn2XQFRysoDHoS_A6XIHUWhdkWYyFogqS-n6ctplYHRGr2NvMfWSsF4JA-rf3GSJZwQcOiQdlq9eniVxK8c/s1024/YOU%20ONLY%20LIVE%20TWICE%20BEST-min.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJeKjPonV-Hpd5mg-fZrmDONAAHQGiIazFyGaaupNavSyMMGFJPEZh3Oi4nBHL41h3ByFhyptUQV3NlGJ6Wv6HC5OjaDADvEXlvAdyWEAhn2XQFRysoDHoS_A6XIHUWhdkWYyFogqS-n6ctplYHRGr2NvMfWSsF4JA-rf3GSJZwQcOiQdlq9eniVxK8c/w640-h640/YOU%20ONLY%20LIVE%20TWICE%20BEST-min.png" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Paytone One;">That's our first five; we're not happy with 'Goldfinger' to be brutally honest (Or honestly brutal) , but these are our pick from MANY images we exhorted, persuaded, extorted Copilot to produce. And - of course, we made sure a certain Angora cat featured. If you think VC looks grumpy in this? You should have seen some of the others... Look out for Part Two soon!</span><br /></p><br /><br />Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-15324518046869347802024-01-31T18:43:00.000+00:002024-01-31T18:43:08.904+00:00North by Northwest - The First Bond Movie?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLksoJZBBxo2nEU5_JVpWxicQhAh3GzN9Q81rduk9VNm9XBfP-E4lmpIOdJIHU-fQKoySR2U29XG0xtXGWf4GOoSfL-SV_5f_65fCOwlPzi0_Dc9W7OzpZ372M3_fbnqEd0op_6HJOTwXJliGu_gPbNomvDyx36-mGd217IKzkCUO3rCvRm3NzFKjfco/s1336/TITLE%20IMAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1336" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLksoJZBBxo2nEU5_JVpWxicQhAh3GzN9Q81rduk9VNm9XBfP-E4lmpIOdJIHU-fQKoySR2U29XG0xtXGWf4GOoSfL-SV_5f_65fCOwlPzi0_Dc9W7OzpZ372M3_fbnqEd0op_6HJOTwXJliGu_gPbNomvDyx36-mGd217IKzkCUO3rCvRm3NzFKjfco/w491-h640/TITLE%20IMAGE.jpg" width="491" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi448C_aJlba-G2thzhHeqss9ObpJevOJ7v1VXiqkLZjVwcaTp6f5V_8LNcOUc0pFnTo6fqP_8QurFH18AqWS5SUPMdAL65d2S-OMC8Ozd1pZsMv1XcDaSIvH13fFFwWCG2SpJEU_7OBaJWdD987VsLJBSU5YXbgjvatC_ArdHLrNPNOPzj-Kr1k9JL4Js/s1920/vlcsnap-00004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi448C_aJlba-G2thzhHeqss9ObpJevOJ7v1VXiqkLZjVwcaTp6f5V_8LNcOUc0pFnTo6fqP_8QurFH18AqWS5SUPMdAL65d2S-OMC8Ozd1pZsMv1XcDaSIvH13fFFwWCG2SpJEU_7OBaJWdD987VsLJBSU5YXbgjvatC_ArdHLrNPNOPzj-Kr1k9JL4Js/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The MGM lion roars at us from a green
background and Bernard Herrmann’s superb overture accepts his
challenge. Saul Bass’ groundbreaking opening credits slide across the VistaVision
screen and across the facade of a New York office building, traffic
reflected in the towering glass. Below, the streets disgorge their
load as a sea of commuters moves busily to and from their day. Women
squabble over a taxi and a man misses the bus. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItAnHQ3WHB05PtvKT77NI1xvjStVmECGd_AOKbhDzQ3bQKbyuu60jwChA0_jPskQgQNJdVK8yEj8bTulyOl2Pyh-9tRFhJGwOKmcYhl8fG-qdUx8-JuysiZ_93GnrjnV5IGhowg7CFT9aWvfRClMIdOM7IC1fdkgh1pvLv4l6cdZwToTOySRSRaYK1pU/s800/1%20HITCH%20MISSES%20THE%20BUS.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItAnHQ3WHB05PtvKT77NI1xvjStVmECGd_AOKbhDzQ3bQKbyuu60jwChA0_jPskQgQNJdVK8yEj8bTulyOl2Pyh-9tRFhJGwOKmcYhl8fG-qdUx8-JuysiZ_93GnrjnV5IGhowg7CFT9aWvfRClMIdOM7IC1fdkgh1pvLv4l6cdZwToTOySRSRaYK1pU/w640-h360/1%20HITCH%20MISSES%20THE%20BUS.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIL2HHjLWeAgc19YEgNr4KcJbNEyD1mxhC8LNR935C3nvxmrFxxSYJ6s1nKrMwVNbqjykYLy0zp2kg9mD9Zy2kLlIRUTLGgF7JcJUX83vo8uVIxFmNC6CRHcYT7OtvKT1LrpDphMsJ0kQKM0jDFa2jGWdM0ghFTFLudqSCVhVfNqgwUXCOR58j9DJT_M/s1920/vlcsnap-00011.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIL2HHjLWeAgc19YEgNr4KcJbNEyD1mxhC8LNR935C3nvxmrFxxSYJ6s1nKrMwVNbqjykYLy0zp2kg9mD9Zy2kLlIRUTLGgF7JcJUX83vo8uVIxFmNC6CRHcYT7OtvKT1LrpDphMsJ0kQKM0jDFa2jGWdM0ghFTFLudqSCVhVfNqgwUXCOR58j9DJT_M/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cary Grant is Thornhill.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">An
elevator discharges passengers, among them a tall, distinguished
executive and his secretary. As they walk, he dictates letters – an
invite to The Colony, chocolates from Blum’s. Greeting the porter
and taking a paper, he walks her out to join the throng on Madison
Avenue. His secretary’s tired and he’s late; can’t they take a
cab? Reluctantly, he agrees, flagging one down with the pretense of
having a sick woman to transport. She reproaches him for the lie, but
he responds ‘In the world of advertising, there's no such thing as
a lie, there's only the expedient exaggeration. You ought to know
that.’ He remembers his Mother; he has tickets for the theatre,
dinner will be at ‘21’. She runs through his appointments for the
next day and he alights, remembering too late his Mother isn’t at
home, so can’t be reached. The taxi’s already gone, leaving him
at the Plaza. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TwZLXIRzXttQB7hOCHnAcbPznBuhEdV1lE_Tv7qAG2jZX0WP0vmy6UJYdXOy9SD6uObhP98hXbBe5TNG0Ro7egwJUEPn0Zh40IWByA-Txpy-Xb7BxxJtG5SpG0UaZ25gPzZOek-6RYjiaHnsXiNkGC63eZUbtq3G0dERn-oJCl3rjJ2_9BOjrgzhVyY/s1920/vlcsnap-00026.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TwZLXIRzXttQB7hOCHnAcbPznBuhEdV1lE_Tv7qAG2jZX0WP0vmy6UJYdXOy9SD6uObhP98hXbBe5TNG0Ro7egwJUEPn0Zh40IWByA-Txpy-Xb7BxxJtG5SpG0UaZ25gPzZOek-6RYjiaHnsXiNkGC63eZUbtq3G0dERn-oJCl3rjJ2_9BOjrgzhVyY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00026.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Greeting
our man as Mr. Thornhill, the waiter takes him through to the Oak
Room where he’s expected for drinks. He joins his companions, but
is distracted by his <i>faux pas</i>; calling for a boy to send a
telegram just as the bellhop is calling the name Kaplan. Two heavies
are watching; naturally, they mistake Thornhill for their man Kaplan.
The bellhop asks Thornhill to accompany him to send his message and
he excuses himself, but is waylaid by the two thugs who produce both
European accents and a pistol, marching him to a waiting Cadillac.
Sandwiched in the back between the two, Thornhill makes a move for
the door; locked. His captors don’t say a word as he’s driven
through imposing gates to a large house, the name ‘Townsend’ on
the sign. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFDRxdJfteE_cexVMeUt0E4XQVWbjcuMnLjWOTzQCe7Q3PE-z1V-dWQM2J3xWK5bwkFjakSNznzeVShnI64IMQgxzuNuM0f6iqtUS3WiPiAUrUHBpbpFojZ2nNAm1Dqc4jNu03_aggQqIy6pRGzPiHC3e4o3qIBcW-aXV7sD0CeRU2CIaUovjNwH2gmM/s800/2%20TAKEN%20FOR%20A%20RIDE.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFDRxdJfteE_cexVMeUt0E4XQVWbjcuMnLjWOTzQCe7Q3PE-z1V-dWQM2J3xWK5bwkFjakSNznzeVShnI64IMQgxzuNuM0f6iqtUS3WiPiAUrUHBpbpFojZ2nNAm1Dqc4jNu03_aggQqIy6pRGzPiHC3e4o3qIBcW-aXV7sD0CeRU2CIaUovjNwH2gmM/w640-h360/2%20TAKEN%20FOR%20A%20RIDE.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">It
takes an age, but finally, the Cadillac rolls up on an expanse of
gravel. A forbidding woman answers the door and Thornhill is taken
through to the library, to be locked in. He quips he’ll catch up on
his reading, before going to the desk to find the home belongs to a
Lester Townsend of Glen Cove. The man himself then arrives, drawing
the curtain and switching a light on to observe his guest isn’t
what he expected; taller, more polished than ‘the others’.
Thornhill’s discomfiture at being abducted is dismissed as play
acting, but then a thin, cautious satyr of a man enters. Leonard. At
the name Kaplan, Thornhill remonstrates; to no avail. Townsend is
convinced he is Kaplan. Mrs. Townsend arrives, looking harried. Their
dinner guests are waiting. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf9fd2NraqB1ox5RLNVic_7bOzaFEGxsXh26LnroFmDo01C5KAgxWGRNZc1hJxvYHDrNbltVpyXtlFnTJRefXmF-77hmRcVNj6SG94pZvB6Xko-sbScg2IT-ngKy8TDc85aBPafvHy5tYaA72_NXTlguW6FdXGs_AeYC6XIcom8ArFuq_0tMBFY7O4jg/s1920/vlcsnap-00060.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf9fd2NraqB1ox5RLNVic_7bOzaFEGxsXh26LnroFmDo01C5KAgxWGRNZc1hJxvYHDrNbltVpyXtlFnTJRefXmF-77hmRcVNj6SG94pZvB6Xko-sbScg2IT-ngKy8TDc85aBPafvHy5tYaA72_NXTlguW6FdXGs_AeYC6XIcom8ArFuq_0tMBFY7O4jg/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00060.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin Landau (Left) as Leonard, James Mason is Townsend. Or is he?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Reasonable in tone, with patient indulgence,
Townsend proposes they get down to business. Thornhill is all for
that, but his captor wants to know what he knows and how he came by
the information. He doesn’t expect to receive this for nothing, but
at least feels he should offer ‘Kaplan’ the chance of surviving
the evening. What is that supposed to mean? They know where he’s
headed – the theatre, he insists – getting as far as the door to
find Valerian, one of the stooges barring his exit. They know about
his contact in Pittsburgh since Jason’s suicide… But he’s never
been to Pittsburgh. Reading the details, Townsend informs him he
checked into a hotel under the name Kaplan, listing his itinerary
across the country from city to city, always giving the previous city
by way of address and now resident of the Plaza Hotel in New York.
There’s more; he’s due to visit Chicago and Rapid City, South
Dakota. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHOy15ZjiIr-184PSitd8ElgnlGm5ND9AGp6BuR-ZtV_3VTWeB9_4gojrdzVn1giSWb7lOr5PlBlZvC894r_Hjz8in0cxZNTPLTSqPsBqMvygDwyLPakwNHCBG6GBv2k6S8MHzNEa3iYo-DWcBD3X4KvNFeTTsbc_RBBNIGGRNtrk3rI3hh0ctiWrq7Q/s1920/vlcsnap-00064.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHOy15ZjiIr-184PSitd8ElgnlGm5ND9AGp6BuR-ZtV_3VTWeB9_4gojrdzVn1giSWb7lOr5PlBlZvC894r_Hjz8in0cxZNTPLTSqPsBqMvygDwyLPakwNHCBG6GBv2k6S8MHzNEa3iYo-DWcBD3X4KvNFeTTsbc_RBBNIGGRNtrk3rI3hh0ctiWrq7Q/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00064.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Will
he co-operate? A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do. A simple no.
‘For the simple reason that I simply don't know what you're
talking about.’ Leaving Thornhill at the mercy of his men, Townsend
goes to attend to his other guests. Leonard offers him a drink, but
he’s not thirsty. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjra8QS68FLv3iEqw_FD47l9hIY22PgH2Nix3U49i0vRXUrL5Q0XkuE6i2IfdYOuOOi_nLQsAlmDR98OXh9U7hQm2TPSm7PCRp2706UgHBuWwIQ_fgRXLqvJm7lXwLc9Er3gp06eqIAzaasFXsvEKXN4u8_IFDwVnDHL68oP5KC4EZicqgjwwkGZk0RoJk/s800/3%20CHEERS.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjra8QS68FLv3iEqw_FD47l9hIY22PgH2Nix3U49i0vRXUrL5Q0XkuE6i2IfdYOuOOi_nLQsAlmDR98OXh9U7hQm2TPSm7PCRp2706UgHBuWwIQ_fgRXLqvJm7lXwLc9Er3gp06eqIAzaasFXsvEKXN4u8_IFDwVnDHL68oP5KC4EZicqgjwwkGZk0RoJk/w640-h360/3%20CHEERS.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Grabbing Thornhill, the heavies force a bottle of
bourbon down his neck, bundling him, incoherent, behind the wheel of
a Mercedes Benz cabriolet. The ominous sight and sound of waves
crashing against the Long Island rocks gives an idea of his intended
fate. One of the heavies climbs in and starts the engine, setting
them towards the rocks, but Thornhill manages to bundle him from the
car, which skids over the edge, hanging precariously with one rear
wheel spinning over the dizzying precipice. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSALgCp23HRSXBE5l7SfEtm_TL40QPFBP-TkzisO4TW_Af05PB8ISoZiceqA_WRY7f013QjKfcNHuSsunnZ4MBNzlspp5w9q9ftyHXN_D_MV885fLqqUfJMjVXvfuHRJh4c75siVpsPkaHus55tLBlN3zxeRUezjw98IArooUKAC-2fJZxsWDH30cAmbQ/s800/5%20GLUG%20GLUG%20VROOM%20VROOM.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSALgCp23HRSXBE5l7SfEtm_TL40QPFBP-TkzisO4TW_Af05PB8ISoZiceqA_WRY7f013QjKfcNHuSsunnZ4MBNzlspp5w9q9ftyHXN_D_MV885fLqqUfJMjVXvfuHRJh4c75siVpsPkaHus55tLBlN3zxeRUezjw98IArooUKAC-2fJZxsWDH30cAmbQ/w640-h360/5%20GLUG%20GLUG%20VROOM%20VROOM.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Somehow,
Thornhill gets the cabriolet back onto the road, lurching off
drunkenly and just avoiding colliding with a station wagon, the
twists and turns of the road more than enough to deal with in his
condition. With the two expectant thugs following in another car,
Thornhill’s Mercedes skids around the serpentine road, driving
another car onto the verge before more near misses. A patrol car
parked by the verge gives chase, but a cyclist crossing ahead forces
Thornhill to hit the brakes and the police car crunches into the back
of him, another car into theirs. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1h8Tret80U124AUE9CCu1u30mwwlLEU4qh6Gwf7NLw1GaAGlWt51_vtXD6gYerQWgv07TuHX1e-Hs7ZSXUQmZS5RSjmaWbKw9sBiVNTOG8FOJutwvP7SWGFFxjSoOQtm5P7FGq3R70iMb2OEvvi5oLwrrQW754OXoiy-hstLgnxiASMxpSVhW39nYzg/s2048/MV5BMTQ1NTkwNTg3N15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzE2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="2048" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1h8Tret80U124AUE9CCu1u30mwwlLEU4qh6Gwf7NLw1GaAGlWt51_vtXD6gYerQWgv07TuHX1e-Hs7ZSXUQmZS5RSjmaWbKw9sBiVNTOG8FOJutwvP7SWGFFxjSoOQtm5P7FGq3R70iMb2OEvvi5oLwrrQW754OXoiy-hstLgnxiASMxpSVhW39nYzg/w640-h434/MV5BMTQ1NTkwNTg3N15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzE2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8zK4nzAMZYcqjV5mDG1OSD6uSCn1M-CoF6zuH5IEiyfBaeSfwfBC1hUw7ooStuhCw59VqxKNvcg8jOda2Q463V4NrChyC6PPQ6Q8YmQCOql3M2eJPN_DZE4w7eXMA51eZVo_HueFHpMrx-oE7fzwzYOpC3hdnzNzV7jMcf9CGH97DP4Qs5Qlx_9grzw/s1920/vlcsnap-00102.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8zK4nzAMZYcqjV5mDG1OSD6uSCn1M-CoF6zuH5IEiyfBaeSfwfBC1hUw7ooStuhCw59VqxKNvcg8jOda2Q463V4NrChyC6PPQ6Q8YmQCOql3M2eJPN_DZE4w7eXMA51eZVo_HueFHpMrx-oE7fzwzYOpC3hdnzNzV7jMcf9CGH97DP4Qs5Qlx_9grzw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00102.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Thornhill
is taken to the station, high as a kite, insisting he was the subject
of a murder attempt, but the car was just reported stolen. We learn
his name is Roger. He gets his one call, to his Mother. He’s going
nowhere until the morning, so asks for his lawyer. The Doctor is
called to examine him and the next morning, Mrs. Thornhill sits in
embarrassed silence at the court hearing. Thornhill’s lawyer
relates the abduction and murder attempt and the judge hands the case
over to the county detectives, to see if there’s anything to this
obvious cock and bull. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcEpR8EVKRF05-c1kpriTWeHW9id1VZKQnsZ2usFU3nqEzfohYa4ERdsYu_htBRL1uBvhdAWBxa_UwGBXDbZDSkuzyKS-3innhaA9bqhu0IvdYaShAco6Bgn5vv-XV9gPk5qZediY_JNOC_5GUdN7JjmQgktI0eLn2gk4RFU7CJ7t54tHUH0ZtoBEbKA/s1920/vlcsnap-00119.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcEpR8EVKRF05-c1kpriTWeHW9id1VZKQnsZ2usFU3nqEzfohYa4ERdsYu_htBRL1uBvhdAWBxa_UwGBXDbZDSkuzyKS-3innhaA9bqhu0IvdYaShAco6Bgn5vv-XV9gPk5qZediY_JNOC_5GUdN7JjmQgktI0eLn2gk4RFU7CJ7t54tHUH0ZtoBEbKA/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00119.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3 class="firstHeading mw-first-heading" id="firstHeading"><span class="mw-page-title-main"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Jessie Royce Landis as Thornhill's formidable Mother.<br /></span></span></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Back
at the Townsend residence, Thornhills senior and junior are
accompanied by the detectives; Mr. Townsend has left for the day, but
Mrs. Townsend is in residence. Waiting in the library, Thornhill
shows the detectives the sofa where they spilled half a bottle
forcing it down him. It’s spotless. The drinks cabinet! Is now a
book cabinet. Mrs. T arrives and does the ‘Roger dear!’ routine,
hugging him and asking if he got home all right; they were <i>so
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">worried about him… He left the
party drunk. Thoroughly discredited, Thornhill is infuriated at her
performance and when she mentions her husband is addressing the
United Nations, he’s sunk. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">They
leave, with the gardener – </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
thug named Valerian</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> watching
the</span><span style="font-style: normal;">m depart</span><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></span><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjRYjBhSkADq5x3KgffKUvSeKOBZfX1l8KNh1dP5IHBl4SPmYk_zgwwOfzWgDxN4EYQ_ofPyT3WcTwengnKYfYXiIpoUNEvaBpoOQfMcdfOzCaJ8prJNBfajg14JqZQHCFK4XcBrh6jwoc2Qai4r9FwVgMCx9Td9n2URbjmX5sIFo9l8qIFq99ezbbAY/s1920/vlcsnap-00131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjRYjBhSkADq5x3KgffKUvSeKOBZfX1l8KNh1dP5IHBl4SPmYk_zgwwOfzWgDxN4EYQ_ofPyT3WcTwengnKYfYXiIpoUNEvaBpoOQfMcdfOzCaJ8prJNBfajg14JqZQHCFK4XcBrh6jwoc2Qai4r9FwVgMCx9Td9n2URbjmX5sIFo9l8qIFq99ezbbAY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00131.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Back
at the Plaza, Thornhill shows his Mother Kaplan exists; he calls the
operator. Kaplan hasn’t answered his phone in two days. Ma
Thornhill agrees to get the key to Kaplan’s room – for $50 and
they go up together. The maid mistakes Thornhill for Kaplan – It’s
all the rage it seems and he wonders if he resembles the man. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPGBhrTwKgBeqNh7UkyyRghNvNQtDR3XaH1nVnO8HuxgaK7BIshCGkZVq3dnb36sMMylKIIqMBKhImN18qNogwkvfaQE9hF5Slgpxi7r3UsNYlK8phB-tEQbGPBLXLvnXM8jGOjNQUOl6WIW-3eME2_D2XKAkI-c4ozw1_ks0t7EwvfuNebu_dDmrye0/s1920/vlcsnap-00158.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPGBhrTwKgBeqNh7UkyyRghNvNQtDR3XaH1nVnO8HuxgaK7BIshCGkZVq3dnb36sMMylKIIqMBKhImN18qNogwkvfaQE9hF5Slgpxi7r3UsNYlK8phB-tEQbGPBLXLvnXM8jGOjNQUOl6WIW-3eME2_D2XKAkI-c4ozw1_ks0t7EwvfuNebu_dDmrye0/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00158.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Inside,
he finds a group photo, Townsend being one of the gang and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">ringing
for the maid, Elsie, Thornhill questions her. She believes him to be
Kaplan, though she’s never laid eyes on him as he’s never in. The
valet arrives with a suit, but he’s never seen ‘Mr. Kaplan’ in
the flesh before either. He rings down to have his suits collected. A
quick check reveals the Invisible Guest to be shorter than Thornhill.
</span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
telephone buzzes and the voice of one of last night’s thugs; by now
ever more convinced that Thornhill and Kaplan are one and the same.
Why else would he answer the phone in Kaplan’s room? </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill
calls reception; where did the call come from? The lobby. Hurrying
mother along to the elevators, the Thornhills are followed into the
car by the two stooges who have just exited the one coming up. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUKo7SEhAwZfpOXYsqoKS1JXYR-aYv7nrxQzVIf9sVYvNfalTJ5UzrgjM8noGBWj8NzA-xufQWXHS1wZmpvVDGfCx9JsCATlQ1w6TgRcAp2yDfg7zlIxlAp5PvvFD5v2QsmXQkdIKX6_YLmdkzkN3AZWPdLw5wv0_Qe7DJvaIsoiFfx_wxJqhChuakkg/s1920/vlcsnap-00153.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUKo7SEhAwZfpOXYsqoKS1JXYR-aYv7nrxQzVIf9sVYvNfalTJ5UzrgjM8noGBWj8NzA-xufQWXHS1wZmpvVDGfCx9JsCATlQ1w6TgRcAp2yDfg7zlIxlAp5PvvFD5v2QsmXQkdIKX6_YLmdkzkN3AZWPdLw5wv0_Qe7DJvaIsoiFfx_wxJqhChuakkg/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00153.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /> </span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill indicates the two with a nod and, delightfully, Mrs.
Thornton asks ‘You gentlemen aren't really trying to kill my son,
are you?’ and her son has to stand fuming in silence as the entire
car erupts into laughter. As the elevator reaches the lobby,
Thornhill stalls the two by insisting ‘ladies first’ and makes a
break, dashing into a taxi ahead of a couple. Their luck isn’t any
better with the second taxi, as the two goons push their way into it
and chase is given.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kovEMVWWLeJwRcmZtanqp9JudptfigjXidiDXrFvvPsY3dDcmyoFoOM7Vr_y2a2gl_yEuEOxIpMQ5gU71tRwVHQfsIMFk7Qs-ISZ2V6-PPRYz1XKFW1VGSg0guDopEH_HthSkuO4PXen79NSQ6fjZv-taQWu09Gq6R_iSrUR9RtCF0mfH1JWTG5bP8c/s1920/vlcsnap-00159.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kovEMVWWLeJwRcmZtanqp9JudptfigjXidiDXrFvvPsY3dDcmyoFoOM7Vr_y2a2gl_yEuEOxIpMQ5gU71tRwVHQfsIMFk7Qs-ISZ2V6-PPRYz1XKFW1VGSg0guDopEH_HthSkuO4PXen79NSQ6fjZv-taQWu09Gq6R_iSrUR9RtCF0mfH1JWTG5bP8c/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00159.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">T</span><span style="font-style: normal;">hornhill
decides to go to the UN General Assembly building, asking his cabbie
to lose the tail. At the reception of the imposing modernist complex,
he asks for Townsend and gives his name as Kaplan. He’s directed to
the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">busy </span><span style="font-style: normal;">public
lounge, where he asks again and the receptionist pages Townsend. One
of the heavies has arrived, donning gloves. Maybe his hands are cold? </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtiyIzGrhIQzuPnLV7r8Qn3sBqqCQlLuXjP5PsV_fSb88kURyFHkb9IJLOobdpOYUQZxQmgkaq7IEr7kgilmUwn-OVQf47yzPYlWDwDmQgrUNyObIrPRSjIJ9nK08pYQ_uFvenvGh4F2u_VfgIjwIhKcJ-aEC6Vdep_9nMyaE7qJ6b9Uu4NcO3T8gF6A/s1920/vlcsnap-00172.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtiyIzGrhIQzuPnLV7r8Qn3sBqqCQlLuXjP5PsV_fSb88kURyFHkb9IJLOobdpOYUQZxQmgkaq7IEr7kgilmUwn-OVQf47yzPYlWDwDmQgrUNyObIrPRSjIJ9nK08pYQ_uFvenvGh4F2u_VfgIjwIhKcJ-aEC6Vdep_9nMyaE7qJ6b9Uu4NcO3T8gF6A/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00172.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Townsend
arrives, except this isn’t the man who tried to have Thornhill
killed at all. Taking Townsend aside, Thornhill questions him to
discover he’s not been home to Glen Cove in a month. He stays in
town when the UN is in session. Then what about Mrs. Townsend? His
wife has been dead for many years. So what’s this all about?
Remembering the photo from the hotel, Thornhill produces it to ask if
he knows the imposter, but the thug throws a knife into Townsend’s
back and leaves before anyone notices. Slumping forward to join his
late wife, Townsend falls into Roger’s arms and, seeing the knife,
the shocked man pulls it from the body – at which point everyone in
the room sees a man with a knife standing over a body. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8Edkyzvq7V_wZcWDu_ZhY7Gqbp0tU4UtDK19O_ugn8GZI8xgjhJbpAw56CWhu4Ntn0OdIlzT0GplNmurAPPGHuQj5ImGfycWZ2Ab7r9C-h27NvSkdaq4uW9xxkqOqxHQXErN8js_nSPz_Exu-wMgREjWcciVInbcsXKyOrU8gnYYh7_pPyzJf6b8LJo/s800/6%20ET%20TU%20BRUTE.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8Edkyzvq7V_wZcWDu_ZhY7Gqbp0tU4UtDK19O_ugn8GZI8xgjhJbpAw56CWhu4Ntn0OdIlzT0GplNmurAPPGHuQj5ImGfycWZ2Ab7r9C-h27NvSkdaq4uW9xxkqOqxHQXErN8js_nSPz_Exu-wMgREjWcciVInbcsXKyOrU8gnYYh7_pPyzJf6b8LJo/w640-h360/6%20ET%20TU%20BRUTE.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Camera bulbs
flash and the reporters have their story. Abandoning any hope of
protesting innocence, Thornhill runs for it, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">a
tiny figure seen from a dizzying height as he flees.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFllXCISsiIYFLfI1eis4Um-bt8BSK0MT43_JMrRKuGksuEuL2vbiAMHm2voGl2Mq-nIpfH0IwYcVKpnXwZ2Tgu9sJRQi44DqwdGX09EpDW56mdwfigBGu39qLfZbU5qAYZ38emkemvhXY4NvbSTvCIV20GB3gFsItOFR5hE2y0wnKIrzrUbm8cj2zp6E/s1920/vlcsnap-00183.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFllXCISsiIYFLfI1eis4Um-bt8BSK0MT43_JMrRKuGksuEuL2vbiAMHm2voGl2Mq-nIpfH0IwYcVKpnXwZ2Tgu9sJRQi44DqwdGX09EpDW56mdwfigBGu39qLfZbU5qAYZ38emkemvhXY4NvbSTvCIV20GB3gFsItOFR5hE2y0wnKIrzrUbm8cj2zp6E/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00183.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At
the United States Intelligence Agency, the night final edition of The
Evening Star </span><span style="font-style: normal;">is being read at
the conference table. The paper </span><span style="font-style: normal;">shows
a picture of Thornhill, knife in hand and the lurid details of how </span><span style="font-style: normal;">he
brutally murdered Townsend after the drink-driving debacle at Glen
Cove. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VE6DR8KfU_rRPwaFx59ZFVBzBoP0nO9HQE6VLskLx2QIPfZCI9tXvc1AzUcBGwmU7-gHJ32JqonMMLKmc1GCvlm5u_xsMYry35L_G7eb1JOqL7Sa5uKwd1dkb1_FREbup0wRXwEvvfvt87sWSdWPo-cL2b2hP7NPoe3LMRWUjHxa2r1IPMXs3-pkCvQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00186.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VE6DR8KfU_rRPwaFx59ZFVBzBoP0nO9HQE6VLskLx2QIPfZCI9tXvc1AzUcBGwmU7-gHJ32JqonMMLKmc1GCvlm5u_xsMYry35L_G7eb1JOqL7Sa5uKwd1dkb1_FREbup0wRXwEvvfvt87sWSdWPo-cL2b2hP7NPoe3LMRWUjHxa2r1IPMXs3-pkCvQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00186.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The Government men – and lone lady are puzzled; none of them
has heard of Thornhill, yet he’s mistaken for Kaplan. Who doesn’t
even exist. They put it together; Vandamm’s men are responsible for
this, using Townsend’s home as part of the scheme before murdering
him. </span><i>C’est la guerre… </i><span style="font-style: normal;">So
what are they going to do? The Professor – the chief, says they do
nothing. Oh, they could congratulate themselves that their fictional
decoy has been supplanted by a living one. But how long will he stay
alive? Asks Mrs. Finlay. That’s his problem. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
dismisses the protests of his subordinates; ‘What can we do to save
him without endangering our own agent?’</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45Eih1p25ODMAOgdXo8NraVpfGYeL1LR7d2J2bFUb2m6R-px1YUH4bNjuMY05CJ9TqDiPM28eiLkUH5qtxfg8SZEthE77E8B14PfH_YX99iYtjjAyxhPwX_yerfEQBrmhEGZaA0IOAr4I7Sek6YpaoUIbl56esAzGHqWHFC19oV81zFhZ8aai6-Crf5I/s1920/vlcsnap-00192.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45Eih1p25ODMAOgdXo8NraVpfGYeL1LR7d2J2bFUb2m6R-px1YUH4bNjuMY05CJ9TqDiPM28eiLkUH5qtxfg8SZEthE77E8B14PfH_YX99iYtjjAyxhPwX_yerfEQBrmhEGZaA0IOAr4I7Sek6YpaoUIbl56esAzGHqWHFC19oV81zFhZ8aai6-Crf5I/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00192.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Leo G. Carroll plays The Professor. A British Actor, Carroll went on to play Alexander Waverly in <i>'The Man From U.N.C.L.E.'</i> (1964-1968)<br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihriA8fA_bfOaeoWRXncKtPYMtTwJCtKrtA-RyO05M2_kjdm3MMXDw8XACgX4s5kOfmLRPS7D-x-HMFwBV8LxLtIxUwc6_3-Cx6GoDu2tfNsgDta1XA8DG4W-POXlZKfJKOFwpsg8RdyWaizLWzhIXLcaA2CD0cucr71e4RcAoNOMSDA40LBk69bUKhrg/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihriA8fA_bfOaeoWRXncKtPYMtTwJCtKrtA-RyO05M2_kjdm3MMXDw8XACgX4s5kOfmLRPS7D-x-HMFwBV8LxLtIxUwc6_3-Cx6GoDu2tfNsgDta1XA8DG4W-POXlZKfJKOFwpsg8RdyWaizLWzhIXLcaA2CD0cucr71e4RcAoNOMSDA40LBk69bUKhrg/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20A.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">W</span><span style="font-style: normal;">istfully,
Mrs. Finlay says a goodbye to Roger Thornhill, wherever he is.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Grand Central Terminal. Police are on the alert for the escaped
murderer, the crowds making their job a difficult one. The man
himself is in a booth, calling Mother. He checked with the Plaza;
Kaplan’s checked out, headed to Chicago. Mother wants him to go to
the Police. His only chance is to find Kaplan – he knows what this
is all about. The train is safer than a plane – more places to hide
and he can’t jump off a plane. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeZgZ2kgxvF4Wt3hnRSzz8fh0uK9C1H_86C9VL5ghfNLcSj9YQbaGSyNG3PNwk5aqpFSpUw5x1dH4JQewwNV3z6VnTnh46-jokhkaNuVBNUTw4C10-srJpwzIOCGeCaTNVvaCsm5IiXfw4pCkou5BQHXPuN8ZUf3Y2xDvdXjHUDy4wPll3Ubl-XoSnbM/s1920/vlcsnap-00202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeZgZ2kgxvF4Wt3hnRSzz8fh0uK9C1H_86C9VL5ghfNLcSj9YQbaGSyNG3PNwk5aqpFSpUw5x1dH4JQewwNV3z6VnTnh46-jokhkaNuVBNUTw4C10-srJpwzIOCGeCaTNVvaCsm5IiXfw4pCkou5BQHXPuN8ZUf3Y2xDvdXjHUDy4wPll3Ubl-XoSnbM/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00202.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Donning sunglasses, he makes his way
past the cops to the ticket booths and asks for a bedroom on the 20</span><sup><span style="font-style: normal;">th</span></sup><span style="font-style: normal;">
Century. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">All sold out.
There’s always coach… The next train isn’t until ten. Thornhill
asks the clerk to call and check. Something wrong with his eyes? Yes,
they’re sensitive to questions. Glancing down at the Police photo
of Thornhill and knife, the clerk tells him not to go away. He goes
to call the cops, but when he gets back to the window, Thornhill is
isn’t there. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDd5OjkzJWg_aUdrATNgol4qCzb3DXKYBo86xm2QH407-4LDILUfwH4qRISqb8Nh0D0NybNVUipfqTdjsu5TkbX0X0NA5BloxpLfu96ZpIOvFbwhErCpPBVeuPXHlOfUCxI0n8GiVu_VKY9mFjs5JMocMjsDjymc7sXtfYiCgUS7gBWD3CHMndp6OFbE/s1440/p78_i_h9_aa.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDd5OjkzJWg_aUdrATNgol4qCzb3DXKYBo86xm2QH407-4LDILUfwH4qRISqb8Nh0D0NybNVUipfqTdjsu5TkbX0X0NA5BloxpLfu96ZpIOvFbwhErCpPBVeuPXHlOfUCxI0n8GiVu_VKY9mFjs5JMocMjsDjymc7sXtfYiCgUS7gBWD3CHMndp6OFbE/w640-h480/p78_i_h9_aa.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva Marie Saint is Eve. Remarkably, at the time of writing she is approaching her 100th Birthday.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">With
the cops not far behind, Thornhill blusters his way past the gate and
strides along the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">famous red
carpet</span><span style="font-style: normal;">, ducking </span><span style="font-style: normal;">on</span><span style="font-style: normal;">to
the train. There’s heat everywhere, so he dashes back down the
corridor, bumping into an extremely attractive blond. More cops.
Thornhill ducks into a cabin and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">she
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">sends the cops wrong.
Re-emerging, Thornhill makes light of it ‘Seven parking tickets’.
Knowingly she walks off down the passageway. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNOc87NTTx1eYkM0kzXjXfzNLwcnnr_tceuGcUoUqrWjB34nY5MwHCOWZjfOFfkIUDZDPttYAtDyH-Oau3qKAXEipH20iQli8TX3uSvyE3iSCYFHj1h4vHU66Q1NLipHSmbyNTANHwpTLKjo019dBDm8SwgBdqa30WLycZwhzKi5fohM-G1DjzSlPlpY/s1920/vlcsnap-00220.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNOc87NTTx1eYkM0kzXjXfzNLwcnnr_tceuGcUoUqrWjB34nY5MwHCOWZjfOFfkIUDZDPttYAtDyH-Oau3qKAXEipH20iQli8TX3uSvyE3iSCYFHj1h4vHU66Q1NLipHSmbyNTANHwpTLKjo019dBDm8SwgBdqa30WLycZwhzKi5fohM-G1DjzSlPlpY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00220.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
great train thrumbles its way along the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Hudson
River</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. Ticket inspectors are,
well, inspecting tickets, Thornhill emerging from the toilet after
they pass. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Strolling through
to the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Century Club car</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
he is seated opposite the blond and asks for a Gibson. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5yWMsT8AygdIPfeSeruX_VWSMK6h8ufSQG8wAizqEm-bQNad1nMoPFsemHaryGmLJajkgRmqm69zKlhQ9wR-jOxYinX_Blp-qaWGoxYgHyaKqigPci4JS4s-OuqyItohBJqf6he_cxQPgLet7p60a2qWu-JDkwreD6qZsS97erEgt0IszCGpknoztu4/s1920/vlcsnap-00224.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5yWMsT8AygdIPfeSeruX_VWSMK6h8ufSQG8wAizqEm-bQNad1nMoPFsemHaryGmLJajkgRmqm69zKlhQ9wR-jOxYinX_Blp-qaWGoxYgHyaKqigPci4JS4s-OuqyItohBJqf6he_cxQPgLet7p60a2qWu-JDkwreD6qZsS97erEgt0IszCGpknoztu4/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00224.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The woman
looks at him with an amused detachment, cool, appraising. He asks if
she has any recommendations. The brook trout is a little ‘trouty’,
but good. He orders and then goes to remove the sunglasses, before
catching himself. ‘I know. I look vaguely familiar.’ Yes. ‘You
feel you've seen me somewhere before.’ He says he has that kind of
face. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J3rrXGL6NRzOGQ03-fQ0WQQIu4PB-jqdjwBVCBd5b92cPq2xR1vSZ1eCGdgEVhe1GnvAPGx91HJvgvHxVV8n5PssGxKXqCeBitGGr-x88_g9f3kx5tZpntxFT0CzFy5X_fy4gyCGOwWhIsYJHmj3paHIL88rQIEzCcf7RBK1QzBR6-KoIv55j2q3rjg/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J3rrXGL6NRzOGQ03-fQ0WQQIu4PB-jqdjwBVCBd5b92cPq2xR1vSZ1eCGdgEVhe1GnvAPGx91HJvgvHxVV8n5PssGxKXqCeBitGGr-x88_g9f3kx5tZpntxFT0CzFy5X_fy4gyCGOwWhIsYJHmj3paHIL88rQIEzCcf7RBK1QzBR6-KoIv55j2q3rjg/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20B.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">What
he means is, when he meets an attractive woman he has to pretend he
has no desire to make love to her. What makes him think he has to
conceal it? They might find it objectionable. She replies ‘Then
again she might not.’ before taking a sip of her coffee. Taking a
sip of his Gibson, he remarks on how lucky he was to be seated with
her, but it wasn’t luck; she bribed the steward to seat him there. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">She
introduces herself; Eve Kendall, twenty-six, unmarried. So what does
she do when not luring men to their doom on the Twentieth Century
Limited? Industrial designer. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwTVXYEmw-FsBQZG-d3O039Y24GttpJ4KTsTswcegLhGvjAh-mxRGCpwm3okkfQW9uibvJ09Hb4ZDmhlqzlO7Siy1bWttgXX2IJyU_qso8dgfOtlAD80E7UhmZO5_g0mlTJIcOgzYb68EcEJD6mZvhdr1G5f6u4JwhyKAZyn5ZdfoJtNcSSN-BTij8Eg/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwTVXYEmw-FsBQZG-d3O039Y24GttpJ4KTsTswcegLhGvjAh-mxRGCpwm3okkfQW9uibvJ09Hb4ZDmhlqzlO7Siy1bWttgXX2IJyU_qso8dgfOtlAD80E7UhmZO5_g0mlTJIcOgzYb68EcEJD6mZvhdr1G5f6u4JwhyKAZyn5ZdfoJtNcSSN-BTij8Eg/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20C.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDPyX55yjCMkZCm0YO-LMMENwfFb0FrvwDevXntNAvPALBXHN21zT8Y0GiM33AMvxY8D7y0Adg_THAL1DvpIrqU6mzsOel65eCtgNYf1_QBeCDQD5UpsMoO3ejl0250DkJfgHvuUr65aQa_rfW61VpUNi7GHRxhTvoTpeuHqq-8_pwuYbdu3iY8ZDoyY/s1920/vlcsnap-00227.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDPyX55yjCMkZCm0YO-LMMENwfFb0FrvwDevXntNAvPALBXHN21zT8Y0GiM33AMvxY8D7y0Adg_THAL1DvpIrqU6mzsOel65eCtgNYf1_QBeCDQD5UpsMoO3ejl0250DkJfgHvuUr65aQa_rfW61VpUNi7GHRxhTvoTpeuHqq-8_pwuYbdu3iY8ZDoyY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00227.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">She
tells him not to worry, she won’t say a word. How come? She told
him; it’s a nice face. Besides, she doesn’t like the book she’s
started. She takes out a cigarette and Thornhill produces a match
book with his initials printed on the cover. R.O.T. What does the ‘O’
stand for? Nothing. </span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhRT_-2t-1n3D3gYuqcLRUBvL8uX1RYwCwNBSCsCEtWvtcvbq7OFo77sVdawac_lfWgrM7A5lmUWWgG-CUWSsgQf3SbvRfyIy87lseOnprqH77ElXe8rjuRbcOCweRE3RxX6lAfmi-kSgydjc6VoDpBxNME64JzVxJH-AYYsBWbHYK0H9sJ21KXXdoGQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhRT_-2t-1n3D3gYuqcLRUBvL8uX1RYwCwNBSCsCEtWvtcvbq7OFo77sVdawac_lfWgrM7A5lmUWWgG-CUWSsgQf3SbvRfyIy87lseOnprqH77ElXe8rjuRbcOCweRE3RxX6lAfmi-kSgydjc6VoDpBxNME64JzVxJH-AYYsBWbHYK0H9sJ21KXXdoGQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00231.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">He lights her smoke and she holds onto his hand,
pulling it back to her to blow out the flame. He admits he’s a
stowaway, or he’d invite her back to his bedroom. She has a drawing
room to herself and gives him the number. She’s quite a number
herself…</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
mood changes as the great train makes a brief unscheduled stop; the
Police are boarding. Reclining on the day-bed in her compartment with
her book, Eve has hidden Thornhill in the folding bed; he asks for
olive oil if he’s going to be packed in like a sardine… There’s
a knock and two detectives enter, showing her a wire photo of
Thornhill. They know they dined together, left together. She denies
the latter; they might have happened to leave at the same time, just
not together. What did they talk about? The relative merits of travel
by train or plane. They leave, letting her know they’ll be in the
observation car in the rear.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0Q6p_sTU0WR0l-Ya3lw1RbBShpWT12cDR5suUep7_yKMIhCW4-uX-1DVLa08_veaP3hS5L7Uo5-nZunVP7r97rjSzM9ZqU40G96SAWOqLWGquit9sOAPU5dxsuFAZ7ui4FOEaRQ2su8dxNoaq3_jLyFeTbdomWOEYqEBxl1SftgRr_v6z2GR_3qH-AA/s1920/vlcsnap-00246.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0Q6p_sTU0WR0l-Ya3lw1RbBShpWT12cDR5suUep7_yKMIhCW4-uX-1DVLa08_veaP3hS5L7Uo5-nZunVP7r97rjSzM9ZqU40G96SAWOqLWGquit9sOAPU5dxsuFAZ7ui4FOEaRQ2su8dxNoaq3_jLyFeTbdomWOEYqEBxl1SftgRr_v6z2GR_3qH-AA/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00246.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">As
soon as the two dicks have gone, Eve lets Thornhill out from
confinement – luckily enough she stole the bed-key from the porter.
Thornhill’s sunglasses have broken, but at least his suit got a
free press. He wants to know why she’s being so good to him. She
offers to climb up and explain.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
<i>Twentieth Century </i>makes her stately progress around a long
curve, while two of her passengers are also making progress.
Thornhill has told Eve all about the man he was mistaken for and she
thinks it safer if he stays in her hotel room in Chicago while she
tracks the elusive Kaplan. The talk turns to the romance of homicide,
with Eve asking ‘How do I know you aren’t a murderer?’ She
doesn’t. What if he’s planning to murder her right now? ‘Shall
I?’ he asks. ‘Please do.’ They kiss, with tenderness and
passion. They continue to linger in the moment, playful verbal
sparring and longing embraces - interrupted by the porter, who has
come to make up the bed. Thornhill hides in the tiny bathroom to
examine feminine toiletries while Eve hands the porter the key ‘she
found’ back. </span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimP25CFKfDFcF8CCcEITgoAv9XThbWOn8zMeA5g8Qklp86Qery8Rj2s3J9QVxodyrGjYuGRyuLR4Zek-aByyWM0bWNIbbWe8B1ERP9Fetx-qDfyjKhJezhHpmw3-HeKH5nMuYCX12JjxMlS6jvMyVQpUsCxLluwjUCjVEfWlW-b2DcjLH7sB2_107gyfQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00267.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimP25CFKfDFcF8CCcEITgoAv9XThbWOn8zMeA5g8Qklp86Qery8Rj2s3J9QVxodyrGjYuGRyuLR4Zek-aByyWM0bWNIbbWe8B1ERP9Fetx-qDfyjKhJezhHpmw3-HeKH5nMuYCX12JjxMlS6jvMyVQpUsCxLluwjUCjVEfWlW-b2DcjLH7sB2_107gyfQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00267.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Alone
again, they resume their love making and Thornhill notes the porter
only prepared one bed. Does she know what that means? She does. It
means he’ll be sleeping on the floor… The porter, meanwhile is
delivering a note ‘From the lady in 3901’. The note reads ‘What
do I do with him in the morning?’ and is signed ‘Eve’. The
recipients of this message? An amused Vandamm and his man, Leonard.
The train rolls on through the night. </span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9fSq331z8cS5b83AtxdzaNEApcUnMrxkFpb_WHQDRmzqh_YTc2wcZpeG5zxg0HVvoi3BepGLQw3ba6Kdx139qUft8sVmI91zoPK0YCo_M7CaIjAGzZQStuOC05VkwDYl-B0gtQKsR7_OmD2J7f4JJwKQYKhvTQv6TpyZRT-feFBsXYmMJaMOUgb5ULw/s1920/vlcsnap-00273.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9fSq331z8cS5b83AtxdzaNEApcUnMrxkFpb_WHQDRmzqh_YTc2wcZpeG5zxg0HVvoi3BepGLQw3ba6Kdx139qUft8sVmI91zoPK0YCo_M7CaIjAGzZQStuOC05VkwDYl-B0gtQKsR7_OmD2J7f4JJwKQYKhvTQv6TpyZRT-feFBsXYmMJaMOUgb5ULw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00273.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mUN4d72Lvp5eOqKSX6OFuAgJAf80TzXkZm9lii-aLXJ5OI9So3_-3A4wclmTsx8DQ0Zo3wbHWzmA_OINChwAuDWoArzuT1-rPLHjPYTZ-125sy5uFcQcLk6ELnD7UgQuCBUVl0HP1SRo2DGqIaNIzXnp6DYumwg6zJ2J2ZCQrsIDYXumaDb1LnPhPyc/s1920/vlcsnap-00275.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mUN4d72Lvp5eOqKSX6OFuAgJAf80TzXkZm9lii-aLXJ5OI9So3_-3A4wclmTsx8DQ0Zo3wbHWzmA_OINChwAuDWoArzuT1-rPLHjPYTZ-125sy5uFcQcLk6ELnD7UgQuCBUVl0HP1SRo2DGqIaNIzXnp6DYumwg6zJ2J2ZCQrsIDYXumaDb1LnPhPyc/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00275.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">At
LaSalle Street Station, the mighty locomotive sits at rest. Eve
alights with a Red Cap – Thornhill, who takes her luggage ahead as
she stops for the two detectives. Has she seen the man they’re
looking for? Mr. Thornycroft? Thorn<i>hill</i>. Wishing them luck,
she catches up with her bag man, noting they have to run the gauntlet
of watchful cops watching the passengers – but not, it seems, the
men carrying their luggage. What’s she got in these bags? Bowling
balls, naturally…</span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3V_P8jq0WSbg_HawujSlrvo552edMBsArMDozDUEjhFnV-RylgCRRGcoLZFLVeL5cDkYdccyBUT0T3C6ToBKqOe5Mzod3bzYpYL1kpLv490knP-hT9yFFqW8mc385fv7c_WGyNzjtAndRJykVQiPmBiyldk7O3iTj1ZdLVTsvX9lepOMUm-al1I-ahY/s1920/vlcsnap-00281.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3V_P8jq0WSbg_HawujSlrvo552edMBsArMDozDUEjhFnV-RylgCRRGcoLZFLVeL5cDkYdccyBUT0T3C6ToBKqOe5Mzod3bzYpYL1kpLv490knP-hT9yFFqW8mc385fv7c_WGyNzjtAndRJykVQiPmBiyldk7O3iTj1ZdLVTsvX9lepOMUm-al1I-ahY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00281.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">As
they walk along, Thornhill enquires which bag his suit is in. The
small one. That ought to do the suit a lot of good. They discuss how to deal with Kaplan; it’s
after nine, he may have checked out of his hotel. Thornhill calling
from a phone booth in a Red Cap’s uniform might arouse suspicion,
she’ll make the call. Where should he change? Marshall Field’s
window? She had the men’s room in mind. Did she now? She’s the
smartest girl he ever spent the night with on a train. Eve looks
askance, aware perhaps of the figures of Vandamm and Leonard on the
platform a distance behind. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill
thinks they made it, saying as much – doesn’t he </span><i>watch
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">the movies? Sure enough, the Red
Cap he got the uniform from has alerted the cops and they give chase,
leaving the man to count the money Thornhill paid for the outfit.
Finding the phoney among all the Red Caps is, however, like finding a
grain of salt in your sugar bowl. Grabbing every man they see turns
up nothing, but indignant porters and Thornhill’s luck holds in the
Men’s Room; he’s </span><span style="font-style: normal;">just
another traveller</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> shaving </span><span style="font-style: normal;">at
the sinks</span><span style="font-style: normal;">, the foam hiding
his face from the searching bulls. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFpX8XNQBueWVONAKlPR4I6K1bZJw_dtvXb-D38zD8MC84X53EnxHWRLJyMB2AaRW_7uQPLu2G4PMRT0ZvV3ZRNc22Gf3rxlpH04rI-WnOZJO2HsA5wbNKQRLOQhn_TpCxDi-HWoztz-CDlAQouuDffNo8SATHp0IHkiNfUbkWChpICPs-2nltY030OQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00294.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFpX8XNQBueWVONAKlPR4I6K1bZJw_dtvXb-D38zD8MC84X53EnxHWRLJyMB2AaRW_7uQPLu2G4PMRT0ZvV3ZRNc22Gf3rxlpH04rI-WnOZJO2HsA5wbNKQRLOQhn_TpCxDi-HWoztz-CDlAQouuDffNo8SATHp0IHkiNfUbkWChpICPs-2nltY030OQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00294.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">There’s
a light-hearted moment when the man next to him notices he’s using
a woman’s razor, before returning to his own ablutions with his
cut-throat. Meanwhile, Eve is at one end of a row of pay phone
booths, for a discreet briefing with Leonard at the far end. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNyGIDt5Oj2DHlY-tlIDPvz4GEUVj45kOaZQEI_OXh83puQvgv3mwRThzUL8z0x1L1Q4UfIv45Ud4c9QHa9LhkZZHMUFKrk69a-C0x-e6RbMPyrMfIR_efk6XbqTQzDDJcVRABxvJC697x6OcstnDxB1JGPpU9dIb2uTAuvyGcBmb2WjooFqtRZjB0Z8/s2840/MV5BNjc1MDZlMWQtOWMxYi00Y2U1LWIwOWEtOWQ5ODUwOGRiZTUyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNjUwNzk3NDc@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2126" data-original-width="2840" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNyGIDt5Oj2DHlY-tlIDPvz4GEUVj45kOaZQEI_OXh83puQvgv3mwRThzUL8z0x1L1Q4UfIv45Ud4c9QHa9LhkZZHMUFKrk69a-C0x-e6RbMPyrMfIR_efk6XbqTQzDDJcVRABxvJC697x6OcstnDxB1JGPpU9dIb2uTAuvyGcBmb2WjooFqtRZjB0Z8/w640-h480/MV5BNjc1MDZlMWQtOWMxYi00Y2U1LWIwOWEtOWQ5ODUwOGRiZTUyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNjUwNzk3NDc@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She
waits for Thornhill while Leonard rejoins his master and they depart.
Finally, Thornhill’s finished shaving; what took him so long? Big
face, small razor. She hands him written instructions for the meet
with Kaplan; he wants to meet in Indianapolis. He’s to take the
Greyhound at two, to </span>Prairie Stop, Highway 41. He wants to
rent a car, but Eve insists Kaplan wanted to be sure he was alone. </span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Thornhill
notices Eve seems tense (No kidding!) And she warns him the Police
will run out of Red Caps soon. Will they see each other again? Some
time, she is sure. He never had a moment to thank her properly. She
urges him to go; the police are coming. He goes, leaving her looking
after him with a look that might be regret.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5cfQLh7ohKYf8g_nLfCv_SrNqcf3p0TpWRGAZAPT5H46TcXgdEufGyhpJr0YGSf2QCiUJbsFqeYtTXMd2rlXJ6P_SzZ74a6dw9_2RakNzBnQuhPjn9yCX-Jnazgg55D1qWuBpnNSo5VGaqXs8_lF590jjZ1wV5sO8RkynS3fKXCxUSIpqHwcROq-oQM/s1920/vlcsnap-00316.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5cfQLh7ohKYf8g_nLfCv_SrNqcf3p0TpWRGAZAPT5H46TcXgdEufGyhpJr0YGSf2QCiUJbsFqeYtTXMd2rlXJ6P_SzZ74a6dw9_2RakNzBnQuhPjn9yCX-Jnazgg55D1qWuBpnNSo5VGaqXs8_lF590jjZ1wV5sO8RkynS3fKXCxUSIpqHwcROq-oQM/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00316.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
wide open spaces of Indianapolis. The sleek silver Greyhound dazzles
its way along the endless road to the lonely stop in the middle of
the vast expanse of dusty, parched fields. One passenger alights, to
stand, utterly alone. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTANkKAAx6h0_FqYEGzxwBd0noY367VMHKj-bxhPKD8NkTtdD1jDGhrSztDwzJUQQRfvmqzcY34qZhfehjh-uBv32A7IoGD1-9lp2TUOtNoANWWzg7ji-F2JAp0Pd_VG4483WWPW3u9FqWhKSJZS6KX9xlm10gra6TJwGoh9Z2xguU6vlwK65CGxwVQ8/s1920/vlcsnap-00318.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTANkKAAx6h0_FqYEGzxwBd0noY367VMHKj-bxhPKD8NkTtdD1jDGhrSztDwzJUQQRfvmqzcY34qZhfehjh-uBv32A7IoGD1-9lp2TUOtNoANWWzg7ji-F2JAp0Pd_VG4483WWPW3u9FqWhKSJZS6KX9xlm10gra6TJwGoh9Z2xguU6vlwK65CGxwVQ8/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00318.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Thornhill gazes round to see nothing in every
direction, save a single plane, which is dusting the crops in the
distance. All there is to see is a field of corn, before a Mercury
roars past leaving him alone with the dust from its passing.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpnsbn4cw2OdPTJzHpXDXf8pvs_m_pwlVWOBVGzRNJGGy9dUkENl40u8jqECqYbrd59gPnlWpPokz1T3taeGF51k4ZLcjpVw_mWMzvdNUlTsMjzg6MJhZbk2kPk-pKpEl3Lyz5FcgpEWcajV2Ic4RLfIqoYvB7mvxVo072sOQHTu5F_NrgQo03u51cQw/s800/8%20DUST.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpnsbn4cw2OdPTJzHpXDXf8pvs_m_pwlVWOBVGzRNJGGy9dUkENl40u8jqECqYbrd59gPnlWpPokz1T3taeGF51k4ZLcjpVw_mWMzvdNUlTsMjzg6MJhZbk2kPk-pKpEl3Lyz5FcgpEWcajV2Ic4RLfIqoYvB7mvxVo072sOQHTu5F_NrgQo03u51cQw/w640-h360/8%20DUST.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">From the
other direction, a Cadillac, perhaps this is Kaplan? That too rolls
past the stop. As does a truck, blowing dust over the solitary
figure. Then, an old Chevrolet pulls up from beyond the corn, a woman
driving. She drops a be-hatted man off at the stop opposite and
leaves again. The two men face each other across the asphalt.
Finally, Thornhill makes an approach, to find the man’s waiting for
his bus. The man in the hat observes the crop duster in the distance,
noting some of the pilots get rich – if they live long enough. So,
his name’s not Kaplan? ‘Can’t say it is, because it ain’t.’
His bus is here, right on time. Before he goes, he notices something
odd. The plane is dusting crops where there aren’t any. Clambering
aboard his bus, the hat man leaves Thornhill alone with the dust. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0rl6jx-eAPiYg3nDys2lfEd1SJj-N_RKRljWZlsaLgDmPpxbROrMMLypxC5MiT1Bsnu2Cv_J2lKAiRW3nTsV0BWlTvkMvV4XXsJa6WEJxlzq3tziXqONmrnvoQPZK2JgyPGgI4NYcUwQxkgYhJ8ki-sy0oOB5rvBIwMbxorJlHkqwmrEH8atzpv-RRE/s2000/ipiccy_image(4)-min.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0rl6jx-eAPiYg3nDys2lfEd1SJj-N_RKRljWZlsaLgDmPpxbROrMMLypxC5MiT1Bsnu2Cv_J2lKAiRW3nTsV0BWlTvkMvV4XXsJa6WEJxlzq3tziXqONmrnvoQPZK2JgyPGgI4NYcUwQxkgYhJ8ki-sy0oOB5rvBIwMbxorJlHkqwmrEH8atzpv-RRE/w640-h360/ipiccy_image(4)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Finishing
it’s drop, the biplane turns and heads in Thornhill’s direction.
Right at him – and low! He ducks into the dirt as the propeller
slices the air feet above. Had he stayed standing, he would be dead. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpwlcR7ATRChkM-vkIJOyFutdjuLMzSIxgsUUXn7nxAGxL7n3eHZbmRZODw5rLshveELtaBu_CJShZ56ohp1UiWFWolRxceq8BCF-XHiJ9TWu5wvVNebgaYC9evZ-YjokDKWh3wb_THB5NljYy9s81R9ePflQupTvGbWAOynFeYHhLSIVyIR5A9mx0CI/s800/9%20DUSTIER.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpwlcR7ATRChkM-vkIJOyFutdjuLMzSIxgsUUXn7nxAGxL7n3eHZbmRZODw5rLshveELtaBu_CJShZ56ohp1UiWFWolRxceq8BCF-XHiJ9TWu5wvVNebgaYC9evZ-YjokDKWh3wb_THB5NljYy9s81R9ePflQupTvGbWAOynFeYHhLSIVyIR5A9mx0CI/w640-h360/9%20DUSTIER.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Executing a tight turn, the plane comes around for another pass.
Diving into a shallow ditch, Thornhill presses himself into Mother
Earth as a hail of bullets strafes inches from him. A passing car
offers a glimpse of salvation, but the driver ignores the man
frantically waving it down to ride past, as Baron Von Kropdust comes
around for another pass, more bullets slamming into the dirt. The
cornfield! </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnF0zhYKND9MieKQqsgcE2bVWwVOZs5YxBiIY4wO3iNvvvZGX6d0msHpgC1De8ZFR70Hll-JlKIxHrBIdIL-kb_da0dHpxRC2MSrSVryUNxGKLYrj-sRMFZ5qVT0efJu0F7Iy29wZpNT45v_hKbWCF9HTJgQGtoXMSbprxNxE1o8BJIOusf3eQ_I5p8WA/s800/11%20NOWHERE%20TO%20RUN%20REDUX.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnF0zhYKND9MieKQqsgcE2bVWwVOZs5YxBiIY4wO3iNvvvZGX6d0msHpgC1De8ZFR70Hll-JlKIxHrBIdIL-kb_da0dHpxRC2MSrSVryUNxGKLYrj-sRMFZ5qVT0efJu0F7Iy29wZpNT45v_hKbWCF9HTJgQGtoXMSbprxNxE1o8BJIOusf3eQ_I5p8WA/w640-h360/11%20NOWHERE%20TO%20RUN%20REDUX.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2OVWwwIfBCxqYme4HXBSWBg7JjgQioBmUbRE1jaBjgA35tL9dH7b2lif9LSi_t527dHhyZENgY7QlQpVwkU4YpxBCzhhyphenhyphenjsGWP5H3PdLkXDWJsKDghQz8ejjH3DwnNPDKrj3l9gmczO_J0q52BJsHuGiGMoPWei2r9KH7dMmFmBrdz9edaKbNFwP5UE/s800/12%20HEADING%20FOR%20COVER.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2OVWwwIfBCxqYme4HXBSWBg7JjgQioBmUbRE1jaBjgA35tL9dH7b2lif9LSi_t527dHhyZENgY7QlQpVwkU4YpxBCzhhyphenhyphenjsGWP5H3PdLkXDWJsKDghQz8ejjH3DwnNPDKrj3l9gmczO_J0q52BJsHuGiGMoPWei2r9KH7dMmFmBrdz9edaKbNFwP5UE/w640-h360/12%20HEADING%20FOR%20COVER.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Spotting what might be his only chance, Thornhill runs for
it, heading into the cover of the tall crop and ducking down once
more. The plane goes around again and the hunted man begins to think
he’s safe – until the next pass when he’s bombarded with
chemicals, the crop duster dusting both crops and fugitive. Spotting
an oil tanker approaching, Thornhill runs back out onto the road and,
desperate, stands his ground as he waves in a last ditch effort to
escape. Horn blaring and tyres squealing, the heavy vehicle skids to
a halt, knocking Thornhill onto his back and coming to a halt above. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">He’s lucky to be alive. Maybe; the plane following him is too low
to pull up, smashing into the tanker and instantly exploding into a
fireball. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuM46KVnoLIppkqvUlKJDMRrfCnSrmRDdbdTr5sLrP3QvSg92GWNwYsrGQJ2RHhhtIinWlvyUAb60AXkZ4EYRJIScPHwfqNSPcNbIYdvkDqPnku8O3v2M6eye9TRZnx2QfywbCGG3zUXTEBAT5WycCAugXDzpKec1tTfmP5VaZQnG8JxrKMWY_Z0VnfHM/s400/15%20A%20MODEL%20EXPLOSION%20HUGE%20FILE.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuM46KVnoLIppkqvUlKJDMRrfCnSrmRDdbdTr5sLrP3QvSg92GWNwYsrGQJ2RHhhtIinWlvyUAb60AXkZ4EYRJIScPHwfqNSPcNbIYdvkDqPnku8O3v2M6eye9TRZnx2QfywbCGG3zUXTEBAT5WycCAugXDzpKec1tTfmP5VaZQnG8JxrKMWY_Z0VnfHM/w640-h360/15%20A%20MODEL%20EXPLOSION%20HUGE%20FILE.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The tanker’s crew jump out and one of them yells at
Thornhill to get out of there; the other tank may blow! The two
tanker men run for the dubious safety of the corn field and Thornhill
runs back up the road, to where some onlookers have stopped.
Helpfully, the small group wants a closer look at the impending
explosion, giving Thornhill the opportunity to steal a pickup truck. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSb_26M_heBXAD2Ti693EEAQBTIDNiMN8EV1dxktUeCHD7_BqNpsJGTnDHb3Kv-TzKbSRUmQT4DYsuG9YeybDrLabD4cvp5pkQ_6SL-jDUATP_veq19nMAVgMd8EeBHY4PsNp678HFbvijS8iNzg03MxH6BbCona3Gc4fYS_BP928qHn5kDdf40bCVaI8/s1920/vlcsnap-00420.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSb_26M_heBXAD2Ti693EEAQBTIDNiMN8EV1dxktUeCHD7_BqNpsJGTnDHb3Kv-TzKbSRUmQT4DYsuG9YeybDrLabD4cvp5pkQ_6SL-jDUATP_veq19nMAVgMd8EeBHY4PsNp678HFbvijS8iNzg03MxH6BbCona3Gc4fYS_BP928qHn5kDdf40bCVaI8/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00420.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">That
night, the pickup sits abandoned and Thornhill waits opposite the
Ambassador East Hotel, picking his moment to go in. At the reception,
he learns that Kaplan checked out at ten past seven that morning. He
left a forwarding address; Hotel Sheraton-Johnson, Rapid City South
Dakota. Seven-ten? Then how come he got a message from him at nine…
He spots Eve getting a paper and watches as she enters an elevator,
which goes up to the fourth floor. Thinking quickly, he asks the
receptionist for Eve Kendall – She’s on the fourth, but he forgot
the number. 463.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWWKA2z1bhoXn1kmEjcUT8bm4ThZuKdXUh3Ul10UhaLYL4TAfziI1E75HT9F8OB9peZHT816w7XAoEy_RlxjyI7XYfNtPSv97PGdPzE8dhw_W5WDeoHyi6f8NqPcqIvZcwxXCCAPHGs1HtGVBTPJh5APZA99VR8sNMcpeiEeuGE5fDPANb_JUzv2KBZI/s1920/vlcsnap-00428.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWWKA2z1bhoXn1kmEjcUT8bm4ThZuKdXUh3Ul10UhaLYL4TAfziI1E75HT9F8OB9peZHT816w7XAoEy_RlxjyI7XYfNtPSv97PGdPzE8dhw_W5WDeoHyi6f8NqPcqIvZcwxXCCAPHGs1HtGVBTPJh5APZA99VR8sNMcpeiEeuGE5fDPANb_JUzv2KBZI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00428.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Guess
who’s surprised to see Roger Thornhill at her door? ‘No getting
rid of me, is there?’ Now Thornhill gets a surprise, as she runs to
embrace him. He successfully resists the temptation to join in,
asking for a scotch, water no ice. While she fixes the drink, he
notes the headline on her newspaper; two die as crop-duster plane
crashes and burns. Nervously, she asks how the meeting went. Kaplan
didn’t show, which he finds funny given her detailed instructions.
Why doesn’t he call Kaplan back? He’s in Rapid City. She asks
what Thornhill’s plans are, but he hasn’t made his mind up yet.
It depends on her, he says proposing a toast. To a lasting friendship
– meaning he’s not going to let her out of his sight. She tries
to tell him she has plans of her own, but he’s not buying this
time. ‘Wouldn't it be nice if my problems and your plans were
somehow connected?’ The phone rings and she answers, is given an
address to write down on the pad. Suspicious, Thornhill asks if it’s
business. Yes, she says. Industrial design business? She tucks the
note she made in her purse, making it comfortable alongside the Colt
.25 automatic she keeps in there. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrGeKZ6zlu5RLKfJBIAkxcmdMl6WjIr-O5aHX7dkVaTyRSJu6EyHTTju4zL8QB8TQtoZiPsMdIXR4MfYwc315SZMxzcHHjWwDrM-2MI7cgRMgLUWMZzaBp2jRBcVOUbxLVLi_REFR2FyGnQWw5mxL5ix40rOGrrrV2hGPluXH7x8pn2y-ZDB7_0b_K-E/s2048/MV5BMjA1NzQ1Mzg4OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTE2ODUwNA@@_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1353" data-original-width="2048" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrGeKZ6zlu5RLKfJBIAkxcmdMl6WjIr-O5aHX7dkVaTyRSJu6EyHTTju4zL8QB8TQtoZiPsMdIXR4MfYwc315SZMxzcHHjWwDrM-2MI7cgRMgLUWMZzaBp2jRBcVOUbxLVLi_REFR2FyGnQWw5mxL5ix40rOGrrrV2hGPluXH7x8pn2y-ZDB7_0b_K-E/w640-h422/MV5BMjA1NzQ1Mzg4OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTE2ODUwNA@@_edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">He
proposes dinner, but she has a favor to ask; leave and don’t come
near her again. They aren’t going to get involved. Last night was
last night and that’s all there is. Good luck. No conversation.
Just leave. He can’t, but talks her into dinner – He’ll need
his suit cleaning first. Calling down for valet service, Thornhill
wonders what a man could do with his clothes off in twenty minutes –
Eve suggests a cold shower. Eve helps him off with his jacket and the
tone turns serious. ‘How does a girl like you get to be a girl like
you?’ ‘Lucky I guess.’ ‘Oh Not lucky. Naughty. Wicked. Up to
no good. Ever kill anyone? Because I bet you could tease a man to
death without half trying. So stop trying, huh?’ He goes to finish
undressing as the buzzer goes, handing her his pants. He runs a
shower, whistling. <i>Singin' in the Rain. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Eve
busies herself grabbing some things and makes to sneak out, spotting
the photo of Townsend/Vandamm Thornhill left on the side table when
he emptied his pockets before leaving Thornhill high and dry. Mainly
dry; he hasn’t taken that shower, using it as a ruse. He goes back
into the bedroom and does the old pencil trick to reveal the message
she wrote on the pad. </span><i>1212 N.Michigan </i></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><i> </i></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQW0Eo6elpJ9oX5ILRnaPHm3gBuyO6W9vSE3Ln72z4Op_fnUEvxpAgbbF7ryaFuHLYAUEIdoIIHmTMmbP6StqW-tJjMlYr-rNFXytjflngkRGAHFAC8Bys47hnTBfkA_rCy1kiUHrPXIfF-0wLLbkzIF23hKpfvS_5ry7pmLcjVVd3BEkrAT5-Hz4pxqg/s1920/vlcsnap-00455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQW0Eo6elpJ9oX5ILRnaPHm3gBuyO6W9vSE3Ln72z4Op_fnUEvxpAgbbF7ryaFuHLYAUEIdoIIHmTMmbP6StqW-tJjMlYr-rNFXytjflngkRGAHFAC8Bys47hnTBfkA_rCy1kiUHrPXIfF-0wLLbkzIF23hKpfvS_5ry7pmLcjVVd3BEkrAT5-Hz4pxqg/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00455.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Dapper
once more, Thornhill takes a cab to 1212 North Michigan, home of the
Shaw and Oppenheim galleries. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4CTUbsKPIAyQc-wxFW4stCioN2islrd9S-HibYwUt1-xv8qMXMw1uyftzDqvcdUbhbjxE3Nbe3yTg7U00TZexne2NA5Hpl4WYtWQiFv8YNCJLUeWjBkike1grq_onlG-Dg-mf_soPQShvBiSgEsNPQwRGDUldGAA6TOZ61Q1LFmNNyvU5j2XtH1JO7s/s1920/vlcsnap-00457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4CTUbsKPIAyQc-wxFW4stCioN2islrd9S-HibYwUt1-xv8qMXMw1uyftzDqvcdUbhbjxE3Nbe3yTg7U00TZexne2NA5Hpl4WYtWQiFv8YNCJLUeWjBkike1grq_onlG-Dg-mf_soPQShvBiSgEsNPQwRGDUldGAA6TOZ61Q1LFmNNyvU5j2XtH1JO7s/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00457.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">An auction is underway, Eve seated with
Vandamm and his man Leonard – the former caressing Eve’s neck. A
pair of gilt chairs go under the hammer – which would be an
improvement, then Lot 103, an Aubusson settee. The bidding starts at
$800 as Thornhill coldly approaches the trio. ‘The three of you
together. Now that’s a picture only Charles Addams could draw.’ </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFQQhZYYmnV_dM3lTeKcfQiQI-xqgmfsQbghhZgMf40SRxNAotg4qIvuIZh-da-m5wgOJwIjPfONo9JJmyaMXzB8Grp25DlEh10ujlG906I_zzrdrYuuxD3-9ov6liclUS1sQhjeXlDHQgPmsLHwuI_sqX6f35e5dAaqj60iHty0uGqUWJHiLFywjkj4/s1920/vlcsnap-00464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFQQhZYYmnV_dM3lTeKcfQiQI-xqgmfsQbghhZgMf40SRxNAotg4qIvuIZh-da-m5wgOJwIjPfONo9JJmyaMXzB8Grp25DlEh10ujlG906I_zzrdrYuuxD3-9ov6liclUS1sQhjeXlDHQgPmsLHwuI_sqX6f35e5dAaqj60iHty0uGqUWJHiLFywjkj4/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00464.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Vandamm responds by offering a ‘good evening’ to ‘Mr. Kaplan’.
Before they start calling each other names, Thornhill says, perhaps
he would tell him his? Vandamm is disappointed in him, but he was
just going to say that to Eve.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgykaZKHSzAKquJw6f42BlXGtBqdUAxIloAGl3q0mUULumsKmm_tzGQOV-SWNPpG8APli0Rs8nWnBH9C9LztrqG0tGNfalywiydi74Be6TuvqKWIb3p1FezN7CdaA1KTXB6z1Lj0pVJwIz05Vxds827zTA-cPErgFU53qDdiSyaf5-dYZxkJJoZYvsPs/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgykaZKHSzAKquJw6f42BlXGtBqdUAxIloAGl3q0mUULumsKmm_tzGQOV-SWNPpG8APli0Rs8nWnBH9C9LztrqG0tGNfalywiydi74Be6TuvqKWIb3p1FezN7CdaA1KTXB6z1Lj0pVJwIz05Vxds827zTA-cPErgFU53qDdiSyaf5-dYZxkJJoZYvsPs/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh30vU8MgSOMe1Yyutc7-b8xH0BGY7Ax7PWcMd6jiXIfRC9bB73P3QLmingptdCg66KNcKYvV6z28ABY7NgnNvNPcdwD1d2CEsCYI0Xi49OrxTGcKoGBqIzLC7A0mDugGQyzHP1GbejIzpXfL2PWquSCUr5FwSLQPoKzpG7qUwmi3r8eLHaiPktWObwojQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh30vU8MgSOMe1Yyutc7-b8xH0BGY7Ax7PWcMd6jiXIfRC9bB73P3QLmingptdCg66KNcKYvV6z28ABY7NgnNvNPcdwD1d2CEsCYI0Xi49OrxTGcKoGBqIzLC7A0mDugGQyzHP1GbejIzpXfL2PWquSCUr5FwSLQPoKzpG7qUwmi3r8eLHaiPktWObwojQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00464.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Eve
states Thornhill followed her from her hotel. Jealously, Leonard asks
her ‘He was in your room?’ to which Thornhill quips ‘Sure,
isn’t everybody?’ at this, Vandamm removes his hand from her
neck, his gaze cold. Leonard, however notices the auctioneer is now
offering a native Mexican statuette, and Vandamm joins the bidding at
$500. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_nJ2RN6g_ANt-tHiHzGVpjtV2nsbJC_0TI877NxQ02kwNiR8_eegdd671JGQLvd679ZFvqPeXSE38BKBDWclUDpOMzSSzUcS0k8gVr_C1AyTV5qVKLoNfG2JCMigpKuRNyizEYf66npfsncohu1obByWppumCq8JewpeLyiL5WGon2OurNLMuwJiKes/s1920/vlcsnap-00466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_nJ2RN6g_ANt-tHiHzGVpjtV2nsbJC_0TI877NxQ02kwNiR8_eegdd671JGQLvd679ZFvqPeXSE38BKBDWclUDpOMzSSzUcS0k8gVr_C1AyTV5qVKLoNfG2JCMigpKuRNyizEYf66npfsncohu1obByWppumCq8JewpeLyiL5WGon2OurNLMuwJiKes/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00466.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Eying Eve, Thornhill acidly supposes Vandamm paid plenty for
this little piece of sculpture. Vandamm goes to $700, but Thornhill
pushes the point; she’s worth every dollar, really puts her heart
into her work. In fact her whole body. Vandamm wins and is named as
the winning bidder. So now Thornhill knows what we know. </span>Has
anyone told you that you overplay your various roles rather severely?
First, you're the outraged Madison Avenue man who claims he's been
mistaken for someone else. Then, you play the fugitive, trying to
clear his name of a crime he didn't commit. Now you play the peevish
lover - stung by jealousy and betrayal. It seems you fellows could
stand less training from the FBI and more from the Actors' Studio.’
<span style="font-style: normal;">Elegantly, Vandamm skewers Thornhill
with the observation, but Roger rejoins with ‘Apparently, the only
performance that will satisfy you is when I play dead.’ ‘Your
very next role. You'll be quite convincing, I assure you.’
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Leonard walks past to pay for
the statue, his look one of amused menace.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNaN8OoQD11fOfu9x8p5BRS_NGNg8MPBOi0wgGOkh-K319vc3uQ8QYz7JxObbspmapfQWieNNnymJw1UJxngHAcxzpqkc9936cLG4WFPQYbDSz0btS9GSKh1jMc7Irck0044Iex8tkZ5dnUbgODgVXfmC-ZUx-wCvuxXFYOgbl2hrtNTxtRpzKDz08rw/s2048/MV5BMjAxMDE0ODMzM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNjEyMTU4Mw@@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1576" data-original-width="2048" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNaN8OoQD11fOfu9x8p5BRS_NGNg8MPBOi0wgGOkh-K319vc3uQ8QYz7JxObbspmapfQWieNNnymJw1UJxngHAcxzpqkc9936cLG4WFPQYbDSz0btS9GSKh1jMc7Irck0044Iex8tkZ5dnUbgODgVXfmC-ZUx-wCvuxXFYOgbl2hrtNTxtRpzKDz08rw/w640-h492/MV5BMjAxMDE0ODMzM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNjEyMTU4Mw@@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill
wonders what subtle form of manslaughter comes next on the program;
is he to be dropped into a vat of molten steel to become part of a
new skyscraper? Or is this</span><i> female</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
going to kiss him again and poison him? It’s too much for Eve, who
turns to slap him, but he restrains her, noting ‘Who are you
kidding? You have no feelings to hurt.’ As she seats herself again,
Vandamm’s look shows he isn’t so sure of that. We see The
Professor</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> – </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Intelligence Chief sitting in the rows of bidders, watching
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">anxiously</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1lad3JagVKAe_F8a28hpiVv91UyyXABZyQapzdLSwC8pafQeyOJnNaSKb9O5MfNmD_d4e3tbuuat1aRXkHmsBaM5rCinSFCN__S_urPVzNzBp7-Z8MXB5PuxdEI8hVg3rwevqmqU5Pkca7fFgRa8StGepIvjzGx5ydtqGuyT6c9unV5MYUK-nGS2-p4/s1920/vlcsnap-00473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1lad3JagVKAe_F8a28hpiVv91UyyXABZyQapzdLSwC8pafQeyOJnNaSKb9O5MfNmD_d4e3tbuuat1aRXkHmsBaM5rCinSFCN__S_urPVzNzBp7-Z8MXB5PuxdEI8hVg3rwevqmqU5Pkca7fFgRa8StGepIvjzGx5ydtqGuyT6c9unV5MYUK-nGS2-p4/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00473.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Vandamm has had quite enough of Thornhill, so why doesn’t he call
the police? </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Astutely,
Thornhill realises that’s the last thing Vandamm wants, him in the
hands of the police. There’s something he might tell them –
that’s why he had Eve hustle him on the train. Something tells him
his best chance of survival is with the police. He bids farewell to
Eve and goes to leave, her tears unseen. The sight of the stocky
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Valerian</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
stops Thornhill, the thug reaching into a pocket significantly. He
makes for the stage, seeking a way out, but the whip-thin form of
Leonard is there, his piercing gaze never leaving the desperate man. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbgy5EahrfhU0ezT4TCvKOmPV5-4uy3uQ9aIknmrmIiFd7sBO4qiEGWlGR2rX02P5sM13ith7EZtq9r5GlgxF0OVvFa49nZliFhDPfx5seJ1ZYyaSI9RdVa_J-niQ905h0ObJXXzjyaQLmg4IcGB-TmXrBhBWJD3cWoGEF3BaHlt1p37qjs49vAL3O24/s1920/vlcsnap-00476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbgy5EahrfhU0ezT4TCvKOmPV5-4uy3uQ9aIknmrmIiFd7sBO4qiEGWlGR2rX02P5sM13ith7EZtq9r5GlgxF0OVvFa49nZliFhDPfx5seJ1ZYyaSI9RdVa_J-niQ905h0ObJXXzjyaQLmg4IcGB-TmXrBhBWJD3cWoGEF3BaHlt1p37qjs49vAL3O24/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00476.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">With
no choice, Thornhill takes a seat as the bidding starts on a
painting. An old master. Bidding quickly reaches fifteen hundred,
then Thornhill sees Vandamm escort the girl from the saleroom as the
painting hits two thousand dollars, then twenty-two fifty. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFI3-gBtE_YtOqvGROwnmjpXviKpZPcvzViTA6f10jbZWx4Etp5wBqLyDU4f9R-eshIBu-uh3iP9d4aArGW-C90Vd13pQvc59dnun17uOGW9Ry_sg_v57GXR_Puir82rI5MinZwJ0E0WJXkky7HrGQYhc-L6_m_39LeAbcBAKmi0Wrq8f4fwivYq5qNE/s1920/vlcsnap-00481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFI3-gBtE_YtOqvGROwnmjpXviKpZPcvzViTA6f10jbZWx4Etp5wBqLyDU4f9R-eshIBu-uh3iP9d4aArGW-C90Vd13pQvc59dnun17uOGW9Ry_sg_v57GXR_Puir82rI5MinZwJ0E0WJXkky7HrGQYhc-L6_m_39LeAbcBAKmi0Wrq8f4fwivYq5qNE/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00481.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill
calls out fifteen hundred. Heads turn as, politely the auctioneer
explains the bid is already at </span><span style="font-style: normal;">twenty-two
fifty. Thornhill repeats his bid, so the auctioneer proceeds at
twenty-two fifty, once, twice… And Thornhill reduces his offer to
twelve hundred. The painting is sold, but Thornhill’s not having
it; twenty-two fifty for that chromo? Trying to maintain his
composure, the auctioneer moves to the next item in the catalogue, a
Louis Quinze carved and gilded </span><i>lit de repos</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
– a fancy bed to you or I, asking for $750 to start the bids. ‘How
do we know it’s not a fake? – it looks like a fake!’ A stir
throughout the saleroom, with a lady in front turning to advise Roger
he’s genuine – a genuine idiot. He thanks her, politely. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Magnanimously,
the harried auctioneer asks if his disruptive bidder could get into
the spirit of things, so Thornhill agrees with bids of eight, with
the bids rising to twelve hundred. Who’ll say thirteen? Roger
Thornhill will. Thirteen </span><i>dollars. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">‘You
mean thirteen hundred, sir?’ No, he means thirteen dollars, that’s
more than it’s worth. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">An
assistant sidles up to a lady seated at a telephone and mutters
something. To Thornhill’s satisfaction it looks like she’s
calling the police. Our fancy bed is still worth twelve hundred and
it’s going once, twice and last call… two thousand. Thornhill has
bid two thousand. The auctioneer is flummoxed, but Thornhill isn’t
through. Twenty one hundred! Make it twenty five hundred. By now
losing his grip, the auctioneer asks the troublesome bidder for
cooperation once more and gets none. Two thousand five hundred, his
money’s as good as anyone elses… The sale goes through at twelve
hundred, with the auctioneer ignoring Thornhill’s call of three
thousand. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9_vqD5P6ss1cAfob4HpcS1o8165MDQtGcv8uJeJwORPLpMO1W5irJ4cbxFgPvWMd-gId_vgJxSIs_P-R9IOO0T-RZHJI4Xu88nVjnMB19eU2XsKe48oWBYErTT4CbAQqSLod4_JN2wcfYO_L3EyLpBzbP4cdYekfAHcs8Dw_22ERtGX-0XUOycGmjow/s1920/vlcsnap-00482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9_vqD5P6ss1cAfob4HpcS1o8165MDQtGcv8uJeJwORPLpMO1W5irJ4cbxFgPvWMd-gId_vgJxSIs_P-R9IOO0T-RZHJI4Xu88nVjnMB19eU2XsKe48oWBYErTT4CbAQqSLod4_JN2wcfYO_L3EyLpBzbP4cdYekfAHcs8Dw_22ERtGX-0XUOycGmjow/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00482.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
saleroom is in uproar, with Thornhill quick to his feet to cry foul.
An attendant asks him to leave and, spotting the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">police</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
arriving, Roger throws a punch, felling the unfortunate man. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
two fight, but Thornhill is quickly dragged away by the burly cops,
still offering three thousand.</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Plz3KA5Jlysz8Em97OaFOG0FDxdc5CGu9iZDMZaLUWl7aolDBnBTCvVcQDj1uYEEW45Ut0m0Kmnkd5hwR6UCCRhQIWTWuy2qYEhzXJxnYSJWMNFT-HaMsnNNr1gw91cGuqopO_qhhBZwOrChYdNGNXMRtNjCV2xc_uGbRfhHEpVZS4XMZ5nQ94-nyCM/s2048/MV5BMTU1MDAwODc4NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTE2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1398" data-original-width="2048" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Plz3KA5Jlysz8Em97OaFOG0FDxdc5CGu9iZDMZaLUWl7aolDBnBTCvVcQDj1uYEEW45Ut0m0Kmnkd5hwR6UCCRhQIWTWuy2qYEhzXJxnYSJWMNFT-HaMsnNNr1gw91cGuqopO_qhhBZwOrChYdNGNXMRtNjCV2xc_uGbRfhHEpVZS4XMZ5nQ94-nyCM/w640-h436/MV5BMTU1MDAwODc4NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTE2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The Professor doesn’t like
what he sees and beats a hasty retreat, but as they pass the thug,
Thornhill can’t resist a jibe; ‘I’m sorry old man, too bad,
keep trying.’ The Professor quickly finds a booth to make an urgent
call as, outside, Roger is bundled into a black and white. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YhcGVNwDggPb2xklQqSdxMoP_boZMghz6va1kbc-LFOb8wSwt_SYO3RJxCUuB4yZuQd5hnJe7BsyYBSnW-hUsvHf4k4Jb3xubIOXG_pSkOD8Xpaw6C1nO3wQ-ae5Nv0fMTI0kkbNuTgjAxKOvZIJcV6OlglqtEegCOJNowNpryP8Yk7fuMpR0H5UTs0/s1920/vlcsnap-00490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YhcGVNwDggPb2xklQqSdxMoP_boZMghz6va1kbc-LFOb8wSwt_SYO3RJxCUuB4yZuQd5hnJe7BsyYBSnW-hUsvHf4k4Jb3xubIOXG_pSkOD8Xpaw6C1nO3wQ-ae5Nv0fMTI0kkbNuTgjAxKOvZIJcV6OlglqtEegCOJNowNpryP8Yk7fuMpR0H5UTs0/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00490.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
they roll, Thornhill thanks them for saving his life, but they aren’t
interested. He’s going to booked for drunk and disorderly.
Chickenfeed! They’ve just hit the jackpot, catching the United
Nations killer, Roger Thornhill. He shows the id to prove it to an
incredulous cop while the sergeant driving, name of Flamm calls it in
on the radio. Positive I.d. on Michigan heading North to 42</span><sup><span style="font-style: normal;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-style: normal;">
Precinct. Sergeant Flamm can’t believe what he’s hearing, hanging
up and turning for the airport. Thornhill doesn’t like where this
is going; he wants to go to headquarters – Why else do they think
he sent for them? That gets a laugh from Sergeant Flamm; ‘What
about this guy Charlie, he sent for us!’ </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Repeating
his demand, Thornhill tries to tell them he’s a dangerous assassin,
a mad killer on the loose! Losing patience, Flamm snaps back; ‘You
ought to be ashamed of yourself.’ </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOYiPPNKLMuAL9umgmZfUtnsS8QYtnbM7150sBdMJ4TG-Nhr-kwbaW7lXDhjdnPb2WcmrvNIZwsxxTxoQSctR6N_2PSuWSJY2NB0oXG5vUMj7waUSUmfBvkhc-YcTWcEBVrjAd7D3JIZ7pEj3O85mIEnplicbaK83Hs6Z4PFqcBEHPNsG2RBYRmUH0fY/s1920/vlcsnap-00494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOYiPPNKLMuAL9umgmZfUtnsS8QYtnbM7150sBdMJ4TG-Nhr-kwbaW7lXDhjdnPb2WcmrvNIZwsxxTxoQSctR6N_2PSuWSJY2NB0oXG5vUMj7waUSUmfBvkhc-YcTWcEBVrjAd7D3JIZ7pEj3O85mIEnplicbaK83Hs6Z4PFqcBEHPNsG2RBYRmUH0fY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00494.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Pulling
up at </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Midway airport, the
cops take Thornhill to the Northwest terminal, The Professor arriving
moments later to collect tickets. Showing the bemused officers his
identification, he leads Thornhill away, also bemused. Thornhill
didn’t catch his name – because he never pitched it. ‘</span>You're
police, aren't you? Or is it FBI?’ ‘FBI, CIA, ONI. We're all in
the same alphabet soup.’ Thornhill protests his innocence of the
United Nations killing. The Professor knows; but they never interfere
with the police, unless absolutely necessary. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnj7xd3sdzhgG8F668oVjFMlcjvaWQNHyqA-ySW0xZthmxlz_rgK35-dRSSQuzH68zdzMzzAesaibN4of6aT8jc9N9-JtMvTIg_lpCmsdvIVtlpQJzoPRB6cFF842R6-Ymkcd7bhL46_skW3QoSYYFMDObbrwA_fVJV1FG4wZk9DxcPIYveUlRG7FjJfE/s1920/vlcsnap-00498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnj7xd3sdzhgG8F668oVjFMlcjvaWQNHyqA-ySW0xZthmxlz_rgK35-dRSSQuzH68zdzMzzAesaibN4of6aT8jc9N9-JtMvTIg_lpCmsdvIVtlpQJzoPRB6cFF842R6-Ymkcd7bhL46_skW3QoSYYFMDObbrwA_fVJV1FG4wZk9DxcPIYveUlRG7FjJfE/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00498.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">It has become
necessary. He urges Thornhill to walk faster, or they’ll miss the
plane. They are bound for Rapid City. What for? It’s near Mount
Rushmore. Thornhill’s seen Mount Rushmore. But so has Mr. Vandamm.
And the ‘treacherous little tramp’ with him? Miss Kendal? They
know all about her; Vandamm’s mistress. Thornhill wants to know
what Vandamm’s up to. ‘Oh you could say he’s a sort of
Importer/Exporter.’ Of what? ‘Oh. Government secrets, perhaps.’
Why not grab him? Too much they still don’t know about his
organisation. And Mount Rushmore? He has a place near there; they
think it’s his jumping off point to leave the country tomorrow
night. Are they going to stop him? No, to set his mind at ease about
George Kaplan. </span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50Vu_V476rpDWmgJUOyJB2NNbfByXAvTDiR7r4QK3ZI334hmu6Eh_NS4gX9MTvTidarLAYVzbdkWWabVYakoBuVEtfTIYJ-flAB8r0gyYosDqy2YN5Dk4teGOv6L5a5v70e6zj96KS0G9QxnwliqwpedwRpUFeLnHlXD2sJaAMtkmOZXsWAEJSkDPjQw/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20E.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50Vu_V476rpDWmgJUOyJB2NNbfByXAvTDiR7r4QK3ZI334hmu6Eh_NS4gX9MTvTidarLAYVzbdkWWabVYakoBuVEtfTIYJ-flAB8r0gyYosDqy2YN5Dk4teGOv6L5a5v70e6zj96KS0G9QxnwliqwpedwRpUFeLnHlXD2sJaAMtkmOZXsWAEJSkDPjQw/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20E.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">They’ll
discuss it on the plane. The nest part of the conversation is drowned
out by the storm from the waiting engines, but then Thornhill
protests they started this decoy business without him, they can
finish it without him. They should give him a medal and a vacation
instead of asking him to be a target to his agent doesn’t get shot
at. Once found out, The Professor states, their agent is as good as
dead. And thanks to him, clouds of suspicion are already forming.
Thornhill protests he’s an advertising man, not a red herring! With
a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives and several bartenders
dependent upon him and he doesn't intend to disappoint them by
getting himself slightly killed! His answer is no, a final one. The
Professor shakes his hand in goodbye, before mentioning that Miss
Kendall did what she had to do to protect herself. From what?
Exposure and assassination. She’s one of our agents. Thornhill is
aghast; what has he done?</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDve7d0zILuOoongN2j1WGATQ6DKPpsVWrB1detHyRNSn3i8aVJGNOW6kH2IWB1-04t5yfJ8pJCVU-lk1WauZ_QF7eLCqZ5OvMVpdKNeoDtvcgnpdKEApJADq3gGCgjMRvpbM2SvdqECVbno8Z-GOA5R_A6St6-8rq4AQoFILLnAdOSvUXzZeQu51YU3Y/s1920/vlcsnap-00505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDve7d0zILuOoongN2j1WGATQ6DKPpsVWrB1detHyRNSn3i8aVJGNOW6kH2IWB1-04t5yfJ8pJCVU-lk1WauZ_QF7eLCqZ5OvMVpdKNeoDtvcgnpdKEApJADq3gGCgjMRvpbM2SvdqECVbno8Z-GOA5R_A6St6-8rq4AQoFILLnAdOSvUXzZeQu51YU3Y/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00505.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Mount
Rushmore, that imposing edifice known throughout the world as ‘We
came all this way for <i>this</i><span style="font-style: normal;">?’
- Sorry, we mean ‘Majestic representations of four dead Presidents’
looms large in the telescope Thornhill is viewing it through from the
Memorial View Building. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEJ3RX4QdgrxLabaGw2chIGb-WbnHJSRoat17KrqxxwjdjTQb5SiSujwiHAY3ClS2I2ZcIZwPCmv0WrrAVQtYaW5eKfpxvkpDzZMnMBtvjZ4t7gz1w5QLQAHrxeIRgEe2Ocf5vl0pwsIwJm-N2grYXjXHaLkIa7BnN2FCfghBjTZWzK_b1f3ioQTdvAA/s2048/MV5BMTk4NTM4NTYzNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTI2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="2048" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEJ3RX4QdgrxLabaGw2chIGb-WbnHJSRoat17KrqxxwjdjTQb5SiSujwiHAY3ClS2I2ZcIZwPCmv0WrrAVQtYaW5eKfpxvkpDzZMnMBtvjZ4t7gz1w5QLQAHrxeIRgEe2Ocf5vl0pwsIwJm-N2grYXjXHaLkIa7BnN2FCfghBjTZWzK_b1f3ioQTdvAA/w640-h438/MV5BMTk4NTM4NTYzNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTI2ODUwNA@@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Turning to The Professor, who is perusing his
paper, Thornhill asks ‘Supposing they don’t come?’ ‘They’ll
come.’ Thornhill doesn’t like the way Teddy Roosevelt is looking
at him. ‘Perhaps he's trying to give you one last word of
caution, Mr. </span><i>Kaplan</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
"Speak soft and carry a big stick."</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MG1RHfnbfIYdEh50DkYQM4StGSjQbf8YBpTBICxSefDrkny5F_8-U0w1s91BXzrKdye2k4ZiNiOClhMnC67XiWahjQ-0ucGiv_S5KJ5QZNEt-1OCYXROQWmi0BMXhr__yVvxGy5vi3t7rvgIP8JjjT3p2AQokmvinnNQNjruOCYTtumRO6NrBBE42Gw/s1920/vlcsnap-00510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MG1RHfnbfIYdEh50DkYQM4StGSjQbf8YBpTBICxSefDrkny5F_8-U0w1s91BXzrKdye2k4ZiNiOClhMnC67XiWahjQ-0ucGiv_S5KJ5QZNEt-1OCYXROQWmi0BMXhr__yVvxGy5vi3t7rvgIP8JjjT3p2AQokmvinnNQNjruOCYTtumRO6NrBBE42Gw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00510.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thornhill/Kaplan isn’t
keen on the scheme, but The Professor dryly observes had he not made
himself so attractive to Miss Kendall, she wouldn’t have lost her
head over him and been placed in such danger now. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">It
was obvious to Vandamm last night she’d become emotionally
involved, worst of all with a man he believes to be a government
agent. Thornhill spots Vandamm’s party, just arrived in a Lincoln
Continental convertible. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Instantly,
The Professor makes himself scarce and Thornhill goes into the
cafeteria for a coffee, finding an empty table as Vandamm etc enter. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T7Ar3bqIxVHar3x2sdxtmYli5dT7O5cTHVGgrThL8wVozKFSnPNwHZsbq0-RsgHnedQLWfawF65bw0MDpOEpQl3tw9cc5eCVE3mev_xeHf0Xg5HorTnNQH7z8xg2cUcwqsGm32rtHUXXUEMkyUydOh6xBINFrvUgTMXaaxU5gK_zuDtkucvxqMjsPKM/s1920/vlcsnap-00514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T7Ar3bqIxVHar3x2sdxtmYli5dT7O5cTHVGgrThL8wVozKFSnPNwHZsbq0-RsgHnedQLWfawF65bw0MDpOEpQl3tw9cc5eCVE3mev_xeHf0Xg5HorTnNQH7z8xg2cUcwqsGm32rtHUXXUEMkyUydOh6xBINFrvUgTMXaaxU5gK_zuDtkucvxqMjsPKM/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00514.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">With
obvious reluctance, Vandamm bids ‘Mr. Kaplan’ a good afternoon,
but Thornhill wants rid of the girl, so she leaves, the sinister
presence that is Leonard watching from an adjacent table. Alone, so
to speak, Vandamm asks if he misunderstood about bringing Eve.
They’ll get to that later, says Thornhill; he supposes Vandamm was
surprised to get his call. Not at all, he knew the Police would
release him. Clearly this only confirmed his suspicion ‘Kaplan’
is a government man. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
complements ‘Kaplan’ on his colorful exit from the auction house.
What drama are they in for today? </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhri7t2rRWC5X_r9MhNquWvc27JmWoFwPJxU_8yU3s4Jf7X3f0WrOwjq0eeLvTjPkDotvf8V2QJhoBZfR7fmMxUsU7Uj6_8NBd9Kyw5V0V2zGto9TzM9TnZbS5P6A2NS7AAAEYksMxAUYUJto9bmI1j246hz2N_JsY7Wi05Ea-J4oXvDTzFisbuoVszEU4/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20F.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhri7t2rRWC5X_r9MhNquWvc27JmWoFwPJxU_8yU3s4Jf7X3f0WrOwjq0eeLvTjPkDotvf8V2QJhoBZfR7fmMxUsU7Uj6_8NBd9Kyw5V0V2zGto9TzM9TnZbS5P6A2NS7AAAEYksMxAUYUJto9bmI1j246hz2N_JsY7Wi05Ea-J4oXvDTzFisbuoVszEU4/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20F.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpDBYIGShRQkOBz8Ro-O1haxTs9_o6xlDO6W1pCJspFcmrKChNqXJzMAybhGxqeWQWRYQBnuJDLDj5jFrmDADGwdJlT508qSmtvWL4eWc-7ooxDWaGGgPWcuKLhR17IKC71NUVBUh0tk84nZi7RZRs8uowoNiqGhI1NT_U6d3FBkt9PGrYqrzPm57OwA/s1920/vlcsnap-00517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpDBYIGShRQkOBz8Ro-O1haxTs9_o6xlDO6W1pCJspFcmrKChNqXJzMAybhGxqeWQWRYQBnuJDLDj5jFrmDADGwdJlT508qSmtvWL4eWc-7ooxDWaGGgPWcuKLhR17IKC71NUVBUh0tk84nZi7RZRs8uowoNiqGhI1NT_U6d3FBkt9PGrYqrzPm57OwA/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00517.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Perhaps
he’d be interested in the price just the same? The price? For doing
nothing to stop him. Thornhill’s Kaplan is a corrupt agent, it
seems. How much did he have in mind? He wants the girl. That gets a
reaction; Vandamm’s face drops like shares in a crisis, but
‘Kaplan’ persists; he wants the girl to get what’s coming to
her. Glancing over to see The Professor just happens to be standing
beside her, he states he’ll see there’s enough pinned on her to
keep her uncomfortable for the rest of her life. If he does that,
he’ll look the other way tonight. Vandamm observes ‘She really
did get under your skin, didn’t she?’ ‘We’re not talking
about my skin – we’re talking about yours, I’m offering you a
chance to save it.’ </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Somewhat
disingenuously, Vandamm asks what makes him deduce his feelings for
Eve have deteriorated to the point he’d exchange her for peace of
mind? Coolly, ‘Agent Kaplan’ responds he doesn’t deduce, he
observes. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Eve
comes over to Vandamm, calling him by his first name. Phillip. If he
doesn’t mind, she’s going back to the house. Phillip minds –
jumping up to take her by the arm and waving his faithful retainer
over. They make to leave, but Thornhill has other ideas, moving
quickly to seize her by the wrist. ‘Just a second you.’ </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJ_aNCEWQnXsUDvUvZGcb8SHVG-rypjS47rwPWw4ks2KSozm66Rf_4fuA8tlBLz0NBcy32ASoPK67YNBds25vOUK8_q_vMs07pKe0Ach_x9aa_Wj8aUsC1QaigQmBo6-3XrFIUEDfQ7uxh2htdW3P1NNnWJL5NIlksnqy7nRt6AvnfbllzAR7BF3aeI0/s1920/vlcsnap-00519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJ_aNCEWQnXsUDvUvZGcb8SHVG-rypjS47rwPWw4ks2KSozm66Rf_4fuA8tlBLz0NBcy32ASoPK67YNBds25vOUK8_q_vMs07pKe0Ach_x9aa_Wj8aUsC1QaigQmBo6-3XrFIUEDfQ7uxh2htdW3P1NNnWJL5NIlksnqy7nRt6AvnfbllzAR7BF3aeI0/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00519.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She
hisses at him to stay away, then tells him to let go of her. They are
causing a scene, Vandamm starts after her, but Leonard restrains him,
anxious to keep his master out of this. ‘Stay away from me! Let
go!’ </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The whole cafeteria is
watching the drama now as Thornhill drags Eve away, telling her to
save the phoney tears. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her
pistol. ‘Why you little fool!’ ‘You just stay away from me!’
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>BLAM! </b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
shoots Thornhill in the stomach, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>BLAM!
</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Another!
He falls, dead to the floor as the patrons scream and pandemonium
ensues. Again Leonard restrains Vandamm; he can’t get involved in
this. The Professor pushes through the horrified crowd to attend to
the casualty as, outside, Eve flees in the Lincoln, watched in her
flight by the disapproving stone eyes above and a few onlookers who
gave chase to the murderess. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Back
in the cafeteria, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">L</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">eonard
watches from amongst the throng as The Professor shakes his head.
Agent Kaplan is no more. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsdECv0vP-qjJDT21vKUWOFTgOA-Hy3g-m4Y-MtD2AIkOlYhn4h6mR7H2eAX_QRqVtZC0Z_1q-gRcJIEVKO6WEwe4W48HYZ5HAeLzF4dLYVyfqSTWufUlOmFy-BE9QEandrd3uZUAUpRy-HlrooV4W3htXNMS9bZoTfEs7kmp4ymcNMKo0MdkHVnHxXs/s2000/ipiccy_image(5)-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="2000" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsdECv0vP-qjJDT21vKUWOFTgOA-Hy3g-m4Y-MtD2AIkOlYhn4h6mR7H2eAX_QRqVtZC0Z_1q-gRcJIEVKO6WEwe4W48HYZ5HAeLzF4dLYVyfqSTWufUlOmFy-BE9QEandrd3uZUAUpRy-HlrooV4W3htXNMS9bZoTfEs7kmp4ymcNMKo0MdkHVnHxXs/w640-h370/ipiccy_image(5)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">body
is loaded into an ambulance by Park Rangers, The Professor
accompanying the body. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Oddly,
it is driven into some nearby woods, where The Professor </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">lets
the corpse out for some air. And to meet the woman who murdered it.
Eve is standing, beaming by the Lincoln. The Professor cautions them
not to be long. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzN4ajF8i9yo4ovU4hfVNPUSn92_jdvzwoPLHfo-7wQtkI3f0h9eWE8LSS32OsuY40tCR8VchpuhEpgs67NJEdE3N1-EMV2aSmX65lTE99AplaPj4OC4BVs_7BH00mj-DM6WXxhEZ4WT4C9VCwo5JciLVjvLYAGEgGtbZnhZzzsCBpfzRHy45Z6PcXfY/s1920/vlcsnap-00544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzN4ajF8i9yo4ovU4hfVNPUSn92_jdvzwoPLHfo-7wQtkI3f0h9eWE8LSS32OsuY40tCR8VchpuhEpgs67NJEdE3N1-EMV2aSmX65lTE99AplaPj4OC4BVs_7BH00mj-DM6WXxhEZ4WT4C9VCwo5JciLVjvLYAGEgGtbZnhZzzsCBpfzRHy45Z6PcXfY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00544.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">They exchange ‘Hello’s and she tells Thornhill
she asked The Professor if she could see him again. There isn’t
much time. She wanted to tell him, to apologize. ‘Oh no need. I
understand. All in the line of duty.’ He used some harsh words, for
which he’s sorry. They hurt her deeply. She was worried he was hurt
when he fell, after being shot with the blanks. He did it gracefully,
considering it’s not his line of work. He got into it by accident –
and her? She met Phillip Vandamm at a party one night and saw only
charm. She had nothing better to do, so fell in love. The Professor
approached her with the sordid details about Vandamm. So she became a
Girl Scout? Sadly, she says ‘Maybe it’s the first time anyone
ever asked me to do anything worthwhile.’ Has Life really been like
that? It has. How come? ‘Men like you.’ And what’s wrong with
men like him? They don’t believe in marriage. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He’s
been married twice. ‘See what I mean?’ He jokes he may go back to
hating her; it’s more fun, but she draws him closer for a kiss. She
has to go, to convince them she took the long route back to the house
to avoid a tail. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ChfElRhGL_oK31U3iVKHrR7s9ffVeoSBpaj_HhnepTekdU8BI6kwbjTABbBWOj0lbruAa5sqTASzcxR2WhxT36YIu1-JQgERwDD2lhNrUS78UZcO6RvWM9M0u7j2OROrbIY5xnlJbEfFwEmPMJKAvrRii6HP_xrrSDMFhquOwGqDuA9cqZvEGcHXDQE/s1920/vlcsnap-00549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ChfElRhGL_oK31U3iVKHrR7s9ffVeoSBpaj_HhnepTekdU8BI6kwbjTABbBWOj0lbruAa5sqTASzcxR2WhxT36YIu1-JQgERwDD2lhNrUS78UZcO6RvWM9M0u7j2OROrbIY5xnlJbEfFwEmPMJKAvrRii6HP_xrrSDMFhquOwGqDuA9cqZvEGcHXDQE/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00549.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He’s finding it hard to let go, but The Professor
jabs the horn of the ambulance impatiently. He walks her back to the
car, telling her after this business they are going to do a lot of
apologizing to each other in private. That can’t be – The
Professor has </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">told
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">him,
hasn’t he? The man himself is there, checking his watch anxiously.
What he didn’t tell Thornhill is Eve is going on that plane with
Vandamm. He needn’t tell him how valuable she would be ‘over
there.’ </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
is furious; The Professor lied to him and he won’t let him go
through with this! </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
has to, says The Professor. Nobody has to do anything! He doesn’t
like the games The Professor plays.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-ZeMj1w45fkRsxjQrPGIe8_1U7LfbrUNfoO57uk7UNBK47iBtaFF5ulBogS1m3CqN1ShPxvC483GhTxGVoxU-K5AMwmpfn8UM4_evlgmo8vwjTzoqbqRnTqdZZtBLzXYu1lCMl_q0rJwfLsn2b63Moswg3g8BZymGIrGnltrndiCVBMyutb8gxKFUSQ/s1920/vlcsnap-00553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-ZeMj1w45fkRsxjQrPGIe8_1U7LfbrUNfoO57uk7UNBK47iBtaFF5ulBogS1m3CqN1ShPxvC483GhTxGVoxU-K5AMwmpfn8UM4_evlgmo8vwjTzoqbqRnTqdZZtBLzXYu1lCMl_q0rJwfLsn2b63Moswg3g8BZymGIrGnltrndiCVBMyutb8gxKFUSQ/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00553.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZKbTixj_iv-aRXHyC7nf8uW0gGF35tmQwIFn-pldoUmz0c2ZdqfsedQ_fWx7redQOjlAV4ukfx5qW-t8eUzYRcOv-sJ5VrQ5o2q4KFUGX22uei66PpcRaAmIZ4wJSGFarCoh1zL0UPW-kgz8jd9hlM_gzgrhBQJ0O4TRos0UR2Vlspss1b2bf6KRm_w/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20G.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZKbTixj_iv-aRXHyC7nf8uW0gGF35tmQwIFn-pldoUmz0c2ZdqfsedQ_fWx7redQOjlAV4ukfx5qW-t8eUzYRcOv-sJ5VrQ5o2q4KFUGX22uei66PpcRaAmIZ4wJSGFarCoh1zL0UPW-kgz8jd9hlM_gzgrhBQJ0O4TRos0UR2Vlspss1b2bf6KRm_w/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20G.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">n
turmoil, a tearful Eve dashes to the Lincoln, but Thornhill rushes
over to try to stop her. The Professor waves one of the ‘Park
Rangers’ over and Thornhill feels a </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">tap
on his shoulder, just before he collects an overhand right that sends
him crashing to the forest floor. Eve drives off to complete her
mission.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlglvtE4wtKcYvZmU-pLQ5UfPrM7QqhECghCP3u_eevM1V-TG7x5h8dErqhf7lZmHkffUciyqVMYPy8XMDQEtPDL5fY8KrrpkfPViJc-IXZt09_6nfzOh-qO0Q736aewqSX6VzGSWDM_TLb1wxrWJShoxT__G6FXmTdH_huAMcRGG1fX__xTR6VYosjYQ/s800/16%20THUMP.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlglvtE4wtKcYvZmU-pLQ5UfPrM7QqhECghCP3u_eevM1V-TG7x5h8dErqhf7lZmHkffUciyqVMYPy8XMDQEtPDL5fY8KrrpkfPViJc-IXZt09_6nfzOh-qO0Q736aewqSX6VzGSWDM_TLb1wxrWJShoxT__G6FXmTdH_huAMcRGG1fX__xTR6VYosjYQ/w640-h360/16%20THUMP.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">P</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">acing
his hospital room impatiently in a towel (He wasn't hit <i>that</i> hard, but it's essential the 'deceased' isn't seen as 'unceased') Thornhill listens to the
radio news report of his shooting. Kaplan was taken in in critical
condition, tentatively identified as an employee of the Federal
Government. He tries his door, but he’s locked in. The Professor
unlocks and enters, bearing gifts; clothes. They’ll do for round
here, for the next couple of days. The next couple of days? The
Professor notices the ugly bruise on Thornhill’s side, from where
he hit the chair in the cafeteria. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PLUe-95qeozMmfe-kvylFba-1GIrdZFdUAngqQRf17b0spM92PBj1aGcUZnusStq09noRcAc7AF4PUdjQW1YEZbnkw5fcIUh91s_et7sdF_t1-dQE3OGvZNwtGAmxIBqoJwLEUEKFJ48UOAsqh-RQkyxcYed7UcCzXzkzTTveMFiAhNMPocwzxaUFgU/s1920/vlcsnap-00563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PLUe-95qeozMmfe-kvylFba-1GIrdZFdUAngqQRf17b0spM92PBj1aGcUZnusStq09noRcAc7AF4PUdjQW1YEZbnkw5fcIUh91s_et7sdF_t1-dQE3OGvZNwtGAmxIBqoJwLEUEKFJ48UOAsqh-RQkyxcYed7UcCzXzkzTTveMFiAhNMPocwzxaUFgU/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00563.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Otherwise all right? Otherwise,
considering his driver has a sledgehammer right. The Professor
apologises for that, but Thornhill feels he deserved it, plus the
locked door. The intelligence chief says if he were seen in good
health it would jeopardise Miss Kendall. Oh her? He’s begun to
forget her already. The Professor misses the obvious lie, opining
it’s better that way; inside an hour she’ll be gone. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
dresses himself quickly. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">And
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">how
are </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">things
in Rapid City? Everything’s fine; word of Kaplan’s shooting has
made the papers, everyone has cooperated beautifully. ‘Now you can
include me’ Thornhill adds, but he wants a favour in return.
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Bourbon,
a pint. The Professor wonders if he can join him. Make it a quart
then…</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">N</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">o
sooner has The Professor gone, than Thornhill goes for the door.
Locked again! Going to the window, he climbs out onto the ledge,
edging his way nimbly to the next room only for the light to come on,
the blond patient in bed startled, then delighted by the intruder.
Seeing the hungry look in her eyes, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
admonishes her with a wag of the finger before departing. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGaNA3o52UvBRjlPybBNEjbZL8pvbDAYO6cylVxIB0P3gIol5WgtmY_BB0vGJhD7sr8czB_oJLb_f84dfqgXFqi20fiSkizGFCgAEE0OwS-Kclu2U0Zo9d5D3yEtFj7c5log1-o8L2As-lVM1TRyt_UmvwyJHnTZQqLvmiIA9C7VxntmfDyvA09uJj0XI/s1920/vlcsnap-00570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGaNA3o52UvBRjlPybBNEjbZL8pvbDAYO6cylVxIB0P3gIol5WgtmY_BB0vGJhD7sr8czB_oJLb_f84dfqgXFqi20fiSkizGFCgAEE0OwS-Kclu2U0Zo9d5D3yEtFj7c5log1-o8L2As-lVM1TRyt_UmvwyJHnTZQqLvmiIA9C7VxntmfDyvA09uJj0XI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00570.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
cab traverses the winding roads leading to Mount Rushmore and the
cabbie drops Thornhill off at the gates to a modern house, almost
something Frank Lloyd Wright </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">could
have conjured perched atop the hill. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv490pC7vpsYjZUtIujk9A4GXS0bWb2_SK7-UmcQKTGU8q9jap6C6j-jntCcB0LUoMGPwLkod9SwXFx8JxHn0QGBc61d2E8Yn0aEBbHRywILCjOMRJGIr9inAi2swd4KoKJQyQimPLy6JBSK74lu8hlIAPrz-wyq52XZR9jSZ3SzhJeVhefu6vCJuchuU/s1920/vlcsnap-00574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv490pC7vpsYjZUtIujk9A4GXS0bWb2_SK7-UmcQKTGU8q9jap6C6j-jntCcB0LUoMGPwLkod9SwXFx8JxHn0QGBc61d2E8Yn0aEBbHRywILCjOMRJGIr9inAi2swd4KoKJQyQimPLy6JBSK74lu8hlIAPrz-wyq52XZR9jSZ3SzhJeVhefu6vCJuchuU/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00574.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
didn’t break free from hospital to admire the architecture though,
going up the earthen drive to find a way in. To the wolf’s lair.
Catching a glimpse of Leonard and Vandamm himself as a curtain is
drawn in the living room. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS7TwGfdvPWT7_E0mNx1ZlsWmogADAloacx1xxg5Yq5xuMDMcBCyJz3m0wihzAkWwtwByyXaSMAXQADI_avkf6NMXZ9Uu89-wt3YlPEHSVUaZ0PBFhtM6a2ReTH8dukMrdgsgI5ATDgSJRM8eG68j_8awaVSYEvAtoOmjCXI-n19ZSllSusIiiok_9LU/s1920/vlcsnap-00576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS7TwGfdvPWT7_E0mNx1ZlsWmogADAloacx1xxg5Yq5xuMDMcBCyJz3m0wihzAkWwtwByyXaSMAXQADI_avkf6NMXZ9Uu89-wt3YlPEHSVUaZ0PBFhtM6a2ReTH8dukMrdgsgI5ATDgSJRM8eG68j_8awaVSYEvAtoOmjCXI-n19ZSllSusIiiok_9LU/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00576.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Scrambling along the granite between the
cantilevers supporting the property he sees an ominous sight; the
landing lights of a makeshift air strip winking on and off. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizB78ZIdrfG-76eSq1bWlojfK0TMDWLvxab50D2vpr2eLREbN6DKfEz893_1l8jsAJleKDBcMjBSFeEFRNzI2P9310foYqHHMddccYepc68XhFez27lYSE7vPAE4Iol9YOJaaIrxHhokDYFejdPpDlMuirfGCd4oFo73goHrIKQzL117l5VfLKNCj5fQ8/s800/17%20LANDING%20LIGHTS.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizB78ZIdrfG-76eSq1bWlojfK0TMDWLvxab50D2vpr2eLREbN6DKfEz893_1l8jsAJleKDBcMjBSFeEFRNzI2P9310foYqHHMddccYepc68XhFez27lYSE7vPAE4Iol9YOJaaIrxHhokDYFejdPpDlMuirfGCd4oFo73goHrIKQzL117l5VfLKNCj5fQ8/w640-h360/17%20LANDING%20LIGHTS.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A signal
of some kind? A test? He climbs up for a better vantage point and
sees a Ford roll into the courtyard. From this emerges </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Valerian,
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
goon that knifed Townsend, to be met at the door by the </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">hausfrau
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">that
greeted Thornhill at Townsend’s Glen Cove home. Thornhill can see
in through a window of the living space; the goon has handed Vandamm
a newspaper, Eve is there, standing distracted pulling at a
handkerchief nervously. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Needing
a closer look, Thornhill plays Tarzan, swinging himself up onto one
of the steel cantilever beams and monkeying upwards. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuAcYLjbEM8RZJtC07-Gx_etxshoE5mPM0zGQ-vKhQNfGxdhZzGp63LoOw8d2ieETffmSP-ba4NSnyfq-yn31bWw9Fpy0NyfN3uKRZ6xRfzdR5A2URP4i4cdqzYWgRHrLcbfk6KUGRf_x51at0WrECsCHfIfVPdTpm8zFv1Vdl0BhhkwbCkqFztOmykA/s1920/vlcsnap-00585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuAcYLjbEM8RZJtC07-Gx_etxshoE5mPM0zGQ-vKhQNfGxdhZzGp63LoOw8d2ieETffmSP-ba4NSnyfq-yn31bWw9Fpy0NyfN3uKRZ6xRfzdR5A2URP4i4cdqzYWgRHrLcbfk6KUGRf_x51at0WrECsCHfIfVPdTpm8zFv1Vdl0BhhkwbCkqFztOmykA/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00585.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Inside,
Thornhill can see and hear as Vandamm consoles Eve, who says she lost
her head. She has nothing to worry about, ‘Kaplan’ wants to
destroy her and she protected herself. Soon, they will be together
and he will dedicate himself to her happiness. Leonard is pacing the
opulent room, cigarette in hand, like a watchful panther. Vandamm
asks for a report; Leonard informs him the plane was last over
Whitestone. Six thousand feet and descending. Ten minutes, at most. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_7K_vwtwSfHjJxGs6Wtx8vikUlbFCMwB5BusPJWiSkX7iyOFxHjYIPTjnVuG0wHKHFslAmxTcnv_fXQt6vOT-lBZCsgDn_R45MjAm4k7MJWQvzXymP4qogmgWsBl_YCG2rA60vLNNonl9YDqM0YdLtr3n7jlIEkQssfFRJa6cupINyU3D-bsOjEF1UY/s1920/vlcsnap-00589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_7K_vwtwSfHjJxGs6Wtx8vikUlbFCMwB5BusPJWiSkX7iyOFxHjYIPTjnVuG0wHKHFslAmxTcnv_fXQt6vOT-lBZCsgDn_R45MjAm4k7MJWQvzXymP4qogmgWsBl_YCG2rA60vLNNonl9YDqM0YdLtr3n7jlIEkQssfFRJa6cupINyU3D-bsOjEF1UY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00589.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He asks for a few words of parting with his superior, to which
Vandamm is agreeable. In private. Taking the hint, Eve goes upstairs
for her things. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
statue from the auction room stands between the two men, silent,
ugly, sinister. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBX-h-8wm2q6NuhCFkpV8HqxZObEqD2z0Q_wnuluvGHsbTX4V8ptnpYFXCziVibdJT8lSOR9tXpQUWXDjkj9bd_VH0j7-QshXickoQgamY3WTvShZZGmyrFg7ny1_t30LfuYVv9rRomHOm1ux0ACZPxIavT7o8iUBeEtt9TlOPwU2knTeUiMHSYejp6Q/s1920/vlcsnap-00597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBX-h-8wm2q6NuhCFkpV8HqxZObEqD2z0Q_wnuluvGHsbTX4V8ptnpYFXCziVibdJT8lSOR9tXpQUWXDjkj9bd_VH0j7-QshXickoQgamY3WTvShZZGmyrFg7ny1_t30LfuYVv9rRomHOm1ux0ACZPxIavT7o8iUBeEtt9TlOPwU2knTeUiMHSYejp6Q/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00597.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Well
Leonard, how does one say ‘goodbye’ to one’s right arm?’
Waiting to hear the bedroom door close first, Leonard replies ‘In
your case Sir I’m afraid you’re going to wish you’d cut it off
sooner.’ Hands in pockets, Vandamm signals for Leonard to continue.
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He
does, stating he knows how terribly fond he is of Miss Kendall, but
the two walk away and Thornhill struggles to hear the conversation. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
light upstairs alerts the crouching eavesdropper to the sight of Eve,
alone in the bedroom. Quickly, Thornhill fishes a coin from his
pocket and tosses it to </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">ching
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">against
the window. A second and, curious, she goes out onto the balcony.
Thornhill makes to call to her, but Leonard has also heard the
noises, striding across to investigate. Dismissing the incident,
Leonard seats himself near to the window, concealing a small Colt
automatic behind him as he continues: </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKKTQ7nyzDuSyg3zu8hsWffzd88g7e9bqzygx3fvwtsNp1TwMyPLDHzXNYcxGAWJYykIKpNZ5ZtClEwtIoZ63BepOINqV7XdTBiFsDIJzQOtlo53c11Fabei5UHshLWNQORrU5ojGQsTkBppX237Vz6w41_NqqDfl5PFXckCL4Fm80e91scr76-u-Q4Yw/s1920/vlcsnap-00601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKKTQ7nyzDuSyg3zu8hsWffzd88g7e9bqzygx3fvwtsNp1TwMyPLDHzXNYcxGAWJYykIKpNZ5ZtClEwtIoZ63BepOINqV7XdTBiFsDIJzQOtlo53c11Fabei5UHshLWNQORrU5ojGQsTkBppX237Vz6w41_NqqDfl5PFXckCL4Fm80e91scr76-u-Q4Yw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00601.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxfBmInu9_1hlLQeih2WvlY6ojf5XB7RfHT4K1mgHkf5JlVKJ3XtCEyVyYt456KPnMIaZOregQoWiRIcOPUVmFPzK-K5yYU6geCzEUjrcOJbxqW2Xm_QQ0OZY1D60lx70ApRmnlLqYOjAJ-N4-rPecBim__TqZ4ySnipvRUGkQJVBHE2tdNgoGuBzNjM/s1024/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20H.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1024" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxfBmInu9_1hlLQeih2WvlY6ojf5XB7RfHT4K1mgHkf5JlVKJ3XtCEyVyYt456KPnMIaZOregQoWiRIcOPUVmFPzK-K5yYU6geCzEUjrcOJbxqW2Xm_QQ0OZY1D60lx70ApRmnlLqYOjAJ-N4-rPecBim__TqZ4ySnipvRUGkQJVBHE2tdNgoGuBzNjM/w640-h452/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20H.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Vandamm
is scornful; </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he’s
heard nothing but innuendos. Call it my woman’s intuition says his
subordinate, but he’s never trusted neatness and it’s all too
neat for him. Vandamm holds that Eve shot ‘Kaplan’ in a moment of
fear and anger. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Standing,
pistol held behind his back, Leonard expands on his suspicions; and
she wrapped everything up in a neat and tidy bundle. A: She removed
any doubts he might have had, about – what did he call it, her
devotion? And B: She gave herself an urgent reason to be taken over
to the other side with him. Laughingly, Vandamm dismisses his
henchman’s doubts as jealousy. He’s very touched, but then
Leonard levels the pistol. ‘Leonard?’ </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>BAMM!
</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">At
that range, he couldn’t miss. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NzAueW0_5b-tA8mrxlO1_Qa7JrZbeHdEDBE0bxZm5qwBGcetIsoQZZ1CSAg-YpZjAa_GY6ZYfmAdC03curkW8tzXTb3A3BazyvwUgBu7p6GF6dGzeGL7YuvPQXDzuCYWjExBsOnDDCRospoQoAWQtL35GBEI7V7hkgdNMm6pfoG8KdsQuDQMewH3GX4/s600/18%20BLANK%20HUGE%20FILE.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NzAueW0_5b-tA8mrxlO1_Qa7JrZbeHdEDBE0bxZm5qwBGcetIsoQZZ1CSAg-YpZjAa_GY6ZYfmAdC03curkW8tzXTb3A3BazyvwUgBu7p6GF6dGzeGL7YuvPQXDzuCYWjExBsOnDDCRospoQoAWQtL35GBEI7V7hkgdNMm6pfoG8KdsQuDQMewH3GX4/w640-h360/18%20BLANK%20HUGE%20FILE.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">With
their unseen guest still watching the drama, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Vandamm’s
horror is evident as Leonard explains it’s the gun she ‘shot’
Kaplan with. He found it in her luggage. An old Gestapo trick –
shoot one of your own to show you aren’t one of them. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">They’ve
just freshened it up a bit with blank cartridges. Furious, Vandamm
punches Leonard, who sprawls into a chair in shock. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T0TPbOqHmwfBN42qXBJKH0VNh7X24ev-as3-hOa7-OyMC_Rh2UwI-Cj_l6yhZTB_HwWxfXzPKC_iqlCXrcq-U7zA_2FJaj-Txy_8mC2795pZreZJs0cHdXKSDBZhmJyuxdsMPrI98cCjyZTz_PCobMGqwmCnhR40q_vF4YgSmyrHSYIhgNvLY3P3AKI/s1920/vlcsnap-00604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T0TPbOqHmwfBN42qXBJKH0VNh7X24ev-as3-hOa7-OyMC_Rh2UwI-Cj_l6yhZTB_HwWxfXzPKC_iqlCXrcq-U7zA_2FJaj-Txy_8mC2795pZreZJs0cHdXKSDBZhmJyuxdsMPrI98cCjyZTz_PCobMGqwmCnhR40q_vF4YgSmyrHSYIhgNvLY3P3AKI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00604.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Vandamm
seems to be in more pain th</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">an
just sore knuckles</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
as Eve emerges from the bedroom to enquire what the noise was.
C</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">asually,
Vandamm tells her he and Leonard were wondering the same, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">hurrying
her along. It’s almost time to leave. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CLhycQFnHQPvbRHxLIm-7fW5Xzm9cqz7KSukIyF_yzsym2K0_IFPz5gplCB0WeaM5yFCapqynY_OHT_uIgSQWqDhNzUAM8sZ6FopGnd_9z2wSi9fJs43sAvkcnK0SfEIGaS99oVa-pcgf5ep0jnZFWP60oq_xqdUhFoe3pVDAo-IcMwNsPBfHk_cmSc/s1920/vlcsnap-00610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CLhycQFnHQPvbRHxLIm-7fW5Xzm9cqz7KSukIyF_yzsym2K0_IFPz5gplCB0WeaM5yFCapqynY_OHT_uIgSQWqDhNzUAM8sZ6FopGnd_9z2wSi9fJs43sAvkcnK0SfEIGaS99oVa-pcgf5ep0jnZFWP60oq_xqdUhFoe3pVDAo-IcMwNsPBfHk_cmSc/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00610.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Leonard has a question
‘You’re not taking her on that plane with you?’ ‘Of course I
am. Like our friends, I, too, believe in neatness, Leonard. This
matter is best disposed of from a great height… (NB; the camera
angle tilts down sharply here, for emphasis) over water.’ Still
dropping at the eaves, a horrified Thornhill realises he has to warn
Eve!</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">On
hands and knees, Thornhill shimmies along the </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ledge
to the dressed stone wall of the house, climbing agilely up and
across to the bedroom where Eve is finishing her packing, unaware of
the terrible fate awaiting her. He’s too late; she’s already
downstairs with her case, Vandamm suggesting some champagne before
they go. Standing in the darkened bedroom, Thornhill wonders how he
can warn her, noting his hands are bloodied from the sharp climb he
takes out his handkerchief to clean them. The initials ‘R.O.T.’
provide inspiration – and he takes out his match book and a handy
pencil to scribble a warning inside it.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggaRwCzs5lZBp60yyUJ7qCarHrf_9hWXoNb1yWCpIGaL551uCby-O5PalD3ZmcxTgSZyoHmBOwIrGBTKF8s0kz-jz06Ly7lQryJxS3oqB1CZ5iNcaPiSoHFr3Ed2Gn3GrNwfJdbUyV8o8vHpYRUSarux7kMXY80lgLUP03urVVOD7-WYZ4sGOojSD4l8Y/s1920/vlcsnap-00625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggaRwCzs5lZBp60yyUJ7qCarHrf_9hWXoNb1yWCpIGaL551uCby-O5PalD3ZmcxTgSZyoHmBOwIrGBTKF8s0kz-jz06Ly7lQryJxS3oqB1CZ5iNcaPiSoHFr3Ed2Gn3GrNwfJdbUyV8o8vHpYRUSarux7kMXY80lgLUP03urVVOD7-WYZ4sGOojSD4l8Y/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00625.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Downstairs,
Vandamm hands Eve a glass and clinks his in a toast; to her and all
the lovely moments they’ve shared. The sound of aero engines alerts
Leonard; the plane is here. Helpfully for Thornhill, Vandamm goes to
join him, inviting his henchman to a glass. There isn’t time.
Seizing his chance Thornhill </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">takes
aim and tosses the match book, missing to hit the floor, unnoticed. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju71h-ORO1ndeYZ_Oo5gYLS9rxvLDAwJnaxqyaec7g6AKwa8MaZPcfhqJwEop8kmv4SWBNN6-uOdVuL3Rx0rwixWNMrV7tUDh-DherZRhIKvcz79dAgJIq9L6c5bqrbktyMfhY8Dyp2lKsrb4aBBL2fDuug26c6oCeHR9YkQq-HLdzAh56EF4Tv9J5nxw/s1920/vlcsnap-00631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju71h-ORO1ndeYZ_Oo5gYLS9rxvLDAwJnaxqyaec7g6AKwa8MaZPcfhqJwEop8kmv4SWBNN6-uOdVuL3Rx0rwixWNMrV7tUDh-DherZRhIKvcz79dAgJIq9L6c5bqrbktyMfhY8Dyp2lKsrb4aBBL2fDuug26c6oCeHR9YkQq-HLdzAh56EF4Tv9J5nxw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00631.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Appallingly, Leonard saunters over to Eve to tell her it would please
him if she thought of him as being along on the journey – if only
in spirit. Leonard spots the match book! And carelessly tosses it
into the ashtray on the table. Leonard offers commentary on the
pilot’s maneuvering as Eve notices the match book, opening it to
discover the message. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFExQ6CPQbTWHBPQwzFhgS-Zg7m5sqmRI4lyhc6pgv-SsqQm0qvp9PZcAVrwf8nyBmB1mOCC_mVKbCGtev88QZiWjLMIlFm1fKm5R4Xt3xcNxg1XOyUvPfFC05O9BfUrtnDIMILFmQsp4py4scYKgB2Eu_SbpPqNNEx_rFaZ61Z2wc2aCVgzORsr40XmE/s1920/vlcsnap-00636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFExQ6CPQbTWHBPQwzFhgS-Zg7m5sqmRI4lyhc6pgv-SsqQm0qvp9PZcAVrwf8nyBmB1mOCC_mVKbCGtev88QZiWjLMIlFm1fKm5R4Xt3xcNxg1XOyUvPfFC05O9BfUrtnDIMILFmQsp4py4scYKgB2Eu_SbpPqNNEx_rFaZ61Z2wc2aCVgzORsr40XmE/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00636.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The two rejoin Eve, the plane should be
wheels-down in three minutes. She says she’s left her ear rings
upstairs, she’ll be right down. In the bedroom, Thornhill tells her
they can escape through the window – there’s a car downstairs.
She is indignant at first, but he tells her about Leonard finding the
gun, the blanks and the microfilm in the statue. ‘That’s how he’s
been getting it!’ she says, presumably referring to the secrets
Vandamm trades in. Upstairs himself, Leonard calls out for her and
she hurries back out, with Thornhill hissing at her not to get on
that plane. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Taking
hold of the precious statuette, Vandamm reassures Anna, the frumpy
housekeeper that she and her husband will be over the Canadian border
by morning. The group goes to the door, with Vandamm instructing Anna
not to leave until the plane has departed. She wishes her employer a
safe journey, before going to tidy up the glasses the travellers left
behind. Thornhill creeps along the mezzanine, but the housekeeper
spots his reflection in the television set, leaving the room calmly.
As he sneaks downstairs, Thornhill is stopped in his tracks by Anna,
now holding a </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">rather
familiar </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Colt
automatic. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
sits herself down and orders him to follow suit on the stairs. ‘As
soon as the plane leaves, my husband and Mister Leonard will be
back.’</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZjbfy7GiywvltXFJaF5Tiy1VofX9iShyIDq8Mo5KA8r8Xaa5eEWHI_jWKoNf-JLzti6MDp4G669_5-2ztz3dbVWv9EZgYdBLuz4X7SUKmw4YUojYv_hYPx6D4Bic-Wmef5izbjN8M8dI1trjbeZ2g51itGn3nYiRwXRYZYdA-_QZNRczC9phsyGzWp0/s1920/vlcsnap-00644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZjbfy7GiywvltXFJaF5Tiy1VofX9iShyIDq8Mo5KA8r8Xaa5eEWHI_jWKoNf-JLzti6MDp4G669_5-2ztz3dbVWv9EZgYdBLuz4X7SUKmw4YUojYv_hYPx6D4Bic-Wmef5izbjN8M8dI1trjbeZ2g51itGn3nYiRwXRYZYdA-_QZNRczC9phsyGzWp0/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00644.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Leonard
close behind, Vandamm escorts Eve towards the landing strip as the
plane itself finally touches down. Eve is visibly anxious, for good
reason, glancing back at the house. Vandamm notices. She says she’s
worried about her ear rings. He’s sure they’ll turn up. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC6r4Sxk64xrYow5PBvL5NAJoOEcgpiS_JFoyb1NQU-lsBiwCZC4lz3Yw134L7YWh9KFXOZfT_DzuUaRFjL9zKhx_3zSi-k36zRsNnvoBrX7lP1C54V42VZp2Mgpz1gQCE9wZasCchxJURuAv849tghnThp1fDMeMPUpwI0rwT5kx6mTIXK9XHemiD18/s1920/vlcsnap-00646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC6r4Sxk64xrYow5PBvL5NAJoOEcgpiS_JFoyb1NQU-lsBiwCZC4lz3Yw134L7YWh9KFXOZfT_DzuUaRFjL9zKhx_3zSi-k36zRsNnvoBrX7lP1C54V42VZp2Mgpz1gQCE9wZasCchxJURuAv849tghnThp1fDMeMPUpwI0rwT5kx6mTIXK9XHemiD18/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00646.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Vandamm
instructs Leonard to call in on his sister when he returns to New
York. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Valerian
carries the luggage aboard, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Eve
looks back once more as </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Vandamm</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
continues; he is to thank her for her performance as ‘Mrs.
Townsend’ and reassure his ‘knife-throwing chum’ that he has
reassured his wife. Eve is at the door of the plane when it happens;
two gunshots, clear over the noise of the idling motors. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
dashes from the house to the parked Ford and Eve snatches the
statuette from Vandamm’s grasp, making a run for it. Leonard and
Valerian run after her as Thornhill arrives, Eve jumping into the car
for Thornhill to speed off. As he drives, he explains the housekeeper
had him pinned down for five minutes until he realized it was that
silly gun of hers, adding ‘I see you’ve got the pumpkin.’</span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7lFFbBjas7FagfqDUNBK2sfog4qH6r9DiuCzJpc8jSPL8x1OM4fYFcFeF7cTRQ-tSpvFj_IrnlJWg6VzZFxrdB_WzznJnUWQWDMdKpb1ciJX7LNqN-F6sB3UD-cvecMiDWTkgB4JjL2jlJMBQGGvZcFBLO7QeOKdWxK95Gqs4flx9tQhtL5C3MITUnI/s1920/vlcsnap-00656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7lFFbBjas7FagfqDUNBK2sfog4qH6r9DiuCzJpc8jSPL8x1OM4fYFcFeF7cTRQ-tSpvFj_IrnlJWg6VzZFxrdB_WzznJnUWQWDMdKpb1ciJX7LNqN-F6sB3UD-cvecMiDWTkgB4JjL2jlJMBQGGvZcFBLO7QeOKdWxK95Gqs4flx9tQhtL5C3MITUnI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00656.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">hey
make it as far as the gate, which is locked and chained. With Leonard
and Valerian closing down the driveway, they are forced to flee
through some woodland, their pursuers conveniently equipped with
flashlights. It’s as if they knew… </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6_MHcfyeQPQxCU07oIKxSE4ujhleozcGcDIAeyXru2gYBx41DhwFO8RNYydu7joSjCxeNXSjGZBhZIX7HCRRZdH4tr5ppD1pwpH1HsTW7l9RGWbmNXxC1LB-4RCHra62sbHhmoFzdX1471lmOcuZ30SAbYeGHAxxGvZSFPs7b1fcd1OmQR467YT8JJw/s1920/vlcsnap-00658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6_MHcfyeQPQxCU07oIKxSE4ujhleozcGcDIAeyXru2gYBx41DhwFO8RNYydu7joSjCxeNXSjGZBhZIX7HCRRZdH4tr5ppD1pwpH1HsTW7l9RGWbmNXxC1LB-4RCHra62sbHhmoFzdX1471lmOcuZ30SAbYeGHAxxGvZSFPs7b1fcd1OmQR467YT8JJw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00658.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Eve’s long scarf snags on a
bush and vital seconds are lost freeing her, the two men splitting up
to find them. The two fugitives break from the woods to find they are
atop Mount Rushmore itself, the backs of the gigantic granite heads
showing them their error in the starkest possible terms. They are
trapped, their pursuers closing inexorably from either side. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaBnZqzqbJ6GOSIMlKapvIcy92dF3YbvTlJnW4a7UX19u6itaeeum-SQEdD0nu0sKQOI3ZnQkL9GXRZiV1SN-Hhyphenhypheng_LFefikA0tHg3vpEh6cUlDGTIS3wn-t_s8m56TlZ1AXk18Qo6KORxu0mRG6i_bdduG_XNn667sqya5oCQPz5Q7W4mxFeE_12-KU/s2000/ipiccy_image(6)-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="2000" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaBnZqzqbJ6GOSIMlKapvIcy92dF3YbvTlJnW4a7UX19u6itaeeum-SQEdD0nu0sKQOI3ZnQkL9GXRZiV1SN-Hhyphenhypheng_LFefikA0tHg3vpEh6cUlDGTIS3wn-t_s8m56TlZ1AXk18Qo6KORxu0mRG6i_bdduG_XNn667sqya5oCQPz5Q7W4mxFeE_12-KU/w640-h88/ipiccy_image(6)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill urges Eve onward, onto Thomas Jefferson himself. It’s a
long way down, Eve asking what they will do. </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Climb
down</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">They
have no choice, gingerly setting down the carved rock face of, well -
carved rock faces, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
clutching the statuette, Eve her purse</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
They hang from </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
precipice between the watchful Presidents Washington and Jefferson
as, above, the henchmen continue their search in vain. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_JivJMvyEj3bHDl4qh7KFGtU1seAwE4ejZHzWzQguEfO4NKYlepii2TpcQz3okbGHQBobUA6A48fgYdryQIklqMdTfPuSQ_v0td4NOrDRtpsvWWxEw2kN5ef7qoD2UZuCfdqK2kIRrQpS13gjfqk4jGybSN_A9GdqJpFIZ4E_QAlhq21sE-rQ52-6mI/s1920/vlcsnap-00686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_JivJMvyEj3bHDl4qh7KFGtU1seAwE4ejZHzWzQguEfO4NKYlepii2TpcQz3okbGHQBobUA6A48fgYdryQIklqMdTfPuSQ_v0td4NOrDRtpsvWWxEw2kN5ef7qoD2UZuCfdqK2kIRrQpS13gjfqk4jGybSN_A9GdqJpFIZ4E_QAlhq21sE-rQ52-6mI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00686.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">N</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">either
Leonard or Valerian are stupid, however and they clamber down to
pursue the couple. As they hang there over the giddy void, Thornhill
finds time for a joke; ‘If we ever get out of this alive – let’s
go back to New York on the train together, alright?’ Wryly, Eve
asks ‘Is that a proposition?’ ‘It’s a proposal, sweetie.’
She asks what happened to the first two marriages. His wives divorced
him. Why? He thinks they said he led too dull a life… </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNQe9zFvuw0QirACIqoVdoS6oJUS04rxc6AhhrPYZYPV7ib_Bs6k_lghc9Krmc-XxhGV0LdkyRVqzUe1tunzO_EQCDNSry2bCPWbGwBdPfETIFpvXV4p3KVDougYmJlUh6kkcJdCs_vwGc85zbNmlCKZWjVBdwqQuAmMfy-Lub_BZRYVZij54TuHO8FE/s800/20%20SLIP.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNQe9zFvuw0QirACIqoVdoS6oJUS04rxc6AhhrPYZYPV7ib_Bs6k_lghc9Krmc-XxhGV0LdkyRVqzUe1tunzO_EQCDNSry2bCPWbGwBdPfETIFpvXV4p3KVDougYmJlUh6kkcJdCs_vwGc85zbNmlCKZWjVBdwqQuAmMfy-Lub_BZRYVZij54TuHO8FE/w640-h360/20%20SLIP.gif" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjGJ2ahD7AsaXvGlFvWdz_0ffxJTyfEX-KRI_fc9t6rtAkDHOUbKG9ymTYFEU0Kxc_gxR7KkhZTKjymQbzYy-I_qYNMXylHy_8cUutpckpaSpyE2QF2ADJYYBEr0D_MAO__RynuAav7_Mv8uc3oXeboh9HbufreU8OTBAA-hgJxZgcE4X-D01qA2sGwY/s1920/vlcsnap-00675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjGJ2ahD7AsaXvGlFvWdz_0ffxJTyfEX-KRI_fc9t6rtAkDHOUbKG9ymTYFEU0Kxc_gxR7KkhZTKjymQbzYy-I_qYNMXylHy_8cUutpckpaSpyE2QF2ADJYYBEr0D_MAO__RynuAav7_Mv8uc3oXeboh9HbufreU8OTBAA-hgJxZgcE4X-D01qA2sGwY/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00675.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Eve’s
shoe breaks and she falls, clutching at Thornhill, ripping his pants
pocket on the way down. She lands on another ledge, hardly any bigger
than the first and her companion anxiously makes his way down to her
as she nurses her arm, injured in the fall. Exhausted, she clings to
him for comfort and he assist her, but the two chasers are making
their way down their respective Presidents. Leonard, however falls
from the overhang down which he was climbing, dropping his torch and
then himself, crashing down and sliding down an outcrop to land on a
rocky shelf </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">in
agony. Eve and Thornhill are faring little better, having reached an
impassable section; to either side sheer drops – and worse, the
figure of Leonard is heading their way from what might have been the
only way out. With nothing for it, but to flee, the pair head across
the stonework, Eve in her stockinged feet. One slip and they are done
for. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBGPRxQpLd5bjfLEyyWxiM6J786IQHytvTMUuEgS7FnAiPboGpJXVFt2Oq24F_b5f9Cb6wxQN9kq-S-TzN3r4vxKKF9UHd7NcOGuT3Wll4Y66hFw7eIX1mN1t47mLGw_dl1ZlUlS3-CYeFYFwzLcKFqtyONl5gMEVd1DRnoaxO12HAdd58OhtG4PbnIw/s1920/vlcsnap-00691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBGPRxQpLd5bjfLEyyWxiM6J786IQHytvTMUuEgS7FnAiPboGpJXVFt2Oq24F_b5f9Cb6wxQN9kq-S-TzN3r4vxKKF9UHd7NcOGuT3Wll4Y66hFw7eIX1mN1t47mLGw_dl1ZlUlS3-CYeFYFwzLcKFqtyONl5gMEVd1DRnoaxO12HAdd58OhtG4PbnIw/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00691.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As they go, they pass Valerian, standing in wait. Eve spots him
and screams as he launches himself at Thornhill, the two men crashing
down the slope together, a wicked curved knife in the thug’s hand,
flashing cruelly. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Below
them, the Memorial View Building looks like an architect’s model,
such is their height. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Desperately,
with his last ounce of strength, Thornhill gives Valerian a shove and
sends him screaming to his death. He’s only just landed… But no
time for crap jokes! Leonard has caught up with them and is wrestling
Eve for the statuette. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">To
Thornhill’s horror, he pushes her over the edge and she hangs by
her fingertips over thin air. Climbing down to her, Thornhill reaches
out to grab her hand, the inch of rock her feet rested on giving way. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrKAyYRRPT7XHUNH1hm7cWtJ8cPXzzNrlSur-va2Vsdci3I-tzEhE2n_HKO2sGxHCzfRTGWDRXdiqAXUmColPlFRl0fRb2-Uw091dnRBuhCr4dUWg2hqMSm5PuUo-VWTWX3XDLFaY1C6-uLVRuqAC2eepM4LDlfaV-pM7LV3PYQHkASKEKXOei7UWx6g/s1920/vlcsnap-00702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrKAyYRRPT7XHUNH1hm7cWtJ8cPXzzNrlSur-va2Vsdci3I-tzEhE2n_HKO2sGxHCzfRTGWDRXdiqAXUmColPlFRl0fRb2-Uw091dnRBuhCr4dUWg2hqMSm5PuUo-VWTWX3XDLFaY1C6-uLVRuqAC2eepM4LDlfaV-pM7LV3PYQHkASKEKXOei7UWx6g/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00702.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She has nothing left and Thornhill’s other hand, supporting them
both is slipping. Leonard stands above them, watching, holding the
precious statuette. In desperation, Thornhill appeals to Leonard,
asking for help. In response, the killer comes forward to stand on
his fingers, cruelly enjoying the couple’s predicament. A shot
rings out and the statuette falls to the rock, smashing into
fragments… and Leonard’s body topples over the side to join his
colleague far below. </span></span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcrDV4CBsXXHoVwMiep2pavsQUAC8DFLGMivWYS-jueoMYS08HAfeHJQ7YBIgFIi3HsRdn5tlpY47fLueY5vmT_pMGFnCXrc4e48OPABW9aaqIXbKfrT9QmtEAwBOEQCI-Pcz_Ce0abJUq2A2MZJwLPMNgjV2ek_iGj6O43bAkGbe7wOY4zQT-waiDVs/s1920/vlcsnap-00704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcrDV4CBsXXHoVwMiep2pavsQUAC8DFLGMivWYS-jueoMYS08HAfeHJQ7YBIgFIi3HsRdn5tlpY47fLueY5vmT_pMGFnCXrc4e48OPABW9aaqIXbKfrT9QmtEAwBOEQCI-Pcz_Ce0abJUq2A2MZJwLPMNgjV2ek_iGj6O43bAkGbe7wOY4zQT-waiDVs/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00704.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Atop
the monument, The Professor thanks the police sergeant who fired the
shot, the captive Vandamm remarking it wasn’t very sporting, using
real bullets. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYhSSciHelcpHFZGCaSUrl0_dg_ls7Z2Bz6giVDrKax_jB8OLHXXeE9xIPvRto53P3Zhw9hqa4tPhupjxKIdXy0Bz2ZKkLXL8xhe9QsJUgaF0ZgBgIJWKKvURZI0weTpXgfAN-V0Tw0C-uB47E3ljZ4Y6f4ymA1xPxbd_QJrVcj0AkTnTHBpv4EFDbtg/s1920/vlcsnap-00709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYhSSciHelcpHFZGCaSUrl0_dg_ls7Z2Bz6giVDrKax_jB8OLHXXeE9xIPvRto53P3Zhw9hqa4tPhupjxKIdXy0Bz2ZKkLXL8xhe9QsJUgaF0ZgBgIJWKKvURZI0weTpXgfAN-V0Tw0C-uB47E3ljZ4Y6f4ymA1xPxbd_QJrVcj0AkTnTHBpv4EFDbtg/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00709.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill tells Eve to reach; he’s got her. She can’t
make it! ‘Yes you can.’</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWYROnXIWfr_uTV9Ikia_IAxsvAjD0z6wXJsMEL1NhnIWTtIxXA4jX-NHmp-53a59kdg_pTZ-u2tQwOSLX6Cs45UKbIjswySXWRls1hILxqU6rCY_jE-4QOU6J5pW-rshkfQk7JLO-Ib8a1YlnuZ8VWKKtd9xS7V07qfT9Zje_kjs7Sp6qTmXGmYLJQs/s1920/vlcsnap-00711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWYROnXIWfr_uTV9Ikia_IAxsvAjD0z6wXJsMEL1NhnIWTtIxXA4jX-NHmp-53a59kdg_pTZ-u2tQwOSLX6Cs45UKbIjswySXWRls1hILxqU6rCY_jE-4QOU6J5pW-rshkfQk7JLO-Ib8a1YlnuZ8VWKKtd9xS7V07qfT9Zje_kjs7Sp6qTmXGmYLJQs/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00711.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Come along, Mrs. Thornhill.’ The
scene changes and we are aboard a train, with </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thornhill
pulling Eve up onto the top bunk of their compartment. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGtWrIaybZ90Xz2S56FrhqzPiQyNcuGlRi2eDuCtNsxDzJDyHSxl_BjbDTUJdy4BVsx-Kfy9pRMrNhV0j2s3F5DLIA4sSmrDZCB9VNh32sLKxn4_ErYa15Tswu6o9tN6g76a4j-MdYuS6UpM9RX3XGgy8xombOiOy9GhyuGraIUONI5R7QwRX7FKjBOk/s1920/vlcsnap-00714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGtWrIaybZ90Xz2S56FrhqzPiQyNcuGlRi2eDuCtNsxDzJDyHSxl_BjbDTUJdy4BVsx-Kfy9pRMrNhV0j2s3F5DLIA4sSmrDZCB9VNh32sLKxn4_ErYa15Tswu6o9tN6g76a4j-MdYuS6UpM9RX3XGgy8xombOiOy9GhyuGraIUONI5R7QwRX7FKjBOk/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00714.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Oh Roger,
this is silly’ ‘I know, but I’m sentimental.’ Alone at last,
the newly-weds kiss as the train enters a tunnel…</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXdTSP2MUHWnNzjkN3R5cz2mobMJ5RX7-T-V2O66R59-HSJ0mTZJ7UOsc8HiswjofGKmirNg_7JxA846oxAjRjc0SScY8xPIohAK-g88994MT66dzEWeWnYNqvdYN9zYoiHcS8yZ4uGRlur-hZUXlrRANQ06CzIGNgu3k3kGP8FTEhYxt_pOljAiifdI/s1920/vlcsnap-00717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXdTSP2MUHWnNzjkN3R5cz2mobMJ5RX7-T-V2O66R59-HSJ0mTZJ7UOsc8HiswjofGKmirNg_7JxA846oxAjRjc0SScY8xPIohAK-g88994MT66dzEWeWnYNqvdYN9zYoiHcS8yZ4uGRlur-hZUXlrRANQ06CzIGNgu3k3kGP8FTEhYxt_pOljAiifdI/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00717.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /> </span></span></span><p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwAGHpE6f-X0xbl7NTk49UMOvo9wg_4pb1P-a42TlATiiXTv4RRPHCWd_PZESpTYwvy-Xrhwdht2qFqsMQhGdafoCkXQsQpWeDia1AMj6NyGaxoY8Cc2NSJ_YcatbTaVeRdfjsnNKIc8sS0WvolISakUmGmTGmAT2N8fkp0-vd6kLGSNg1iMsI4aALAU/s1920/vlcsnap-00718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwAGHpE6f-X0xbl7NTk49UMOvo9wg_4pb1P-a42TlATiiXTv4RRPHCWd_PZESpTYwvy-Xrhwdht2qFqsMQhGdafoCkXQsQpWeDia1AMj6NyGaxoY8Cc2NSJ_YcatbTaVeRdfjsnNKIc8sS0WvolISakUmGmTGmAT2N8fkp0-vd6kLGSNg1iMsI4aALAU/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00718.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ace63bOWtqC1k7RbC1j_cO0Vi7-MztswSFHHHXSrMWgkYDAdY4bBAhZ9WAV5Zs2V67-gWitgwtlHhdvkW35LwcRViiEYyrJ-iMPOxKqsJSBkjyOJzg0bbTYtLkahDwZiH2VqZDkdGoj8VuLZ0iU9__kUBJjUDeQ9e0DEhuJRFGVp7u7QsJ7Qd0M9M6k/s1024/TRIVIAL%20PURSUITS%20HEADER.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="1024" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ace63bOWtqC1k7RbC1j_cO0Vi7-MztswSFHHHXSrMWgkYDAdY4bBAhZ9WAV5Zs2V67-gWitgwtlHhdvkW35LwcRViiEYyrJ-iMPOxKqsJSBkjyOJzg0bbTYtLkahDwZiH2VqZDkdGoj8VuLZ0iU9__kUBJjUDeQ9e0DEhuJRFGVp7u7QsJ7Qd0M9M6k/w640-h250/TRIVIAL%20PURSUITS%20HEADER.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ehM9Haaln55Qbdl9rFfhI4SOG_Jd7wv7JHw627tEtX0qkguCexWhKe2Fl_8YyvQzdUydp3VfjQax1DMVrg-0MZ_y0LZ68jDaU9WZV1-1bQgeLMjGX77aN5enS1InoEB46BtkJuCNrAjHO4aTvrkHmyz_e6hhsmJiZwe4DoSOjSo63XTgQK1E7wE3FNU/s800/A%20(16).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="635" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ehM9Haaln55Qbdl9rFfhI4SOG_Jd7wv7JHw627tEtX0qkguCexWhKe2Fl_8YyvQzdUydp3VfjQax1DMVrg-0MZ_y0LZ68jDaU9WZV1-1bQgeLMjGX77aN5enS1InoEB46BtkJuCNrAjHO4aTvrkHmyz_e6hhsmJiZwe4DoSOjSo63XTgQK1E7wE3FNU/w509-h640/A%20(16).jpg" width="509" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cary Grant with Alfred Hitchcock - later Sir. Alfred.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">If
you never see this film, you have Volcano Cat’s pity; but you must
at least view those wonderful titles. See them here;
https://www.artofthetitle.com/title/north-by-northwest/</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzW9LQkSxUSTPnGoP3OXXdNSkdLdtqOaPfkhPkd_zODkiWqVVFGprmN0jxhsMh3KT_ZZREkjdfiOi_N2LX6QZNThvpeJmT33NO-9eSIGozahdmSYXofRZ5zXmuIxL2gfeJd8CH6qt0PeGyCI-dQRSIIL9GX24fg_fCXrLw4h6si7WBwDWXRfKhED0M_-w/s800/A%20(20).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="800" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzW9LQkSxUSTPnGoP3OXXdNSkdLdtqOaPfkhPkd_zODkiWqVVFGprmN0jxhsMh3KT_ZZREkjdfiOi_N2LX6QZNThvpeJmT33NO-9eSIGozahdmSYXofRZ5zXmuIxL2gfeJd8CH6qt0PeGyCI-dQRSIIL9GX24fg_fCXrLw4h6si7WBwDWXRfKhED0M_-w/w640-h512/A%20(20).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Mason and Eva Marie Saint in a playful moment on set. (The rope was to preserve continuity)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">One
of the joys of any Hitchcock is the Director’s cameo; Hitchcock
pops up delightfully and playfully in all sorts of unexpected
moments; here, of course, he is the unlucky commuter missing his bus
at the end of the opening credits. </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86N2Sr4ekjA0WNiCIG9W9U7jat2m1hqr3Z6-qoMw003LuWK2HIzJelNOLGtiVhQJrcS42V-smZCYx8cwq0QxPiBo4_GU8ytzSindb_PkacrNRNLicycgUwJf6xIWF96Llr1lETnv578pNaSM-sL2w8NNht4edymOJDJab29I2Ou2L0zWbULFsAqtv-XU/s1280/MV5BODcxYzZiMjAtNjI0NC00MDAwLTlkODktY2RmY2M5ZGJmMWFhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDU2NjgyMg@@._V1_.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="1280" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86N2Sr4ekjA0WNiCIG9W9U7jat2m1hqr3Z6-qoMw003LuWK2HIzJelNOLGtiVhQJrcS42V-smZCYx8cwq0QxPiBo4_GU8ytzSindb_PkacrNRNLicycgUwJf6xIWF96Llr1lETnv578pNaSM-sL2w8NNht4edymOJDJab29I2Ou2L0zWbULFsAqtv-XU/w640-h506/MV5BODcxYzZiMjAtNjI0NC00MDAwLTlkODktY2RmY2M5ZGJmMWFhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDU2NjgyMg@@._V1_.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Alfred Hitchcock at an airport gift counter, September 12, 1958<i>. </i>Note the sign above! <i>Alfred Hitchcock papers, Margaret Herrick Library, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.</i><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">As
they escape, Thornhill notes Eve has ‘the pumpkin’ - the
statuette with the microfilm. This is a reference to the Alger Hiss
case of 1948, in which rolls of film relating to an espionage case
had been hidden in a hollowed-out pumpkin. </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFObv_bsHgoj9aVucB-RRuSUAQHTI3_SPP03ZuG-5lkkPAJZ-N2jV8LcnbxqUMLfDBUaUCPGFNa2B_DGhjZihOKCr0JfKIklMmRbPxGtm75m7IuMO3vJ47MMD868A76Dv_213K1yPN-eJtvZ32FpKwiKLHQoexXEs9YK9NgVizRH_FaZYRnly4ZzLhdnk/s2000/ipiccy_image-min.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFObv_bsHgoj9aVucB-RRuSUAQHTI3_SPP03ZuG-5lkkPAJZ-N2jV8LcnbxqUMLfDBUaUCPGFNa2B_DGhjZihOKCr0JfKIklMmRbPxGtm75m7IuMO3vJ47MMD868A76Dv_213K1yPN-eJtvZ32FpKwiKLHQoexXEs9YK9NgVizRH_FaZYRnly4ZzLhdnk/w640-h640/ipiccy_image-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wardrobe Tests for Eve Marie Saint's character.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Cary
Grant was doubled for some stunts by the famous stuntman Sol Gorss
(1908-1966) </span>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">At
the train station in Chicago, Thornhill quips about changing in
Marshall Field’s window; Marshall Field’s was a famous department
store, later a chain in Chicago that was bought out by Macy’s in
2005. </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUknsu-Bs7TUvZK0OyT45Gejct6OsmFY5nennrxopLmOmLG0j2qIw_qCbsCr6j91bQw-95s_67Bj_0gRZLjhLD3IrPLBQ6gZSQDj52UYdtJZrXPNlHhcXR3XuPZEyWVmPraCNRIwgLRts3I3QoGboXtFTtczRn1v8dLDZCGHIiNqBdnv6m0Pzf8irwaI/s2000/ipiccy_image(1)-min.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUknsu-Bs7TUvZK0OyT45Gejct6OsmFY5nennrxopLmOmLG0j2qIw_qCbsCr6j91bQw-95s_67Bj_0gRZLjhLD3IrPLBQ6gZSQDj52UYdtJZrXPNlHhcXR3XuPZEyWVmPraCNRIwgLRts3I3QoGboXtFTtczRn1v8dLDZCGHIiNqBdnv6m0Pzf8irwaI/w640-h640/ipiccy_image(1)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shooting on location.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
‘O’ in Roger Thornhill’s name standing for nothing is a joke;
Hitchcock’s friend David O. Selznick added the middle initial to
his own name as he felt it sounded more impressive. </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOty98xyc3wHGDKDWlHvZWTJ65qW2LHTuhsP3eyCwR4vZygo_YfOd3nc95WSNLHSlqLEf3tfVoRqIauSxtXPQjLLqnV2B39CQWIXQG9y0FaKxGl204KsGmEGFq4Lf4s2e9zscIY29Gyf2kH0DqEIWmUX4ZsDY5BzfAPJp_bvNuoFiIWfmPEjMzmNYpYV8/s1700/20thCenturyAd.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="1385" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOty98xyc3wHGDKDWlHvZWTJ65qW2LHTuhsP3eyCwR4vZygo_YfOd3nc95WSNLHSlqLEf3tfVoRqIauSxtXPQjLLqnV2B39CQWIXQG9y0FaKxGl204KsGmEGFq4Lf4s2e9zscIY29Gyf2kH0DqEIWmUX4ZsDY5BzfAPJp_bvNuoFiIWfmPEjMzmNYpYV8/w522-h640/20thCenturyAd.jpg" width="522" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'The Red Carpet treatment'; today, a generic term for VIP treatment, but the legendary<i> 20th Century Limited</i> famously had a red carpet for it's passengers to direct them to their train. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">North
By Northwest is not a cardinal point on any compass; speculation
abounds as to the origin and meaning, including a line from
Shakespeare’s <i>Hamlet, </i>but a likely candidate would be that
in an early draft, the action was to go from New York to Alaska,
North-Westerly in effect, but Hitchcock himself dismissed such debate
in 1963; "It's a fantasy. The whole film is epitomized in the
title—there is no such thing as north-by-northwest on the compass." </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6n2d73_-NDYLmxEQ2_-qxbs2d9lkuY4sPU1tBQH9A_I7fWH9Pw7-DYcTCttg95RRtpIVFTPF9LVrC_jrXKK0mXw8_kshZKeJk0959v6iXsF0rGnFIfLewPrHZUjTo-XnK5st8Cx6SFubVfERdpA0_x1jNibiLM6Z7b2_nIRXSSfe6lUqvu0uvJxh4uNY/s800/A%20(17).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="657" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6n2d73_-NDYLmxEQ2_-qxbs2d9lkuY4sPU1tBQH9A_I7fWH9Pw7-DYcTCttg95RRtpIVFTPF9LVrC_jrXKK0mXw8_kshZKeJk0959v6iXsF0rGnFIfLewPrHZUjTo-XnK5st8Cx6SFubVfERdpA0_x1jNibiLM6Z7b2_nIRXSSfe6lUqvu0uvJxh4uNY/w526-h640/A%20(17).jpg" width="526" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do we know this image (Complete with added MGM Lion) was taken at the time of production? See below; <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxZYQMXALiJsanJrAUpXLcRccHTDWaL6Ven8zm3xWHU2GLm9nYFyk9HCN1zwgGqip4j8kqVoQueKbHdgnRIwP9PIdcu8b_zcToa3WNIjeW8t0g3iatTzZSWr2v9Y3C3fdBJkfIyE5zIk3ISjBenReIfnFOBHxrkkuIjY0EHCQt7oWo4N9GdK6cvHheBU/s500/dd3977b33abe98673ff20b3be449e32f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="500" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxZYQMXALiJsanJrAUpXLcRccHTDWaL6Ven8zm3xWHU2GLm9nYFyk9HCN1zwgGqip4j8kqVoQueKbHdgnRIwP9PIdcu8b_zcToa3WNIjeW8t0g3iatTzZSWr2v9Y3C3fdBJkfIyE5zIk3ISjBenReIfnFOBHxrkkuIjY0EHCQt7oWo4N9GdK6cvHheBU/w400-h229/dd3977b33abe98673ff20b3be449e32f.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Only
two MGM movies were made with the VistaVision process; the other
being <i>High Society </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(</span><span style="font-style: normal;">1956)</span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I</span><span style="font-style: normal;">n
her train compartment, Eve is seen reading a book titled ‘The
Agreeable Age’. This is not a real novel, but was created as a
prop.</span></span></p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK1QOZ988v_aGlccvvwYObquG8ahqi988RSRNnnCGoHPPLO9U8jHUvHD5BKNCArynZJ-s50IG7vbOkeu8BEvT39EK3G-QJGDTlnjBA7RBBFZ0U6wL0fw_w0WXQe-MmJj1plEyxwTFgP86Gm3yX4vNVL6mLZ297WbVbPhGJNb0DYkQJLRSlAAlBwrk_Ng/s1116/111.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1116" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK1QOZ988v_aGlccvvwYObquG8ahqi988RSRNnnCGoHPPLO9U8jHUvHD5BKNCArynZJ-s50IG7vbOkeu8BEvT39EK3G-QJGDTlnjBA7RBBFZ0U6wL0fw_w0WXQe-MmJj1plEyxwTFgP86Gm3yX4vNVL6mLZ297WbVbPhGJNb0DYkQJLRSlAAlBwrk_Ng/w400-h334/111.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filming the iconic crop-duster scene, with a sheet to protect the microphone from dust and grit.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Crop Duster scene was actually filmed in California, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">on
the Garces Highway.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">At
the ‘United States Intelligence Agency’, the edition of The
Evening Star shows it to be Tuesday, November 25 1958, but rather
oddly beneath the paper’s masthead it reads ‘WITH SUNDAY MORNING
EDITION’ - This was, however, an accurate representation of the
actual newspaper – Even the other items on the front page were
taken from the Star’s edition of the day itself. Cheekily perhaps,
a story titled ‘4 Flee Blaze in Northwest’ seems to be fictional,
possibly a nod to the film’s title.</span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZR9d91RFTsa8RMeC_sptnHzlztcbIBgOJu8sMHI7m9FyhoHmk5iOw1qpEtYTvsHAAuVC_qZHX70ph7Vq38qrEecCuCjGz0tbv_ytDuwhnSh0-NXKPhTEubhaRR_m8EVt060XY7OLhxg7eZRPDigjv0KmKPLnrMDiytMvFIJej2u6mhIlzE5GAgzY10KE/s2000/ipiccy_image(2)-min_edited.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZR9d91RFTsa8RMeC_sptnHzlztcbIBgOJu8sMHI7m9FyhoHmk5iOw1qpEtYTvsHAAuVC_qZHX70ph7Vq38qrEecCuCjGz0tbv_ytDuwhnSh0-NXKPhTEubhaRR_m8EVt060XY7OLhxg7eZRPDigjv0KmKPLnrMDiytMvFIJej2u6mhIlzE5GAgzY10KE/w640-h640/ipiccy_image(2)-min_edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The climactic scenes were filmed with a massive Cyclorama, as well as a physical set on impressive scale. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
opening credits by Saul Bass were the first major use of kinetic type
in a motion picture. The MGM lion features against a green background
specifically to enable a smooth segue into these titles.</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvJf9zhr634ydBgRjtVuFm4jAOjm4BL0X2Uq9oqRHv-YDnu-pnmdeYEtWWdHLUxmgRTwa5L5LDX19iwY6xRd0dJxRYS4-7IyL5dLtB-aFn3dCX9uWaaEGdJu1Oi69eUAtG-vrjES5OI0Ndb9PUdcXPMkBIqsPzNejGbfr6Wxw9GLT77cnWysFXAUIj1w/s1400/CONCEPT%20PAINTING%20SIGNED%20JJ.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="762" data-original-width="1400" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvJf9zhr634ydBgRjtVuFm4jAOjm4BL0X2Uq9oqRHv-YDnu-pnmdeYEtWWdHLUxmgRTwa5L5LDX19iwY6xRd0dJxRYS4-7IyL5dLtB-aFn3dCX9uWaaEGdJu1Oi69eUAtG-vrjES5OI0Ndb9PUdcXPMkBIqsPzNejGbfr6Wxw9GLT77cnWysFXAUIj1w/w640-h348/CONCEPT%20PAINTING%20SIGNED%20JJ.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Concept painting for the Vandamm house, signed 'JJ'<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Vandamm’s
rather exquisite house is, alas, a figment of the imagination; no
such house existed, a combination of matte paintings and interior
scenes filmed on set at Culver City. People have often mistaken this
for a Frank Lloyd Wright creation; one giveaway this is not so is the
cantilever design supporting the living space; Lloyd Wright would
never have used such a device. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
UN refused to let filming take place at their headquarters, so
Hitchcock had Grant walk up the stairs being filmed covertly. As he
goes up the stairs, an older man stops and does a double-take,
presumably surprised to see a famous movie star there. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">The
breathtaking overture by Bernard Hermann was originally written for
the ‘drunk driver’ sequence; in a cheeky nod to this, Hermann
titled the reprise “On the Rocks!” This and much more Volcano Cat
gleaned here;
<a href="https://www.wisemusicclassical.com/work/59642/North-by-Northwest-Overture-Decca-records-version--Bernard-Herrmann/">https://www.wisemusicclassical.com/work/59642/North-by-Northwest-Overture-Decca-records-version--Bernard-Herrmann/</a></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBY7MxLttShY3RSBPljfD0AMkumXtG0obn77WT2RZ5xYRdL_5PQJQjM-YyDDKy9vm7F0_6YHwXcHkEJsP__df76c43Fcjx0xI28VHqowd29chcNtlSOjpsgEzhi6nvZLr2yPpLf0QDtLQJ1-YbChG8GeS0Ob3WPCTf5iWgfnd4ZhqPfAYS4-qc-VJx2fA/s1024/HITCHCOCKUPS%20HEADER.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="1024" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBY7MxLttShY3RSBPljfD0AMkumXtG0obn77WT2RZ5xYRdL_5PQJQjM-YyDDKy9vm7F0_6YHwXcHkEJsP__df76c43Fcjx0xI28VHqowd29chcNtlSOjpsgEzhi6nvZLr2yPpLf0QDtLQJ1-YbChG8GeS0Ob3WPCTf5iWgfnd4ZhqPfAYS4-qc-VJx2fA/w640-h250/HITCHCOCKUPS%20HEADER.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Thornhill
tells Eve he wants to rent a car from Chicago; though how America’s
Most Wanted thinks he can do this without showing I.D is anyone’s
idea.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Eve
has a rendezvous at <i>1212 N. Michigan</i>. There is no 1212 North
Michigan address in Chicago.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Continuity
is not this film’s strongest point; among the more obvious errors
here are the knife in Thornhill’s hand switching position at the
UN, Thornhill writes a message in a matchbook with some matches
missing, but it suddenly becomes intact when Eve reads it, plus the
message has gone from three lines to four. In the MT Rushmore
sequence, Eve rips a pocket in Thornhill’s pants, only for it to
repair itself magically… And so on. One notable example is
Thornhill’s suit changing colour in the crop duster scene as Grant
simply adored well-tailored clothes and couldn’t bear to see a fine
suit ruined. Volcano Cat approves, being a lover of all things
sartorial.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">Perhaps
the most famous Hitch 'Cock-Up' – certainly the most endearing in <i>North
by Northwest </i>comes in the Mount Rushmore cafeteria scene, a small
boy puts his fingers in his ears as, clearly, he knows there’s
going to be a loud bang. He's in the image below, at right.<br /></span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_egPvf3koKQGbf4PNi52FeJu_MKzl89Y2UYj1lFpUBmtUskIFEVrWS8xGOobaerO6Yq18slH0AnaEBXFgjK8aA6vOIEuQtH6vTgeMsAsCjicZPZHz-4hbY-wBd2fdiHqQvfut1SsHJ7pQhyphenhyphenBP_Be13XKhgazuOvMXUTtNmn7lgbd1fwlMSDXXWDwaRC4/s1920/vlcsnap-00522.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_egPvf3koKQGbf4PNi52FeJu_MKzl89Y2UYj1lFpUBmtUskIFEVrWS8xGOobaerO6Yq18slH0AnaEBXFgjK8aA6vOIEuQtH6vTgeMsAsCjicZPZHz-4hbY-wBd2fdiHqQvfut1SsHJ7pQhyphenhyphenBP_Be13XKhgazuOvMXUTtNmn7lgbd1fwlMSDXXWDwaRC4/w640-h360/vlcsnap-00522.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;">There
seem to be some rather wobbly trees near Mount Rushmore; in the scene
where the ambulance takes Thornhill’s ‘corpse’ into the woods,
one especially sways alarmingly, revealing it to be as fake as his
death. </span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: BioRhyme;"> </span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='565' height='358' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwBBFsQwBz9PVqUpeJKGZs5GSKS0XeUoUsmyigBBNQmXyfobj8AMYkVdaZj9C4aQLdMVUMA0w1x5BsmFRNuVA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2y8WMTVPIbruN2J19lKrswqB8bR5REUDV4735FsTeUZw6e6FaTIOtFLpRtfMWGJl8YbQLqa0UDvK_-nu58d2xPZhrcPt8G6lsiRvbE5LSQtMX9iivCngW0zVfNP8sOQlEkF-2ExZ2KY01_0NfQs2FOX_9zBFkS-8aR1wFSbtHg6pAuAFjpdRsyC8J7k/s756/COURTESY%20HA.COM-min.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="756" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2y8WMTVPIbruN2J19lKrswqB8bR5REUDV4735FsTeUZw6e6FaTIOtFLpRtfMWGJl8YbQLqa0UDvK_-nu58d2xPZhrcPt8G6lsiRvbE5LSQtMX9iivCngW0zVfNP8sOQlEkF-2ExZ2KY01_0NfQs2FOX_9zBFkS-8aR1wFSbtHg6pAuAFjpdRsyC8J7k/w640-h340/COURTESY%20HA.COM-min.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6qIg0mpJGFT0xEuOlb6tlp5ZWF2JOFDUGYR5Kw9w1I5j35d6eJP1Dz-mrkL-RWk_90uLFPw6-xLALpd5ela6yn_bEfyCa3TkZ0374C53lAY0RI6MwtvDBzk1J73dBDsWJRpENEr1IQ5NaI2qJPgYgojPXtfBJbQWI5P2ZtZgJ26V9bOR07tgMhKnQno/s3000/1960s%20JAPANESE%20STB%20POSTER.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6qIg0mpJGFT0xEuOlb6tlp5ZWF2JOFDUGYR5Kw9w1I5j35d6eJP1Dz-mrkL-RWk_90uLFPw6-xLALpd5ela6yn_bEfyCa3TkZ0374C53lAY0RI6MwtvDBzk1J73dBDsWJRpENEr1IQ5NaI2qJPgYgojPXtfBJbQWI5P2ZtZgJ26V9bOR07tgMhKnQno/w229-h640/1960s%20JAPANESE%20STB%20POSTER.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1960'S Japanese STB Poster<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX3_toWjEuehH74kltVmxH9uCcNWw_u7oe85kFI4EVI3TEkBKiWHisKkAeZ9U83lePNOT6uHV2oDvtOZD-TFR__AEfMPKPGrfkzesBPtI-HzTDD5ZcQyC-9WM45wWftoHFhKHzqN2v6B526fENf7cH5es72fM_o3yziccEPxvBHoVSZ3-_pM3RqwWhtk/s3000/Australian%20Daybill%20RE-RELEASE%201966.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1306" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX3_toWjEuehH74kltVmxH9uCcNWw_u7oe85kFI4EVI3TEkBKiWHisKkAeZ9U83lePNOT6uHV2oDvtOZD-TFR__AEfMPKPGrfkzesBPtI-HzTDD5ZcQyC-9WM45wWftoHFhKHzqN2v6B526fENf7cH5es72fM_o3yziccEPxvBHoVSZ3-_pM3RqwWhtk/w278-h640/Australian%20Daybill%20RE-RELEASE%201966.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Australian Daybill for the 1966 re-release<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYmPr_y0DGMDLlUJSt3_Z0VsoGhY7tMfuFJYJJTMUx786SKnMCxjp6ki2Rl2KmisuV7CUKI23nDb97Q7CRMnMrcyH7r799oxtz04nt6OT9BYaIYPFFB9vm4cBOTwapbp-OVKP0HhKcrjHAS7VOmYOT2GK2aQS9gudaqKIqHpksxET3BP4WCg9Q6J3m0A/s3000/Banner%2024%20X%2082.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="3000" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYmPr_y0DGMDLlUJSt3_Z0VsoGhY7tMfuFJYJJTMUx786SKnMCxjp6ki2Rl2KmisuV7CUKI23nDb97Q7CRMnMrcyH7r799oxtz04nt6OT9BYaIYPFFB9vm4cBOTwapbp-OVKP0HhKcrjHAS7VOmYOT2GK2aQS9gudaqKIqHpksxET3BP4WCg9Q6J3m0A/w640-h188/Banner%2024%20X%2082.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A magnificent banner, 24x82 inches in dimension<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRf-oPgQxHgmYDFs9rDdu4EUtyQZdCu4qEAGxdeVTphUDxcvlKeX-XnS27XUJOfSBNrKlvQ-bDbs8EO7QoDF-3W8eKBY_0Oe6SdAzCzrxlKBE3MgjqBNd5NBV9dSD88iNgP1np55XCmYuegbFwb9ZQo_thCjGr9L7iz5SjCJJYYRxIWMGpHe0BkP1n9-g/s3000/Belgian.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2008" data-original-width="3000" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRf-oPgQxHgmYDFs9rDdu4EUtyQZdCu4qEAGxdeVTphUDxcvlKeX-XnS27XUJOfSBNrKlvQ-bDbs8EO7QoDF-3W8eKBY_0Oe6SdAzCzrxlKBE3MgjqBNd5NBV9dSD88iNgP1np55XCmYuegbFwb9ZQo_thCjGr9L7iz5SjCJJYYRxIWMGpHe0BkP1n9-g/w640-h428/Belgian.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belgian poster<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHT9Btg8BcHsoEbvr2YmWtNcGMNlN8GR03Pw59uuojLjIlWF41EHTtsUldIqueZbQEHaBeZwjImK0imOSHHm5SdT5RNM6dZil9KTbdpvMOJmOXO080aqupFbQlM4cQYrc4iuyOKgruNCpcl_dzKROWRBkRP0sSEZxhD9wGuQnNzuEpcaAlbSC0c4ia_I/s3000/French%20Grande%2047.25%20X%2062.75.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2277" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHT9Btg8BcHsoEbvr2YmWtNcGMNlN8GR03Pw59uuojLjIlWF41EHTtsUldIqueZbQEHaBeZwjImK0imOSHHm5SdT5RNM6dZil9KTbdpvMOJmOXO080aqupFbQlM4cQYrc4iuyOKgruNCpcl_dzKROWRBkRP0sSEZxhD9wGuQnNzuEpcaAlbSC0c4ia_I/w486-h640/French%20Grande%2047.25%20X%2062.75.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A French 'Grande' poster, 47.25x62.75 inches in dimension<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFmmrpA7_vQBPK-l_WTeuha2iRph9dXWUcwuZURSEGlv9cBaBdBfcfeWEHhAgSKuAmiHvSNFAWLlJCmoHTk0DyziNDR4O5y7GQtm8pESgmn3NAMMMpu4HOl3Hi8c2MqwwTzTwZ6IWfeJ-JjiEMqHtE5M9qe9iYI79pUCyBjUAMiqkk4-2uNrTfQyAjRg/s3000/French%20Grande%201982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2257" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFmmrpA7_vQBPK-l_WTeuha2iRph9dXWUcwuZURSEGlv9cBaBdBfcfeWEHhAgSKuAmiHvSNFAWLlJCmoHTk0DyziNDR4O5y7GQtm8pESgmn3NAMMMpu4HOl3Hi8c2MqwwTzTwZ6IWfeJ-JjiEMqHtE5M9qe9iYI79pUCyBjUAMiqkk4-2uNrTfQyAjRg/w482-h640/French%20Grande%201982.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A French Grande poster from 1982<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLvnwNUAga8NB4xO0T8UMkAYps7l5aRRn4OZWAsZYKfPcnAPObutItThrz9E65gull5iS6aPUWXJslOJsZ6pa-SBKblnjqgiwz5tObBnIRACkKMOY3dfV4QdXXGJRa4ANAOxT7MmtInbK5NZxGi9dUMDHVTGlj4gHiik-beAhHOnckcJD_leilwhQB4k/s1300/Half%20Sheet%2022%20X%2028%20Style%20B.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1073" data-original-width="1300" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLvnwNUAga8NB4xO0T8UMkAYps7l5aRRn4OZWAsZYKfPcnAPObutItThrz9E65gull5iS6aPUWXJslOJsZ6pa-SBKblnjqgiwz5tObBnIRACkKMOY3dfV4QdXXGJRa4ANAOxT7MmtInbK5NZxGi9dUMDHVTGlj4gHiik-beAhHOnckcJD_leilwhQB4k/w640-h528/Half%20Sheet%2022%20X%2028%20Style%20B.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Half Sheet Poster, Style 'B' 22x28 inches in dimension<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGf3UpY3SQPv1rXaCiKh7asfw-7IosSsGch92xK2avvNDdXDqYda8IDRqpzyiySzxzM7G3eSMYfnpY5v8JjcHdl8576s890HX-P-hDvdlMDTfGzW3rSVmFVrmHvdqYYdJ5BHcBaT9hD5F2OZrSkF3AffaegSLW3-eT77hyphenhyphenKgRD4jNBvSOPcALPWIeqyI/s3250/Italian%202-Folio%201976%20RELEASE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3250" data-original-width="2347" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGf3UpY3SQPv1rXaCiKh7asfw-7IosSsGch92xK2avvNDdXDqYda8IDRqpzyiySzxzM7G3eSMYfnpY5v8JjcHdl8576s890HX-P-hDvdlMDTfGzW3rSVmFVrmHvdqYYdJ5BHcBaT9hD5F2OZrSkF3AffaegSLW3-eT77hyphenhyphenKgRD4jNBvSOPcALPWIeqyI/w462-h640/Italian%202-Folio%201976%20RELEASE.jpg" width="462" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Folio for the 1976 re-release<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBK7TM3HAyrqRxrEI2ln-SY1zaGOx_FYayRRzDqkjXzqfkL9OeXxxKx4a5ZXwLZLJ5Ftuo3JnqABXhLX1BGnyHI0iPQwWJsNFP3O4bCSSo1Hyzv0w8h8B9MnlOgdh9bVTTdwbusxzBRGeCIfElC80Ec9lc_ROvWXyjXcBSOEj4-22fgW5EqmQvSVrywrE/s3000/Italian%20Locandina.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1398" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBK7TM3HAyrqRxrEI2ln-SY1zaGOx_FYayRRzDqkjXzqfkL9OeXxxKx4a5ZXwLZLJ5Ftuo3JnqABXhLX1BGnyHI0iPQwWJsNFP3O4bCSSo1Hyzv0w8h8B9MnlOgdh9bVTTdwbusxzBRGeCIfElC80Ec9lc_ROvWXyjXcBSOEj4-22fgW5EqmQvSVrywrE/w298-h640/Italian%20Locandina.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Locandina<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YgVEGBxX_hC1aa3bdLo5hxU-0JWNZmvQkX6lAdCQSvXmKS0ZWGziWIcN9BXrH3wY7ZDPVGoQMgldU2Eq_J3ZzFM-zaYOH4AniXEy4zjyPmTu242VHZv7tgdJmJvLxCnRlYhLcaNnGf7dI9dr_rlyoqljpRufCB6WB793pjEP7E4JAQjrLi9cl2HNqsY/s2938/Japanese%20B2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2938" data-original-width="2068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YgVEGBxX_hC1aa3bdLo5hxU-0JWNZmvQkX6lAdCQSvXmKS0ZWGziWIcN9BXrH3wY7ZDPVGoQMgldU2Eq_J3ZzFM-zaYOH4AniXEy4zjyPmTu242VHZv7tgdJmJvLxCnRlYhLcaNnGf7dI9dr_rlyoqljpRufCB6WB793pjEP7E4JAQjrLi9cl2HNqsY/w450-h640/Japanese%20B2.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese B2 poster<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETIwYKzdeG1M3zMlraYub77lsQwLVwo_ALlvWxbYzSyvMYCE7nRdvVL7mo0nDAOfoLQP3yd7cMXby9dIcAgzzKVxpdKfDVzPLEIpGW25u7uvbfSXdLS19ZTp3Z2da4OUfp-nrspJ4Ak-77RMgYv9rX68aZRn4_Cg_Ap10chGn7gTVmbgkNnPXQ-StqrA/s3000/Lobby%20Card%20Set%20of%208.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1920" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETIwYKzdeG1M3zMlraYub77lsQwLVwo_ALlvWxbYzSyvMYCE7nRdvVL7mo0nDAOfoLQP3yd7cMXby9dIcAgzzKVxpdKfDVzPLEIpGW25u7uvbfSXdLS19ZTp3Z2da4OUfp-nrspJ4Ak-77RMgYv9rX68aZRn4_Cg_Ap10chGn7gTVmbgkNnPXQ-StqrA/w410-h640/Lobby%20Card%20Set%20of%208.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lobby Card Set.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ53nwHmHmc6SbRfMnBHSrUrODVxyxDvAlvBtxZAaBJlDkGOpjv5NWAE1e-tmuhgW7b3nedkBpgBoNnwOm00JUuGErNfX6RLqRwG0qgPwRrrinVHl_4DMCncZAHjFCuOalaB8eewB8hfhJCqJ8W4Q9GxK4OrMgE1EACZlJpuzOL78vrTjNA8sA-_VBbME/s3000/Poster%2040%20X%2060%20Style%20Y.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1974" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ53nwHmHmc6SbRfMnBHSrUrODVxyxDvAlvBtxZAaBJlDkGOpjv5NWAE1e-tmuhgW7b3nedkBpgBoNnwOm00JUuGErNfX6RLqRwG0qgPwRrrinVHl_4DMCncZAHjFCuOalaB8eewB8hfhJCqJ8W4Q9GxK4OrMgE1EACZlJpuzOL78vrTjNA8sA-_VBbME/w422-h640/Poster%2040%20X%2060%20Style%20Y.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A style 'Y' Poster, 40x60 inches <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">The Images below, also from the fine people at Heritage Auctions, HA.com are incredible; a unique collection from the Estate of Martin Landau. </p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJSTREtTUBq0pocYrEjZdcA6tosY8OWo2bW2A73imHZ2rMPxOby4gYFzpA4KM6ySIZobughorcyCfwcFNXf8jhNsdRpc1ddn8qkf3Fdz1BhrD1RL2o7HirIaCMjsmjC03RT3UhouH2lqEQ3zDnpgXYOJbqUTp_y4RRHSeBKhxlCrchrZ-6Kz9mvRle-I/s1150/ML%20PHOTOS%20A_edited.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1150" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJSTREtTUBq0pocYrEjZdcA6tosY8OWo2bW2A73imHZ2rMPxOby4gYFzpA4KM6ySIZobughorcyCfwcFNXf8jhNsdRpc1ddn8qkf3Fdz1BhrD1RL2o7HirIaCMjsmjC03RT3UhouH2lqEQ3zDnpgXYOJbqUTp_y4RRHSeBKhxlCrchrZ-6Kz9mvRle-I/w640-h446/ML%20PHOTOS%20A_edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1PelLW17qH_KDtjgZDhQJ1bxZYzc4cA-SHkzK5id0KaMvqE6xclgYep2WrJLrkzF_fqpZZUSaAt3AZZ1IjIb1rfih8ELwneu9ACa51Ya-OP2Fjm4VZbCzPAbf6CGrTUhGb_XCOH3MwfmVgC4MfUDfMut1rIYi6ExeivgpVDN9zkeoESJVMKhUlmzlEo/s1200/ML%20PHOTOS%20B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1200" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1PelLW17qH_KDtjgZDhQJ1bxZYzc4cA-SHkzK5id0KaMvqE6xclgYep2WrJLrkzF_fqpZZUSaAt3AZZ1IjIb1rfih8ELwneu9ACa51Ya-OP2Fjm4VZbCzPAbf6CGrTUhGb_XCOH3MwfmVgC4MfUDfMut1rIYi6ExeivgpVDN9zkeoESJVMKhUlmzlEo/w400-h330/ML%20PHOTOS%20B.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kkTCf33Tqr5Yk6oaikV_pRz5Me4RfHgY-eKCqOdnnK35fIp-Iza8xXdQ6Z3LAiCBDbcsxiNjci7ZoQ8P-EakcW66nht0ivCpeeeuce1aXPfT1QvXHrofJaASrtayuRrkpD1PZ3BdZQ7PBrJuYf_P847zeY4u-4z6ob_KTb-v7oiRpv9Q3UyLXVyvunU/s1200/ML%20PHOTOS%20C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1200" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kkTCf33Tqr5Yk6oaikV_pRz5Me4RfHgY-eKCqOdnnK35fIp-Iza8xXdQ6Z3LAiCBDbcsxiNjci7ZoQ8P-EakcW66nht0ivCpeeeuce1aXPfT1QvXHrofJaASrtayuRrkpD1PZ3BdZQ7PBrJuYf_P847zeY4u-4z6ob_KTb-v7oiRpv9Q3UyLXVyvunU/w400-h330/ML%20PHOTOS%20C.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarsDTTFJJ6C_BMOr9JxaUrzgUcHT8aS0OJFS1QHK563hSj_mjmm07zvpJklzNIXX8clT3Nc6iLwBPbtG_xlMpTPyaoC7Mgkqv2y39hbiNUINzquUQ6pDUtVIVu4jb7Op4lcXYo3KNYlkkPpRawE14E3OywrBiYgF0TGLM8PSO1Df5hWIAdGPIkZdvBkM/s1200/ML%20PHOTOS%20D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="991" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarsDTTFJJ6C_BMOr9JxaUrzgUcHT8aS0OJFS1QHK563hSj_mjmm07zvpJklzNIXX8clT3Nc6iLwBPbtG_xlMpTPyaoC7Mgkqv2y39hbiNUINzquUQ6pDUtVIVu4jb7Op4lcXYo3KNYlkkPpRawE14E3OywrBiYgF0TGLM8PSO1Df5hWIAdGPIkZdvBkM/w330-h400/ML%20PHOTOS%20D.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMDK3B4Ge_DSrVhWv4O31IE2WzeMfu6f1gLs5FQNKi_zKXFJERe6RHEuanpcYFyQbH7r2zEw1d-Yp6imfWuvfZM8LxyXJvjo9eCclyquQNk8uVBz8OCTDAZ2IRWUcc5CopZ01TsNQsDej6L_fEbXJOHYd07KTZpv_rSLgGF_sAuEKAYM6ia8zXAcKTAk/s1169/ML%20PHOTOS_edited.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="931" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMDK3B4Ge_DSrVhWv4O31IE2WzeMfu6f1gLs5FQNKi_zKXFJERe6RHEuanpcYFyQbH7r2zEw1d-Yp6imfWuvfZM8LxyXJvjo9eCclyquQNk8uVBz8OCTDAZ2IRWUcc5CopZ01TsNQsDej6L_fEbXJOHYd07KTZpv_rSLgGF_sAuEKAYM6ia8zXAcKTAk/w510-h640/ML%20PHOTOS_edited.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxTyXHWfcX4TkcCohtrP8RNOtq1J_LwkNDcYeyoryDn0puogulsmXutGFTxiEQa4dswJGa4sZrEVe9l47njj8DvqITlT0OTrPTN0oUSzbmuNzUconavaqtimPCGW47Y-GERwWkL9xIC5_YYMKyglD_5XJ-X80a3uwt5kvFiaNDwRWEgjAkvIumo_EqKs/s718/ML.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="574" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxTyXHWfcX4TkcCohtrP8RNOtq1J_LwkNDcYeyoryDn0puogulsmXutGFTxiEQa4dswJGa4sZrEVe9l47njj8DvqITlT0OTrPTN0oUSzbmuNzUconavaqtimPCGW47Y-GERwWkL9xIC5_YYMKyglD_5XJ-X80a3uwt5kvFiaNDwRWEgjAkvIumo_EqKs/w320-h400/ML.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">Below: Some pages from Martin Landau's copy of the shooting script. <br />
</p>
<p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz8DQU5kJXSG0KWUqhLBvaZ0kRixXdWB6dco-yyN2itVE5nvZMZF6jP6R8sRoJpjt_jwxnrhGsyZZI2N8ONGTVIqyUyyNqXkuD5Y-giob4g_L_50kcTkHwq96BFCVZU_981JyX-7y4UkstywtkOHHvdL4VZHCXKsrL4izAoK7DL1weozfzXm4w136Qjo/s963/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="745" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz8DQU5kJXSG0KWUqhLBvaZ0kRixXdWB6dco-yyN2itVE5nvZMZF6jP6R8sRoJpjt_jwxnrhGsyZZI2N8ONGTVIqyUyyNqXkuD5Y-giob4g_L_50kcTkHwq96BFCVZU_981JyX-7y4UkstywtkOHHvdL4VZHCXKsrL4izAoK7DL1weozfzXm4w136Qjo/w496-h640/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7HUNXdooXT3Jf90O7HRh-GxRHM0Lvp6_8X4ZyUpH8AsirXB09R3xwHWOZRkMnXYLPnEFQwmhgZi894HufDnuYx4aGWMSYDRdMCsQmuBemMweYkj5KvBEv7izJ2L6LxJsHE6oABxDCumXuj4p55xDd2Eyihjjkj5JsttGSzI1SbzRIQCQGW32LRY-w1o/s788/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="610" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7HUNXdooXT3Jf90O7HRh-GxRHM0Lvp6_8X4ZyUpH8AsirXB09R3xwHWOZRkMnXYLPnEFQwmhgZi894HufDnuYx4aGWMSYDRdMCsQmuBemMweYkj5KvBEv7izJ2L6LxJsHE6oABxDCumXuj4p55xDd2Eyihjjkj5JsttGSzI1SbzRIQCQGW32LRY-w1o/w496-h640/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20A.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bik5NJNyKRkRS4kDXjJHMOENQY53WieEdTWQY5QOGiObEwUsOrz465kCOSkDwvg1NL1W6cO5EGBQ4u85K4fjKv7qglIQsg6ufaBoV4bSUDHdEqAzdjjDx_I6407grqDOmkjewSjGevw9FqUi8wEJDXsgTjxxxrzKap-3NcgxAiuNwU7ojyt2scDbwhY/s787/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="610" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bik5NJNyKRkRS4kDXjJHMOENQY53WieEdTWQY5QOGiObEwUsOrz465kCOSkDwvg1NL1W6cO5EGBQ4u85K4fjKv7qglIQsg6ufaBoV4bSUDHdEqAzdjjDx_I6407grqDOmkjewSjGevw9FqUi8wEJDXsgTjxxxrzKap-3NcgxAiuNwU7ojyt2scDbwhY/w496-h640/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20B.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F8SXa4ihCtTOCHQVWGAYmRtyJ1DWxUmel70EDP8aUJfFPSIOu1LUJNpOR6UbcU7AQc6H4WJiFALvzWbY8-5n8GPjg-6O4pznzJPMvhqpVTHFu6CxN1DeEZygG_2ii8ZLj7zPdLGF8uY2xW2XauaGU1uwVvUWy3jxIdaLZs989dpDy1asHuXgtNlv0mA/s788/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="611" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6F8SXa4ihCtTOCHQVWGAYmRtyJ1DWxUmel70EDP8aUJfFPSIOu1LUJNpOR6UbcU7AQc6H4WJiFALvzWbY8-5n8GPjg-6O4pznzJPMvhqpVTHFu6CxN1DeEZygG_2ii8ZLj7zPdLGF8uY2xW2XauaGU1uwVvUWy3jxIdaLZs989dpDy1asHuXgtNlv0mA/w496-h640/Martin%20Landau%20Leonard%20personal%20shooting%20script%20C.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">If this isn't enough for the Hitchcock fans out there, well... Heritage Auctions, HA.com are always full of surprises... Such as Alfred Hitchcock's contract!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK50eNShrTC5mmBe57BOHMflvmKadQfxEaT0lqo1cz0cnVFQH_LNRGYkFtIi9dmoPwQKWB5YiBiWUzCRDUIxfptoSDKkxXj269GIP5YDrwN569cGfx53rxamGcN8jai9t4OYNfPBet_k5Onlwkq523SPRx_YjGCj3K2YMahDfkdxzTO3enBl9jvZ6hEwI/s2138/HITCH%20CONTRACT%201961.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2138" data-original-width="1655" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK50eNShrTC5mmBe57BOHMflvmKadQfxEaT0lqo1cz0cnVFQH_LNRGYkFtIi9dmoPwQKWB5YiBiWUzCRDUIxfptoSDKkxXj269GIP5YDrwN569cGfx53rxamGcN8jai9t4OYNfPBet_k5Onlwkq523SPRx_YjGCj3K2YMahDfkdxzTO3enBl9jvZ6hEwI/w496-h640/HITCH%20CONTRACT%201961.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqK7tY_HfYufNybmqwRLlmKYIxnfwzTbx6xz2UaGzizANe9-xa4PLCr57nlHDNR9gevWh7La2KpuMO34K0iZKCQdHr_9lzaQFRRvK9YHtHVSt9DgirRninUkC7_ifLhIIMsLZ5qagXSj4iaathJUogtP1FGrLj3FdyLK-4NchWnW0OhW87aIBbmmDYcM/s2157/HITCH%20CONTRACT%201961%20A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2157" data-original-width="1661" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqK7tY_HfYufNybmqwRLlmKYIxnfwzTbx6xz2UaGzizANe9-xa4PLCr57nlHDNR9gevWh7La2KpuMO34K0iZKCQdHr_9lzaQFRRvK9YHtHVSt9DgirRninUkC7_ifLhIIMsLZ5qagXSj4iaathJUogtP1FGrLj3FdyLK-4NchWnW0OhW87aIBbmmDYcM/w492-h640/HITCH%20CONTRACT%201961%20A.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9q9eEcsAGpQoKuN6FqwFDJrMyn24hyN-Rw_oUmxzG51dfjq8rrfmEw9u3bJI0197tloack4T8ewpQmr2GFTUZw_Z5P-1bz3uxRKnzQvGMJ9xa-1fds2eutfNSubnAFsrdyHXs_BJX9xwXrEen1nL2qJRl7R8L7LkFpuS2YYj0p0b1qKTtRGNafZ1_qQ/s2000/ipiccy_image(1)-min.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1390" data-original-width="2000" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9q9eEcsAGpQoKuN6FqwFDJrMyn24hyN-Rw_oUmxzG51dfjq8rrfmEw9u3bJI0197tloack4T8ewpQmr2GFTUZw_Z5P-1bz3uxRKnzQvGMJ9xa-1fds2eutfNSubnAFsrdyHXs_BJX9xwXrEen1nL2qJRl7R8L7LkFpuS2YYj0p0b1qKTtRGNafZ1_qQ/w640-h444/ipiccy_image(1)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above and Below: Storyboards for the 'Drunk Driver' sequence.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBL2mEoxJ3cAylcCi17fs4DRvSVqbSMp0xYxCfDCknT8EFY259NPkp4Iro3XNsArv2s1XJvUW8xirvIAZKXL0FFJObWtS8WPnB3IVowpIP9J05QhEAdmOUHgjl5Bj2G6vCllaBVV8dVBMs424w1O5Tf1WYAO71iQH327etSZL6TbUmQ_HjqaUtgSxUJY/s2000/ipiccy_image(2)-min.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="2000" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBL2mEoxJ3cAylcCi17fs4DRvSVqbSMp0xYxCfDCknT8EFY259NPkp4Iro3XNsArv2s1XJvUW8xirvIAZKXL0FFJObWtS8WPnB3IVowpIP9J05QhEAdmOUHgjl5Bj2G6vCllaBVV8dVBMs424w1O5Tf1WYAO71iQH327etSZL6TbUmQ_HjqaUtgSxUJY/w640-h218/ipiccy_image(2)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2t4Hmzff39Zpb3axetsUJms83vIvsgNViuH-80UaYYyNlfDzvgAkQFZ-L8FszBPDr3tx2xxv7TTa8gFXsg6BGp7j5chMnFZNzv3j8EC8hpWdDrWWE6rhpQWp5tSSPYkqAmiJx6bTbVsSAGlRs57D4_0_rs_4apJUF8x4rsquRcyMa1MCPVOPsepC0yQ/s2000/ipiccy_image(3)-min.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2000" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2t4Hmzff39Zpb3axetsUJms83vIvsgNViuH-80UaYYyNlfDzvgAkQFZ-L8FszBPDr3tx2xxv7TTa8gFXsg6BGp7j5chMnFZNzv3j8EC8hpWdDrWWE6rhpQWp5tSSPYkqAmiJx6bTbVsSAGlRs57D4_0_rs_4apJUF8x4rsquRcyMa1MCPVOPsepC0yQ/w640-h546/ipiccy_image(3)-min.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Studio Publicity Stills</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFkCoPjSpzTHnRwKnhWgaj_4lVE7aG8ZCyRXtzmWEAPk8M1bT4xcXafloQF2dKYZskGTalVa2r0l2Nac-9xYGrEHOuYqxKFkzS67F2lg4MfFuvGPk34PqljgYTA4iAoc9MoKff3QkjdZFyhAALYf81i1zyW76zLxgCgivzWfZiiqikMZD0MuqfXaM5Ns/s999/HITCH%20AUTOGRAPH%20AND%20CARICATURE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="601" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFkCoPjSpzTHnRwKnhWgaj_4lVE7aG8ZCyRXtzmWEAPk8M1bT4xcXafloQF2dKYZskGTalVa2r0l2Nac-9xYGrEHOuYqxKFkzS67F2lg4MfFuvGPk34PqljgYTA4iAoc9MoKff3QkjdZFyhAALYf81i1zyW76zLxgCgivzWfZiiqikMZD0MuqfXaM5Ns/w386-h640/HITCH%20AUTOGRAPH%20AND%20CARICATURE.jpg" width="386" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where better to end our review than with an autographed caricature by Alfred Hitchcock himself?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-8749115312626174702024-01-07T21:30:00.003+00:002024-01-07T21:30:29.338+00:00The Conversation - THE Seventies Paranoia Classic?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFTJdXU_-oQSi4Mk25AR1msvfG4M7kTgkJOk68tYlvR0yMDf5W9NuhCthiocmP2MyPYj7X47p4tD4a7Hi4dOS4Sb82T56vMU5FgtglZiOibi0OlJdaoZu0XTETY73VukmMqNAJzBYlF8xghHkxuHeWmXcVKHOJF9h8ZPTa8lSsz_KMtZgQnF3_EugMhc/s1182/TITLE%20WIP%20TEXT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="925" data-original-width="1182" height="501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFTJdXU_-oQSi4Mk25AR1msvfG4M7kTgkJOk68tYlvR0yMDf5W9NuhCthiocmP2MyPYj7X47p4tD4a7Hi4dOS4Sb82T56vMU5FgtglZiOibi0OlJdaoZu0XTETY73VukmMqNAJzBYlF8xghHkxuHeWmXcVKHOJF9h8ZPTa8lSsz_KMtZgQnF3_EugMhc/w640-h501/TITLE%20WIP%20TEXT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: georgia;">Union Square, San Francisco. Daytime. Crowds. The view from high. A
band plays ‘When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along’.
A mime custard pies and glass walls people. The audio bounces and
glitches electronically. Mimicking a dog, the mime does drunk,
finally settling on a man in a raincoat drinking a coffee. Raincoat
walks off, perhaps slightly unsettled to find the mime is following,
duplicating his movements as he walks. Tiring of the game, the mime
goes off in search of richer pickings. Under the City Paris store
sign, a sniper crouches. The long black tube on the tripod isn’t a
weapon, it’s a rifle microphone. A sound sniper then. Through the
crosshairs of the eyepiece, he watches his targets, a young couple
strolling together in the winter sunshine. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcwR9XpCEgopw9_xprdVy6L5AwZiICMo6SXEvGxqRAan7h0QfqciiVmp1HQWvS1ddv70mt9Dd0NqIJOZyTvadEdthEUdDw5BteyYlenE_TzbAgNK9WkHOsXRyb66C3A0qBvlNKkj8Dd64VBPtI9s8jhk81tvd9MTQvZobmcE00BkTOTDParthZaY0ONY8/s1024/2%20CITY%20PARIS%20COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1024" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcwR9XpCEgopw9_xprdVy6L5AwZiICMo6SXEvGxqRAan7h0QfqciiVmp1HQWvS1ddv70mt9Dd0NqIJOZyTvadEdthEUdDw5BteyYlenE_TzbAgNK9WkHOsXRyb66C3A0qBvlNKkj8Dd64VBPtI9s8jhk81tvd9MTQvZobmcE00BkTOTDParthZaY0ONY8/w640-h440/2%20CITY%20PARIS%20COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VARIOUS SHOTS FROM THE SCENE (NOT A MONTAGE FROM THE ACTUAL MOVIE)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Down at ground level, the
two continue their conversation as they mingle with the crowd,
raincoat man again. Their words come and go, lost and found amidst
the background and the chatter, electronics finding and losing their
voices. A man with a hearing aid drifts along. They pause to look at
a drunk sprawled unconscious on a bench. Terrible. ‘He’s not
hurting anyone.’ ‘Neither are we.’
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgz3EobHylwGXR4MVQZF7AEZHcmJpiat0cePG82ua4w9Pd4yJTnkincvqc_hqebXqH0OTk0NUUCAkxyyjnclxZdY177iGT4QwPQ6MJvFhTbxyzDHL7HMeWkztGedgEEThya5QByfx3s1glVmzsj_f0lJJdLwLpTH8VLA6iENt7moSfmwcv2rQc5AyT_iA/s1536/A%20(19).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgz3EobHylwGXR4MVQZF7AEZHcmJpiat0cePG82ua4w9Pd4yJTnkincvqc_hqebXqH0OTk0NUUCAkxyyjnclxZdY177iGT4QwPQ6MJvFhTbxyzDHL7HMeWkztGedgEEThya5QByfx3s1glVmzsj_f0lJJdLwLpTH8VLA6iENt7moSfmwcv2rQc5AyT_iA/w640-h360/A%20(19).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Raincoat strides
across the street to a parked Econoline van. The Pioneer Glass and
Sign company. He knocks on the rear doors and is let in as the girl
observes Bench was once somebody’s baby boy. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nbe_BntFqXRpTg0QYiarh74bMqFUk5nLydBCDDn3C27662HwhXKpqzsd0-D_VVr4RSM-lfooBSquvJOmozN33qXcJIM5f9_stkEkuKwxLnZAaZNCLo-QaqL4lYXpCIYlE2AahQEsv9dYQgHr34_u-YxFQu-jGZlzaEqF2eh84n9Zl3rR0mD9jiOqjwU/s819/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20ONE.PNG.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="819" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nbe_BntFqXRpTg0QYiarh74bMqFUk5nLydBCDDn3C27662HwhXKpqzsd0-D_VVr4RSM-lfooBSquvJOmozN33qXcJIM5f9_stkEkuKwxLnZAaZNCLo-QaqL4lYXpCIYlE2AahQEsv9dYQgHr34_u-YxFQu-jGZlzaEqF2eh84n9Zl3rR0mD9jiOqjwU/w640-h522/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20ONE.PNG.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Inside the cramped
interior, two workbenches and a profused jumble of recording and
surveillance apparatus, a younger man in headphones sitting at his
post, portable UHER reel to reel tape machines dutifully recording
every word of the conversation. Raincoat asks his associate how City
Paris is doing. Better than 40%. How about second position? Across
the square, a parabolic reflector microphone juts from an open
window. ‘It’s not so good’ observes Headphones.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP-QFovyjFLUFt0oWdHJhdP3JvLm5Vqwlahkrqt8r400JthS5crP2r-dHlu4mawyjo3zwJ8ef4eoPi-HhbpJCqD2SZl1PYNooQr6gDsEUVgp9LHBiwItZ4ZFaIHzPoIPcsNHWlMpD1mT9qoZlSwwag1OgSVgz684cAPWc4bdY00BxqhxiZvpsshXp36I/s1600/A.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1271" data-original-width="1600" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP-QFovyjFLUFt0oWdHJhdP3JvLm5Vqwlahkrqt8r400JthS5crP2r-dHlu4mawyjo3zwJ8ef4eoPi-HhbpJCqD2SZl1PYNooQr6gDsEUVgp9LHBiwItZ4ZFaIHzPoIPcsNHWlMpD1mT9qoZlSwwag1OgSVgz684cAPWc4bdY00BxqhxiZvpsshXp36I/w640-h508/A.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A LOBBY CARD SHOWING THE SCENE<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A couple of girls
spot the mirrored glass panels on the side of the van, using it to
freshen up their makeup. ‘Oh-ho what have we here?’ Spotting some
sport, ‘Phones grabs a still camera ‘Ok come on you little
babies, now wet your lips there.’ Raincoat admonishes him to return
his attention to his recordings. The female target, however is
suspicious of the man with the hearing aid; he’s been following
them, she’s sure of it. Headphones remarks ‘That’s it for Paul.
They spotted him.’ Raincoat asks for the ‘phones. Hearing Aid
Paul taps on the van to be let in, remarking ‘I got burned Harry –
She looked at me’. They heard. He got some good pieces though, 25%
maybe. Raincoat – Harry, takes a Christmas present from Hearing Aid
Paul’s bag, sliding it open to reveal a portable cassette recorder
with a transmitter concealed inside. He tells Paul he’ll call him
if he needs him again and pays him off in cash. ‘Phones asks if
Paul’s going to the convention tomorrow. They could have a party
like two years ago. Maybe. Paul takes his leave and Stan – ‘Phones,
remarks Paul’s a nice guy for a cop.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYgMb6ud1KEDAtonIEo9hmO53unB6a_aFKea74tU2rOrWI5l1fd24LrIzfWImYSBtjXYJysoYtGCr4uWHTNa1HuoMixVQFmQGU2PSdFAfwuum8PEefxDsaduoS5ir5yvmgd3aQmtIY4OCrrjGydDcxrnUS9d5u02Sx2lg0hyphenhyphennSi5A1fZ7OzJhVOn4dPQ/s1536/A%20(81).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYgMb6ud1KEDAtonIEo9hmO53unB6a_aFKea74tU2rOrWI5l1fd24LrIzfWImYSBtjXYJysoYtGCr4uWHTNa1HuoMixVQFmQGU2PSdFAfwuum8PEefxDsaduoS5ir5yvmgd3aQmtIY4OCrrjGydDcxrnUS9d5u02Sx2lg0hyphenhyphennSi5A1fZ7OzJhVOn4dPQ/w640-h360/A%20(81).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The crosshairs do
their work as, alone in the van again, Stan wonders who’s
interested in the couple. He figures the Infernal Revenue. Harry’s
not sure, or interested; all he wants is a nice fat recording. With a
tender kiss, the couple part company, the girl hurrying to be
somewhere leaving the young man to wander aimlessly in the square.
Show’s over. The parabolic is withdrawn, the van drives off leaving
Harry on the sidewalk. He removes his raincoat, his working uniform
and leaves. For home.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PgCYC_xwjIjUjKmxJ0g6HEo2ub4eJnWbxW8KZq9XmAd4hpTszol96Te8PP44QvM8GZxd_hay7zUW3PTZHAusc6wnelcDZYX5bfXGhJRgwxRWqaHM0GUIQB7sWv2nLGommYkEAfRQk5EYMcIEOz5T3mJlscfI3GlercVBRJhhunxp-KrLAd9rhQcNzDE/s1536/A%20(92).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PgCYC_xwjIjUjKmxJ0g6HEo2ub4eJnWbxW8KZq9XmAd4hpTszol96Te8PP44QvM8GZxd_hay7zUW3PTZHAusc6wnelcDZYX5bfXGhJRgwxRWqaHM0GUIQB7sWv2nLGommYkEAfRQk5EYMcIEOz5T3mJlscfI3GlercVBRJhhunxp-KrLAd9rhQcNzDE/w640-h360/A%20(92).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Groceries in hand,
Harry takes the stairs to his apartment, a passing neighbor wishing
him a Happy Birthday, getting an awkward nod of acknowledgement. A
private man, then. Also paranoid; it takes three keys to open his
door. An alarm buzzer sounds, only to be switched off as he finds a
present; a bottle left inside his door. Happy Birthday, Harry. He
calls Mrs. Evangelista downstairs, thanking her for her gift and
wondering how she put it inside his door. He thought he had the only
key? Emergency? He’d be happy to let his personal things burn up in
a fire because he doesn’t <i>have</i> personal things. Nothing of
value. How did she know it was his birthday? His mail? From now it
goes to a post office box with a combination and no keys.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBAtB4fovLGTCBjp08SCmyP_a5n7SyOn3ocjvGOnq6nT4HLA0wB2LSWiybq37RrgRaN1sI_7cuZVxCskG-W5GTUWEWZvZ3uAtLbLTaQg27sPU8mztkFQYocSikza10WIwpp5IM998VKIQTil36qaj-awEhdActDF9wBi7KLLGZ85deePM5jOFN9K4nj4/s1536/A%20(109).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBAtB4fovLGTCBjp08SCmyP_a5n7SyOn3ocjvGOnq6nT4HLA0wB2LSWiybq37RrgRaN1sI_7cuZVxCskG-W5GTUWEWZvZ3uAtLbLTaQg27sPU8mztkFQYocSikza10WIwpp5IM998VKIQTil36qaj-awEhdActDF9wBi7KLLGZ85deePM5jOFN9K4nj4/w640-h360/A%20(109).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here’s Harry Caul,
then. Alone, playing sax along to a record. Jazz. Alone.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Next morning,
bright, early, Harry takes his raincoat for a walk, taking the
elevator up to his workshop in a 16<sup>th</sup> Street loft. Stan’s
already there, noting an article in <i>Security World</i> about the
convention naming Harry as one of the notables who’ll be present.
Harry replies he told them he’d be there. Stan wants to discuss the
article; noting William P. Moran will be there, the man who told
Chrysler Cadillac were discontinuing their fins - but Harry’s at
work, flipping through some black and white glossy stills taken of
the surveillance job on the young couple before cueing up three reel
to reel machines with tapes from the operatives he deployed round the
square. Seeing Harry’s got his work head on, Stan dons a blue work
coat to take his place at the bench.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlo1CH2fRFFObG8DjTTdtjBdJD1X7VIAoDvDWo3cng1wSul-_F4DnFqP6_KsstCE8z-nb3UmnUnnOxLW45pms3OKozCA-YRCNXlY9Qrou-2CUuh54Ns32VpUA7Qy0KTBal_2kD3_hVY-DHhsar0_zH33TOJYvD9RnCBJ1eYye8n7ZedtAwpLdyia8nhAE/s1536/A%20(133).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlo1CH2fRFFObG8DjTTdtjBdJD1X7VIAoDvDWo3cng1wSul-_F4DnFqP6_KsstCE8z-nb3UmnUnnOxLW45pms3OKozCA-YRCNXlY9Qrou-2CUuh54Ns32VpUA7Qy0KTBal_2kD3_hVY-DHhsar0_zH33TOJYvD9RnCBJ1eYye8n7ZedtAwpLdyia8nhAE/w640-h360/A%20(133).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1aIcTF9WPnDMYGqReYYJIhBXfUWtQ7DRYMZxsyZHfvDbaGwDLfTJ-OlL9MOVMnY2Ow-sbb00QJWehQdHCljYp5ocl_wvclZChP_Ip2lSBlNYUStByXYzFOfhDsjU4hxhoGPEo4SPxcr8ODP5V41KTrbuBg7W7VpsFt4aHpaefyepKUiQeyyLvRQmOZs/s800/D%20PLAYBACK.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1aIcTF9WPnDMYGqReYYJIhBXfUWtQ7DRYMZxsyZHfvDbaGwDLfTJ-OlL9MOVMnY2Ow-sbb00QJWehQdHCljYp5ocl_wvclZChP_Ip2lSBlNYUStByXYzFOfhDsjU4hxhoGPEo4SPxcr8ODP5V41KTrbuBg7W7VpsFt4aHpaefyepKUiQeyyLvRQmOZs/w640-h360/D%20PLAYBACK.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry works the
tapes, prising more details of the conversation. A discussion about
Christmas presents. Who gets what. The audio from Paris City,
Shopping bag mixed to get the best takes. The young man asks the girl
if it bothers her, walking around in circles, right when they passed
Harry sat on his bench, just before they spotted Bench guy sprawled
across his. Now the audio comes from the parabolic up in the window,
audible for once and clear.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQys_gi5kh-bNeFLFsD6irbyMrjOSTVbQuKZf3zWCQR6FXv9iQI64cpY6gUHFiiN27k8vkPTxaMHVV07scYuLOTQIXZVDATkaguZc-_ORZmzaQbFp3DU72deVoZO1MqlWAuDcG2uGu0QaOjYxPz9kYZezF5VfU-RgjwrN8mPORxBDJllY6dJ0g_n3gnI/s1536/A%20(164).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQys_gi5kh-bNeFLFsD6irbyMrjOSTVbQuKZf3zWCQR6FXv9iQI64cpY6gUHFiiN27k8vkPTxaMHVV07scYuLOTQIXZVDATkaguZc-_ORZmzaQbFp3DU72deVoZO1MqlWAuDcG2uGu0QaOjYxPz9kYZezF5VfU-RgjwrN8mPORxBDJllY6dJ0g_n3gnI/w640-h360/A%20(164).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Later, Harry steps
off a tram to use a payphone. He dials a number and asks for The
Director, he has his material ready. The Director’s left for the
day. The voice the other end asks for his number, but he lies that he
doesn’t have a home telephone. Cautious. After a pause, he gets an
appointment for the next day.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">That night Harry
takes another tram to see his girl, Amy. He lets himself in with a
key, doesn’t knock. He brought the wine his landlady gave him. For
his birthday. She didn’t know; how old is he? Forty two. Smiling,
she wonders if he’ll share any of his secrets, as it’s his
birthday. He doesn’t have any secrets. She thinks otherwise; once
she saw him up on the staircase, hiding, watching. A whole hour. He
thinks he’ll catch her at something. A woman can always tell. To
Harry’s visible disquiet, she says she sometimes thinks he listens
in on her telephone. Absently, she sings a few notes of ‘Red Robin’
and, suspicious of co-incidence, Harry wants to know why. Because
it’s pretty. Amy worries about this, but Harry tells her someone
at work was singing this today. He goes to kiss her, but she asks
where he works. ‘Oh, different places, different jobs you know? I’m
kind of, uh a musician you see…’ She wonders where he lives, why
she can’t ever call. He doesn’t have a telephone. Does he live
alone? Why is she asking all these questions? Because it’s his
birthday. He doesn’t want people asking him questions. Yes, he
lives alone. He gets off the bed. He doesn’t feel like answering
any more questions. Noting her rent is due, Harry leaves the money
and goes to leave, his ardour dampened despite the raincoat he kept
on the whole time. Sadly, Amy tells him she was happy when she heard
him unlock the door, but she doesn’t think she’ll wait for him
any more.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJr3l_oiJs8IogCRFsGWE5fxZWLK4xPrUV0l5PbsJePYYWlGKMstd_Rcc2MsLAIZgrPsI0XduyLoCVMvFA2iSLZL3rR3fAaT7OHqfwMcnCqCptPbiyHD9nI3zNh6NPaOikis0xGsKtC7Tm_NqQ6MvRxm6xfi3dTF11f8MLrH7aqKikD9w4Pww-WZnPbnw/s1555/OOOO.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="1285" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJr3l_oiJs8IogCRFsGWE5fxZWLK4xPrUV0l5PbsJePYYWlGKMstd_Rcc2MsLAIZgrPsI0XduyLoCVMvFA2iSLZL3rR3fAaT7OHqfwMcnCqCptPbiyHD9nI3zNh6NPaOikis0xGsKtC7Tm_NqQ6MvRxm6xfi3dTF11f8MLrH7aqKikD9w4Pww-WZnPbnw/w528-h640/OOOO.jpg" width="528" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TERI GARR IS AMY, HARRY'S GIRL<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Alone on the tram,
Harry finds his thoughts straying to the young couple in the square.
The lights go out and the tram sits motionless for a moment, then the
lights are back and the tram in motion again, carrying him along with
it.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJnM-WhQo7nLMSBofgcLIHiiHGmZ-wdRHRoudNL1zzYF0YEXW3skxqPuQDyexoAtvIrI-QgYlHKguoXaLzpqooE9IeoiUY9xNoRRTLtxpPGxe6fkZXxZqoAhdABlvgS804Zb5PrbVshxztuQo3JQLSUDz69pwmucBWIdS0IUFWnB7ip1nM1bJuVHHbe0/s800/F%20ALONE%20ON%20THE%20TRAM.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJnM-WhQo7nLMSBofgcLIHiiHGmZ-wdRHRoudNL1zzYF0YEXW3skxqPuQDyexoAtvIrI-QgYlHKguoXaLzpqooE9IeoiUY9xNoRRTLtxpPGxe6fkZXxZqoAhdABlvgS804Zb5PrbVshxztuQo3JQLSUDz69pwmucBWIdS0IUFWnB7ip1nM1bJuVHHbe0/w640-h360/F%20ALONE%20ON%20THE%20TRAM.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One Embarcadero
Center. Harry arrives with the package for The Director. The
receptionist says he’ll take it, but Harry is to hand it to him
personally. He has an appointment. He’s told to make himself
comfortable; The Director’s assistant will be right down.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKldY1jyqHoKkVuiNtLgSu6fW8Irp1ysQnmvPcbKTAI8uWhgYKYgDamhUxJNGgdIvQWh-Ibkm0-RWb5bFtFRvmnrdyMDtkrbFmqO4J5Okjgfqf27fD_Yx94kUewJrrI49ix1nxLWNsmd-KKpnmH5_PO_IGaVlFdwugbyblVqkReZn7iDKDUobaTAkyZdI/s1536/A%20(209).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKldY1jyqHoKkVuiNtLgSu6fW8Irp1ysQnmvPcbKTAI8uWhgYKYgDamhUxJNGgdIvQWh-Ibkm0-RWb5bFtFRvmnrdyMDtkrbFmqO4J5Okjgfqf27fD_Yx94kUewJrrI49ix1nxLWNsmd-KKpnmH5_PO_IGaVlFdwugbyblVqkReZn7iDKDUobaTAkyZdI/w640-h360/A%20(209).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHdRGWwLnOoYcbBn2Qvaw_fAq-toONnQc7Mvig69aF9E-6FVmvdBrwzZ0nkbYZISibfQ1rBwOpl_O44CPvTRfkgAFbgzI5_WmKa0H2cgiZDMC1C-oM-6fWq8XawQ_gvQ9ibQiN7W9VKk7yitvF9AcCBvjUYIYOJA_w4zcsFtz_T32_Ixetb1ZGT4eUDY/s1536/A%20(217).jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHdRGWwLnOoYcbBn2Qvaw_fAq-toONnQc7Mvig69aF9E-6FVmvdBrwzZ0nkbYZISibfQ1rBwOpl_O44CPvTRfkgAFbgzI5_WmKa0H2cgiZDMC1C-oM-6fWq8XawQ_gvQ9ibQiN7W9VKk7yitvF9AcCBvjUYIYOJA_w4zcsFtz_T32_Ixetb1ZGT4eUDY/w640-h360/A%20(217).jpg" width="640" /></a></div> THE DIRECTOR'S ASSISTANT IS PLAYED BY A YOUNG HARRISON FORD.<br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Director’s
assistant escorts Harry along a corridor with incredible views of the
city to a plush outer office. The assistant offers him one of the
Christmas cookies that he made before leaving Harry to peruse the
cookies and the telescope mounted by the window. Returning, the
assistant catches Harry off-guard, taking the package and leaving his
money, $15,000. Harry is agitated by this; his arrangement was to
hand it over personally. The assistant sympathises, but says The
Director’s out of the country. He asked him to get the tapes and
give him the money. Rising from his seat, harry places the money on
the desk and makes a grab for the package, but Han – I mean the
assistant is persistent. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiteI0my2UBYe6ZNI4DfksNIccOkJAM-50cvIhc6vFxknuAjTarbE5cgL5Z50m77Lxe7X3VFOOEyD5qABsyuS7kJui04AAcRUdYJh2hq957N50L9RvnFDnQKOIHIBZXL_ZiuuBXJm7ORohuBluqtSbR-WX5RDqDubklas_cl6WwpFciANiBmOyjEMQsII/s1536/A%20(232).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiteI0my2UBYe6ZNI4DfksNIccOkJAM-50cvIhc6vFxknuAjTarbE5cgL5Z50m77Lxe7X3VFOOEyD5qABsyuS7kJui04AAcRUdYJh2hq957N50L9RvnFDnQKOIHIBZXL_ZiuuBXJm7ORohuBluqtSbR-WX5RDqDubklas_cl6WwpFciANiBmOyjEMQsII/w640-h360/A%20(232).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Now look. Don’t get involved in this
Mister Caul. These tapes are dangerous. You know what I mean, someone
may get hurt.’ Leaving with the package, Harry waits at the
elevator bank. Two young executives are in discussion, one of them is
the man from the square. The assistant is holding Harry’s cash
expectantly, but he takes the next elevator. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikf7BNELeQ9y-9yyVmH-i9n1HsG-_N4kWtofTFnAFer2nmrO6JVYYrQs3x1wobx_ZpMbiCxdSsyYY4-eeU760pShjsQmB0Sc2RD070C4ocV8YL7C5ssR4hA7r84u1n5FXDViHksz-2JqVT8tA94s19luslTuW-_XiJ7boCdM0KKJnhTJx1_sHDd55Vu74/s1536/A%20(252).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikf7BNELeQ9y-9yyVmH-i9n1HsG-_N4kWtofTFnAFer2nmrO6JVYYrQs3x1wobx_ZpMbiCxdSsyYY4-eeU760pShjsQmB0Sc2RD070C4ocV8YL7C5ssR4hA7r84u1n5FXDViHksz-2JqVT8tA94s19luslTuW-_XiJ7boCdM0KKJnhTJx1_sHDd55Vu74/w640-h360/A%20(252).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Next stop and he’s
crowded, but the people leave only for the girl to get in. Awkwardly,
as if worried it would betray its secrets, Harry clutches the package
tightly. He’s left alone with her and if he could run, he would.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AoWNClCAOJEXyBGkzxydLtVg4oI_saXmf4yuBd4qsFu3PM5q0rCjidw6zcgzyaB3N90jWNfDvAXSwR6CS7H-S01HBILnOQfc5rmVmVybdj60xmIHH0qESoLzgrsSjLpQHASJMWx9-30XCMCoSJMJGamoo5vqsP9kipFZa2EODyZ2LEQjh0pIYzrQsTY/s1536/A%20(262).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AoWNClCAOJEXyBGkzxydLtVg4oI_saXmf4yuBd4qsFu3PM5q0rCjidw6zcgzyaB3N90jWNfDvAXSwR6CS7H-S01HBILnOQfc5rmVmVybdj60xmIHH0qESoLzgrsSjLpQHASJMWx9-30XCMCoSJMJGamoo5vqsP9kipFZa2EODyZ2LEQjh0pIYzrQsTY/w640-h360/A%20(262).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Back at his
workshop, Harry sits to listen to the tapes again. ‘What about me?’
‘You’ll see’ ‘Whew! Lotta fun you are’ ‘When the red-red
robin goes bob-bob bobbin’ along’ Frowning, he tries to find some
meaning in the words. Anxious now, the girl; ‘Pretend like I just
told you a joke’ Insincere laughter from the young man. ‘Does it
bother you?’ ‘What?’ ‘Walking around in circles’ Then the
Bench guy again. Stan suggests they take a break. Al’s Transbay for
a beer. Harry wants to finish this. Stan though he turned the tapes
in, but Harry asks him to be quiet. The reels go round again. ‘Do
you think we can do this?’ ‘I’m tired of drinking anyhow’
‘What a stupid conversation!’ Stan again. ‘Stanley, I’m
trying to get this done.’ ‘All right, don’t get excited’
‘Well I’m getting fed up.’ About what? About being asked
questions all day long. When Stan exclaims ‘Jesus!’ Harry berates
him; he doesn’t like profanity, using that name in vain. ‘What’s
the matter Harry?’ ‘Your work’s getting’ sloppy’.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92hYv292jrUoDPL7-S37K2v6_9BHm0388Xuzt-pp0CtpkFn9O4g7HZjvbBNaTeeTQhH6wX7ckslRfmYTSJ1gfzZhJ99_xf2ceSuffeOleO5Vir2RWO2-6D0ZiIt03b3zkX_Hk_TxW9bOjFFM2PhI4i4cKrDGoNZIYczAtL1uA-jhyphenhyphenzgabBvqQ6qGi1zI/s800/G%20ANOTHER%20LISTEN%20REDUX.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92hYv292jrUoDPL7-S37K2v6_9BHm0388Xuzt-pp0CtpkFn9O4g7HZjvbBNaTeeTQhH6wX7ckslRfmYTSJ1gfzZhJ99_xf2ceSuffeOleO5Vir2RWO2-6D0ZiIt03b3zkX_Hk_TxW9bOjFFM2PhI4i4cKrDGoNZIYczAtL1uA-jhyphenhyphenzgabBvqQ6qGi1zI/w640-h360/G%20ANOTHER%20LISTEN%20REDUX.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Reels rotate. ‘Later
in the week. Sunday, maybe’ ‘Sunday definitely’ Jittery now,
Harry tells Stan they’d have a much better track if he paid
attention to the recording than what they were talking about. Stan
persists; he can’t see why Harry’s so out of joint over a few
questions. ‘Cause I can’t sit here and explain the personal
problems of my clients.’ ‘Jack Tar hotel. Three o’clock’
‘Room Seven Seven Three’ The young man to the girl. Hurt, Stan
feels Harry could fill him in a bit once in a while. ‘It has
nothing to do with me and even less to do with you.’
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pLzd_aBSkfNC7Lm0QUFOYShAgx3zLzmSQnZtpKGq1KOTzF-qYqVPAEOJ6liyAYCbzY5N5n-A8oIIQTHLCX7o9faF-ySt-eLhiY4t1UjP0bZXBZztRtONp230JXirfUK9ey2unz6kWwDehIGmJUo5NPsuO5UsCEHAa7JfCf3ImAtb1-euRq46kEmr5x4/s819/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20TWO.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="819" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pLzd_aBSkfNC7Lm0QUFOYShAgx3zLzmSQnZtpKGq1KOTzF-qYqVPAEOJ6liyAYCbzY5N5n-A8oIIQTHLCX7o9faF-ySt-eLhiY4t1UjP0bZXBZztRtONp230JXirfUK9ey2unz6kWwDehIGmJUo5NPsuO5UsCEHAa7JfCf3ImAtb1-euRq46kEmr5x4/w640-h522/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20TWO.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Stan gets on his
motor scooter and rides to the lift. ‘I think he’s been recording
my telephone.’ The young man thinks they’ve been spending too
long here, in the square, she wants to stay a bit longer. Then he
says something that the mic doesn’t pick up, the audio an
electronic bongled-garbled mess. Frustrated, Harry plugs in a bypass
filter to try to pick out the detail, fine-tuning each pass until…
‘He’d kill us if he got the chance.’ ‘He’d kill us if he
got the chance.’ Jesus indeed...</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCG_vNEG1SwsBS1d3GDchpuzxtvZWnEVt8JYB4R5RjZ_PRbE0xZHoV5POrfXHfJ18esC261lTKwMN4ZF_F4wnW3QECZCH0OZw_VmJ-LNbgd6ciDI0dXywlCuQ3tWl8NY1B9ipl9mASDFL-SdtoBUyEw-FTDD6jNErfxv2guKH7YSn9j_L4PNckju5NKE/s1536/A%20(302).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCG_vNEG1SwsBS1d3GDchpuzxtvZWnEVt8JYB4R5RjZ_PRbE0xZHoV5POrfXHfJ18esC261lTKwMN4ZF_F4wnW3QECZCH0OZw_VmJ-LNbgd6ciDI0dXywlCuQ3tWl8NY1B9ipl9mASDFL-SdtoBUyEw-FTDD6jNErfxv2guKH7YSn9j_L4PNckju5NKE/w640-h360/A%20(302).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry takes
confession, telling the grille he’s taken the Lord’s name in
vain, newspapers without paying and pleasure in impure thoughts. He’s
been involved in some work that he thinks may be used to hurt these
two young people. It’s happened to him before; people were m-hurt
because of his work and he’s afraid it could happen again. And he
was in no way responsible, is not responsible... Frustrated, he ends
with the formal ‘For these and all my sins of my past life, I am
heartily sorry’</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZtquI2gJ1segzVH4Mg3SkED280EbE40D21EjwX8sy4PhQaHt36wrK5WJvITxL1QDdv4DuDAPG6E6XcmnDZUVG82RFKmti_9VdRDrIDsS3gcBRUggvI0UrhvkmQOhzOqZpwXRyCO_IFqkKutSXIcmOOrnXJEZzTaF9VMtEZky1MYhZg8_R9hLVCfO_OE/s1638/HC.PNG.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1638" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZtquI2gJ1segzVH4Mg3SkED280EbE40D21EjwX8sy4PhQaHt36wrK5WJvITxL1QDdv4DuDAPG6E6XcmnDZUVG82RFKmti_9VdRDrIDsS3gcBRUggvI0UrhvkmQOhzOqZpwXRyCO_IFqkKutSXIcmOOrnXJEZzTaF9VMtEZky1MYhZg8_R9hLVCfO_OE/w640-h424/HC.PNG.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At the convention,
Harry gets a chance to see what the industry is offering. Various
outfits are represented by reps in variously-hideous outfits selling
various boxes to spy on people, alarm units that tell you which door
has been ‘violated’ clocks with hidden cameras. Pausing at
SPECTRE Security Products Inc (Volcano Cat assures us this is
coincidence) </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZPmhYF0LjET9IK7TO3FcGvtLMbDVZP5yD9ZZV4Tpc85bb6hIk3BNCpxuke5CZEc77Wg9KVsx_DGQ12rz8jgMzxwTXwRWTjRU8J8uZ9N1R7hsigeW3XspWoAqjHDK9OiWFjVm2-FsA_aiueGGvJexMfbwU-yr77aNFINKulZAMfIlfStH5TWFJFCQSq0/s1536/A%20(320).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZPmhYF0LjET9IK7TO3FcGvtLMbDVZP5yD9ZZV4Tpc85bb6hIk3BNCpxuke5CZEc77Wg9KVsx_DGQ12rz8jgMzxwTXwRWTjRU8J8uZ9N1R7hsigeW3XspWoAqjHDK9OiWFjVm2-FsA_aiueGGvJexMfbwU-yr77aNFINKulZAMfIlfStH5TWFJFCQSq0/w640-h360/A%20(320).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry’s attention drifts, but the sleepy rep tells him
about their automatic recorder actuator, assuring him it doesn’t
start recording when no-one’s talking or shut off in the middle of
an important conversation. ‘Anything like the Moran actuator?’
Confidentially, the rep informs Harry the Moran E-27 is a copy. He
won’t even let Moran smell his equipment any more. Sleepy asks for
a name and address, before realising he’s speaking to Harry Caul.
Not believing his luck, he offers Harry a free unit – just so they
can tell people Harry Caul uses their stuff. Declining politely,
Harry explains he makes all his own equipment.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry pauses before
the Gimbel Security Cameras, Inc booth to see how he looks on cctv.
Suddenly, he spots Stett – The Director’s assistant, captured on
camera. He follows him with the camera, then loses him before
clicking back to an image of himself. Being the object of
surveillance seems to discomfit Harry Caul.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDZ-rBe5bzwGX3te8XYaFRz4agnxFZ1_3yrL5OSmvPFDijLNz0MHPpP3IrWYS30Irj46KxR_P-W9v2u0IVqGiB6Xy9QVfXZ-8kSexdJLEfdmpKAJ697tyOTmjk7_mY6WN_4lbu4FMXJeklQwnUPWqS0gp572o7V8caKGGhy7lCa4e7R2nsJTkT2Wj6t8/s800/K%20UPON%20REFLECTION.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDZ-rBe5bzwGX3te8XYaFRz4agnxFZ1_3yrL5OSmvPFDijLNz0MHPpP3IrWYS30Irj46KxR_P-W9v2u0IVqGiB6Xy9QVfXZ-8kSexdJLEfdmpKAJ697tyOTmjk7_mY6WN_4lbu4FMXJeklQwnUPWqS0gp572o7V8caKGGhy7lCa4e7R2nsJTkT2Wj6t8/w640-h360/K%20UPON%20REFLECTION.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bQhWJpD4fXqUzwHZaW_Pp-AYOuCrUpXkdH6G4QjWQJGfVFyfpm1OYcHnUUzN-ACPEa73GZlOIKMay1RgqeYvBHJI_uwZEdsxQHK9FSnD53YCjmnkimCtz09UH8GNJG-C2Yq-MWcxqtCrAuwzZ6HriONboN83ttRDT5wPx_AM-bEA4y8gwNaNXEmRJ6Q/s1536/A%20(339).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bQhWJpD4fXqUzwHZaW_Pp-AYOuCrUpXkdH6G4QjWQJGfVFyfpm1OYcHnUUzN-ACPEa73GZlOIKMay1RgqeYvBHJI_uwZEdsxQHK9FSnD53YCjmnkimCtz09UH8GNJG-C2Yq-MWcxqtCrAuwzZ6HriONboN83ttRDT5wPx_AM-bEA4y8gwNaNXEmRJ6Q/w640-h360/A%20(339).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PAUL, HARRY'S MOONLIGHTING ASSOCIATE IS PLAYED BY MICHAEL HIGGINS.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry goes to a
presentation in the auditorium, but no sooner has he found a seat
than he’s pigeon-holed by Paul, the cop who does work for him as
required. He takes him to meet William P. Moran, of Moran and
Associates. The man who told Chrysler about the Caddy fins. Harry’s
heard this. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAJmAntvp-cNNUF0pdW4RqgqqAe4ytNQ1pXNQpT76tWTFAShZt92bX1lUjlSwlC53VE0ZhZdj6LgIH13YU-tZxAG_NqAkF4aUmP8w4bEf7vMmqc8cm-iJ62pBzYAKsWJk_koVkYndtqasaMTOPkxZKet5qhWhR6UHySO9OJfaOeboYQjiTGKbZBNDU6c/s1536/A%20(343).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAJmAntvp-cNNUF0pdW4RqgqqAe4ytNQ1pXNQpT76tWTFAShZt92bX1lUjlSwlC53VE0ZhZdj6LgIH13YU-tZxAG_NqAkF4aUmP8w4bEf7vMmqc8cm-iJ62pBzYAKsWJk_koVkYndtqasaMTOPkxZKet5qhWhR6UHySO9OJfaOeboYQjiTGKbZBNDU6c/w640-h360/A%20(343).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALLEN GARFIELD IS THE OBNOXIOUS MORAN.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Moran puts on a little show, with a blond In hotpants
doing the ‘Ditzy-Demo’ routine, showing off his gizmo, the Moran
S-15 harmonica tap. It’s a device that turns a telephone handset
into a room microphone, undetectable. Just dial the number, pausing
before the last digit and blow the harmonica gizmet into the phone.
Moran’s sales patter wouldn’t look out of place on a carnival
midway. As a gimmick, he’s got one rigged in his home and goes
through a pantomime of dialling home and using the gizmet. The phone
doesn’t ring and the sounds of ‘Mrs. Moran’ speaking to her
‘lover’ come through, a little April Fool for the crowd. After
his little spiel, Moran comes over to ask Paul and Harry’s opinion,
dismissing his own device as ‘Good for the catalog suckers’
before giving each a free pen, tucking them into their top pockets.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qZE5M3YfEY-fkG7LM5-duxAgwKFkX-QIb0PfVN7P31NlNne6Iqv6vUlGg5uCgjzkKRXSKxLBh4ixrae9WRsUddvbbW0_sAD4t-cGtT8AYBIiE9G_x-foQKmL12jePqCx-lcEHVbvFBdBezOoDCgxssK3ts8XWjJXy_Di57tDsqwW-9pMFdDEudHjQ2g/s1536/A%20(370).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qZE5M3YfEY-fkG7LM5-duxAgwKFkX-QIb0PfVN7P31NlNne6Iqv6vUlGg5uCgjzkKRXSKxLBh4ixrae9WRsUddvbbW0_sAD4t-cGtT8AYBIiE9G_x-foQKmL12jePqCx-lcEHVbvFBdBezOoDCgxssK3ts8XWjJXy_Di57tDsqwW-9pMFdDEudHjQ2g/w640-h360/A%20(370).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE SUPERB JOHN CAZALE IS STAN.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Moran then calls
over Stan, telling him to mind the booth. Stan’s in a Moran blazer
too, much to Paul’s surprise and Harry’s disappointment. Moran
and Paul go off for a drink, Harry tells them to go ahead. He tries
to talk Stan back to working for him, but Stan wants to move up,
complaining Harry keeps everything to himself. He appeals to Stan not
to do this to him now, before levelling about someone following him.
Who? He claims he doesn’t know, something to do with the assignment
last week. Stan relents and they shake hands. Before he goes, Harry
taps the Moran stand with an observation. ‘Junk.’
</span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfFeG5pcnKKZAruURB59Oba9IVvnvNI7pK5An3Y02aRNy_DnsFB-_ZTp1NoTZO55BLc9P-Fk2_VybkIcfHJR3fQl9M85aBHACvey5d8rdtZwOLI-KVEI0lPMszvN7J34fYXf6lrPDTgXAOUyJjdCG5zHqemF3jUSAGGlx6jfJWsxNVTTzVq4jQOpXFMQ/s1600/LLLL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfFeG5pcnKKZAruURB59Oba9IVvnvNI7pK5An3Y02aRNy_DnsFB-_ZTp1NoTZO55BLc9P-Fk2_VybkIcfHJR3fQl9M85aBHACvey5d8rdtZwOLI-KVEI0lPMszvN7J34fYXf6lrPDTgXAOUyJjdCG5zHqemF3jUSAGGlx6jfJWsxNVTTzVq4jQOpXFMQ/w640-h512/LLLL.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOBBY CARD OF THE SCENE<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">By a scale model of
– of all places, Union Square, harry goes to a payphone to call
Amy. Her number’s been disconnected and enquiries has no listing
for her. Harry hangs up for his ten cents, then spots Stett seated
across from him. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-kx6_ljSjZM7tMVCvx6HdxKbQFOTIGAV_x4tcXHAdyaKmqETmsvZcsBsE7suhOGrfkVX3pGv35LVyyxRor985s80FYlYow75r2kKNfz3DUFQLwrBCqv0Lte2C20LEfiIsB29zZVG_AgbNcdJ70Bmrztf_E0Lxm0R2sn3HQpxXHI_PFw63-PvRrHQSOc/s1536/A%20(379).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-kx6_ljSjZM7tMVCvx6HdxKbQFOTIGAV_x4tcXHAdyaKmqETmsvZcsBsE7suhOGrfkVX3pGv35LVyyxRor985s80FYlYow75r2kKNfz3DUFQLwrBCqv0Lte2C20LEfiIsB29zZVG_AgbNcdJ70Bmrztf_E0Lxm0R2sn3HQpxXHI_PFw63-PvRrHQSOc/w640-h360/A%20(379).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry goes to leave, before furiously stalking up
his stalker to demand ‘What are you doing here?’ The assistant
tells him to take it easy, offering him a drink. He’s just a
messenger. Why is he following him? ‘I’m not following you, I’m
looking for you.’ How did he know where to find him? It’s a
wiretapper’s convention. Harry insists he’s not giving the tapes
to anyone, but The Director. The message? The man himself wants the
tapes delivered, Sunday, one o’clock. ‘You tell him I’ll think
about it.’
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Paul screeches up in
his car and the group piles in, keen to continue the party, Harry
awkwardly sandwiched in between Moran’s demo-girl and his door. A
Boss Mustang wants to race and Paul gives chase, calling a 10-28 in
on the car’s radio-phone before leaving the occupants of the
Mustang with some personalised verbal abuse. Perks of the job.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNl6wyBgUM39yH-34TuaCwYhgBMqf6nKHFb1Lmttxi7IAORcEUQOYiAY8sie-MOpfa3ZMFHqMOG0j-1xmHESofiYrfvfGN-httLCKToIfDFKcTmTT6lMlrMmuiCc75cdEyhs_f70aoHkxJ7W_h1p_hjeSgBtHcY2Zznnq7r-lUTKOh0orUV-qdRGv8XY/s1536/A%20(402).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNl6wyBgUM39yH-34TuaCwYhgBMqf6nKHFb1Lmttxi7IAORcEUQOYiAY8sie-MOpfa3ZMFHqMOG0j-1xmHESofiYrfvfGN-httLCKToIfDFKcTmTT6lMlrMmuiCc75cdEyhs_f70aoHkxJ7W_h1p_hjeSgBtHcY2Zznnq7r-lUTKOh0orUV-qdRGv8XY/w640-h360/A%20(402).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Somewhat against his
nature, Harry takes the party back to his workshop, playfully leading
the race to the cage before quietly going over to his bench to lock
some blueprints away. After all, he’s brought the competition home.
Unable to help himself, Moran rides Harry with a gag about a lonely
hearts column he read – ‘Lonely and Anonymous’; he thought it
was Harry. Exuberant, full of <i>bonhomie </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Moran
proposes a toast to Harry – the best bugger on the West Coast.
Moran claims to be the best on the East, then remarks it’s funny
they never bumped into each other in New York. Stan is surprised; he
didn’t know Harry was from NYC. Moran’s curious about one job
Harry cracked; the Welfare Fund job back in ‘68. How did he know
about that? Everybody in the business knew about it, but no-one could
figure how he did it. Harry’s saved by the arrival of Blondie, who
knocks her head </span><span style="font-style: normal;">tipsily </span><span style="font-style: normal;">on
a </span><span style="font-style: normal;">hanging scale as she asks
him to dance. Moran’s clearly pissed; he wants to know about the
Welfare Fund thing. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Moran
has the tenacity of a shark, telling Harry he tapped his first phone
at age twelve. For six months, no-one had a clue who it was – his
father was proud as Hell when he knew. Paul and Stan play a prank on
the phone and Moran remarks Harry’s scrambler is obsolete, but
Blondie is leading the man himself off, determined to snag him. She
gets to work; where’s he from? New York? She lived in New York…
But Harry is already alone, walking in his own empty space, despite
her efforts at allure. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAHM5ceXOSGdBETNjApwDcmacotqTwbSPSkjNcAOaJOZaR_ODi3TGYe2ZEc-Ho3m3NI-NuVo_coVmnAUxNwpr3ZlB6FXPzsFVJDnN8IeZc0jP1AezFqke-t5gQkKG0A0v5c7A6vBL2xPECZWYhuYiFahwQaARpuzOXv5raq9fMnioLHzaN9WnivlrlYE/s1280/WWWW.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="1280" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAHM5ceXOSGdBETNjApwDcmacotqTwbSPSkjNcAOaJOZaR_ODi3TGYe2ZEc-Ho3m3NI-NuVo_coVmnAUxNwpr3ZlB6FXPzsFVJDnN8IeZc0jP1AezFqke-t5gQkKG0A0v5c7A6vBL2xPECZWYhuYiFahwQaARpuzOXv5raq9fMnioLHzaN9WnivlrlYE/w640-h502/WWWW.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YES, ANOTHER LOBBY CARD... ELIZABETH MAC RAE PLAYS MEREDITH.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Her
question ‘Do you live far from here?’ falls on deaf ears. He has
a question; is she still married? Probably. Last time she heard. He
was trying to scrape enough money for another hardware store. She
ended up in San Francisco, without a job. And that’s her life to
date. He touches her glass. Hurt, she feels he doesn’t like her,
doesn’t want to talk. ‘I didn’t say that.’ </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">She
sees he’s preoccupied, wishes he felt he could talk to her and that
they could be friends. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7PHIoanebtedmP8j1YWCNPCixj_f8rq2bFSY1M11B2l-xkeHG9qZHc8__o-jQdIlOF60LyswRmUoZJ4nUrEVhPrYe17E4giOnes7YrW6rWKezwZUIDqew1828rDUqFGGV_D9w410cmvzrjdt28c245GkvX-u19Tf3ml0flTxJnH_X7xHZ6fnj1spLcw/s819/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20THREE%20HARRY%20AND%20MEREDITH.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="819" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7PHIoanebtedmP8j1YWCNPCixj_f8rq2bFSY1M11B2l-xkeHG9qZHc8__o-jQdIlOF60LyswRmUoZJ4nUrEVhPrYe17E4giOnes7YrW6rWKezwZUIDqew1828rDUqFGGV_D9w410cmvzrjdt28c245GkvX-u19Tf3ml0flTxJnH_X7xHZ6fnj1spLcw/w640-h522/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20THREE%20HARRY%20AND%20MEREDITH.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_-POj2eMKOItah2-Zh-MgJ5Ze-RcNIgG_lxr7vGQhQmCeqrSJ7oLbu4OLSYCBNhBLpw12_s8qsZU8zIkrfA79izsa7Vf3sKZip1hHaSaTEJWIImgWdK8QFf6M6Rm0Ndq-Mrp2U06kF5cPtkVQMktefpUkYcalF-cspbMDKMJhSX43b2N4eTqiUkO6iw/s400/L%20DANCERS.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_-POj2eMKOItah2-Zh-MgJ5Ze-RcNIgG_lxr7vGQhQmCeqrSJ7oLbu4OLSYCBNhBLpw12_s8qsZU8zIkrfA79izsa7Vf3sKZip1hHaSaTEJWIImgWdK8QFf6M6Rm0Ndq-Mrp2U06kF5cPtkVQMktefpUkYcalF-cspbMDKMJhSX43b2N4eTqiUkO6iw/w640-h360/L%20DANCERS.gif" width="640" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Just
then, Stan rolls up on his Vespa, Paul riding pillion and shouting
out a joke as they go. The mood lightened, Harry and Meredith dance
together. Like kids, the group has fun, Meredith jumping on for a
ride. Even Harry seems caught up in the mood, but then he walks away
with his drink. Even at his bench there’s no escaping Moran though;
he tells Harry about a job he did bugging a political nominee, a
Presidential candidate - everywhere he went he was there bugging his
calls. He lost. Stan is listening and asks harry about the time he
put a bug in a parakeet. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Irritably,
Moran notes parakeets aren’t his thing – he wants to know about
the teamster local back in ‘68. An associate of his, Milt, asks
about it. It was all over the front pages; Harry was working for the
Attorney General’s office at the time. To Harry’s obvious
discomfort, Moran persists – the president of the teamsters set up
a phoney welfare fund, only two people seemed to know the details,
the president and his accountant. They only discussed business on a
boat, on fishing trips. No way to bug the conversations – yet Harry
did just that. Nobody knows how. Caused a Hell of a scandal, too.
Why? Asks the crony. Three people were murdered. Harry says it was
nothing to do with him; he just turned in the tapes. Unpleasantly,
Moran gives the details; the accountant, his wife and kid were found,
naked, bound. Their heads were found in different places. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR2OZhSKCoS6J1Cq7BpvasA-7Km5nkrT9SNHQnJ-KVeW3oKiA1sdC1pbXL1mohrNRV1VNx5UCEUzZ7OtjoLs6_TAWvkDbMKErClIuR_o24XsBldf0wkAKYuO77BUb2vApEvWC5vIeqT4unK41p_AIAOg2AMU-YA3digCh1BKsxDbdTAAIgkB8HI9VTzU/s1536/A%20(449).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR2OZhSKCoS6J1Cq7BpvasA-7Km5nkrT9SNHQnJ-KVeW3oKiA1sdC1pbXL1mohrNRV1VNx5UCEUzZ7OtjoLs6_TAWvkDbMKErClIuR_o24XsBldf0wkAKYuO77BUb2vApEvWC5vIeqT4unK41p_AIAOg2AMU-YA3digCh1BKsxDbdTAAIgkB8HI9VTzU/w640-h360/A%20(449).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
insists what they did with the tapes was their own business. Moran
states it’s the first he heard of Harry Caul; next thing he’d
moved out of New York. He wants to know how he did the job. Stan,
meanwhile is running one of the tapes from the square, the band
playing. Angry, Harry tells him to turn it off. ‘</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">They
ought to hear this Harry, it’s the best thing you’ve ever done!’
Eager to steal a secret from the great Harry Caul, Moran wants to
know what the tape’s about. Indiscreetly Stan lets on it’s the
assignment Harry had this week, and claims it will make History.
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Moran makes a boast and a
challenge; ‘I bet you there's no moment between human beings that I
cannot record, <br />
and there's no method that I cannot figure out.
I could figure out any of Harry's schemes, right? <br />
Come on, come
on. Try me...’ </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPl86Gn_J4p0rJokWFEQe5TAo_amkjEWCzTnWtmM2VHN71I9piVTZyd8Q7bSxsgMAKEs809nBV_YnyYqii37IiAgTgc_6964nwYzYpcE2DdBVTRUG2xeMBnMx4VIV1bEI63ZHesSRq_yvZqhri8qAlHyGp6oHqDFhVJOvd3mTUJbIt6VAhkipXSdXYvtA/s1536/A%20(473).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPl86Gn_J4p0rJokWFEQe5TAo_amkjEWCzTnWtmM2VHN71I9piVTZyd8Q7bSxsgMAKEs809nBV_YnyYqii37IiAgTgc_6964nwYzYpcE2DdBVTRUG2xeMBnMx4VIV1bEI63ZHesSRq_yvZqhri8qAlHyGp6oHqDFhVJOvd3mTUJbIt6VAhkipXSdXYvtA/w640-h360/A%20(473).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Determined now, Stan shows a chalkboard map of the
Union Square job, explaining the challenges involved. Over at his
bench, Harry is looking at the glossies of the young couple as Stan
continues. He challenges Moran; how would he do it? Well, first of
all, one system wouldn’t do it. Moran’s thought is to rig their
clothes for sound. No way of telling what clothes they’ll choose…
Then a ‘drunk’ bumping into them, to plant a pin mike… Too
risky; they’ve been bugged before. Moran thinks he has it; hire a
lip reader, with binoculars. No; Stan adds the client wants their
actual voice, to believe what’s being said, to hear it for
themselves. Moran muses it must have been an expensive show. Milt
wonders if it was ‘us’ - the ‘us’ being the Federal
Government. Private party. Moran’s view is it would take at least
four passes. Unable to resist showboating, Harry interjects; he did
it in three. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw8AFHuzv-0xwypKT7AY4Dwkmr4tX_Tms9mn4A_dY_Cbn4PsRHrjQuQ1CNg3LCmbqm_zZc-HOuPVWFP0Cjl6iqx7rHCqFEAwu-uPKzXygAiOmHNouWXr6Z2SqbAOACC5HfOGLLaRDEIV6dZdo2NBzST2Qyal1jyTs8LLtV86gwiLciOyjt-Bx0QR5GrE/s1536/A%20(477).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw8AFHuzv-0xwypKT7AY4Dwkmr4tX_Tms9mn4A_dY_Cbn4PsRHrjQuQ1CNg3LCmbqm_zZc-HOuPVWFP0Cjl6iqx7rHCqFEAwu-uPKzXygAiOmHNouWXr6Z2SqbAOACC5HfOGLLaRDEIV6dZdo2NBzST2Qyal1jyTs8LLtV86gwiLciOyjt-Bx0QR5GrE/w640-h360/A%20(477).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Exuding
pride, Harry elaborates; ‘</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Three-stage
directional microphones with MOSFET amplifier of my own design. And
we got another </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">twenty percent</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">
conventionally, just tailing them.’ </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Throwing
his arm around his accomplice, he adds ‘Paul did.’ Grudgingly,
Moran allows himself a ‘Beautiful’. ‘It was a work of art’</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">adds Stan. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">C</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">arried
along with Stan’s exuberance, Harry remarks the new microphones are
incredible – able to catch every word from 200 yards away. Milt’s
wife asks what the young couple had done, Harry doesn’t know –
more interested in the technical aspects of the job again. Teasingly,
he shows Moran a glimpse of the rifle mic from the job. The shark in
Moran – never far below the surface is apparent now as, hungrily he
suggests Harry partners with him, all he needs is a quick look at
Harry’s plans and devices… </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">they
could make a fortune selling stuff to Uncle Sam… Harry dismisses
him with an appalling joke about gay wiretappers. Nose firmly out of
joint now, Moran grumbles he’s talking millions, but Harry’s
making jokes – As Harry asks Paul if he can cut in, grabbing him
for a dance instead of Meredith.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
Harry takes Meredith into his arms again, Moran persists;
fifty-fifty. Harry says he doesn’t need anyone. She wonders about
that, but Paul snatches at her dress (In a playful move that might
have passed in the Seventies, but which hasn’t dated any better
than Harry’s gay joke)
</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yQEXJXjr-pq2nWRRfGr0dbLQxcEu-Z002K5lf4uMRfzi15lBgiWHILdsDef5O4lrCeShDkMwDKZtce9hJ5KEGN0dW7ddtfduxnpXnaAeZG-focgX9AWGCwNqYrqehlVVrUrhXk2vrPFmbXV_fLdRH8FwOINx05Ym_YN7ITUoHqWCB5U7X86X28HLz7o/s1536/A%20(502).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yQEXJXjr-pq2nWRRfGr0dbLQxcEu-Z002K5lf4uMRfzi15lBgiWHILdsDef5O4lrCeShDkMwDKZtce9hJ5KEGN0dW7ddtfduxnpXnaAeZG-focgX9AWGCwNqYrqehlVVrUrhXk2vrPFmbXV_fLdRH8FwOINx05Ym_YN7ITUoHqWCB5U7X86X28HLz7o/w640-h360/A%20(502).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Moran
decides this is the moment, producing a portable Nagra recorder to
play Harry’s conversation with Meredith back. The pen he slipped
into his pocket earlier… remember? What does he think of that? He
thinks he’d better turn it off and leave. Moran tries to pass it
off as a joke, ‘for Christ’s sake’ but being bugged is too much
for Harry – Stan informs him Harry doesn’t like profanity.
Worried, Paul asks Harry what’s wrong, unable to see the cause of
his quiet rage. Moran tries to make amends, offering Harry the
recorder as a gift, but he just snaps the pen-mic in two, throwing it
to the floor. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">The party is
over. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry takes his
convention badge off his jacket, tossing that too. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RpgzUwM5q1lEW5IDN9XwClXZeRZwq3qgtOnJ_U1YUhfZWT_1rIAK7Ut2N4tm2lZXjMOCHj9-UfIlnHrpsEx91WrQeJoWO_5M5AhZwrE81o2gOTGlXAj09hEmA6Oork1qwn0yQdFw1h_sBR-iHsVcLGtXU0vfrzBYbHydwgDWEv5PUuHRL8n9p8XJ9Lo/s1536/A%20(511).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RpgzUwM5q1lEW5IDN9XwClXZeRZwq3qgtOnJ_U1YUhfZWT_1rIAK7Ut2N4tm2lZXjMOCHj9-UfIlnHrpsEx91WrQeJoWO_5M5AhZwrE81o2gOTGlXAj09hEmA6Oork1qwn0yQdFw1h_sBR-iHsVcLGtXU0vfrzBYbHydwgDWEv5PUuHRL8n9p8XJ9Lo/w640-h360/A%20(511).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">O</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">nly
Meredith remains, watching as Harry plays the tape again. She asks
him to turn it off; but he’s unable to. Transfixed, he stands and
mutters; ‘She’s frightened. This is where, she’s frightened.
This is no ordinary conversation.’ Harry stands, hooked like a fish
on the meaning of the young couple’s words. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">They’re
discussing a third party, the girl doesn’t know what to get him for
Christmas. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>He doesn’t need anything any more. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Harry
doesn’t know what, but it makes him feel… something. Persistent,
Meredith tells him to forget it; it’s only a trick. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He’s
not meant to </span><i>feel </i><span style="font-style: normal;">anything
about it, he’s just supposed to </span><i>do </i><span style="font-style: normal;">it.
Finally, she resorts to THE weapon; her sexuality, kissing Harry with
passion, trying to provoke a response. He stands there, unable to
escape the tape. ‘Oh God.’ Listen – to the way she says ‘Oh
God...’ She leads Harry across to the bed, as the girl’s voice
plays. </span><i>I think he was once somebody's baby boy… </i></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15vS1sMRZrDVe7T568XhLb-dgjchnozBjTE9yr90eVjfl62kEe-uqwHLt9KdNN9KEoCK0iSlLwcVFoZb5nNq5gty8nJYJ2CCaM2lpBnffgafqOt7T-ugfGrb1JggibwCBbFhrqw4Ql8IVLj1CO5wmRC8L_-V5YrpFFjHB8H4bcfWXhyBd-mR0fKq0urc/s1536/A%20(523).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15vS1sMRZrDVe7T568XhLb-dgjchnozBjTE9yr90eVjfl62kEe-uqwHLt9KdNN9KEoCK0iSlLwcVFoZb5nNq5gty8nJYJ2CCaM2lpBnffgafqOt7T-ugfGrb1JggibwCBbFhrqw4Ql8IVLj1CO5wmRC8L_-V5YrpFFjHB8H4bcfWXhyBd-mR0fKq0urc/w640-h360/A%20(523).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Meredith
undresses as Harry waits on the bed. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Who started this
conversation, anyhow? You did.</i> <i>Did not. Yes, you did. You just
don't remember it… </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Naked now,
Meredith joins Harry on the bed, but he’s in the square again,
reciting the words burning through his brain. He’d kill us… </span><i>He’d
kill us if he had the chance. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">‘Oh
God, what have I done?’ Harry whispers that he has to destroy the
tapes; ‘I can’t let it happen again.’ Trying to comfort this
lost soul, Meredith </span><span style="font-style: normal;">caresses
his face. Confessor and lover; ‘A family was murdered because of
me.’ She says ‘I know.’ ‘Oh, God. There's no protection. <br />
I
follow them wherever they're going. And I can hear them.’ Finally,
the tape ends, merciful as release. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_QudGyk-CRXo0cCADgSypOfom6EfoCvFKeJagtrpHfR0eynZ5jtUhHZGNXl3t9Qn7YAoaHZEho1rVhyphenhypheneo3-HshIa_9BHAuqM5zw4g6nsRT4XjeCLQ6qAMFuiFwf4TaLOmt8neGnXZTCkmjbID4Inun4wIrX5fkmM4zhCT9-caWveb0oPwAtKQ7olkXY/s819/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20EMPHASIS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="819" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_QudGyk-CRXo0cCADgSypOfom6EfoCvFKeJagtrpHfR0eynZ5jtUhHZGNXl3t9Qn7YAoaHZEho1rVhyphenhypheneo3-HshIa_9BHAuqM5zw4g6nsRT4XjeCLQ6qAMFuiFwf4TaLOmt8neGnXZTCkmjbID4Inun4wIrX5fkmM4zhCT9-caWveb0oPwAtKQ7olkXY/w640-h522/DIALOGUE%20INSERT%20EMPHASIS.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOKOxT9R_rSBJUw4e4FsrYVVtLctDrgrJwFT_0I82zCnzl5HCa82c5ikUA2V-jevsIbcH_QnU9hBwP9a7v9IagwsmXaVDMu1xpKqsdXDV5LUcKP7eyUDRVnDIMBewRXLCJL4pJV6pnPIGERPaqaH69u1yJBd4RBKpu3wEL-nSxh3dSMSNsPJFeUA6BKc/s512/HARRY%20STREET.PNG.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="338" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOKOxT9R_rSBJUw4e4FsrYVVtLctDrgrJwFT_0I82zCnzl5HCa82c5ikUA2V-jevsIbcH_QnU9hBwP9a7v9IagwsmXaVDMu1xpKqsdXDV5LUcKP7eyUDRVnDIMBewRXLCJL4pJV6pnPIGERPaqaH69u1yJBd4RBKpu3wEL-nSxh3dSMSNsPJFeUA6BKc/w422-h640/HARRY%20STREET.PNG.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A PHOTO FROM THE DREAM SEQUENCE THAT NEVER MADE IT INTO THE MOVIE; MAYBE WE DREAMED THIS?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span>
<p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Even
in his dreams, the conversation echoes and reverberates, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">the
dream lucid, real-surreal,</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">
the girl seeking </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">flight</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">
up a</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">n escape</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">
of steps, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">escape up a flight
of </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry following. He calls
to the girl through a mist; tells her his name. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Can
she hear him? </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Tells her not
to be afraid. In his sleep, Harry murmurs </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">to
the mist-shrouded figure </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">that
he was sick as a boy, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">paralysed
down one side, he </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">recalls his
mother putting him in a hot bath, of nearly drowning when she went to
answer the door – how disappointed he was to have survived. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">He
recalls a childhood incident, punching a friend of his father in the
stomach, no reason…</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCgtbIUkL5LEqfusxJyg0kRjRRxe6d1_UOgbAeA5KbWq_YuTx1QrK9CO8D2X7imT6zTrfU8jgrGTuHILcSwwXr9T-etV6Oj47WufXi2pRNPH0-38cwBxZDX400FD0OmsL9JHF1K3Cc-ZGI3_sc1t6_61My08hOBbdaHNP2_PBn8hpWzdCbo50gKiIKrA/s1024/4%20DREAMING.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1024" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCgtbIUkL5LEqfusxJyg0kRjRRxe6d1_UOgbAeA5KbWq_YuTx1QrK9CO8D2X7imT6zTrfU8jgrGTuHILcSwwXr9T-etV6Oj47WufXi2pRNPH0-38cwBxZDX400FD0OmsL9JHF1K3Cc-ZGI3_sc1t6_61My08hOBbdaHNP2_PBn8hpWzdCbo50gKiIKrA/w640-h440/4%20DREAMING.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IT'S ANOTHER MONTAGE!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">N</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">ow
Harry is at room 773, the Jack Tar Hotel. The Director is murdering
the girl, bloody murder. He wakes, to find Meredith gone. Tired,
cold, he wanders over to the bench. To find the tape gone too. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Bitch.
</i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">At
home, Harry rings The Director’s office, asking for Stett, his
assistant. That won’t be possible now. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">He’s
told they’ll get back to him. ‘You don’t have my telephone
number!’ </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmNV5Gdn_Zm3ZmND3Cz7gwjj2DicrxwjIZOE6DOS0I137x4oXd3JnJG0gBHRngN3TQXR9JGxQunAdi08oPXseB5SK-YfzoffUyqqCxmQvE4S24udaOo8JMoUTCCY4PcwiRk4CsUOvV7acALVgCIsgjH1pybSbTANLeVLXiSNxxIvI0_xAkL9E0MdU7Fk/s1536/A%20(581).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmNV5Gdn_Zm3ZmND3Cz7gwjj2DicrxwjIZOE6DOS0I137x4oXd3JnJG0gBHRngN3TQXR9JGxQunAdi08oPXseB5SK-YfzoffUyqqCxmQvE4S24udaOo8JMoUTCCY4PcwiRk4CsUOvV7acALVgCIsgjH1pybSbTANLeVLXiSNxxIvI0_xAkL9E0MdU7Fk/w640-h360/A%20(581).jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
is in the bathroom when it rings. The telephone. The telephone never
rings. No-one has the number. It rings off, then again. It’s Martin
Stett. How did they get the number? </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>We prepare a full</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><i>dossier on everyone who comes into contact with The
Director. You know that means we’ve been watching you. We have the
tapes. They’re perfectly safe. </i><i>The director was very anxious
to hear them as soon as possible. You seemed to be... I don't know...
Disturbed. I couldn't take the chance that you might destroy our
tapes. You understand, don't you, Mr. Caul? Our tapes have nothing to
do with you. Why don't you come over now and bring the photographs? </i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINvBwSHM1dx3dQUjAQtzpRFIN8FoY9qWH2qHxxOlpOOGVCjxd2NzCNDaP-liDADyE8icgrdesY-px4YUuMqDq370ihIJ_tBPKjK5a0fYBySJtiTuq3EJOWaqQHQ0ed2llAMbi38LKL76r82x3pNFVhgn-lFXO_aDtOkeNAZla9HRY5i4Ah5KqFx_OAa8/s1536/A%20(600).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINvBwSHM1dx3dQUjAQtzpRFIN8FoY9qWH2qHxxOlpOOGVCjxd2NzCNDaP-liDADyE8icgrdesY-px4YUuMqDq370ihIJ_tBPKjK5a0fYBySJtiTuq3EJOWaqQHQ0ed2llAMbi38LKL76r82x3pNFVhgn-lFXO_aDtOkeNAZla9HRY5i4Ah5KqFx_OAa8/w640-h360/A%20(600).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">This
time no-one shows Harry the way. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Does it bother you,
walking round in circles?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Is the
young man on the tape talking to the girl or to Harry? </span><i>Oh
God…</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
finds the door marked ‘Private’ and walks in, no-one answering
his knock, to hear the tape playing, Stett standing over the machine.
A Doberman follows him through the door, licking it’s lips as it
waits to see if it’s master wants to play. </span></span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6DiiavS0y2Il7YTPKEAkuWChmonISVgPKa5D9IhZdn_x_-R7ksV6CtQXtf-8iTW-2B3S7jdIOc95BFPdR9Xlwev8wV-qqYq3Slz1H90CBMTNql4vjc-uPjFplhXcCQO017dtWQEvAhQVnMDLg1T3PTLcA9Tq6dtiXa-xTIO2fQsiNkbB4oOzCYDB7hA/s1536/A%20(621).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6DiiavS0y2Il7YTPKEAkuWChmonISVgPKa5D9IhZdn_x_-R7ksV6CtQXtf-8iTW-2B3S7jdIOc95BFPdR9Xlwev8wV-qqYq3Slz1H90CBMTNql4vjc-uPjFplhXcCQO017dtWQEvAhQVnMDLg1T3PTLcA9Tq6dtiXa-xTIO2fQsiNkbB4oOzCYDB7hA/w640-h360/A%20(621).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The Director is
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">distracted by the
conversation, so it contents itself with a spot on the carpet. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
girl on the wall, photographed and framed. Somehow artificial when
she knows the camera is pointing at her. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvcNjT06aChO6Q3g8IjbVFJWpksC72ELKOGNPYuMJSt6uqd69WjuKUNnPaq0tLnGoAnYS_tykgID6p-AXa3aBWqux1K5pAD1A9YNUAuntF8tlFAQVDAfp8gOjSL9-AUfNn2ukfk2QyeobWS1THwV88aDX6EVuWrJ61vQYHXijrlPRCdgj7139-lKPU4g/s1536/A%20(622).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvcNjT06aChO6Q3g8IjbVFJWpksC72ELKOGNPYuMJSt6uqd69WjuKUNnPaq0tLnGoAnYS_tykgID6p-AXa3aBWqux1K5pAD1A9YNUAuntF8tlFAQVDAfp8gOjSL9-AUfNn2ukfk2QyeobWS1THwV88aDX6EVuWrJ61vQYHXijrlPRCdgj7139-lKPU4g/w640-h360/A%20(622).jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Who
started this conversation anyhow? </span><i>You did. Did not. Yes,
you did. You just don't remember it. Oh, Mark, it's all right. We can
talk. I can't stand it. I can't stand it anymore. You're going to
make me cry. I know, honey, I know. Me, too. No, don't. Oh, God.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Stett asks The Director if he wants to hear it again.</span><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Anger
rising, The Director snarls at Stett; ‘You want it to be true!’
His assistant just wants him to know – whatever he needs to know.
That’s all. As if noticing Caul standing there, The Director tells
him his money’s on the table. Awkwardly, Harry sits at the table.
All neatly laid out. Carefully, he counts it, not touching the bills
before he has to, as if eager not to leave prints on them. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutTIqlGu0SeVwfg93mWxji9KiBi41kD1RbscoTOUiTvOsmiGNoDaFPdXc4zevuPpaWbtrvH5UgAvhk_YIAu80sHG8WGjZ7Kk7n5L-fb2Cx3_GAcOGw_y-mBtaqs3OGoMd82AH5bbzkB7qaiDEJFaiiVhSNuvb_0njtfCsQD5jhccb49vRH0x0AZkygEg/s1536/A%20(631).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutTIqlGu0SeVwfg93mWxji9KiBi41kD1RbscoTOUiTvOsmiGNoDaFPdXc4zevuPpaWbtrvH5UgAvhk_YIAu80sHG8WGjZ7Kk7n5L-fb2Cx3_GAcOGw_y-mBtaqs3OGoMd82AH5bbzkB7qaiDEJFaiiVhSNuvb_0njtfCsQD5jhccb49vRH0x0AZkygEg/w640-h360/A%20(631).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">The
Director pets his dog as he listens to the arrangements. Jack Tar
Hotel, Three o’clock, 773. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
notices another photo; The Director, the girl, together, smiles. As
so often with powerful and rich people, The Director finds the
subject of money, its presence distasteful. Asks Harry to count it
outside. He’s done counting, puts his money in the envelope and,
finally goes to give The Director the photos he asked for. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>When
the red, red robin goes bob-bob, bobbin' along…</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Harry asks ‘What will you
do to her?’ and the tape has the answer. </span><i>He’d kill us
if he got the chance.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> The tape
gives its answer, The Director gives none. Stett escorts Harry to the
elevator. Caul asks him what they’ll do to the couple. ‘We’ll
see.’ </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">D</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">isgusted,
frustrated and helpless, Harry tosses the envelope on the lawn
outside, by a Christmas tree waiting for decoration. The words of the
conversation loud in his mind, the hotel, Sunday. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4YZsDTLt0GvGinnv5OmmbPcVyCOpSwdhhxMRA0ZcEx-KXPy-WC1zR0ymjzFMd_TO7IQVFEln-M8aHOk1azjzZsCBb_HNpSogU18O0MghM1Grl2NMQnaWyCVzECnEpAJxWg8tZjTAzpJbpHGifZItQjF9TJJGqbBCnjecspP8NUESJzbDxeLG_96mYMc/s2048/HHHHHH.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1359" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4YZsDTLt0GvGinnv5OmmbPcVyCOpSwdhhxMRA0ZcEx-KXPy-WC1zR0ymjzFMd_TO7IQVFEln-M8aHOk1azjzZsCBb_HNpSogU18O0MghM1Grl2NMQnaWyCVzECnEpAJxWg8tZjTAzpJbpHGifZItQjF9TJJGqbBCnjecspP8NUESJzbDxeLG_96mYMc/w424-h640/HHHHHH.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGUvHQHwWrifoifaJLhIrUZ6I9v3EzHzAlh6H0mrcuKTNYPoXGw4DDDpYWyRroamWCYB1ToRnLyUcpS90rk0OQNLhjnd4xkOAx3pO-xgXr9aiO5g8471Idhsm7f4pWbc1tyY_H2du2v2zKw_r2wuoxLGWfZ7G9Ow2i1OTLX0qixe7h_8B53UAu26Avcc/s2000/ipiccy_image(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGUvHQHwWrifoifaJLhIrUZ6I9v3EzHzAlh6H0mrcuKTNYPoXGw4DDDpYWyRroamWCYB1ToRnLyUcpS90rk0OQNLhjnd4xkOAx3pO-xgXr9aiO5g8471Idhsm7f4pWbc1tyY_H2du2v2zKw_r2wuoxLGWfZ7G9Ow2i1OTLX0qixe7h_8B53UAu26Avcc/w400-h400/ipiccy_image(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Checking
in at the Jack Tar, Harry asks for Room 773. Occupied, but all the
rooms are basically the same, the clerk helpfully informs him. He
takes an adjoining room, setting to work straight away, tapping the
wall with his ring, checking the construction, working the problem.
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Taking a smallish blue
plastic case to the bathroom, he finds a spot and flushes the toilet
a few times, working fast with a hand-drill to make a tiny hole.
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Placing a probe microphone
into place, he plugs headphones in and makes some adjustments to the
receiver.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTTiWUI3ltANe1xz9ZWw0KTROXh-uWtJ9hmJKg5kyQtZ94VILsKPu37kNGLU31p_PFiQ9KNKlbuJJ77V2cYNUyfImDbSoYUqCQjacteNR-dA53CA_RcVwz0pdPeJbUdiOpGvqnD6RvyJlHcXIVxAK2Nnm-WCbTbigU_puWavTyyyS6uFeHSqFdLGuqJ4/s800/N%20DRILL.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTTiWUI3ltANe1xz9ZWw0KTROXh-uWtJ9hmJKg5kyQtZ94VILsKPu37kNGLU31p_PFiQ9KNKlbuJJ77V2cYNUyfImDbSoYUqCQjacteNR-dA53CA_RcVwz0pdPeJbUdiOpGvqnD6RvyJlHcXIVxAK2Nnm-WCbTbigU_puWavTyyyS6uFeHSqFdLGuqJ4/w640-h360/N%20DRILL.gif" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOygeK-c-RdwwEvMMGbjMqQvIZprg06adl2MeEiWXQMdPozDdOwp-K85mx8jU00TZT8IG8TvPPBiPmDVZFrMP4iGkPuLnRp9yviIX0FLKdWK3VHlkbKpINHPqKSlnRRPe35t9mkPBZX2qBRJiBfB616O3LB4qvAI6Bnoztx4Fho8GqC4NMckYV_vhGYq4/s1536/A%20(684).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOygeK-c-RdwwEvMMGbjMqQvIZprg06adl2MeEiWXQMdPozDdOwp-K85mx8jU00TZT8IG8TvPPBiPmDVZFrMP4iGkPuLnRp9yviIX0FLKdWK3VHlkbKpINHPqKSlnRRPe35t9mkPBZX2qBRJiBfB616O3LB4qvAI6Bnoztx4Fho8GqC4NMckYV_vhGYq4/w640-h360/A%20(684).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Voices. Angry. Defensive. The Director; accusing, The girl,
denying. Then, the conversation Harry knows word by word; played in
the room next door. Or in his head? His recording, being used in
evidence? It’s too much to stand, to take. He goes into the
bedroom, sits, listening and watching at the wall, the voices dulled
now as they come through the wall without any helpful microphones.
Anger rising. Unable to stop himself, he goes to the balcony, to see
– to his utter horror, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">his
fears confirmed. Inches from his face, the girl, back to the
partitioned opaque glass, screaming, a man’s hand against it,
smeared with blood. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ_ZjkyvtcdjJSU5xUo__YFdAeOe8hrBALzw5_Jyqovjhbps8h7FJOY1UqVctlH0yYDSyZwNxmhPYtq6dBJVzSDwI_CblKj-seOsqHezjDg-j9AfXeR4oGK-m9jOcDoUAoxtfwisxbnQdverKC0iuwS7jSfKg_DkwSNKiJhOnsqKrGcNJfpmQ-up4fSE/s1536/A%20(697).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ_ZjkyvtcdjJSU5xUo__YFdAeOe8hrBALzw5_Jyqovjhbps8h7FJOY1UqVctlH0yYDSyZwNxmhPYtq6dBJVzSDwI_CblKj-seOsqHezjDg-j9AfXeR4oGK-m9jOcDoUAoxtfwisxbnQdverKC0iuwS7jSfKg_DkwSNKiJhOnsqKrGcNJfpmQ-up4fSE/w640-h360/A%20(697).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span>
<p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Shutting
the curtains, television on, Harry reels from reality, hiding under
the covers like a frightened child. He must have blacked out, it’s
dark and </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>The Flintstones</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
is playing. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Going to the door
of 773, there’s no answer to his knock, so Harry produces a
lock-picking set, setting to work with the torsion bar and pick to
work the lock. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqTCmPwC-t_xObwrDGqgpYAq1wTDnp5hnDCvAl0i1qscN9c4yCQe2qUM3AFzoBTUL4q5YXGoW4JcGVzzKMupRRe6XifXakOgStOnoOjZmu6rUZQ8zEOPKOKKAjgqvP7w2r1kHGInK0TWsa8Xm6EZJfhxVPdqLMsHnGMSn17EfpOG_n1bJpuf8YSsQ6Ow/s1024/5%20THE%20ROOM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1024" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqTCmPwC-t_xObwrDGqgpYAq1wTDnp5hnDCvAl0i1qscN9c4yCQe2qUM3AFzoBTUL4q5YXGoW4JcGVzzKMupRRe6XifXakOgStOnoOjZmu6rUZQ8zEOPKOKKAjgqvP7w2r1kHGInK0TWsa8Xm6EZJfhxVPdqLMsHnGMSn17EfpOG_n1bJpuf8YSsQ6Ow/w640-h440/5%20THE%20ROOM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> ANOTHER MONTAGE? WERE THEY HOLDING A SALE?<br /></span></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He finds the room is empty, immaculately so, right
down to the strip of paper on the toilet and the room is clearly made
ready for guests. </span><i>Sanitized for your convenience. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">He
even checks the bath, but there’s no trace of a murder. Then he
checks the toilet, flushing it. The blood appears from nowhere,
backing up and filling the bowl, spilling into the tiled floor. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
takes a tram back to the Embarcadero Center, pushing past the
receptionist and insisting on seeing The Director. A security guard,
built like a linebacker comes down the spiral stairs and Harry tries
to fight his way up, to no avail. Giving up, he regains his composure
and leaves, the guard unbuttoning his jacket to reveal the revolver
tucked into his waistband. Outside the building, Harry pauses and
regards a </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Mercedes Benz 600
limousine at the kerb as it sits, engine running, waiting. Curious,
he walks up to look past the curtains. And sees the girl, sitting in
the back. Alive. </span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKn4d_A9fIsfb32HnQDMHpM4n50mUihf0m9eqbIIIG5kKvqPY6dmrPdK0cIIqouczKp4y-U_6R3BslT1T0KT6Yrug8vKf-mD4kkwTBB_5EHYPE6Fp-GRLySG7UXgREEHu_4bJAGHfz_cLK07zH5OPMCvLNqBv46beWxD-Q8DqiHEghWDmQSomFPQJy0s/s1024/6%20THE%20REVEAL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKn4d_A9fIsfb32HnQDMHpM4n50mUihf0m9eqbIIIG5kKvqPY6dmrPdK0cIIqouczKp4y-U_6R3BslT1T0KT6Yrug8vKf-mD4kkwTBB_5EHYPE6Fp-GRLySG7UXgREEHu_4bJAGHfz_cLK07zH5OPMCvLNqBv46beWxD-Q8DqiHEghWDmQSomFPQJy0s/w480-h640/6%20THE%20REVEAL.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YES, VOLCANO CAT LIKES MONTAGES. APOLOGIES; BACK TO THE PLOT!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span>
<p></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Harry
picks up a newspaper, to see if he can believe his eyes. A photo; a
car wreck. Auto Crash Kills Executive.
</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Flanked
by security and suits, the girl makes her way down the stairs to the
waiting press, who crowd her for comment. Does she suspect any foul
play in the accident? What about the company – will her stock now
give her a controlling interest? </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
stands apart from the throng, seeing it all; the bloodied hotel room,
before that the sheet of plastic going over The Director, the girl
turning away as the young man kills him. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0yLnIUMWGY8VlUOK6OJV-ybHkk2IhGrvWucA8wKZUPuxvyXejIn4UU9t03HC8tainoz00oBqWPDsHXTQQMKswi7MDtUPBn-KZuzP1G57B2Jo3cQFbYC7FiW3ylqdxmUW_HyCMSjJF72FvgprbQFnu_Nc9XvcW4sz3N0NKEI1UdGgZ2TnYBTqPPzJg9c/s1024/7%20TRUTH.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1024" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0yLnIUMWGY8VlUOK6OJV-ybHkk2IhGrvWucA8wKZUPuxvyXejIn4UU9t03HC8tainoz00oBqWPDsHXTQQMKswi7MDtUPBn-KZuzP1G57B2Jo3cQFbYC7FiW3ylqdxmUW_HyCMSjJF72FvgprbQFnu_Nc9XvcW4sz3N0NKEI1UdGgZ2TnYBTqPPzJg9c/w640-h440/7%20TRUTH.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">The young man from the
square. He’s there, in among all the commotion, as is Stett, who
catches Harry’s eye. He knows, Stett. And Harry hears the tape
again, the meaning now horrible with clarity. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>I don't know
what I'm going to get him for Christmas yet… He doesn't need
anything anymore. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Harry sees it
all, from the other side of the balcony glass. The girl screams as
the dying man staggers at her, grabbed from behind by his murderer,
himself wrapped in plastic. </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dW-OYz23cAZfE_1P5mSfTkq6QWq5q0KdwmuD4dDFVXgJ8ERAFM6XOOiR0eQyiSI7lr4nnWzYxDzEqW1BDxrBJrW6-xkC2zQg7jhP1t4vL-w0ZhVTo6PB7W3kwQ_17dlAauqLNVBwWnOnRu6muWEjruYk8AFgZ9H8ahrTkCoY_BiMHCxlc5lJ8CkD3Kg/s1536/A%20(802).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dW-OYz23cAZfE_1P5mSfTkq6QWq5q0KdwmuD4dDFVXgJ8ERAFM6XOOiR0eQyiSI7lr4nnWzYxDzEqW1BDxrBJrW6-xkC2zQg7jhP1t4vL-w0ZhVTo6PB7W3kwQ_17dlAauqLNVBwWnOnRu6muWEjruYk8AFgZ9H8ahrTkCoY_BiMHCxlc5lJ8CkD3Kg/w640-h360/A%20(802).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">In
his apartment, Harry Caul plays saxophone to his records. The phone
rings, he lifts then replaces the handset, continues playing. As does
the phone, insistent. He answers this time. The sound of a tape being
rewound then Stett; ‘</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>We know that you know, Mr. Caul.’ </i><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">He warns Harry not to get
involved any further. </span><i>‘We’ll be listening to you.’
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Then, the tinny sound of Harry’s
sax is played back to him down the telephone. Using an
electromagnetic field detector, Harry scans the walls of his
apartment for bugs. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">His home
suddenly unfamiliar to him, he looks around it with suspicious eyes.
He takes it apart, unscrewing light-switch plates, taking down the
curtains, searching, checking, checking. He takes things off his
shelves, pausing only at the statue of the Blessed Virgin, which he
leaves. Next the telephone, testing every contact, every wire with a Multimeter, looking for any incongruous voltage. </span></span>
<p></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9eGolPbyBysBqkiEPg_BUNhKGm0PE7CkaAjgUfxO5bAQ2ux-J_SVDnEvCZprSgNeQhJVOqhoRXofNNxHDovAywdLJKl_QQjVgT8mMJEaKe0tHCrJ9HjiFgtybdRfKcvAV1hwNAsNu0JITMtqIcDCsBy8GutXfbr5hXLV0kJdNG8P9lt0Fm_p-jnvUHU/s1280/ipiccy_image(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="1280" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9eGolPbyBysBqkiEPg_BUNhKGm0PE7CkaAjgUfxO5bAQ2ux-J_SVDnEvCZprSgNeQhJVOqhoRXofNNxHDovAywdLJKl_QQjVgT8mMJEaKe0tHCrJ9HjiFgtybdRfKcvAV1hwNAsNu0JITMtqIcDCsBy8GutXfbr5hXLV0kJdNG8P9lt0Fm_p-jnvUHU/w640-h124/ipiccy_image(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">When
everything has seemingly been checked, Harry finally turns back to
the Blessed Virgin, attacking the statuette and destroying it to
find… emptiness. An innocent virgin, this plastic Mary.
</span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Harry
cannot stop, not until he finds the bug. Piece by panel, panel by
floorboard he tears and prises his apartment to pieces. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Himself.
His life.</span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvrSQ9E7xJ8quWdbTzvNpnlx_X1G3bwbO6riRnMEgyCFpfKZYArKMtCKfMUxxxUrK35PYUBKVgl41VGSPQH9VesiInu-9bBQsv8abfBxCaETRhvpnkgm-qB4ZHiVf16EvxGjpzxC5e_XLhnnPR10y8TSIQTvgHt6bYF6Yk3cbqCeXG-XZArFUrk1wiko/s1536/A%20(849).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvrSQ9E7xJ8quWdbTzvNpnlx_X1G3bwbO6riRnMEgyCFpfKZYArKMtCKfMUxxxUrK35PYUBKVgl41VGSPQH9VesiInu-9bBQsv8abfBxCaETRhvpnkgm-qB4ZHiVf16EvxGjpzxC5e_XLhnnPR10y8TSIQTvgHt6bYF6Yk3cbqCeXG-XZArFUrk1wiko/w640-h360/A%20(849).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sitting
on the sole chair he left intact, amidst the detritus of an empty
life, Harry Caul plays Saxophone, unaccompanied, no hi-fi or records
left for this final solo. Goodbye Harry.</span><p></p><p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYReURDQbiDSXrmtm2j9Oy7wSX-nXT_C8BU5SuFAR2ldzR44PaMaodD1WysC_9npiweCQZ6cUUGg7y9yyMv571rmQNSxM5viVEYB7QGAAe600I4C-J5xXm4IoejVtK02IEzoBnpTgl5f1O1xRUSESae23cWNDaLbsh_0DNZX4IdNDAZ0qBTFSR60q0d3c/s1280/BBBB.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="1280" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYReURDQbiDSXrmtm2j9Oy7wSX-nXT_C8BU5SuFAR2ldzR44PaMaodD1WysC_9npiweCQZ6cUUGg7y9yyMv571rmQNSxM5viVEYB7QGAAe600I4C-J5xXm4IoejVtK02IEzoBnpTgl5f1O1xRUSESae23cWNDaLbsh_0DNZX4IdNDAZ0qBTFSR60q0d3c/w400-h255/BBBB.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA WITH GENE HACKMAN ON LOCATION<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Lots
has been said already; links to more concise, more revealing reviews
will follow, but what can a cat – even a volcano-dwelling one hope
to add anyway? Much has been made of the film’s use of CCTV-style
camera motions, right up to that final tragic Sax solo – the camera
pans back and forth as if hoping for a shoplifter to capture. It’s
clever, sometimes so subtle you forget Coppola is working the strings
– but working he is, constantly. The whole meaning of the titular
conversation changes on us, perhaps a modern audience sees the twist,
perhaps it still shocks. Certainly, the vital line ‘He’d kill us
if he had the chance’ was re-recorded, adding emphasis to the ‘us’
- a deceit that brought the director critical </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">flak
from Brian De Palma, calling this ‘A terrible cheat’, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">as
he promoted his 1981 film </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Blow Out. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">A
bit rich for someone retooling someone else’s movie? </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal;">Every
review mentions Watergate; the timing of the film was luck, pure and
simple; being released just as the scandal broke. The script had been
written in the 1960’s, by and large and Watergate breaking was a
fortuitous co-incidence, although </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>The Conversation </i><span style="font-style: normal;">didn’t
do especially well at the Box office. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Much
has been made about the name ‘Caul’ too – apparently a typo,
‘Call’ became ‘Caul’, but apparently Coppola liked the
allusion – Caul meaning a condition in which a fetus is covered in
a membrane. Harry’s raincoat, the sheets of plastic he is often
behind, the plastic tarpaulin covering the murder victim… </span></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JcUnQ__RxjQ3IXWsAgtLoALGBPnM_i-9XQN3NtHXBJVpREkpe5rbKR1E8fOj2bjiqSGA2eQlzGA9WKKli2BKZe0KSg344vKylkyJfI43pNmzObeZk6c2ofkqwvnWNK_afalgHr-PdRfloaF8lK9ttWdvsn-jAeC261gUVB8iGRVacyqlSXxtLiA4IiU/s563/JAPANESE%20MOVIE%20PAMPHLET.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="396" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JcUnQ__RxjQ3IXWsAgtLoALGBPnM_i-9XQN3NtHXBJVpREkpe5rbKR1E8fOj2bjiqSGA2eQlzGA9WKKli2BKZe0KSg344vKylkyJfI43pNmzObeZk6c2ofkqwvnWNK_afalgHr-PdRfloaF8lK9ttWdvsn-jAeC261gUVB8iGRVacyqlSXxtLiA4IiU/w450-h640/JAPANESE%20MOVIE%20PAMPHLET.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JAPANESE MOVIE PAMPHLET<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtukeNry8wPPyKt1O0_4peKDu5uyRCq1neACpzuvHp8hy7hvdLh_fhHCUex58740xiSyuAwIk8u1k2W3nNeUgUnepJBvZqPdC5M4H9-nkLvOxZp8aGqQR22U4aHLTQsUZWlXs2FQm1TqaVwe8J6XxdUtANAXWx9YHBtaN_x0BREI2VcGMG7H33EHbpwQ/s1086/GERMAN%20POSTER.PNG.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtukeNry8wPPyKt1O0_4peKDu5uyRCq1neACpzuvHp8hy7hvdLh_fhHCUex58740xiSyuAwIk8u1k2W3nNeUgUnepJBvZqPdC5M4H9-nkLvOxZp8aGqQR22U4aHLTQsUZWlXs2FQm1TqaVwe8J6XxdUtANAXWx9YHBtaN_x0BREI2VcGMG7H33EHbpwQ/w453-h640/GERMAN%20POSTER.PNG.jpg" width="453" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A POSTER FOR THE GERMAN RELEASE<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
<p></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWs8bIJ86CY0InWIEQAg70n0qShxiqYiWpe7o8gOakHoElzp1oXBUmP2joGiCxads1UBz_V0le1-2OjmpWfoKmOqasyOQQimycYkh4bwMrgBvFKB0ddcZE-YGoTTsPWlCgDsoVGx4Z4ZVjqqDBfwRc4_L-2o0rgljbo0TgbZupSOePgiCinUaWhmLRy7o/s2400/ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1590" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWs8bIJ86CY0InWIEQAg70n0qShxiqYiWpe7o8gOakHoElzp1oXBUmP2joGiCxads1UBz_V0le1-2OjmpWfoKmOqasyOQQimycYkh4bwMrgBvFKB0ddcZE-YGoTTsPWlCgDsoVGx4Z4ZVjqqDBfwRc4_L-2o0rgljbo0TgbZupSOePgiCinUaWhmLRy7o/w424-h640/ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-XANf68d_NGPNWHaKQBOeVVHkNIwxurQmhxNwdrwBcM7nXR1Wz-V-8JZceP7EpuoMJvir2Awbz_Jk8UREumg6-1BroLKHMoYxz2COYmQgYN8zPYp8z-VCCcVRNvBRh6cKPr66Eb8TrFgmNqLdNORNIMWrwa8xPCJOWU1goOmCl-J9CGJImivo4lukCM/s2400/AUSTRALIAN%20ONE%20SHEET.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1634" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-XANf68d_NGPNWHaKQBOeVVHkNIwxurQmhxNwdrwBcM7nXR1Wz-V-8JZceP7EpuoMJvir2Awbz_Jk8UREumg6-1BroLKHMoYxz2COYmQgYN8zPYp8z-VCCcVRNvBRh6cKPr66Eb8TrFgmNqLdNORNIMWrwa8xPCJOWU1goOmCl-J9CGJImivo4lukCM/w436-h640/AUSTRALIAN%20ONE%20SHEET.jpg" width="436" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AUSTRALIAN ONE-SHEET POSTER<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJR9Z9lx3zQhwJMeFteQb4KWYtxeywpLQnmvYW7Hr8ojes4IPzcnGAxUspj4uPiHIWijFFUbfhfwyuvP_DYHs3LlHqhwkSx4ui3DYG9wrmUOLXpoCSZnWZoSOMFGh2tMTTZVU-i1XzeFQgPbXAGsrrHpT0YM_IrFhUJtxCG_qdq1J4__uHEY9Dz7BMWAY/s2400/HALF%20SHEET.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1890" data-original-width="2400" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJR9Z9lx3zQhwJMeFteQb4KWYtxeywpLQnmvYW7Hr8ojes4IPzcnGAxUspj4uPiHIWijFFUbfhfwyuvP_DYHs3LlHqhwkSx4ui3DYG9wrmUOLXpoCSZnWZoSOMFGh2tMTTZVU-i1XzeFQgPbXAGsrrHpT0YM_IrFhUJtxCG_qdq1J4__uHEY9Dz7BMWAY/w640-h504/HALF%20SHEET.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HALF-SHEET POSTER.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbd9mWFZPESN_useE-1n2ud4o65i_MG9iWsvTlf8LYYJ-tnycvE5Jj8cZO0XnMWtpA0xCo87pJ4Y8sMBOPLtRTELJq2PhzbnQc14ri8TpgtsJWiFw9ShHNiurnlJh3_PaAlfiNGBUoZpgq44tv2RSv1vvqiHotVRxdaUj3tlkU46FDrtroW8PP96OJ88/s2400/LOBBY%20SET%20ALT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1522" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbd9mWFZPESN_useE-1n2ud4o65i_MG9iWsvTlf8LYYJ-tnycvE5Jj8cZO0XnMWtpA0xCo87pJ4Y8sMBOPLtRTELJq2PhzbnQc14ri8TpgtsJWiFw9ShHNiurnlJh3_PaAlfiNGBUoZpgq44tv2RSv1vvqiHotVRxdaUj3tlkU46FDrtroW8PP96OJ88/w406-h640/LOBBY%20SET%20ALT.jpg" width="406" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOBBY CARDS<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAB19pdnR9hWIhnlrU8geCo4x7kiE3_k0aS0d88Xe_czwuHsSKmpnJrNo0pgOugyZ9XzXyM7iWDo3FhEczH_M7mTtFsV2hXyxKM8rgzTc2LkeQWOWGWxSI2VsqN6VcEQiWCod_4aEPQwlTtzLUvFlmWBvarflPHbIDHjbdVXpy4lZeYBqKORXqbObyRV0/s2400/STUDIO%20GLOSSIES%20A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1329" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAB19pdnR9hWIhnlrU8geCo4x7kiE3_k0aS0d88Xe_czwuHsSKmpnJrNo0pgOugyZ9XzXyM7iWDo3FhEczH_M7mTtFsV2hXyxKM8rgzTc2LkeQWOWGWxSI2VsqN6VcEQiWCod_4aEPQwlTtzLUvFlmWBvarflPHbIDHjbdVXpy4lZeYBqKORXqbObyRV0/w354-h640/STUDIO%20GLOSSIES%20A.jpg" width="354" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(ABOVE & BELOW) STUDIO GLOSSIES<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrovZqXkA16lbzEKvTwLDGLJFIc84GnUAmNPnZm9nKVsmoqRwfhboEzxg2DRG18YMFcjW7CSiN6kXoiu_zFL2PYui8pSzmM5EAosI-oFEy-bpCwgz-abtuBPetyHGTYoyyPlUTH8AcnzeJ9osg6ItFhf6jDYoe3Qqi7H9wgHb6BsPGxBS-E7ad3IOrJ_Y/s2400/STUDIO%20GLOSSIES%20B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="994" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrovZqXkA16lbzEKvTwLDGLJFIc84GnUAmNPnZm9nKVsmoqRwfhboEzxg2DRG18YMFcjW7CSiN6kXoiu_zFL2PYui8pSzmM5EAosI-oFEy-bpCwgz-abtuBPetyHGTYoyyPlUTH8AcnzeJ9osg6ItFhf6jDYoe3Qqi7H9wgHb6BsPGxBS-E7ad3IOrJ_Y/w265-h640/STUDIO%20GLOSSIES%20B.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2d0Basx2HmWiEeWuw1nA-vuuIn7x6ki6wPpCJxfTXk-hnmcD-pd9plLPtAHYuCFBan83AkCO4kSk21UPWQ6Wxfs6sf48c32ofj9TJ-ijjmd9REVlskWYdnDHQABkSyH5q0S3wU0IC2YKz6gEfUn6c6de-v-9nO9boFbxx8hJtGQF5WVN1BJmg7MLr0Qw/s1206/TRIVIAL%20PURSUITS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1206" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2d0Basx2HmWiEeWuw1nA-vuuIn7x6ki6wPpCJxfTXk-hnmcD-pd9plLPtAHYuCFBan83AkCO4kSk21UPWQ6Wxfs6sf48c32ofj9TJ-ijjmd9REVlskWYdnDHQABkSyH5q0S3wU0IC2YKz6gEfUn6c6de-v-9nO9boFbxx8hJtGQF5WVN1BJmg7MLr0Qw/w400-h399/TRIVIAL%20PURSUITS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Mime present in
Union Square is played by Robert Shields, who studied Mime in Paris
and was apparently performing in Union Square at the time of
production.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When Harry cues up
the tapes at his workshop, labels reveal the date of the recording to
be December the second, 1972.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">There’s
a Director’s Cameo; the broadcaster on TV in Harry’s room at the
Jack Tar is Francis Ford Coppola himself.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The boy in the
church scene is Gian-Carlo Coppola, the son of the Director.
Tragically, his life was cut short in a boat accident with Griffin
O’Neal, son of actor Ryan O’Neal in 1986. O’Neal was fined
$200. O’Neal later went on to be jailed for his involvement in a
car crash.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The continuity woman
on The Conversation apparently forgot to add the convention tag to
Gene Hackman’s suit for one scene after cleaning; this left her
distraught, but she said in an interview Francis Ford Coppola was
anxious to reassure her it was okay; hence the shot of Hackman
discarding the tag, added to cover her blushes, so to speak.
Annoyingly, VC cannot seem to find the interview for verification, so
asks readers to take it on trust…</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Mercedes limo
seen near the end of the film was won in a bet; Francis Ford Coppola
had complained to Paramount about having to car share during filming
of <i>The Godfather </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(1972) The
studio told him if the film did well, they would buy Coppola a car
for himself. It did and they did.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So where was the
bug? Harry tears what’s left of himself apart to find it…
Theories proposed include it being the telephone device Moran
demonstrates with his harmonica (in which case, surely Harry would
have found it when he took the phone apart) and in the one place
Harry <i>doesn’t</i> look... His Saxophone. Discuss this among
yourselves. We’ll be listening…</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqW5ZG_30FbxJxc6AZoOCi4qY511UnvRkZSuwOmr_9WA5u5t3a_7kFn5S5pM5OfghGOUFsu3lKIH8jWWyrs2ecbIIXb-5iF505ukdgbauMK6zGPh1uo-Jhuo4bJOkvZsmpGCEU4WwrBgGN2SzL0pgE51MXi0I91py28bIvt7weKHcflrqsqmzzJe1aJDA/s1210/GOOFS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1210" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqW5ZG_30FbxJxc6AZoOCi4qY511UnvRkZSuwOmr_9WA5u5t3a_7kFn5S5pM5OfghGOUFsu3lKIH8jWWyrs2ecbIIXb-5iF505ukdgbauMK6zGPh1uo-Jhuo4bJOkvZsmpGCEU4WwrBgGN2SzL0pgE51MXi0I91py28bIvt7weKHcflrqsqmzzJe1aJDA/w400-h399/GOOFS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When Harry arrives
at One Embarcadero with the package, the receptionist tells him to
make himself comfortable, then says something else, but – Irony! -
there’s no audio.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At the convention,
Harry admires himself on screen thanks to a Panasonic CCTV camera.
Although the camera is panning to and fro, it’s clearly not sending
any imagery as the socket at the back has no wire plugged in, nor is
the power light on.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The episode of <i>The
Flintstones</i> playing in Harry’s hotel room at the Jack Tar is
‘The Blessed Event’ (1963) – But the dialogue and scenes are
out of sequence, presumably for effect.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<br /><br /><br />Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-39255849514816570822019-06-06T19:51:00.000+00:002019-06-06T19:51:42.864+00:00Watch the Skies... Close Encounters of the Third Kind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgvFk-5jEO1iLrf9RkgIur3I5NtnUJgajGSSIEtSQxVEJSL5XtAE-9EGMO1NXDYUjbXnqMBVHQNC29ns_kvpgj9nHwrMGWrxPWbrIZs_wSsbue4BVn0pgOZuw1detvh3gKH-5GqlOrkQ/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h03m39s758.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgvFk-5jEO1iLrf9RkgIur3I5NtnUJgajGSSIEtSQxVEJSL5XtAE-9EGMO1NXDYUjbXnqMBVHQNC29ns_kvpgj9nHwrMGWrxPWbrIZs_wSsbue4BVn0pgOZuw1detvh3gKH-5GqlOrkQ/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h03m39s758.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">A
scrapyard in the Sonora Desert, Mexico. The present day. A Landrover
pulls up in a dust storm. A team climbs out, wrapped up and goggled
against the all-pervasive sand, to the team of Federales that is
waiting for them in the storm. After some language difficulties,
another team arrives, among them the interpreter, Laughlin. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDS3TmB5A6mfWEouRhzhyphenhyphen8Zp6DSS6Pwe3XZ-pOqrXWN-CPLM7-67yoGt8pTARFGa3RPr3ZXCFmGa6AYO0sOqpq3bRPholq9fJvGoUZkGdVLFaoSg4MRnSoApJlp-zehtYpDNvrQuUvjA/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h06m03s581.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDS3TmB5A6mfWEouRhzhyphenhyphen8Zp6DSS6Pwe3XZ-pOqrXWN-CPLM7-67yoGt8pTARFGa3RPr3ZXCFmGa6AYO0sOqpq3bRPholq9fJvGoUZkGdVLFaoSg4MRnSoApJlp-zehtYpDNvrQuUvjA/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h06m03s581.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">A
Cartographer by trade, Laughlin has been pressed into service as he
speaks French. Claude Lacombe, the leading French expert will need
his services. Lacombe himself greets his new colleague warmly, asking
him how long he’s been with the project. From the beginning.
Laughlin congratulates the Frenchman on his contributions, but their
reverie is interrupted by an excited announcement; they’re all
here!</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Incredibly,
fantastically, they are all here – all five of them. The Grumman
Avenger torpedo-bombers sit, pristine in a circle. Impossible. And
yet there they are, the astonished team clambering over the aircraft.
A check of the engine block numbers; they tally with the list. The
planes have fuel. The flaps work. Baffled, Laughlin asks an American
team member what’s going on. It’s Flight 19, the missing flight
from Fort Lauderdale. From 1945. But they look brand new! The leader
slides back the cockpit canopy on one of the planes, to reveal family
snapshots, charts, a 1945 calendar – all in new condition. Where’s
the pilot? How the hell did it get here? The Interpreter’s
questions fall on deaf ears as experienced hands work the controls,
power, starter to send the Wright R-2600 Twin Cyclone engine snarling
into life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There’s
a witness; an old local man, seemingly half-crazed who saw the
aircraft arrive the night before. Gently, the team questions the man,
who displays terrible sunburn over half of his face and head.
Smiling, the old man says the sun came out last night – and sang to
him.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Air
Traffic Control, Indianapolis Center. A flight calls in to ask if
there’s any other traffic in Air East 31. Checking the radar
screen, the controller says no, just a TWA L-1011 at 15 miles range
and a DC-9 at 50 miles. The controller switches to broad-band to make
sure as Air East reports traffic at 2 o’clock slightly above and
descending, which checks on the screen. He has no known high-altitude
traffic, but will check low. He asks a colleague to check low
altitude, but Air East 31 calls in again. The traffic isn’t lower –
he’s still above and descending. Can he say aircraft type? That’s
negative – there’s no distinct outline, but it’s rather
brilliant, the brightest anti-collision lights he’s ever seen,
alternating white to red. TWA 517 calls in – it can see the
aircraft too, as bright lights.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtlCuJb_hpvNOytigDuOesIJoP07J_BXLn4-4lNxN2lhkMBG_fdTL1jbSKB25eRVQqMWRk_abmjE8DBh8IW0jsz-Rez095biX2QjenZj89pYUNZSERw8Li3ROvLL2wUxn1a-XvQ-MvOA/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h18m13s220.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtlCuJb_hpvNOytigDuOesIJoP07J_BXLn4-4lNxN2lhkMBG_fdTL1jbSKB25eRVQqMWRk_abmjE8DBh8IW0jsz-Rez095biX2QjenZj89pYUNZSERw8Li3ROvLL2wUxn1a-XvQ-MvOA/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h18m13s220.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A
group of controllers is now crouched around the screen as the reports
come in. Air East 31 doesn’t think it’s a problem as the traffic
has descended 1,500 feet below… wait a second! The traffic has
turned, headed right for his windshield. The collision alert sounds
at Air Traffic Control. Air East 31 is making evasive manouver –
right turn and the controller quickly diverts the other flights to
avoid a catastrophe. A controller orders a subordinate to get on the
horn to the 45<sup>th</sup> Recon Wing, see what the hell they could
be testing up there. As he makes the call, Air East 31 calls back in
to report the traffic is luminous and exhibiting ‘non-ballistic
motion’. Seriously concerned, the controller gives the go ahead for
the pilot to continue descent at his discretion. The traffic is
approaching head on, ultra-bright and really moving – and right by
us! Now that was close!
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTWtIJ5SRpt0JDgUO6ZNIdw3ZvEMnNNgi7vVVbIzXwNK4MN3vCEx4Pvum_N4-kd6WpUTO9gIkOhQsDCrIcjvJ-Gyo78Ln2AaamsBPHwG5YPiNu4JrUJS0OKklhS1WJzpCMkbYZKRIUGM/s1600/2+DO+YOU+WANT+TO+REPORT.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTWtIJ5SRpt0JDgUO6ZNIdw3ZvEMnNNgi7vVVbIzXwNK4MN3vCEx4Pvum_N4-kd6WpUTO9gIkOhQsDCrIcjvJ-Gyo78Ln2AaamsBPHwG5YPiNu4JrUJS0OKklhS1WJzpCMkbYZKRIUGM/s320/2+DO+YOU+WANT+TO+REPORT.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
senior controller joins the group and asks if the pilots want to
report a UFO.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">TWA
517: ‘Negative. We don’t want to report.’
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Air
East 31: ‘Negative, we don’t want to report one of those either.’
Does he want to file any kind of report? He wouldn’t know what kind
of file to report…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Night
at the Guiler home, Muncie, Indiana. A quiet, starlit sky, the
crickets the only sound in the night. Little Barry stirs in his
sleep. Suddenly, his Charley Chimp begans bashing his cymbals, the
wind begins to blow and Barry’s record player starts all by itself.
<i>The Square Song</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXUsGQqizFo0WlGVco4UjTshUmDvQckxxcdMsM1za5roFSw3VdDKlw3o-0r5kOffnzi37Pv1GHY4Th3XFzHD9kRQMPUPxU9x78YUUqrP0w4KiSlxmhxHnW36_KJQRjLHXt8DJhevQD_A/s1600/4+CRAZY+TOYS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXUsGQqizFo0WlGVco4UjTshUmDvQckxxcdMsM1za5roFSw3VdDKlw3o-0r5kOffnzi37Pv1GHY4Th3XFzHD9kRQMPUPxU9x78YUUqrP0w4KiSlxmhxHnW36_KJQRjLHXt8DJhevQD_A/s320/4+CRAZY+TOYS.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the shelf, his Blushing Frankenstein drops
his trousers and lights up. This is new! As if on some unseen cue,
little Barry’s other toys all light up and start across the floor.
There’s a light shining, outside his bedroom and he tumbles out of
bed to investigate. The front door’s open, the screen door banging
aimlessly. The fridge is wide open too and all the food’s been
spilled out – and something’s just gone out the doggy-flap in the
kitchen door! Toddling over to see, he sees – <i>something</i>, his
face lighting up in delight.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Upstairs,
Barry’s toy cars chime and whirr their way into his Mother’s
room, her TV on now. Groggily, Jillian Guiler awakens, confused.
Finding her son’s room unoccupied, she hears him giggle and looks
out of her window to see him happily joggling into the garden. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcbfnbn5HNTTpXOGH_UDwOO_egySKBEY503CfntmaE5Y0ALUHKu9UiBqpze6mVJrUNXCqvP3rskvuiDBjmQmNlf135OC5LJ3YknQNAt0E_ylbVtpoq6Mix6eUQigHRpThybgR6Lc4GQw/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h31m14s371.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcbfnbn5HNTTpXOGH_UDwOO_egySKBEY503CfntmaE5Y0ALUHKu9UiBqpze6mVJrUNXCqvP3rskvuiDBjmQmNlf135OC5LJ3YknQNAt0E_ylbVtpoq6Mix6eUQigHRpThybgR6Lc4GQw/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h31m14s371.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">High
overhead, a pin-point light travels across the sky. A plane, perhaps.
Despite her call, he laughs and runs off into the night.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Indiana.
That night. In the den of his home, Lineman Roy Neary is working on
his model railroad, while his son Brad pleads with him to do his
homework for him instead. He doesn’t understand fractions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLs8ik29rsI-32n6AtHY7cIqWHA8bOc9Az7PvsaesKFwSKjnOI9OhBeAreu56mun7kXAtjOYzO7lrvwn_PkBVk9UPwk0ocPBtbo6w_hrkw7oq4ZHLahnlCQryTM7ZrWJI5PMcwE0Rsx4/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h32m53s809.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLs8ik29rsI-32n6AtHY7cIqWHA8bOc9Az7PvsaesKFwSKjnOI9OhBeAreu56mun7kXAtjOYzO7lrvwn_PkBVk9UPwk0ocPBtbo6w_hrkw7oq4ZHLahnlCQryTM7ZrWJI5PMcwE0Rsx4/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h32m53s809.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All
right; what’s one third of sixty? Not a clue; so Roy places a
boxcar across the tracks – say it’s sixty feet long and he’s
put it one-third of the way across the tracks. And now, he sets
another train in motion. Now, how far does he have to move the boxcar
to avoid a miniature disaster? We may never know, as the train
smashes into the car.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVxLANg4C3UVDbg4mBCGRRFoAxw6Ghyphenhyphen9BflAQ2VQOXkCm0kYYdT3ux-xeNvvA2HBn62AseoGGlmynLfBd6ZDy4sPeMckxyNxL7WiTCS_DBzphBGYZ8ukwdgDmcUfFSR_bCWwKxn5wBcN4/s1600/5+TRAIN+WRECK.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVxLANg4C3UVDbg4mBCGRRFoAxw6Ghyphenhyphen9BflAQ2VQOXkCm0kYYdT3ux-xeNvvA2HBn62AseoGGlmynLfBd6ZDy4sPeMckxyNxL7WiTCS_DBzphBGYZ8ukwdgDmcUfFSR_bCWwKxn5wBcN4/s320/5+TRAIN+WRECK.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Ronnie,
Roy’s Wife reminds him of his promise; a movie this weekend.
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">‘And
you also promised Goofy Golf’ chips in Brad. While little Toby
loudly smashes up a doll, Ronnie complains about Roy’s stuff on her
breakfast table, but he’s spotted something; <i>Pinocchio</i> is
playing! Brad doesn’t want to see some dumb cartoon for kids. Roy
asks how old he is; eight. Does he want to make nine? Then he’s
seeing Pinocchio. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mOaqSaY25tUMSqZZTq8JV0R-2-R4OQfxvV33m0lTN0iiWJP3UOZTt9lGD-I3PEVPUe_5x-ReiHx1koT_kD-XwboMS3E3XQZPJ-mgDmx28E_li3RpGCsh4UZC-lE9fm4rP7xkL1VWahI/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h37m09s656.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mOaqSaY25tUMSqZZTq8JV0R-2-R4OQfxvV33m0lTN0iiWJP3UOZTt9lGD-I3PEVPUe_5x-ReiHx1koT_kD-XwboMS3E3XQZPJ-mgDmx28E_li3RpGCsh4UZC-lE9fm4rP7xkL1VWahI/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-17h37m09s656.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Ronnie’s not impressed. After yelling at Toby to
cut it out with the noise, Roy tries democracy. Do they want Goofy
Golf with all the waiting and pushing and shoving or Pinocchio, which
is lots of furry animals, magic and a wonderful time? You guessed it.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
phone – and it’s Earl for Roy. They’ve got outages all over and
he needs Earl in the field. Ronnie reminds Earl he can’t drive
alone at night, but he’s needed in Tolono. They’re losing power
across the grid - has the power gone there yet? Right on cue –
lights out at the Neary home. All across town, the lights flicker
out.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR82fijHjR03wxsYBr2wBMSafGGaHwNS3E7haAhAjNlRrtBbjBkz675hW9Sz3EHLVBJLYIsrRoS5LtXUYkcNjq2d5GxLHlM7RHmRmmBzJyiB1MjZ-nMi9RHK47e23U4Em5iu0QcXu-8Mk/s1600/6+LIGHTS+OUT.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR82fijHjR03wxsYBr2wBMSafGGaHwNS3E7haAhAjNlRrtBbjBkz675hW9Sz3EHLVBJLYIsrRoS5LtXUYkcNjq2d5GxLHlM7RHmRmmBzJyiB1MjZ-nMi9RHK47e23U4Em5iu0QcXu-8Mk/s320/6+LIGHTS+OUT.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back
in Muncie, Jillian Guiler searches the woods for her boy by
torchlight. She’s desperate now, but carries on through the trees.
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sure
enough, Roy Neary is lost, stopping his repair truck to consult a
map. A car pulls up behind and he waves it past, only to get both
barrels about being in the middle of the road. He carries on,
hopelessly lost, the amber light on his cab strobing through the
darkness. Coming to a railway switch, he pulls up to check how lost
he is now. Another set of lights behind and he absent-mindedly waves
them off, lost in his map. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NdDN_4t0CDmregkB_G2TWPF8v9SOXxc_tnPII-xd_5tWFNwHjx5shSpeseVtmkNYSYB9erZOPBuUsYS3Bs3jRTLdK7Z0_IXnSM4t4amsVcN23q7WjpZc-squy71aHFJXvvzYstuTf-4/s1600/7+LIGHTS+UP+HUGE+FILE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NdDN_4t0CDmregkB_G2TWPF8v9SOXxc_tnPII-xd_5tWFNwHjx5shSpeseVtmkNYSYB9erZOPBuUsYS3Bs3jRTLdK7Z0_IXnSM4t4amsVcN23q7WjpZc-squy71aHFJXvvzYstuTf-4/s320/7+LIGHTS+UP+HUGE+FILE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The lights move – but UPWARDS, gliding
silently into the night air. All of a sudden, Roy’s attention is
caught by a line of mailboxes as they begin shaking violently, back
and forth. That’s weird enough, but then his torch, radio and truck
cut out just before an intense light shines down from above,
accompanied by an eerie thrumming.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGA4kpLmn-aPr6mW_rgLvXEbKSDa_KtvjuuTXsm4cIJw-MvBmg3hjZfN7lAYryrGPbgYmyGDTqXhzHkQIbATncsaYIj-aXPyLAkstM9XOhY_mjkrWkvgp3YKQz3PtT6HlBaOuy31et55Q/s1600/ZD4IARQJOFGT5I3KHTQGXRGSOU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="970" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGA4kpLmn-aPr6mW_rgLvXEbKSDa_KtvjuuTXsm4cIJw-MvBmg3hjZfN7lAYryrGPbgYmyGDTqXhzHkQIbATncsaYIj-aXPyLAkstM9XOhY_mjkrWkvgp3YKQz3PtT6HlBaOuy31et55Q/s320/ZD4IARQJOFGT5I3KHTQGXRGSOU.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Risking
a look out of the window, Roy sees an unearthly vehicle, a UFO
gliding overhead, pulses of light searing him painfully. Next thing,
the railway signal begins to wigwag and everything in his truck is
sent flying around, the gauges going crazy and Roy himself lifting
from his seat as if gravity itself had gone haywire. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncY1sM-dHg2Y8AjI-eEGEWUV9bv1CUA4LAaMPPm8xnhNjzpzcCfvqPMXBEK38YuKvFTM3mgZ99SgIy2yvt1oyrhfDyErmVDAL_LtArQZRBO81XKVhQ_4pzHju5MXTSSMe_a4q_HBnY-I/s1600/9+CHAOS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncY1sM-dHg2Y8AjI-eEGEWUV9bv1CUA4LAaMPPm8xnhNjzpzcCfvqPMXBEK38YuKvFTM3mgZ99SgIy2yvt1oyrhfDyErmVDAL_LtArQZRBO81XKVhQ_4pzHju5MXTSSMe_a4q_HBnY-I/s320/9+CHAOS.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then, as
suddenly as it began, it’s over, the light winking out and the
humming noise recedes. Sitting in silence, Roy takes a moment to
gather himself before looking up to see a large craft drifting
silently across the starry-black sky, a single further flash of light
on the road ahead and then nothing. He gets another shock when his
torch comes back on… and yet another when his truck fires back into
life, the radio alive with reports of unexplained aerial sightings
near the Telemark Expressway, out towards Harper Valley. Fired up,
Roy takes off in pursuit of the unknown, but doesn’t see the huge
strangely shaped shadow which flits across the fields. Taking the
off-ramp to Harper Valley East too fast, Roy scrapes along the armco,
chasing shadows.</span><br />
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Little
Barry Guiler, meanwhile, has made it to a raised bend in the road,
where he finds others, waiting. A man sits whistling, his smiling
family in the back of their truck. Waiting. Jillian Guiler climbs up
onto the road just in time to see Roy’s truck coming over the brow
straight towards her son. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa2mFCV0NrOz26mp4p4Py6MBgTJ0rJlNsCs7rt0fPCi4cpASlt-ZyAK08WRJyf0eWWR3cQmdayJfFNiwKiXSEwnozO6c1CHBfvi7AHBTNNHb-BFuepFsvyWzojpSJMNaMsT25zrmL2BY/s1600/MV5BMzM2NDcxNjkxNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNTQ0MjA3MjI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1503%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1503" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa2mFCV0NrOz26mp4p4Py6MBgTJ0rJlNsCs7rt0fPCi4cpASlt-ZyAK08WRJyf0eWWR3cQmdayJfFNiwKiXSEwnozO6c1CHBfvi7AHBTNNHb-BFuepFsvyWzojpSJMNaMsT25zrmL2BY/s320/MV5BMzM2NDcxNjkxNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNTQ0MjA3MjI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1503%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Dashing forward, she scoops her boy up and
dives off the road, the truck crashing into a mailbox. Horrified, Roy
goes over to apologise, but Barry is off again, toddling off back
along the road calling ‘Hello.’ What’s </span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">with</i><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> this kid?
Suddenly, a humming sound and the wait is over, a trio of dazzling
UFO’s no bigger than sedans swooping low over the odd assemblage,
brightly coloured lights shining like neon as they tumble through the
air. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjDraWblSw733twGWMEaDJ1soTF386RxHh7kqSWSkw-r9oRLvk53kSbowW1-A-p-d91okK3toUoIVxA9aysLQXficyEQmorPLaBVX-4HC61d0BjHw7IGm9ugL6IRLRc5L5lU3Gzmjq_0/s1600/11+BUZZED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjDraWblSw733twGWMEaDJ1soTF386RxHh7kqSWSkw-r9oRLvk53kSbowW1-A-p-d91okK3toUoIVxA9aysLQXficyEQmorPLaBVX-4HC61d0BjHw7IGm9ugL6IRLRc5L5lU3Gzmjq_0/s320/11+BUZZED.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Roy is astonished, Barry wants Ice Cream and a smaller UFO, this
no more than a red ball of light hurries along in the wake of it’s
larger travelling companions. Jillian and Roy clear the road to make
way for the three cop cars that come screeching around the hill in
hot pursuit. Neary speaks for everyone; <i>‘This is nuts.’ </i><span style="font-style: normal;">And
he takes off after the strange craft.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fNDCPC3GkP81j6OeKEsrddu5_i2_rGCJl6PjEP1Eh-M4sxCq6P-JXmjzlzZZfFABOZk_yHDOl7E4698eR8r0-ExJxpnSGPLfc8c3zIfRu7ZeY8wez24UwQbRjg0U5c1F41PpWGQ8JRE/s1600/12+TOLL+BOOTH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fNDCPC3GkP81j6OeKEsrddu5_i2_rGCJl6PjEP1Eh-M4sxCq6P-JXmjzlzZZfFABOZk_yHDOl7E4698eR8r0-ExJxpnSGPLfc8c3zIfRu7ZeY8wez24UwQbRjg0U5c1F41PpWGQ8JRE/s320/12+TOLL+BOOTH.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
toll booths at the Ohio State line, the attendant dozes as the
automatic barriers begin to raise. Out of nowhere, the odd little
procession of lights flies through, ‘little red’ cheekily
dividing itself to set all the lights to ‘stop’ as it passes
through. The cop cars come racing through, with Roy’s truck. Awake
now, the frustrated attendant tries to tell the receding Roy ‘That’s
Ohio! that’s a quarter!’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
UFO’s fly along to a bend and straight off it, followed by the
leading cop car who ends up flying into a field. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOSPVtDkzzqnsOp1PWej_anlCHyWWRrDMaaMMcJ8eg2W9Xvf4VB2jwgOIwidnuGHKzWYgEBlE-wt8kaiEsu4eIBIX5hqVa06rkfl8QQVqV8DilFyjxle87JaWQDO_F-17xLOpiYxAxRk/s1600/13+CRASH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOSPVtDkzzqnsOp1PWej_anlCHyWWRrDMaaMMcJ8eg2W9Xvf4VB2jwgOIwidnuGHKzWYgEBlE-wt8kaiEsu4eIBIX5hqVa06rkfl8QQVqV8DilFyjxle87JaWQDO_F-17xLOpiYxAxRk/s320/13+CRASH.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Skidding to a halt,
the rest of the pack </span><span style="font-style: normal;">disembarks
to watch, helpless as the uncanny lights split up and soar into the
gathering clouds with a final flickering as of lightning, the lights
abruptly coming on in the valley below. Still, they got a suntan out
of it…</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-3nVaIf87HIUX16PO7xFKhxoKg3uqW1WkM6IifgaVr7CI69JJIisqTugCKL5cFAOETGmtuQsm-JoacMlamCJgu9qMthpWM6CbM9keidAP8pGOKpMveslKrO54gRVqIRQgs_z7bQkehQ/s1600/14+LIGHTS+ON+HUGE+FILE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-3nVaIf87HIUX16PO7xFKhxoKg3uqW1WkM6IifgaVr7CI69JJIisqTugCKL5cFAOETGmtuQsm-JoacMlamCJgu9qMthpWM6CbM9keidAP8pGOKpMveslKrO54gRVqIRQgs_z7bQkehQ/s320/14+LIGHTS+ON+HUGE+FILE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">F</span><span style="font-style: normal;">rantic
with excitement, Roy Neary bursts into his bedroom and wakes Ronnie,
insisting she gets dressed. His work called, they couldn’t reach
him. He turned the radio off, he tells her, handing her some clothes.
It’s four o’clock in the morning – what about the kids? He’ll
get the kids. He wakes little Sylvia, Toby and Brad and hustles them
all into the truck, watched by nosey old Mrs. Harris next door.
Ronnie notices Roy’s sunburn, but gets no answer when she asks what
caused it. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Roy
takes the family out to where he saw the troupe of UFO’s, but
there’s nothing, just a distant storm. He tries to describe what he
saw, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">but ‘ice cream cone’
is all he can manage. Sadly, Ronnie comes to him; doesn’t he think
she’s taking this really well? She remembers when they came to
places like this to look at each other. To snuggle. Roy is still
watching the skies, hoping for a sign, more lights, anything – but
Ronnie is determined and husband and wife kiss. And snuggle. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Day.
The Gobi Desert, Mongolia and a </span><span style="font-style: normal;">trio
of camel riders come across yet another incredible sight, this one of
human origin; a small fleet of three UN </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Wagoneers</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
and helicopter escort racing over the dunes. Excitable locals wave
them onwards to their goal, a team of photographers in awe at what
they have been summoned there to film. For there, in this remote
desert, far from the nearest water, is a ship, the </span><i>Cotopaxi.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Laughlin arrives, asking why it’s here, but the team member with
him just can’t believe it. It’s the Cotopaxi! </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">T</span><span style="font-style: normal;">he
headline reads ‘UFO’s Over Five Counties’. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Anxiously,
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Ronnie Neary carefully cuts
the article out. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">And screws
it up. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLC9oCDaXFujX9nsEVDfL7JIyomVHjsZv_ZXXfcXSQG7s5E0iNi6ZRsLEkVVPC53wYgAInzDWCXfy6N7HOBAgAPcE2Ybo-X8PgMOcEt-2VodgvRl4S2_OOaCD-YcpVIPDUkmQafRh2c-g/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-05-23-23h33m20s659.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="1600" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLC9oCDaXFujX9nsEVDfL7JIyomVHjsZv_ZXXfcXSQG7s5E0iNi6ZRsLEkVVPC53wYgAInzDWCXfy6N7HOBAgAPcE2Ybo-X8PgMOcEt-2VodgvRl4S2_OOaCD-YcpVIPDUkmQafRh2c-g/s320/vlcsnap-2019-05-23-23h33m20s659.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Armed with a ping pong bat and a camera, Brad and his pals
sneak in on Roy as he brushes his teeth. Whack! The bat hits the
target and with a face-full of foaming toothpaste, Roy chases them
out King Kong style. Ronnie chides the boys for stealing her camera.
One of the kids comments Roy’s suntan makes him look like a 50-50
bar, but Roy is pre-occupied with his shaving foam. The pile of foam
in hand almost looks… he starts to shape it, intently. Ronnie’s
found some overnight tan, but Roy isn’t interested, asking what the
foam reminds her of. Fine; she’ll tell everyone he fell asleep
under the tanning lamp.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Brad
wants to know; are ‘they’ for real? And Ronnie tells him no, to
Roy’s bemusement. She doesn’t want to know about any of it. They
argue; the kids believe, Ronnie insists they don’t and Roy just
wants to know what’s going on. He follows her into the boy’s
bedroom. She doesn’t want to listen, but he saw something last
night that he can’t explain. So did she. He’s going out there
again tonight. No he’s not. Yes, he is. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Neary boys squabble, but the sound of their Mother’s anguish gets
their attention. She’s on the phone. Roy got fired.* Dumfounded,
Roy listens to her as she tells him they didn’t even want to talk
to him.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*No
Union hearing? Never mind. Only a movie, right?</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Dharamshala,
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">I</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ndia.
Claude Lacombe, Laughlin and a team arrive to find a village in
turmoil, people running everywhere and a concerted chanting rising
from the crowd sitting cross-legged before a Sadhu. They sing a
five-toned chant, over and over joyfully. A crowd of villagers surges
forward amongst the seated singers, the team among them. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Lacombe
finds a village elder and asks him ‘From what direction did your
people hear these sounds?.’ The question is put to the Sadhu, who
strides to the top of a mound from where the elder calls the question
down to the assemblage. As one, a multitude of fingers points
skywards. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Hg1BroJo-w3iXoqgsq-S3IpAVg_K__LvTeUcun-0GBvBJEz3rQovV9KmQvvCdxYpaL6QS_ORyxCL-cJjrfbtqVCtpRig8qfmwqe6XhIizeXgH7iVNPTb3KFgWp5u_SU6FP8QhLi76fg/s1600/MV5BMTg4NzA4NzQyMl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMzQ3ODMzMzI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1480%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1480" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Hg1BroJo-w3iXoqgsq-S3IpAVg_K__LvTeUcun-0GBvBJEz3rQovV9KmQvvCdxYpaL6QS_ORyxCL-cJjrfbtqVCtpRig8qfmwqe6XhIizeXgH7iVNPTb3KFgWp5u_SU6FP8QhLi76fg/s320/MV5BMTg4NzA4NzQyMl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMzQ3ODMzMzI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1480%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmjS3V_etc163w4o4PCehLnsxVWnogJwRYoVGZ9WnOUrccLL3Z93E9Kwg8u3msreZwnpZGMSkowgZaCFOIqmEC54E6_eTmYKKFavsWKAc1UI5kDRSdVIhDD-zz2mgUgP64qD7YXLv1f0/s1600/16+UP.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmjS3V_etc163w4o4PCehLnsxVWnogJwRYoVGZ9WnOUrccLL3Z93E9Kwg8u3msreZwnpZGMSkowgZaCFOIqmEC54E6_eTmYKKFavsWKAc1UI5kDRSdVIhDD-zz2mgUgP64qD7YXLv1f0/s320/16+UP.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At
a specially-convened conference, the assembled experts rise for a
standing ovation as the American team leader plays the tape of the
Dharamshala chanting and Lacombe takes the stage. He apologizes for
his poor English with a joke and informs them of a significant
breakthrough. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAErCpv5quPBP-RPFN3KUn6J8G4oArJ1AZwMbDPwPixzuqcTtsMNUj4Rm6Y6-OocDO4bPJfXnNLdqM2NUTwt4dam5jVfBGMDlZDufD3KKCm53TS_WSF1YZoXPF2x4eXoUNxx_6x-um7c/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h51m49s100.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAErCpv5quPBP-RPFN3KUn6J8G4oArJ1AZwMbDPwPixzuqcTtsMNUj4Rm6Y6-OocDO4bPJfXnNLdqM2NUTwt4dam5jVfBGMDlZDufD3KKCm53TS_WSF1YZoXPF2x4eXoUNxx_6x-um7c/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h51m49s100.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Using </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Zoltán
Kodály’s method, which assigns hand gestures to musical tones to
teach deaf children about music, he </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">demonstrates
the hand signals for each of the five tones</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">as
the attendees are given </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Kodály
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">folders
with the word ‘Mayflower’ emblazed on a triangular design. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUtYnRr0TVi7qEOKVvz0kVKstmAceFz0RxpdmY30uiiz3owwijUmxDZLJvLvtQiFRSAszbOoal_q44fj8CzUH23NZC8Itx7yQp9xDM0lheUYOUrJPazUhEKrwDzJ7-PZFV5rgj8qIquw/s1600/17+TAPED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUtYnRr0TVi7qEOKVvz0kVKstmAceFz0RxpdmY30uiiz3owwijUmxDZLJvLvtQiFRSAszbOoal_q44fj8CzUH23NZC8Itx7yQp9xDM0lheUYOUrJPazUhEKrwDzJ7-PZFV5rgj8qIquw/s320/17+TAPED.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">First,
one at a time and then for the whole sequence, Lacombe makes the
appropriate signs for the tones, followed by a synthesized version.
But what do these tones mean?</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCL54_Jzht83Y_lc8ShpNMt_8SEoz3LflXc6lUI6MXNSrQSB7FUM88S7eHoXYLARI_9qfVFkav5_kTfQ0RnZJf3A9_Kh1vkRkY8No751dWzVvUQtfuiypbaU5cVGC4TmvtFI6Dkwftdec/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h52m14s968.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCL54_Jzht83Y_lc8ShpNMt_8SEoz3LflXc6lUI6MXNSrQSB7FUM88S7eHoXYLARI_9qfVFkav5_kTfQ0RnZJf3A9_Kh1vkRkY8No751dWzVvUQtfuiypbaU5cVGC4TmvtFI6Dkwftdec/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h52m14s968.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Night.
Roy fumbles and batters the film into his instamatic, in preparation
as, along with a large group of people, he waits on the hill. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
old folks play cards, the younger ones hang out. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Badly
sunburned, Jillian Guiler arrives to join him. They introduce each
other properly and he apologises for nearly running little Barry
down. They compare ‘sunburns’ and she goes back to check on her
boy, who is busy making a mud-castle. When Roy sees it, he freezes in
recognition. It’s weird, he tells Jillian, but every since
yesterday, on the road, he’s been seeing the same shape. Laying
down to join them, she sees it too, </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">drawing
a finger through the mud, sculpting, shaping. Somehow, Roy knows what
this is, but can’t get a handle on it. It means something. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwLs8_uargtbnjrWvH_ej9qr-uKCnfY1MtZfwaraune1tuA7zT3CbqFvlD3WkRX51iaA0QtN89dGzAdGSVg8s-BFF0eYFchudQ6akM9QWdbhxAARJcAiGyWcJHV7M1WE4ntAko-auEzI/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h56m06s079.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwLs8_uargtbnjrWvH_ej9qr-uKCnfY1MtZfwaraune1tuA7zT3CbqFvlD3WkRX51iaA0QtN89dGzAdGSVg8s-BFF0eYFchudQ6akM9QWdbhxAARJcAiGyWcJHV7M1WE4ntAko-auEzI/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-21h56m06s079.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">A
shout goes up; here they come! Two lights, out of the Northwest.
Awe-struck, the sky-watchers stand as the lights approach. The
whistling man from the other night holds up a home-made placard; Stop
and be friendly. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcDZ9l0k6OVLCnTxGu7XN_blyTksu7VvajNWfhbV-HIQ0Ev-eqe6OvPRwD9KamXPU_msuRhgzrGPIq9c6NmfTG4mn4Rx7YD0coxMH4xs1TKyTvz5s29bumH0ccmHE47_GmeMO9uUUB2w/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h01m07s383.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcDZ9l0k6OVLCnTxGu7XN_blyTksu7VvajNWfhbV-HIQ0Ev-eqe6OvPRwD9KamXPU_msuRhgzrGPIq9c6NmfTG4mn4Rx7YD0coxMH4xs1TKyTvz5s29bumH0ccmHE47_GmeMO9uUUB2w/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h01m07s383.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">With a blast from the rotors, the two helicopters
send dust, playing cards and everything that’s not bolted down
flying in all directions. Roy stands against the storm, watching as
the Hueys hover, spotlights trained.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpq8vnn5injdoHIpm557iPAAMSejliqFt1rqWk_RYnFSj1esJL0rpmlyCj1GVcrSsRhQ_kq7Nwgs0Vl0Th_JrZAVXRVV7Cehx4vixLIImM13MSFhhOssVphfEPs_oEGQCGMdYCCTYoTV0/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h02m56s142.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpq8vnn5injdoHIpm557iPAAMSejliqFt1rqWk_RYnFSj1esJL0rpmlyCj1GVcrSsRhQ_kq7Nwgs0Vl0Th_JrZAVXRVV7Cehx4vixLIImM13MSFhhOssVphfEPs_oEGQCGMdYCCTYoTV0/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h02m56s142.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Echo Deep Space Station, Goldstone, California. The gigantic radio
telescope dish is receivin</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">g</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
a pattern of </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">numbers</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">An
elder </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">team
leader listens as the station director explains they received two
fifteen-minute signals, </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">a
hundred and four rapid pulses, then a five second interval after
which forty pulses. Next came a five second interval and thirty.
After sixty seconds of silence; a new set of numbers. He leads the
way into a secure area and a high-tech mobile perspex command center.
Where are these signals coming from? Right in the neighborhood; seven
seconds’ light-travel time distant. They join Lacombe and Laughlin
at a teleprinter as the director informs that they’ve been sending
out the now-familiar five-tone pattern for weeks now, receiving these
numbers by way of reply. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Disappointed,
the team leader postulates this could mean the ‘India sounds’ met
a dead end; there’s so much they don’t know. But Laughlin isn’t
just an Interpreter – he’s a Cartographer… and he’s holding
the printout with interest. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKTHA57C1tiIQu_ym5zJ0wyGEucyKsj7vYcR19XO-CUYYg0N2GlAJ7kera7Yg4jq0mVS8rwMnJ2NlIEgtH_71M8WgQNssptaaDgwgvfPe3MRI-jAeTcH6T4-iVH3rO-1qg4h0JRrR6N0/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h07m41s503.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKTHA57C1tiIQu_ym5zJ0wyGEucyKsj7vYcR19XO-CUYYg0N2GlAJ7kera7Yg4jq0mVS8rwMnJ2NlIEgtH_71M8WgQNssptaaDgwgvfPe3MRI-jAeTcH6T4-iVH3rO-1qg4h0JRrR6N0/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h07m41s503.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;">‘<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Excuse
me.’ Laughlin has to repeat himself. Before he got paid to speak
French, he used to read maps. This first number is a longitude. These
are Earth co-ordinates. The director remembers there’s a globe in
the County Supervisor’s office and they kick the door in </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">to
unceremoniously roll the oversized globe down the hall, ignoring a
colleague’s protests that it’s a $2,500 globe. They hump the
thing along to the command center and while they argue and chatter
like excited kids, Laughlin traces his way to a location in Wyoming. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQm6v52JEQ86hBVhPSJzIL0V5vyRexxDXJ5NYf7EfGaoHyam2SbFCKbB2yZnVk4uoYEwmkjZjPPizcQHMLg0tj6VrxC04Z7HIry2CheJZvjL6Sb6vjgbYADfbw2YeJJa_7-JmM7TRtfA/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h09m11s225.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQm6v52JEQ86hBVhPSJzIL0V5vyRexxDXJ5NYf7EfGaoHyam2SbFCKbB2yZnVk4uoYEwmkjZjPPizcQHMLg0tj6VrxC04Z7HIry2CheJZvjL6Sb6vjgbYADfbw2YeJJa_7-JmM7TRtfA/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h09m11s225.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The team leader orders a geodetic survey map of Wyoming; he wants
this nailed to the square yard. The hubbub rises again, while,
unnoticed, Lacombe has some important information to impart; a
headset clamped to one ear. Ignored, he sets a tape recorder in
motion and sits at the synthesizer keyboard to play the five-tones. </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBm7l8ZvS5ulOQ2lMiwouFY0DVwxUybB3Mp0hEw1q9OVgwGaw8Zo5wuqvA09O1yPI3VYpzCnTTfPm1AkXRl1ZqsMhOxnJQqJmCnr2HzDiIJHYLKMcWvgOes0YvYfWDgIvAnnYa-7HxIk/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h10m13s977.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBm7l8ZvS5ulOQ2lMiwouFY0DVwxUybB3Mp0hEw1q9OVgwGaw8Zo5wuqvA09O1yPI3VYpzCnTTfPm1AkXRl1ZqsMhOxnJQqJmCnr2HzDiIJHYLKMcWvgOes0YvYfWDgIvAnnYa-7HxIk/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h10m13s977.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
quintet of tones is a hit; even little Barry’s playing </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">it
on his glockenspiel. Xylophone. Whatever. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">His
Mother is obsessively sketching a rock tower, but none of the images
seems right, none seem to match the image she sees in her head. She
collects them to take out for the trash as a distant rumble of
thunder brings Barry to the window, expectant. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vqE4B9KuRa3wU850RkrcNpOLkmTobrRJfAL2kMO1NhZfcsyr6NQHbb1G1UvPACPQgucKAzQTptjDfbg5nPuVijFYjc1JwLIQ2P8RHpeI-y8jhyphenhyphentZf3LPFUlDnTPA-DjXe4zJZ-NhQ0s/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h13m25s081.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vqE4B9KuRa3wU850RkrcNpOLkmTobrRJfAL2kMO1NhZfcsyr6NQHbb1G1UvPACPQgucKAzQTptjDfbg5nPuVijFYjc1JwLIQ2P8RHpeI-y8jhyphenhyphentZf3LPFUlDnTPA-DjXe4zJZ-NhQ0s/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h13m25s081.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt00JDoPWeaIjAo-mzh7f_daVE9clE4mb-iBpSuf2PsSvaZCP0RSsG0lc6GhlCyYcYA64JA_VB077rTemfygYukaOynBd4rQh10sVJsPXSeprquYLKGn4bf5zB9LTv058pXem17rClIYw/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h13m43s841.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt00JDoPWeaIjAo-mzh7f_daVE9clE4mb-iBpSuf2PsSvaZCP0RSsG0lc6GhlCyYcYA64JA_VB077rTemfygYukaOynBd4rQh10sVJsPXSeprquYLKGn4bf5zB9LTv058pXem17rClIYw/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h13m43s841.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">His cry of delight
alerts her and the neighborhood dogs all join in the chorus. A bloom
of light illuminates the roiling clouds and, delighted Barry calls
out ‘Toys.’ As a terrified Jillian edges back towards her home,
several brilliant spheres of radiance emerge from the clouds and
glide towards it. Taking her son by the arm, she barricades the door,
shuts and fastens the windows.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5K0til3tFYUqOrZA8jHajab5lR3WIkfbYms1Agg9kQlKRro7qudtLtra6OkO1gYtTeg5w8p5l7MZ485PHxCHjJqmNAlQ11o8PeiKdwAX4kkzBLG2U_Kur04c_fw7-KXV6p7Tflb6gdE/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h15m20s685.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5K0til3tFYUqOrZA8jHajab5lR3WIkfbYms1Agg9kQlKRro7qudtLtra6OkO1gYtTeg5w8p5l7MZ485PHxCHjJqmNAlQ11o8PeiKdwAX4kkzBLG2U_Kur04c_fw7-KXV6p7Tflb6gdE/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h15m20s685.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbd_sbtSm8bCxrZv5XePmrCJgNrQj3Y6Z5DYFAVDpqo3AR5YHQw8ST3qCNvL2BfBx7SZfzksR63yWIFAOBJ3vjLm1HGWY5BnpYyYwxq6-3nqRGPve3YHHU32Wo6aWGDFds-lV3AE_ZGdo/s1600/MV5BMTc4OTgxNDYwM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNTQ3ODMzMzI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1447%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1447" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbd_sbtSm8bCxrZv5XePmrCJgNrQj3Y6Z5DYFAVDpqo3AR5YHQw8ST3qCNvL2BfBx7SZfzksR63yWIFAOBJ3vjLm1HGWY5BnpYyYwxq6-3nqRGPve3YHHU32Wo6aWGDFds-lV3AE_ZGdo/s320/MV5BMTc4OTgxNDYwM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNTQ3ODMzMzI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1447%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
his mother dashes about securing the house, Barry watches as an
intense reddish-orange light shines through the keyhole. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrV27-n_tj9RXt2TNEgM4tYoSbbzmvLED05fNUmWMX8yfv_L-3eWwdQZGwGYPeMDbxEwwNPPoUiBw18t1uZbXZ_jZYiX58H1ayCz6UrNgBfZUgIWrhSwhmc-eBpUmvqrVHUAiW6HOvk0/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h16m41s533.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrV27-n_tj9RXt2TNEgM4tYoSbbzmvLED05fNUmWMX8yfv_L-3eWwdQZGwGYPeMDbxEwwNPPoUiBw18t1uZbXZ_jZYiX58H1ayCz6UrNgBfZUgIWrhSwhmc-eBpUmvqrVHUAiW6HOvk0/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h16m41s533.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">To her
horror, he opens the door to the radiance and, moving him aside she
shuts and bolts it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm60Av7854p9x5TTcAitHBAn221oFDDLdkwnWMowzLTXhK4yyYLKfhliDD8JkbHUm7SEOhcKPkSSuQ_MkAvdlzLEv1SL4uxxCLOTl85k3ft0HVijsya350-Ie9XvPgHBbUnCK4NmcZwh0/s1600/msdclen_ec023_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm60Av7854p9x5TTcAitHBAn221oFDDLdkwnWMowzLTXhK4yyYLKfhliDD8JkbHUm7SEOhcKPkSSuQ_MkAvdlzLEv1SL4uxxCLOTl85k3ft0HVijsya350-Ie9XvPgHBbUnCK4NmcZwh0/s320/msdclen_ec023_h.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Noises
upstairs now, scraping and knocking. Dust falls down from the chimney
into the fireplace. While his Mother is frightened, Barry is happy,
calling out; ‘You can come and play now.’A stark white light is
thrown down the chimney – plucking up the courage, Jillian grabs
the </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">damper
and pulls it firmly shut, before the light can descend. A blind rolls
up and the boy thinks the Sun’s here. A burst of lights from
outside a window sets her record player into life. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Chances
Are</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
Johnny Mathis.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
carpet flips back, something’s in the floor vents now. Snatching
Barry up into her arms, Jillian stops, turns. The screws in the vent
are unscrewing, as if by an unseen force. She screams for them to go
away, but the vent merely flips open with a burst of smoke. Dragging
furniture over it is only going to delay the inevitable; her Hoover
lights up and runs across the room, the TV’s on and her frantic
attempt to call for help just gets those five-tones down the phone.
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">If
that weren’t enough, her kitchen appliances choose the moment to
join the party, jigging and dancing in an insane display. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3tWP1hXDIXrGOkIuN5MWlE_hs6A7LUqCDuZhhS8-WvKZ5hHd6F-W61pBak1jTFFVwNofIb7tMiSAckVFEyqP6oe7I8UG8S1l7VZQaqzDd67l2e1hWchfi02X-p9QxJDVtwttmqrhIvM/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h22m32s889.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3tWP1hXDIXrGOkIuN5MWlE_hs6A7LUqCDuZhhS8-WvKZ5hHd6F-W61pBak1jTFFVwNofIb7tMiSAckVFEyqP6oe7I8UG8S1l7VZQaqzDd67l2e1hWchfi02X-p9QxJDVtwttmqrhIvM/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h22m32s889.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Something
bigger now, descending menacingly from the night outside, noise and
lights filling the house. Suddenly, Barry’s climbed through the
doggy-flap and distraught, poor Jillian grabs at his legs for a tug
of war with – </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">whatever</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
is beyond. She’s not weak – a Mother’s strength is famous, but
she can’t compete with the force out there. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2afZuCofF4JlKJt_ar_mK4s7tH0cPU5Nfmq0yQrA_PhgAO4ZOASwgFgG8aAYyNvg1bQUlG5w7nQIPHGIR6KcdY0STlgt959VbXInVq5jd2Kzx_M_LK6ynvIXI90VImpofrV5ZUvObCtc/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h22m51s569.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2afZuCofF4JlKJt_ar_mK4s7tH0cPU5Nfmq0yQrA_PhgAO4ZOASwgFgG8aAYyNvg1bQUlG5w7nQIPHGIR6KcdY0STlgt959VbXInVq5jd2Kzx_M_LK6ynvIXI90VImpofrV5ZUvObCtc/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h22m51s569.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The moment it’s over,
it’s over, the kitchen settling down and only a hysterical,
distraught woman chasing a receding light beneath the clouds remains.
Barry Guiler is gone. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">At
the local US Air Force facility, Jillian faces a barrage of questions
from the press; The Nearys are there and she tells Roy what happened
to Barry, while Ronnie would prefer not to be there at all, hiding
behind a large pair of sunglasses. Turning away from the pack, she
makes her exit in an elevator. The woman at the desk calls everyone’s
attention; they can go in now. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwKtSG-AMcBPtb2EFTQ6_6IeAdmfbmehOArc5cIZumxDtSkivMZscFejsKvMklJyAQQy6UnmRAWrQhRYBw9-M_felM54jOeOaQMNwpDIbfIjCOk5qYCbziwfEgW7Ajp5bzgRCaK6x-rM/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h25m44s916.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwKtSG-AMcBPtb2EFTQ6_6IeAdmfbmehOArc5cIZumxDtSkivMZscFejsKvMklJyAQQy6UnmRAWrQhRYBw9-M_felM54jOeOaQMNwpDIbfIjCOk5qYCbziwfEgW7Ajp5bzgRCaK6x-rM/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h25m44s916.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
large conference room and a Press Officer, </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Major
Benchley</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
makes a dramatic announcement; ‘This is a flying saucer’, holding
up a photograph of the object to gasps and excitement. Several people
in the room swear to it that’s the one they saw, to the amusement
of the Air Force man who then holds up the pewter saucer he had one
of his kids throw across the lawn for the photo. Yuk-yuk! As the
sky-watchers from the other night sit at the long table, he moves on
from his little joke to explain last year, Americans shot more than
seven billion photographs. Spending $6.6 billion for the equipment
and developing. Now, with all those shutters clicking, where is the
indisputable evidence? </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Everyone
wants a piece of this, but a newsman tells the Major he’s been in
the business for years and never managed to photograph a plane crash
as it happened either, nor an auto crash for that matter. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UecRZodm0MLef5tBlewubnrzYhNgFYG_a-JWheqjT81p6Y8gT3o2It9pPzhHXGqVhhsBNvxYwqpCTYwrSyoVBARQQKxEz0Inw087COfg31EvE6iP9T2c0-wBTC5NQr7GQXEjXLdBF9M/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h25m56s667.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UecRZodm0MLef5tBlewubnrzYhNgFYG_a-JWheqjT81p6Y8gT3o2It9pPzhHXGqVhhsBNvxYwqpCTYwrSyoVBARQQKxEz0Inw087COfg31EvE6iP9T2c0-wBTC5NQr7GQXEjXLdBF9M/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h25m56s667.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Earnestly,
an official in a suit (oh-oh) addresses the room; it would be fun to
believe in all kinds of things, from mental telepathy to time travel,
immortality and even Santa Claus. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(Like
we hadn’t guessed he was bad; boo!) </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Now,
he knows it would be no fun to go home today and say; ‘Guess what
happened today? I was in the shopping center and there was this
bright light – and I rushed outside – and it was an airplane.’
Piqued, Roy tells him he didn’t want to see this. The suit tells
him he feels otherwise, he’s spent fifteen years looking for damn
silly lights in the night sky. He’d like to, because he believes in
life elsewhere. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Another
guest asks why the U.S.A.F. doesn’t just admit to conducting secret
tests in the Foothills area? The suit agrees it would be easier to
say as much, but it simply isn’t the case. He doesn’t know what
he saw. Roy isn’t buying any of it; they can’t fool the people by
agreeing with them!. Helpfully, the whistling man chips in, claiming
to have seen Bigfoot once. The cameras whip round as he makes the
most of his fifteen seconds; 1951. Sequoia National Park. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Had
a foot on her 37 inches long, heel to toe (The kids present love this
bit) Made a sound he wouldn’t want to hear twice in his life. Roy’s
delighted to be in the same bracket as this balloon.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
conference/snow-job continues, but Roy’s pre-occupied with the
newspaper; not so much Jillian’s front page cosmic kidnapping story
as doodling. He’s doodling a mountain in pencil. The Air Force
mouthpiece wraps it up; UFO’s do not represent a direct physical
threat to our national security. We do not support them – and we
encourage you not to. The pencil breaks. </span>
</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuM1Ekh5zDuBF-msmuZdOolw5D6Qxqo7_jz2jNEjS5KJ0dhcvgDURQUH2wEhz8E3Kl1xt0TWfORNQns9M4XRKhcEGEG_lN_iEaAKw03Nzv7GHyzR-kS1m3MDFOa1YbqXgv4AKv025IK3E/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h30m51s159.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuM1Ekh5zDuBF-msmuZdOolw5D6Qxqo7_jz2jNEjS5KJ0dhcvgDURQUH2wEhz8E3Kl1xt0TWfORNQns9M4XRKhcEGEG_lN_iEaAKw03Nzv7GHyzR-kS1m3MDFOa1YbqXgv4AKv025IK3E/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h30m51s159.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
Secret facility, piled high with mysterious crates. Indiana Jo–
sorry, wrong film, I mean Dodge vans screech up and disgorge their
human cargo; astronaut types in red jumpsuits, emblazoned with the
stars and stripes and the Mayflower design. Amid tight Army
security, the Buzz Aldrin fan club boards a waiting Air Force coach.
The elder </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">t</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">eam
leader is here, dictating his last-minute instructions to avoid
chaos, the perspex </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">command
center being prepped behind him. He pauses to watch the Mayflower
team embark; if this mission fully develops, he gets white-knuckled
just thinking about what might be ahead for those folks… </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
junior team leader is busy explaining the itinerary to Lacombe via
Laughlin; there’s a limo waiting to take them to the helipad for
their flight. A group clustered around a table debates the method to
be used, a </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Special
Forces man listens intently</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">;
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Major
‘Wild Bill’ Walsh. O</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ne
likes the flash flood ruse, but where would they get the water? A dam
about to burst? What about contaminated water? That affects people,
crops, animals… the list so far includes forest fires, the
aforementioned flooding and disease. A plague epidemic? Well, no-ones
going to believe </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">that…</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
as the Masters of Disaster continue debating how best to fool the
good people of Wyoming, the camera zooms in on the map laid across
the table. To a place marked ‘Devil’s Tower.’ </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnGPeDPs30TXKO_dfU5ttkINOnBw8qFvBfzFhpUE4CB1Zq-0KX12WkMVUKl0X74Biepm75-Dv2fxG5dH2IkBcfdvTZIGq8Ko-bUb380TOhSBd7OHIuowCCCwD-6EiV3zJhCbBVkawjwU/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h33m11s133.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnGPeDPs30TXKO_dfU5ttkINOnBw8qFvBfzFhpUE4CB1Zq-0KX12WkMVUKl0X74Biepm75-Dv2fxG5dH2IkBcfdvTZIGq8Ko-bUb380TOhSBd7OHIuowCCCwD-6EiV3zJhCbBVkawjwU/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h33m11s133.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Finally, one of
them hits on it; Anthrax – farming country, lots of sheep. Yes!
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wild
Bill</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
likes the anthrax idea. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Anthrax
it is… </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">but
there’s always some joker who thinks himself immune. What he needs
is something so scary it’ll clear 300 square miles of every living
Christian soul.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQJYSQ4SbOsa5YEazDK62Pb9w9yE8H1D91NuU2xQuLKtqemjYWbR2LzB9HxEJfZ-1nCXMpwnYLrHzTyj1RlMEgIMWwOSU7ooGt2mTbDD8PUwQ4SqU8Eja7HmkYyyC8WVfnq4B5_DirNc/s1600/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h33m48s205.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1280" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQJYSQ4SbOsa5YEazDK62Pb9w9yE8H1D91NuU2xQuLKtqemjYWbR2LzB9HxEJfZ-1nCXMpwnYLrHzTyj1RlMEgIMWwOSU7ooGt2mTbDD8PUwQ4SqU8Eja7HmkYyyC8WVfnq4B5_DirNc/s320/vlcsnap-2019-06-04-22h33m48s205.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Piggly
Wiggly, Coca Cola and Baskin Robbins. Not exactly names to inspire
terror - but wait! These are just the covers being hastily applied
to various military trucks being used in the decoy operation. Guided
by a man with a light-up baton (apparently essential to all
successful operations) the convoy rolls from the base. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dinner
at the Neary home; Ronnie passes round the mashed potatoes. Little
Silvia complains she hates these potatoes; there’s a dead fly in
hers.* When it’s his turn, Roy doles out a lump of mash. That image
again. Compulsively, he scoops out a pile and starts sculpting,
watched by a fascinated Brad and a mortified Ronnie. Suddenly
realising the whole family is fixated on his bizarre behavior, he
clutches a hand to his brow, Brad in tears now. What’s wrong with
Dad? </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Tearfully,
Roy tries to explain. It’s okay. He’s still Dad. But this means
something – it’s important.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">*An
unscripted moment which was included in the film. Richard Dreyfuss is
clearly struggling to keep a straight face in the scene. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ6TL6vEWQ9Rjyg7TPFxaMs0Gdzj81aRsZVe38zHeJEiMAgdD8b6g8KP3WZkXPQYj94aiITlaOr0llKtcUshMkeC30pandr2jjolG1KvmDO0HI1JXSkGia_plee8V4hB4BskUmGK1JlQ/s1600/72.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1318" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ6TL6vEWQ9Rjyg7TPFxaMs0Gdzj81aRsZVe38zHeJEiMAgdD8b6g8KP3WZkXPQYj94aiITlaOr0llKtcUshMkeC30pandr2jjolG1KvmDO0HI1JXSkGia_plee8V4hB4BskUmGK1JlQ/s320/72.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Alone
in the den, Roy has made a clay model of his vision on the model
train layout. But it’s not right, it’s not right… he slaps
balls of clay on, anxious to get it right. Grabbing a bent fork, he
begins scraping the tines along the flanks of the miniature mountain,
shaping, shaping. But it’s still not right. At the end now, he
storms into the garden to yell up at the night sky; ‘What is it?’
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Tell
me</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That
night Ronnie Leary awakes alone, switching on the bedside light to
discover it’s past four. There’s sounds of sobbing and the shower
in their bathroom and, finding it locked, she knocks and asks Roy to
open it. No response. Furious, she goes for a nail file as little
Silvia toddles from her room, confused. Opening the door from
outside, she throws it open to reveal Roy, fully clothed under the
shower. He can’t even look at her., but manages to speak. ‘I
don’t think I know what’s happening to me.’ Concerned, she
grabs a towel, shuts off the faucet. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
suggests they go to family therapy; he’s impressed his watch still
works despite the water. Brad is there and, angry, he slams the
bathroom door to and fro repeatedly screaming ‘You crybaby!’ at
his Dad. Ronnie shouts at him to get out and Silvia screams.
Desperately Ronnie shouts. She doesn’t know what this is. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wrapped
in his towel, Roy says he’s really scared – he needs her. She’s
had enough of this bullshit; it’s turning the house upside down. He
pleads for her to just cuddle him, but she’s at her wit’s end.
She hates him! None of their friends call any more! He’s out of
work, doesn’t care; he’s ruining them! Tearful, Brad watches from
his bedroom as Ronnie takes her turn locking herself in the bathroom.
He shuts his door too.* Back with the object of his fixation, Roy
stares at the clay mountain in the dark, </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">finally
falling asleep. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">*And
yes, listen closely and you can </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">just</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
about hear Spielberg’s voice telling him to close the door. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">B</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">leary,
Roy awakes in the same spot to find Silvia’s watching one of the
old Bug’s Bunny cartoons with the Martian. Is he going to yell at
her? He shakes his head. Coming to his senses, he pulls down the
assorted UFO clipping’s he put up. Calling out to Ronnie, he tells
her everything’s fine, it’ll be like it was. Grabbing the hated
clay mountain, he pulls hard to remove it, but just the summit comes
away, leaving a flat… wait. That’s it. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">That’s
it…</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Sleeping
in the boy’s room, Ronnie is awakened as Roy bumps his head against
the window. He’s busy tearing the plants from the soil outside. She
starts to apologize then sees what he’s up to. Jesus. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Miserably,
she asks what he’s doing, but he insists she’ll love this,
hurling the plants straight through the kitchen window. Roy shovels a
wheelbarrow full of dirt </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">in
afterwards </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
Toby wants to know if they can shovel some in his </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">window</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
after. Holding onto herself, a frightened Ronnie pleads with him to
stop, but if he does? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">That’s</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
when he’s gonna need a Doctor. The neighbors are starting to notice
all’s not well in la Casa Neary and, gathering up armfuls of bricks
he tells the plaintive Ronnie not to be scared. He feels really good.
The bricks go into the kitchen sink. Helpfully, Toby launches one in
too. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Spotting
the arrival of the garbage truck, Roy dashes to the trash can and has
a tug of war with the garbage collector, dumping the trash and
retrieving the bin to add to the collection. By now, half the street
has gathered to watch the shenanigans, but Roy’s not done. Chicken
wire! Marching over to Mrs. Harris’ ornamental pond, he steals her
chicken wire fencing. He offers to pay, but she aims her hair-dryer
defensively; he can take it. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">His
eager assistant Toby has to be threatened with a maternal smacking to
stop him ripping up a length. Freed from captivity, Mrs. Harris’
geese make a bid for freedom, Ronnie’s futile effort to get them to
‘stay’ being met with honks of disdain. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
last straw; </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ronnie
packs the kids into the car. They’re going to her sister’s.
That</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">’s
crazy, she’s not even dressed. She screeches off in reverse, Roy
chasing after her. On the street, he tries to stop her, but is thrown
from the hood and dumped onto the pavement. The whole street watching
in silence, Roy collects himself and strides back to the house,
offering a curt ‘Morning’ as he goes. Tossing a final plant in,
he climbs in after it, drawing up the ladder afterwards. The
drawbridge to </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Castle</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Neary is raised. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">D</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">azed,
almost in a stupor, Roy adds the finishing touches to the mountain,
this version being ceiling-high. Days of our Lives plays on the tv.
Roy takes a break to look out the window. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Like
sand through the hourglass… so are the Days of our Lives.</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Looking out at them, washing the car, doing the lawn, the normality
of suburban life they seem far removed from Roy’s reality. Or is he
from theirs? Somehow he’s not one of them anymore. Almost with
regret, he shuts the curtain on the world outside. On what he was.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Still,
he misses his family. The bud commercial closes and a news report; a
rail disaster. Roy’s busy on the phone to Ronnie. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">At
Devil’s Tower, Wyoming, a trainload of dangerous chemical gas went
off the rails and forced the widest area evacuation… </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Whenever
she wants him to. Tomorrow is fine - </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">area
closed to the public - </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He
can do other things. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">We
go now to Charles McDonald for a live report…</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
Roy pleads with his wife, the report goes to Devil’s Tower where
the Army and National Guard are supervising the evacuation of
thirty-five to fifty thousand people. Roy tells her it was a joke.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Charles
tells us t</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">hey’re
assured the danger will be over within seventy-two hours. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Anything
she wants; he’ll do. Roy, that is, not Chuck. Chuck’s busy enough
in Wyoming. We see Devil’s Tower on the tv. That’s odd; we see it
in Roy’s living room too. Roy pleads with her to meet face to face,
but she’s not ready and hangs up, to his frustration. Finally, Roy
looks at the tv and sees it. The image of his obsession. </span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
her room at the Hopi Motor Inn, Jillian Guiler is watching too. The
wall above her bed is papered with sketches she’s made and she too
has an answer to the mystery of the image. The tv spools it’s lies,
but neither Roy nor Jillian are listening. They </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">know</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
his rent</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ed
Ford LTD Wagon</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
Roy tries to drive and map read, the radio issuing the new area
restrictions from the U.S. Army Materiel Command. Basically, every
road Roy might hope to use is off-limits. He rolls towards the town
of Moorcroft, Wyoming, covering the windscreen with his map,
frustrated as ever by the challenges of paper-based navigation. Horns
blaring alrt him to the danger of the oncoming traffic. It’s </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">all</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
oncoming; he’s the only one headed that way, against a tide of
fleeing citizenry. A soldier tries to </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">stop
him, but he plays dumb and keeps moving. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">t
Gillette train station, crowds wait to board a train, some in
home-made masks worn in the hope of avoiding the effects of the
deadly gas spill. A voice on a tannoy reads out the boarding
procedure as everyone does their best to ignore it and clambers
aboard anyway. Already, the roof of the carriages are packed with the
more agile evacuees. As is people weren’t enough, some cowboys on
horseback and their herd are waiting for their train. A hustler
peddles gas masks at $45, ‘early warning systems’ (birds) at $20.
Why, even his dog has a gas mask – surely any of these folks are
worth more than a dog? Exiting his rental, Roy finds himself in the
midst of barely restrained chaos. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
the horde hands up suitcases and bags containing their precious
possessions to others already aboard the train, Roy’s name is being
called. It’s Jillian, </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">lost
somewhere in the tumult. The voice over the tannoy urges an orderly
evacuation, but the people are close to panic; a dangerous time.
Soldiers help citizens onto a flat-bed – anything so long as it’s
out of here. Finally, Roy spots her; she’s being helped onto the
train against her will, two well-meaning soldiers push-pulling her
aboard. She breaks clear, running to him, an MP giving her up as a
bad lot with a shake of his head. The two embrace as the crowd surges
around them.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">n
Roy’s rental, the pair pull off the road. What’s he doing? The
only way to get back in is to go cross-country, through the fence.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Suiting
action to word, he guns it, tearing through the fence into the
countryside, driving like a man possessed. Another fence falls foul
of Roy’s enthusiastic approach and they crunch down onto a dirt
road. Distractedly, Jillian tells Roy the Police dragged the river
for Barry – she told them he wasn’t in the river, but they did it
all the same. She checks </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Roy’s</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
early warning system; </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
bird</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">s</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
was suckered into </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">seem
happy enough in </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">their</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
cage. They’re approaching some wooden barriers – </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
Police went round every house for five miles</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
– </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">crunch
– </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">looking
in backyard refrigerators</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
– now on a blacktop – </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">asked
her if she’d seen any strangers in the neighbourhood. </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Roy
laughs at the irony. The car screeches to a halt before a sturdy log
and barbed-wire barrier. Spellbound, the two get out and go down and
up an earth embankment to get their first look at Devil’s Tower –
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
this time not in a vision</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
</span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">M</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">agnificent;
no other word for the sight that greets them. Geologists use words
like ‘butte’ and ‘igneous rock’, but ‘magnificent’ is the
only word for Devil’s Tower. Jillian can’t believe it’s real,
but it is. Roy suggests they get some gas and get down there. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
they bump through another barrier, Roy spots something; dead horses
by the side of the road. Then dead cows. Worried, Jillian checks the
early warning birdies; both are happy. Roy tells he the whole thing’s
a put-on, guaranteed. And then they both reach for their gas masks.
The rental’s brakes screech as Roy slows down to roll past the dead
sheep, but the proximity of the tower is a strong pull and he goes
on. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">With
another squeal of rubber, he just manages to stop at the road block.
Two military vans and a jeep, teeming with soldiers in white Haz-Mat
suits. Ordering the pair out, they ask if they are o.k. Furiously,
Roy refuses to be manhandled. They’re fine! ‘According to my
birds the only bad air here is you guys farting around!’ Reaching
into the car, one of the team removes the birds, both very dead. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
white suits shepherd the couple into the two vans, separating them,
much to their consternation. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Metal
doors slam shut and another opens; we’re now at a secure facility,
Roy sat in a small steel room with only a white suit and a tape
recorder for company. Not for long though, as Laughlin and Lacombe
enter to join him at the little table, a third man, Robert joining
them to sit in for Mr. White Suit who has left. Laughlin introduces
them, explaining they have little time and need answers from him,
that are honest, direct and to the point. He has a question; where’s
Jillian?. Ignoring this, Lacombe asks via his interpreter if he
realizes the </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">danger
he and Jillian have </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">risk</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ed.
In coming here, he’s exposed himself to toxic gas. ‘Well, I’m
alive.’</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That’s
true, but if the prevailing winds had been blowing from the South
instead of the North? This conversation would not be taking place. In</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
a corner, Roy digs his heels in; there’s nothing wrong with the
air, he states, defiantly. What makes him say that? He just knows.
Speaking in English, Lacombe says ‘Go outside and me make a liar.’
On the back foot somewhat, Roy wants to speak to the man in charge –
but Laughlin insists Mr. Lacombe is the highest authority. But he’s
not even an American!</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB3AiJpQaKUiaPJtk1rPMJkycXXSFMaGoHTvu2_3l_o0dSzR00Leg8UtbPMepSzhbJGTcalqxLL3IfIaZHUSPm31_2UWe433VPBPJmpvUaounk_ljrb0BCzZDQ2pY4I5xo1p_CzxrJSY/s1600/MV5BNjA4ODkzNTQ3Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMzE1NDAxMDI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1281%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1281" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB3AiJpQaKUiaPJtk1rPMJkycXXSFMaGoHTvu2_3l_o0dSzR00Leg8UtbPMepSzhbJGTcalqxLL3IfIaZHUSPm31_2UWe433VPBPJmpvUaounk_ljrb0BCzZDQ2pY4I5xo1p_CzxrJSY/s320/MV5BNjA4ODkzNTQ3Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMzE1NDAxMDI%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1281%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ignoring
the slight, Lacombe asks (Via Laughlin) if Roy is an artist or a
painter? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">No</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Has he been experiencing a persistent, though not disagreeable
ringing in his ears? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Also
no</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
Headaches, Migraines? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yeah.
</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">An
irritation in your eyes and sinuses?</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Yeah. </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Hives?
Allergies? Burning on your face or body? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yes
– who are you people? </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">They
show him one of Jillian’s Devil’s Tower pieces, but he dismisses
it – who </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">are</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
you people? One more question. Has he recently had a Close Encounter?
A Close Encounter with something very unusual? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Who
are you people…</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lacombe
lays down photo-booth style snapshots of a group of people, asking if
they are strangers to Roy. All, but Jillian. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">And
the two of them felt compelled to be here? Roy agrees – they might
say that. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But
what did he expect to find? Angrily, he replies ‘An answer. That’s
not crazy, is it?’. The two experts discuss this in Lacombe’s
native French. Hold it, says Roy; is that all? He has a couple of
thousand God-damn questions; standing now, he wants to speak to
someone in charge, lodge a complaint! They have no right to make
people crazy – do they think he investigates every Walter Cronkite
story he sees? If this is just nerve gas, how come he knows
everything in such detail? He’s never been here before, how come he
knows so much? What the Hell is going on around here! Banging his
fist on the table, he asks again; who the Hell are you people? </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">small
convoy speeds towards the Decontamination Camp near the base of
Devil’s Tower. Roy, in gas mask is led from the holding area by two
burly soldiers in white suits, protesting as loudly as the mask
allows as he’s put onto a waiting Huey. There, the people from the
snapshots sit, waiting to be removed. Also masked-up, Lacombe
approaches the pilots to tell them there’s a five minute delay.
Sitting there, Roy looks at the faces looking back; kindly faces,
expectant. And Jillian. Jillian’s there too, waiting for him to
make a decision.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lacombe
has his own problems, </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wild
Bill</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
wants to know just why he had twelve people brought to the
Decontamination Camp and not the Evacuation Center. Answering in
English, Lacombe replies ‘Because this means something.’ And
amusingly, Laughlin repeats the phrase, stuck in Translator mode. In
French now, the expert relays through his faithful aide that these
people have come from all over their country… to a place they have
been told will endanger their lives. Why? </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Major
Walsh feels it could be a subversion attempt; send in the fanatics,
the cultists, Christ knows what, but Lacombe dismisses the idea,
turning to Robert who hands him the contents of a valise. These are
the drawings of Devil’s Tower made by the ‘chosen twelve’. This
is a small group of people who have a shared vision in common;
raising the blinds to reveal the Tower outside, Lacombe adds in his
broken English ‘It’s still a mystery to me why they are here.
Even they do not know why.’</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Outside
on the pan, Roy and the others sit, the only sound their laboured
breathing in the masks. Finally, he plucks up the courage. Yanking
off his mask, he takes a deep breath. And dies, in terrible agon…
sorry, just kidding; he’s fine. The turbines begin to spool up as
the chopper prepares for flight. Turning to Jillian, he calls to her
and, faithfully, she nods, removing her own mask despite the plea
from another passenger not to. Roy tries to tell the others there’s
nothing wrong with the air – the Army’s getting rid of them
because they don’t want any witnesses. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
lively and short debate ensues, some not wanting to go against
authority, while a guy from L.A. declares the air’s better than
back home. Roy asks how many of them are for getting out of there?
Just Jillian and Mr. West Coast. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Inside
the office, Lacombe looks through the blinds at the spinning rotors.
He doesn’t know what’s happening and he must know what’s going
on. He continues; for every one of these anxious, anguished people
who’ve come here, there must be hundreds of others also touched by
the vision who never made it this far. They never watched the
television, or did so and failed to make the psychic connexion.
Hearing this, Wild Bill claims it a co-incidence and not scientific.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pausing,
Lacombe speaks in his best English, with passion and focus. ‘Listen
to me Major Walsh, it is an event sociological.’ </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Roy,
Jillian and L.A. Guy make a run for it, spotted through the window by
Lacombe as they trot past technicians unloading ominous crates marked
‘Lockheed’, ‘</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">TRW</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">’
and ‘Rockwell’ - aerospace company hardware in Piggly Wiggly and
Ice Cream trucks? Lacombe watches the trio’s departure with a wry
expression. Now out of the camp and headed for Devil’s Tower,
there’s time for a hasty introduction; we can call L.A. Guy Larry
Butler from hereon. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Back
at the camp, Major Walsh hasn’t noticed anything awry, addressing
the passengers to tell them to keep their masks on until their out of
danger. The door slides shut and their adventure is at an end, the
Huey lifting off with its human cargo. As soon as it’s airborne, he
strides over to a waiting jeep </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">to
join Lacombe and Laughlin and they all remove their masks, proving
beyond a doubt the air’s just peachy in Wyoming. A call over the
radio for the Major; it’s his superior. He promises he’ll have
the rest of them off the mountain in one hour. The voice over the net
orders him to make an infra-red photo analysis of the Northern Face.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yes
Sir; already ordered. </span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
boss has more; he doesn’t like it, they’re in enough trouble with
the Cattlemen as it is, but if he can’t clear the escapees from the
mountain by 20:00 hrs, he’s to start dusting – with EZ-4. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">EZ-4?
</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Me
neither.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Amazingly,
despite all the noise on camp, Lacombe hears this from where he’s
standing and wants to know the same thing we do; Wild Bill explains
helpfully it’s a sleep aerosol, same thing they used on the
livestock. They’ll sleep for si</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">x</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
hours and wake up with a headache, that’s all.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">W</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ild
Bill marches off, but Lacombe is persistent; they didn’t choose
this place, these people; they were invited! Laughlin is left
shouting this at the Major’s retreating back. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Alone
with his interpreter, Lacombe states ‘They belong here more than
we.’ </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
threesome climbs the mountain, the camp in the distance, choppers
taking off in pursuit now. It’s hard work and, leaning against a
tree, Larry quips he should never have given up jogging. Urgently,
Roy points to a notch in the mountain; they could make it. The
choppers fly past nearby, a voice on the crowd control system warning
them the authority in the park is superseded by the United States
Government. Pausing to debate routes, Jillian favors a ravine, but
Roy knows this mountain like it’s in his living room – that leads
to a 350 feet drop, straight down. On the other side, there’s a box
canyon he wants to head for. A chopper side-slips right overhead as
he explains his route; Jillian never imagined the mountain in three
dimensions – she only did paintings of the one side. L.A. Larry
didn’t recall any canyons in his doodles. Roy says next time, try
sculpturing. Larry points out they’re facing a good hour’s climb
and they get moving again. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
speaker blares it’s ineffective warning again as </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">elite
troops begin patrolling up after the fugitives* and they call it in;
nothing to report at mid-station, but there’s plenty of hiding
places up there and they need more men to cover the area in one hour.
The reply is terse; get everybody off the Northern face and inform
the Dark Side of the Moon they’re going to dust. Dark Side of the
what now?</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">*You
don’t need military experience to see how much easier it would have
been to drop them higher up by chopper to cut the trio off. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
three climbers pause, gasping for breath close to the mountain proper
now. Ominous silver canisters are being loaded onto the skids of the
choppers at the ‘Decontamination Camp’ under Wild Bill’s
watchful gaze. A chopper buzzes overhead as the climbers take cover
amongst the crags. Roy watches as another flies around the mountain,
an underslung jeep suspended from it. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Something’s
going on on the other side of this mountain….</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWxLlXnPqMwEAxbBlTJkh5VkRoaCEEYv3PKK7KapbYEIkMUwunstwvvDtqUQ0EIR7164y3zMIlU0ja71z-lUAgPP1TKfMXRVviIDprv6CyoyRtxWW29lY2wPCOLKukWF92n_785Lfsz0/s1600/19+DUSTOFF.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWxLlXnPqMwEAxbBlTJkh5VkRoaCEEYv3PKK7KapbYEIkMUwunstwvvDtqUQ0EIR7164y3zMIlU0ja71z-lUAgPP1TKfMXRVviIDprv6CyoyRtxWW29lY2wPCOLKukWF92n_785Lfsz0/s320/19+DUSTOFF.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Fully
loaded, the dust bird takes off for the mountain, into the gathering
gloom. There’s not long until nightfall now. Larry’s falling
behind, Roy calling back to him to come on, but he scrapes his way
onto a large rock and stays there, exhausted. The dust bird clatters
past and spots him sitting there. It begins another pass, releasing
the LZ-4 agent, birds dropping from the vegetation, unconscious. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0IcpsYuPaJnLZzgECvHU4rPS4BQwDJD4XEOPfpoCjQwok0_lwtGO5K_X2gYztSopc6SQuopdiYXqaDIn75qwwRGmLmQvvg9S6zomAK-L9-ovJy3pfRpxVVyLKHGTvvkPSwAjLUEj6yU/s1600/20+LARRY+DROPS+OUT.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0IcpsYuPaJnLZzgECvHU4rPS4BQwDJD4XEOPfpoCjQwok0_lwtGO5K_X2gYztSopc6SQuopdiYXqaDIn75qwwRGmLmQvvg9S6zomAK-L9-ovJy3pfRpxVVyLKHGTvvkPSwAjLUEj6yU/s320/20+LARRY+DROPS+OUT.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Seeing the powder coming down, Larry calls up to the others; ‘They’re
just crop dusting – Los Angeles!’ Jillian is worried for Larry,
but Roy urges her not to look back, to keep going. Larry’s going to
sleep now. </span></span></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfm_80ReN6O8yQhwSNMBCjMgHNksUOpQXpoSrjLGDgSoCi1Qq8wnQOajXXeAAxIZSunrhtC_wD93qKRR71i4yhYgfEu32E1CR8mSxKVi3rA3K-tlsiS-feBCDXM3DBA4bEcA6y9oe2BA/s1600/21+ROY+SLIDES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfm_80ReN6O8yQhwSNMBCjMgHNksUOpQXpoSrjLGDgSoCi1Qq8wnQOajXXeAAxIZSunrhtC_wD93qKRR71i4yhYgfEu32E1CR8mSxKVi3rA3K-tlsiS-feBCDXM3DBA4bEcA6y9oe2BA/s320/21+ROY+SLIDES.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Rounding
the slope, Roy loses his grip to fall some way down, as the dust bird
comes around for another sweep. They’re only ten feet from the top,
says Jillian. Searchlights on the far side of the Tower are now
clearly visible. Whatever’s there, they’re close to it. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Numb
with fatigue, he clambers back up to reach for her outstretched hand,
but slips back down into the path of the chopper. It’s headed
straight for where he lies. Spurring him on, Jillian reaches down as
the dust is released once more, grabs his hand and the two jump over
the ridge to the other side. </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">S</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">afe
from the incapacitating agent, the pair look down at an incredible
sight. The box canyon Roy mentioned is alive with activity, ablaze
with electrical lights and lined with a horse-shoe crescent of
portable structures. A faceless voice on a tannoy conducts a sound
check – this really </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">is</span></i></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
the Dark Side of the Moon! </span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Gentlemen,
Ladies, take your positions please. This is not a drill. I repeat –
this is not a drill. </span></span></span></span></i><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
voice calls for the lights in the arena to be turned down sixty
percent and the generator whine subsides in accordance with the
reduced lighting. Incongruously, the voice doubts they could have
asked for a more beautiful evening, as section by section, a runway
blinks into existence, leading off from the canyon. </span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ok,
watch the skies please. We now show uncorrelated targets moving from
the North-Northwest. </span></span></span></span></i><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Turning
to that direction, Roy watches as </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">seven
points of light converge high above the tower, to form the shape of
the Big Dipper, letting out a delighted laugh at the realisation. A
shooting star flashes across the sky, then another, which stops and
reverses its course, breaking apart into smaller components </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">of
brilliance</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Roy
spots a group of three smallish, brilliant UFO’s gliding down
behind them – he’s glad Jillian sees them too; he’s not crazy.
They float down past them to the arena, followed by the impish
‘little red’. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MlXKD84BsDHu8sbhDUU4Lufi9fykfVfjfbHx4Cjl5UPYpqhMEntM9EO9YTOtNjdxFAbpoZOi6_nDioFcfxQjuvVRHbmYChb5h6L8rZNyNcOmxQSTI7Pen87LUosCve4hkU8H2jAqJ4g/s1600/22+LITTLE+RED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MlXKD84BsDHu8sbhDUU4Lufi9fykfVfjfbHx4Cjl5UPYpqhMEntM9EO9YTOtNjdxFAbpoZOi6_nDioFcfxQjuvVRHbmYChb5h6L8rZNyNcOmxQSTI7Pen87LUosCve4hkU8H2jAqJ4g/s320/22+LITTLE+RED.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Down
in the computer control room, Lacombe sees the UFO’s too and goes
out to get a closer look, the inevitable Laughlin and Robert in
attendance. The announcer spools off some nonsense about D-Class
personnel and the assembled battery of cameras whirr into life,
recording this momentous event. A technician, awed, steps hesitantly
towards a large synthesizer keyboard and dons his headset. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
the three craft hover silently, waiting, technicians swarm over
various gizmos, doing highly technical things. Finally, they are
ready, the keyboard technician plays the first tone, a corresponding
red light showing on a large panel mounted above and behind him. One
by one, he plays the notes relayed to him by the command center, each
accompanied by its assigned colour. Thus, the first tentative
communication between human and alien. </span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">There’s
no response, the elder team leader observes. Must be why he’s the
Boss… The voice over the radio net tells us some sciencey stuff
about milligals (Something to do with acceleration; I Go-Ogle’d it)
and they try the five-tones again. And again, Lacombe giving the hand
signals for each tone. Up in the cheap seats, Jillian and Roy watch
and listen; she knows that tune. Faster, says Lacombe, walking out
towards the waiting craft. Frustrated, he signals; faster! Waving his
arms towards the visitors in anticipation. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAaHNB18k02eEauvk-TeX1urlMWzexahxjJ2O5t0DfXezPrhbVFxZTqLoQAuoA52nw9TkakQSlpkq-tyom77nWh1RbYua1_h3MBoTxBCn68FZi__wXs6Of3BAbeRMKVdSfy8vDAHqCQ0/s1600/24+ALLEZ.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAaHNB18k02eEauvk-TeX1urlMWzexahxjJ2O5t0DfXezPrhbVFxZTqLoQAuoA52nw9TkakQSlpkq-tyom77nWh1RbYua1_h3MBoTxBCn68FZi__wXs6Of3BAbeRMKVdSfy8vDAHqCQ0/s320/24+ALLEZ.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">And then response! In
turn, the unearthly trio plays their response, rising into the air as
they do so. Panel flashing, tones ringing, the synthesizer tech plays
to the crowd, fingers a blur. His audience are delighted it seems,
blaring tonal responses and rotating happily in place. They’ve come
a long way; imagine the disappointment if we were too dumb to even
speak! As if satisfied with the response, the three ships break
formation and fly off, to spontaneous applause from the assembled
technicians and suits. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s
all over; First Contact has been made and it’s relief and
handshakes all around. It’s Miller Time… but something has
attracted the attention of the radar array and, up on the hill, the
now-reatreating couple too. The huge cloud that has appeared
stretches off into the sky to both sides of Devil’s Tower, roiling
and bubbling unnaturally, billowing like some uncanny smoke. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicyC7FDJ-7UUqApOMNW818v83q5VkSYZiwlkI1gMFf4laKp0dBBrK-hWocglhNVOG_M7-BkxoosacapS-ETS94D9s4cWyNEvVPMqQgckAIfDOk60vTg5-DjbTMAEmEyk6k_K_no8v8tPI/s1600/25+CLOUDING+THE+MATTER.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicyC7FDJ-7UUqApOMNW818v83q5VkSYZiwlkI1gMFf4laKp0dBBrK-hWocglhNVOG_M7-BkxoosacapS-ETS94D9s4cWyNEvVPMqQgckAIfDOk60vTg5-DjbTMAEmEyk6k_K_no8v8tPI/s320/25+CLOUDING+THE+MATTER.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of
the UFO’s has returned, lights flashing as if signalling, guiding…
but guiding what? Brilliant pulses of colored light answer from
inside the cloud. Roy whispers to Jillian, beckoning her back to
their vantage point. Like children sneaking in to an adult’s party,
they creep down closer, hidden from view by just one small rocky
ridge now. Normally, the sight of one UFO hanging there in plain
sight would be enough to guarantee anyone’s attention, but now?
Most of the crowd are staring fixedly at the sky, in anticipation…</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">...and
they aren’t to be disappointed; the group of ships breaking through
from the cloud swoop down in a cascade of neon, dazzling, beguiling
and all seemingly a different shape. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rqzjiEBkn848uLZkfU-ZVB_l9CqOPW-gMcoN3_W5OI2u6ho4tDyx7-TFsQfXxW9ccZTb_oyYw8UvehL6bqyO7eN0CXC4fgqujf6Thwmpr04qyqVOuXTC8Fbm1-la9HL9_s06mLGMAfE/s1600/26+LIGHT+SHOW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rqzjiEBkn848uLZkfU-ZVB_l9CqOPW-gMcoN3_W5OI2u6ho4tDyx7-TFsQfXxW9ccZTb_oyYw8UvehL6bqyO7eN0CXC4fgqujf6Thwmpr04qyqVOuXTC8Fbm1-la9HL9_s06mLGMAfE/s320/26+LIGHT+SHOW.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMnwX2I_dPW1uyNneVqGVfL0yrosUi6QzLCsHwDVaaa_fpPsE_3w2fhgObu4oQQ9fwfJIaOdh1nANJNzqevpXGD7W7e26PhL3x-fN7s634ssEai4bOdg_XI1Sx-xoLU9r63U-UbjVTV0/s1600/92.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1600" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMnwX2I_dPW1uyNneVqGVfL0yrosUi6QzLCsHwDVaaa_fpPsE_3w2fhgObu4oQQ9fwfJIaOdh1nANJNzqevpXGD7W7e26PhL3x-fN7s634ssEai4bOdg_XI1Sx-xoLU9r63U-UbjVTV0/s320/92.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">It’s chaos, people dashing in
all directions as the ethereal machines swoosh low overhead. People
are forced to duck as these craft hum and rotate slowly ahead, as if
checking everything’s okay – some of the techs having the
presence of mind to at least snatch some quick readings. One pauses
to hover directly above Lacombe and emit some strobing flashes that
could almost be mistaken for the occupant snatching some quick
holiday souvenirs… speaking of which, the backroom boys are
delighted with the footage so far; keep those reloads coming! </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Mischievously,
Roy suggests they get closer, but Jillian is fine where she is. We
can’t stay here, he says. She can – because Barry’s not here.
She’s just not ready for this – it’s her son she came for.
Apologetically, Roy has to get down there. She understands.
Hesitantly, they kiss, but it’s the kiss of two good friends
parting company, perhaps regret at what might have been. He takes his
leave of this free spirit as another floats overhead, scrambling down
the rocks to find his answers. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Data
control is chipping in as Roy steals into the party, unseen. They
monitor no biologic hazards, which is nice. Range safety clear. The
UFO’s have all departed, but the keyboard technician keeps himself
busy with the quintones again; does he do requests? There’s nothing
out there now, the melody dying out on a dejected note. Lacombe
stands alone in the center of the arena, wondering if this is it.
Jillian climbs back to the original vantage point she shared with Roy
and all you can hear is the night wind. Until the faint rumble of
thunder, that is. Nearest to the sound, Jillian turns and is
awe-stuck by the sight that first illuminates her face and then casts
a shadow over it. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuY0DUJ2bYPhXT99UFDZ1DVCs_FnceyK-AMBQhIyx4t_M122-1Y0AF_HaBmw-OUkSSv4MLu8o1DhzYyK3cpeyFuCdcKBJmTi7dVjo2ocvHJNPS7hKOgoIETrri7Oy3FDcdn-sQXmY1jKE/s1600/27+MOTHERSHIP.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="965" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuY0DUJ2bYPhXT99UFDZ1DVCs_FnceyK-AMBQhIyx4t_M122-1Y0AF_HaBmw-OUkSSv4MLu8o1DhzYyK3cpeyFuCdcKBJmTi7dVjo2ocvHJNPS7hKOgoIETrri7Oy3FDcdn-sQXmY1jKE/s320/27+MOTHERSHIP.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8Gyl2sjq4zbwyjymP_Lks6c_y0IzGjpYkiJuzkIsZeXqk2_TzVa0ydxMWdNMAHSMwDv9PhvaLpa8BglF3ezGLNyBJWtIjTHG5xxIHaC_xGHNBvyPBtTXZYiTQxSJEfaQRI_dT0lV1Tg/s1600/110.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="1600" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8Gyl2sjq4zbwyjymP_Lks6c_y0IzGjpYkiJuzkIsZeXqk2_TzVa0ydxMWdNMAHSMwDv9PhvaLpa8BglF3ezGLNyBJWtIjTHG5xxIHaC_xGHNBvyPBtTXZYiTQxSJEfaQRI_dT0lV1Tg/s320/110.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gigantic,
easily the size of a modest city. Imagine the Houston Astrodome
resting on an oil refinery floating and slowly spinning, the whole
lit with a hundred thousand lights. Roy can only stare as the
monumental structure thrums in stately progress over the tower
towards the arena. Even the men of science are left speechless,
standing in mute awe at the spectacle that is dominating the scene.
As the leviathan nears, more detail is visible and it is clear this
ship was built for many occupants. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGUazWJP1bKUBOh0z_HKhTf5rkFVNWEYA3Gt_shJP0xX5nS9WoZJceyI_Fmxh6FNwCCACCJcTOTF89ifw3oTgyGK4-fmPYKvhldCOr3mq6dva99uCqoOXnKWYPXxCqM8lKt28RnOWcy8/s1600/92A.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="1600" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGUazWJP1bKUBOh0z_HKhTf5rkFVNWEYA3Gt_shJP0xX5nS9WoZJceyI_Fmxh6FNwCCACCJcTOTF89ifw3oTgyGK4-fmPYKvhldCOr3mq6dva99uCqoOXnKWYPXxCqM8lKt28RnOWcy8/s320/92A.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Those on the ground take an
involuntary step back as the shadow of this huge ship falls across
the arena. Roy makes it down to ground level, to be confronted by a
technician at the run – he needn’t worry, the man is beside
himself with fright and just wants to hide in one of the
porta-potties. When you gotta go…</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Thanks
to the Best diversion in History, Roy’s able to mingle among the
authorised personnel, totally unnoticed as, majestically, the ship
rotates around the horizontal, inverting and lowering itself. Guess
‘they’ have travel mugs. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The dome is now just thirty feet or so
from the arena floor and the assemblage are forced to don sunglasses,
so intense is the radiance streaming from the ship. Still lower now,
the people pushing closer, drawn by the sheer presence and wonder
before them – a section sliding slowly down below to just above
head height. The synthesizer console is rolled closer, to facilitate
any communication, but with what? Warnings about safety zones, low
gravity and static charges come from the speaker, but who cares about
such nonsense when confronted with such a spectacle!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jillian
has seen enough from back there. Resolutely, she moves down to get
closer as the technical staff get their act together. Time for the
five-tones. Accompanied on the light panel, keyboard guy goes for it.
After a brief pause, the craft responds, lights pulsing and a
sequence of strident and deep, tuba-like sounds. Encouraged, our man
plays the tones again, getting a slightly disappointed sequence back.
Maybe these Earth guys are a little limited? Undaunted, keyboard guy
keeps playing, getting a stentorian response that blows the glass out
of one of the cabins.*</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">*An
effect that Spielberg had to fund with his own money due to
penny-pinching at the studio. </span>
</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
synth player keeps at it and the Mothership crew are up for a
challenge, repeating the motif and then riffing on it. It’s a
language after all – and they are holding the class. Luckily, some
of the finest minds available begin to work out this new vocabulary
and next the keyboard sends a more developed response than the basic
greeting we’re all sick of by now. Roy is free to roam ever closer
as the cosmic jam develops. Keyboard guy is right in the thick of it,
yet doesn’t have a clue what they’re saying to each other. A
supervisor explains; it’s a basic tonal vocabulary. Another chips
in; it’s the first day of school…</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
session heats up, the keyboard player working hard to keep up with
the Mothership in the sound and light stakes. The light panel is
fairly ablaze now. Jean Michelle Jarre eat your heart out. Jillian
has made it into the arena now, her desire to be closer to all this
overcoming her trepidation. Now the technical staff have a handle on
the basics, they take over from the keyboard tech, playing the synth
from the control center. Jillian and Roy are delighted by the show,
but then things take a turn for the darker, as the lights on the ship
dim and some gloomy elephantine notes take over. I could be wrong,
but it sounds exactly like the Jaws theme… nobody knows how to
respond to this sudden melancholia. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Abruptly,
an aperture opens up in the bottom of the ship, an envelope of light
perhaps forty feet wide appearing, sending the crowd back in sudden
panic. It’s a ramp, lowering slowly to the ground. Night becomes
day as the searing whiteness sends shadows across the arena, but Roy
pushes through to stand near the front. He’s come a long way for
this after all. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFTCiiDdfdOJE3TFD_SVX0iTpk29lwhvV5n-P0bevWTHoQa5h65JOi70DmcQap7IE_oEio4fasG58DFUsdDFp9rQYGWAqB0Ecx-sSe5HN5I0st7inUkrfIz99yEXPoqdK8-L5SM032nk/s1600/msdclen_ec007-b10569eb-ead2-49bd-a8f4-e47df13e4b84.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1401" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFTCiiDdfdOJE3TFD_SVX0iTpk29lwhvV5n-P0bevWTHoQa5h65JOi70DmcQap7IE_oEio4fasG58DFUsdDFp9rQYGWAqB0Ecx-sSe5HN5I0st7inUkrfIz99yEXPoqdK8-L5SM032nk/s320/msdclen_ec007-b10569eb-ead2-49bd-a8f4-e47df13e4b84.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Movement
– there’s movement! People, there are people emerging from the
dazzling glare, walking with uncertain steps down the ramp. Seven
human beings, dressed in US Naval Aviator’s uniform and clearly in
a state of confusion approach Lacombe. He introduces himself and one
of the new arrivals returns the favor; Frank Taylor, Lieutenant J.G.
United States Navy Reserve. 064199. One of the supervisors is there
to welcome the Lieutenant home, shaking his hand and shepherding him
off to debriefing. Totally bemused, the young pilot allows himself to
be led as, one by one, the other men report in.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(Although
based on the real-life crews of the infamous Flight 19 – lost in
the so-called ‘Bermuda Triangle’, the names were changed for the
film, out of respect to the surviving relatives of the lost men.)</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">As
they come in, their names and details are checked out on clipboards
and a light panel of photographs; all missing persons, some missing
no more. One by one, these men step into the late Twentieth Century
as if from a dream – and none a day older than the day they
disappeared back in 1945. A senior figure approaches the elder team
leader to comment on this; Einstein was right. He responds ‘Einstein
was probably one of <i>them</i>.’ </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">More
people now, dressed in garb from different eras, all walking from the
ramp in the same state of wonderment, Roy walking past them towards
the ship as if sleepwalking. Then even more people, a veritable flood
of misplaced and lost souls, even a dog. Among these a man helps a
little boy down the slippery-smooth ramp. A familiar little boy at
that; it’s Barry! His mother is there to meet him, scooping him up
into her arms. The litany of names continues over the tannoy as
Lacombe finally notices Roy, going to him he asks what he wants.
Sighing, he replies; ‘I just wanna know that it’s – it’s
really happening.’ Barry is telling Jillian that he went in the air
and saw their house. Bursting with happiness, she asks if he saw her
running after him. He did. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Urgently,
Lacombe calls a hasty conference among the top men. He wants to
discuss Roy Neary’s case, but time is short, the ramp having
discharged its cargo is beginning to close again. Barry is sad his
new friends are going away. He’s upset, but Jillian’s tears are
of joy. Lacombe, meanwhile has rejoined Roy to tell him he envies
him. No sooner has he said this than an intense radiance announces
the opening of the ramp for the second time. What emerges this time
is truly out of this world, a figure like no other with long, spindly
appendages that lend the being an almost insect-like quality, a torso
and a head that gazes out at the attentive humanity with curious
intent. The senior team leader walks forward now, keen to confront
the culmination of a life’s work. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
ethereal figure stands erect, long arms raised to either side in a
gesture that seems to say ‘Here I am.’ Then it is quite simply
gone (Possibly poor editing here, but I’ll be generous and suggest
it’s part of the mystery), to be replaced by a whole wave of
extra-terrestrial voyagers. Down the ramp they toddle, small ungainly
creatures with over-sized heads and long thin fingers, to gather
before the spellbound humans in rough assembly like kids at playtime.
An official takes Roy to one side, asking for his blood type, date of
birth etc. Has he been inoculated against smallpox, diphtheria? Any
history of familial liver disease? </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Things
seem to have reached an impasse, with both humans and aliens stood in
mute contemplation of each other. Running along a metal gangway,
Jillian takes the opportunity to grab some photos with her Rollei,
snapping away to get shots of the E.T.s, little Barry watching on. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">In
a cabin set aside for the purpose, the Mayflower team of astronauts
sits and receives the blessing of a priest; <i>May God help us and
grant a happy journey. </i>Some of their faces betray their nerves,
but they are led out by the sky-pilot, equipped with only the
contents of their duffel bags and courage. Bringing up the rear of
these fine physical specimens, the slightly less imposing Roy Neary
chats amiably with one of the supervisors as he takes his place in
line for embarkation. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
little alien visitors inspect the Mayflower team, walking down the
line and selecting Roy alone. He goes with them, leaving the
Astro-nots behind and the diminutive creatures take his arm in a
gesture of welcome and belonging. It’s not clear who’s leading
who as he holds his arms out and the little group walks to the ramp,
Roy offering the watching team a farewell smile. Jillian’s getting
it all on film as Roy hesitates, turning to Lacombe who gestures
‘go’. Spotting Jillian and Barry, he returns her look; she’s
tearful, but happy for him. Turning, Roy Neary takes his leave of
this world, stepping gingerly up the precarious ramp to the mystery
beyond. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
aliens have all departed, save the most important of all, the one who
now comes down to take a close look at Claude Lacombe. Clearly, this
being knows of Lacombe’s own importance to the first meeting
between their species and jubilantly, the Frenchman hand-signals to
the interstellar traveller… who returns the gestures, with a smile.
Lacombe can only smile back as the being climbs back into the
Mothership. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Everyone
hustles to clear the arena in preparation for the departure and while
Jillian grabs some last shots, young Barry bids his friends goodbye.
The magnificent ship rises into the still night, rising towards the
stars from whence it came, carrying its crew and one man who is
finally receiving the answers he gave everything to find. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="firstHeading"></a>
At
age seventeen, Steven Allan Spielberg managed to find $500 for his
first full-length motion picture,<i> ‘Firelight’</i> (1964). His
first foray into the movies was a train wreck – literally, as he’d
filmed his toy trains crashing. ‘Firelight’, with it’s story of
scientists investigating UFO incidents was a success – technically.
After the screening at the Phoenix Little Theatre, Arizona, Spielberg
counted the take. He’d made a dollar profit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlTgFi51BbPiylcHma7xHCnw8jtudi7PrITTrK2pqDHO4pEbiNFTUSGogcOOJelS73fyoI2AmBOQclG48zyOgtgaWVBr807GC2g1iSH_Xq_1nIjYQCNf96xjXGBW3jWqHyuqCcFi3WCA/s1600/SS+AT+PHOENIX+LITTLE+THEATRE.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="859" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlTgFi51BbPiylcHma7xHCnw8jtudi7PrITTrK2pqDHO4pEbiNFTUSGogcOOJelS73fyoI2AmBOQclG48zyOgtgaWVBr807GC2g1iSH_Xq_1nIjYQCNf96xjXGBW3jWqHyuqCcFi3WCA/s320/SS+AT+PHOENIX+LITTLE+THEATRE.PNG" width="274" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After establishing his
name as Hollywood’s ‘Wunderkind’, Spielberg signed a deal for a
UFO movie with Columbia in 1973. Titled <i>‘Watch the Skies’</i>,
the movie was put back while he made the summer blockbuster <i>Jaws</i>
(1975), after which he was virtually given carte blanche; the script,
by Paul Schrader<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
featured a USAF officer working on Project Blue Book who, after
experiencing a UFO encounter for himself threatens to go public.
Spielberg disliked the script, so Schrader’s </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Kingdom
Come’ </span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">went
into the bin. Schrader was to go on to pen, amongst other films,
Scorsese’s </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Taxi
Driver’</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
(1976)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">More
re-writes; the protagonist becomes a Police officer and so on.
Eventually, Spielberg took over the screenwriting duties himself,
with Jerry Belson, a veteran TV and Movie scripter. Working with the
</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">leitmotif
</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">of
the </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Pinnochio’</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
(1940) song </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">‘When
you wish upon a Star’ </span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Spielberg
and Belson crafted a tale around a child abducted by a UFO.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9WPqeAr9KQC26iHaa6OwrIKRhRNnyleUNgQSxml1E_I9TEAYPxk9R_CUZaAp-ykgcAe3e0u6MHDMfsonQeEGotbE5u_2PDCyN2_tD6-61qPyV8i-3w_r2Qt8Xp0Q0HhqkUENBreztYc/s1600/MV5BYWZjNzAwZDMtOTdmOS00ZTk1LTgzMjYtZWQyNTVhOTc5ZTJiXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzAwOTU1MTk%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C782%252C1000_AL_.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="716" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9WPqeAr9KQC26iHaa6OwrIKRhRNnyleUNgQSxml1E_I9TEAYPxk9R_CUZaAp-ykgcAe3e0u6MHDMfsonQeEGotbE5u_2PDCyN2_tD6-61qPyV8i-3w_r2Qt8Xp0Q0HhqkUENBreztYc/s320/MV5BYWZjNzAwZDMtOTdmOS00ZTk1LTgzMjYtZWQyNTVhOTc5ZTJiXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzAwOTU1MTk%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C782%252C1000_AL_.png" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Professor J. Allen Hynek</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />The title
was changed to ‘</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Close
Encounters of the Third Kind’, </span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">a
term coined by the film’s scientific adviser, Professor J. Allen
Hynek, of Project Blue Book fame. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">After
investigating over twelve thousand reports, Hynek and his team had
concluded that while most sightings were explicable, a small
percentage remained unexplained. He had gone on to found the </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Center
for UFO Studies (CUFOS)</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
before working with Spielberg. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Hynek
has a cameo in the film, at ‘Tranquility Base’; he’s the older
man with pointed beard, glasses and pipe. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">An
enormously important figure in the scientific research of the
unexplained, Hynek had classified UFO encounters thus;</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxKZcYBe0kw1BTq2rL4q0PXgp0Xr0dQG9TxGwtbFs2o5CmY1WsxjUZ5_7F5PnUeVLrTopBZVWhwbK6Nv7sSjYG5IcOUsVxe6Tkrluv92TwSO38dvu2j-MzTvkzuPoZQc6DrWezvvLdG8/s1600/CLOSE+ENCOUNTER+TERMINOLOGY.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1109" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxKZcYBe0kw1BTq2rL4q0PXgp0Xr0dQG9TxGwtbFs2o5CmY1WsxjUZ5_7F5PnUeVLrTopBZVWhwbK6Nv7sSjYG5IcOUsVxe6Tkrluv92TwSO38dvu2j-MzTvkzuPoZQc6DrWezvvLdG8/s320/CLOSE+ENCOUNTER+TERMINOLOGY.png" width="221" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Principle
photography began on May 16</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><sup><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></span></span></span></sup></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
1976. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Locations
used included Devil’s Tower National Monument, Wyoming, Alabama,
California and India. Two gigantic disused Air Force Airship hangars
in Mobile, Alabama were used as soundstages </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">for
the ‘Tranquility Base’ scenes as well as the scene where </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
cop cars chase the UFO around a bend.</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Neary home interior was also filmed there.</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Fans of the film (And if you aren’t, what </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">are</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
you doing here?) might like to know the famous scene where Roy’s
truck is approached by a UFO was filmed at Padgett Switch near
Irvington, Alabama. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
sandstorm – and later, the ship featured in the 1980 ‘Special
Edition’ (Extra scenes were shot and added to the original film)
were shot in the Mojave desert. The exterior of the Neary home is
1613 Carlisle Drive East in Colonial Heights to the West of Mobile,
while Jillian’s house stands at 22250 State Highway 181, Fairhope,
Alabama.</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #3f3f3e;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Bay
Minette stood in for the evacuation center in Wyoming. </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">S</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">pecial
Effects giant Douglas Trumbull </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">(2001:
A Space Odyssey, Silent Running, Blade Runner) </span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">was
the Visual Effects Supervisor on </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">CE3K</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
while Carlo Rambaldi </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">(King
Kong, Alien, E.T.) </span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">designed
the aliens. Legendary artist Ralph McQuarrie designed the Mothership.
John Williams provided the score, including the famous five-note
motif – itself parodied in </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Moonraker</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
(1979) as the key-pad tone at Drax’s Venice laboratory.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Richard
Dreyfuss plays Roy Neary, a lineman who experiences a Close
Encounter. Reportedly, Steve McQueen was Spielberg’s first choice,
but ruled himself out. Hackman, Hoffman and Pacino all turned down
the role. His nephew, Justin, plays his son Toby Neary.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Renowned
French Director Francois Truffaut is Claude Lacombe, a French
Government expert. </span>
</span></div>
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<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bob
Balaban is Laughlin, Lacombe’s assistant and interpreter. His
on-set diary was later published as the <i>Close Encounters of the
Third Kind Diary.</i> (I cherish my copy to this day.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Melinda
Dillon portrays Jillian Guiler, mother of abductee Barry, who
searches for both her son and the truth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
calendar found in the Grumman Avenger was a 1972 version of a 1945
calendar, a promotional item for a bank whose logo features
prominently.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
Federales are wearing out-dated uniforms in the film. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When
Roy Neary argues with his Wife, Toby, one of their sons closes his
bedroom door. If you listen carefully, Spielberg can be heard
whispering for him to close it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
globe at Echo Deep Space Station is supposedly worth $2,500, yet it’s
not in good condition; large dents are clearly visible, possibly from
previous takes. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At
roughly 2:07:49 you can clearly see one of the E.T.s accidentally
sliding down the ramp to the extreme left of shot; in fact several of
them slide down the ramp.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
co-ordinates received by the scientists are for a point over 250
miles from Devil’s Tower.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">No-one
in Mongolia uses camels for transportation; they use horses instead.</span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During
the film, the wrong insignia is shown on military personnel.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
returnees from the 1940’s sport longish Seventies’ hair and
sideburns.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If
you pause at the right moment, you can clearly read the newspaper
article Ronnie Neary cuts out at 33:45. Names given include John
Milius and his girlfriend ‘Cylia’ John Milius is a famous
Screenwriter, Director and Producer and his second wife, Celia an
actress. Amusingly, to either side of the UFO report, you can see an
article reviewing <i>Star Wars</i> (1977). Oddly, in the ‘UFO’s
Over Five Counties’ piece, Pease Air Force Base is mentioned as
declining comment. Pease is in New Hampshire.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The
scene where Roy Neary packs his family into the truck to go
late-night UFO spotting was inspired by an incident from Spielberg’s
early years, when his parents rushed the kids into the family car
late one night to see a spectacular meteor shower. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
technician at the keyboard is actually Philip Dodds, of ARP
Instruments, Inc. He arrived to install ARP 2500 Synthesizer and
wound up with a role in the film, getting into hot water with the
company over the time away from work this entailed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Melinda
Dillon, who plays Jillian Guiler had a broken big toe when filming
started. Rather than risk losing the role, she carried on. Of all the
scenes to start with with an injury, she had to scramble up Devil’s
Tower!</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Cary
Guffey was such a natural he became known as ‘One Take Carey’
on-set. Spielberg had a T-Shirt printed for him with the nickname. To
get such convincing performances from such a young child, the
Director used tricks such as waving a toy car from behind the camera
and having two crew members surprise him wearing clown and gorilla
suits. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Filmed
under the working title ‘Watch the Skies’, the final dialogue in
<i>‘The Thing from another World’ </i>(1951) When Roy is woken by
the cartoon, the same words are spoken.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When
the Neary house experiences the power cut, the miniature water
features on the model train layout glow – in a deleted scene his
son Toby accuses him of stealing his luminous paint, an accusation
confirmed by the suddenly luminous layout.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Veteran
Stuntman and Stunt Director Craig R.Baxley was injured crashing the
Police car chasing the UFOs when his car overshot the landing area.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US">Truffaut’s
character Lacombe is based on </span>Jacques Vallée, the French
Computer Scientist, Ufologist and Astronomer. He reportedly argued
with Speilberg to make the explanation for the events in the film
more prosaic, rather than extra-terrestrial, but Spielberg argued he
knew what his audience expected. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Apparently,
Grateful Dead singer Jerry Garcia appears as a crowd extra in the
Indian scene. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Security
– and secrecy surrounding the production was intense, with
Spielberg editing in an apartment, locking the mothership model away
in his garage and strict access to the sets. At one point, Spielberg
himself, having forgotten his pass, was turned away from the Mobile
hangar set. </span>
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During
filming, Spielberg became obsessed with John Ford’s <i>The
Searchers</i> (1956), repeatedly screening the film after a day’s
shooting. Production Designer Joe Alves (<i>Jaws, Escape from New
York</i>) drove for thousands of miles looking for a suitable
location for the mother ship landing site. Finally, he selected
Devil’s Tower, Wyoming, as it suggested the terrain of Monument
Valley featured in Ford’s classic, but with a solitary and eerie
feel.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Major
Benchley, the Air Force spokesman who debunks the UFO phenomenon with
a fake photograph was named after Peter Benchley, author of <i>Jaws.</i></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">When
they first see Devil’s Tower in the fles-I mean <i>rock,</i> Roy
suggests they get some gas and get down there. This refers to a
deleted scene at a gas station where the two are observed by a
military chopper. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyxWzN7UbBvZYHopnNXr8U_fUUzpwh_I17_OUlzt8Bu_vu7cvC9x9cEkJFIqCinEsEhcr2qNCvCTpGG82jZbg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During
the scene at Jillian’s home where the Aliens arrive, the floor vent
screws unscrew, a homage to a similar scene in <i>The War of the
Worlds </i>(1953) Spielberg went on, of course, to re-make the film.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Francois
Truffaut didn’t speak English well, delivering the line ‘They
belong here more than we’ which came out as ‘Zey belong here
Mozambique’. The crew had T-Shirts with the misheard line printed
and on learning of this, Truffaut was delighted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As
well as a role as the Brody family dog in <i>Jaws, </i>Steven
Spielberg’s Cocker Spaniel, Elmer has a brief role as a returnee,
sliding down the Mothership ramp.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
returnee’s names are read out over a PA system, including one Ken
Swenson, the name of one of the model-makers. Swenson would go on to
work on many films, including <i>Independence Day </i>(1996) and<i>
Night at the Museum </i>(2006)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A
proposed follow-up named <i>‘Night Skies’ </i>was considered, but
dropped when Spielberg decided to make <i>E.T. </i>(1982)</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqKFWQKVkEyLBRhR1kvVYX1T2Im-l1CDkBkJjxF3vVf_izELs5LNZLv1v5qU5zJJgoZR4NQbFLzOyYCd3PVuThFYo9ZtUhvlXwjGeyWDa52Te_rXfMLdNHkv5tH6xj7-l6SfAwS8FQvs/s1600/MATTHEW+YURICICH+MATTE+MOTHERSHIP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="1600" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqKFWQKVkEyLBRhR1kvVYX1T2Im-l1CDkBkJjxF3vVf_izELs5LNZLv1v5qU5zJJgoZR4NQbFLzOyYCd3PVuThFYo9ZtUhvlXwjGeyWDa52Te_rXfMLdNHkv5tH6xj7-l6SfAwS8FQvs/s320/MATTHEW+YURICICH+MATTE+MOTHERSHIP.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(Above) Matthew Yuricich Matte painting<br />(Below) Detail showing crew member's names hidden in same!</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiTBjWIk3TMlLK3epA3iLG5khFgZUQxwLDzY71UMJ14iOPJS6dPu6nt5niLr8SSLKUTXWVyTtoy7r-v_7Nokt8guO5ckZ-ShMXmI7hYAmzxd_-tAdUo7XCwKWJxkHluMLX38xQlxGeJs/s1600/BOB+BAKER.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="715" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiTBjWIk3TMlLK3epA3iLG5khFgZUQxwLDzY71UMJ14iOPJS6dPu6nt5niLr8SSLKUTXWVyTtoy7r-v_7Nokt8guO5ckZ-ShMXmI7hYAmzxd_-tAdUo7XCwKWJxkHluMLX38xQlxGeJs/s320/BOB+BAKER.PNG" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Bob Baker's design for the 'Spindly' ET</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Above and Below - George Jensen Production Art</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ron Cobb's concept art for the Cotopaxi</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Burman Studios prototype ET head - rejected as 'Too Creepy'</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Above and Below; Ralph McQuarrie designs for the Mothership.<br />Bespin springs to mind!</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIWAOjqsvY_-atmWi_3kVqXBgl2tKQ-2Hoiy1rfOxgDrGrwy3SOKmp1IpTFKU-gkdZLJcvETvq88QhmZX09lm7_bCaiRSFswyXZ59BqnRXJlw2MI-LQ0WEC1RXu70c36IH23KDMSetDI/s1600/colin+cantwell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIWAOjqsvY_-atmWi_3kVqXBgl2tKQ-2Hoiy1rfOxgDrGrwy3SOKmp1IpTFKU-gkdZLJcvETvq88QhmZX09lm7_bCaiRSFswyXZ59BqnRXJlw2MI-LQ0WEC1RXu70c36IH23KDMSetDI/s320/colin+cantwell.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Colin Cantwell Concept Art</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Carlo Rambaldi Design for the animated ET</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Dennis Muren Matte Painting</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Screen-worn ET suit<br /></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Italian Fotobusta Lobby Cards</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Barclay Shaw artwork for Cinefantastique magazine</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ralph Fowler cover art for CBCC Magazine, April 1978</b></span></td></tr>
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-59808782681768690342018-12-15T16:06:00.000+00:002018-12-15T16:06:09.825+00:00Merry Christmas! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A very Merry Christmas and a Hap-Hap-Happy New Year to all of you. We've been a tad quiet this year or two, largely due to writing commitments and a major operation that took awhile to recover from - and while I can make no promises, I'll certainly be posting in 2019. Love to all, VC. </div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-7726732521639589752018-10-06T22:22:00.002+00:002018-10-06T22:25:14.075+00:00OUTLAND - a forgotten Sci-Fi Treasure from the '80s<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! HERE BE SPOILERS! </span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Io. Third moon of Jupiter. 2273 Miles in diameter. In stable orbit 262,070 miles from planet surface. 70 hour’s travel from Space Station & weekly supply shuttle. Gravity one-sixth of Earth gravity. Perched on the edge of a black chasm; Con-Am 27, company mining operation, a League of Industrial Nations franchise. 2144 souls; 1250 labour, 714 support and 180 admin and maintenance. The numbers that keep the machine working on tours that last a calendar year. Security is maintained by a District Federal Marshal. And all this for the moon’s rich supply of Titanium ore<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Lobby card showing the mining complex</span></b></td></tr>
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Below the gigantic surface structures, a lift shaft takes workers down to and up from the mine, a literal descent into darkness; the sun never reaches the lower levels here. The lift is descending now, miners in environment suits exiting to begin another shift. Another shift nearer to end of tour and Home. Around the massive shaft, the serried lights of the galleries resemble a liner at sea, but this is no party; here the workers’ lives depend on the integrity of their suits and the watchfulness of their colleagues. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Io is no place to be without friends. A team works a plasma cutter, boring into the rock face as two others engage in the time-old practice of bitching. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzmYCXM0kYt-7ESmwSns6XPiWVR9qZr-97RkL5rYdVks023aaq3kin5ZpDqTVnkgnAdwqaANEIuZ6LMAcmudRxUt787Ve7qWyipsyb8Br1HDGBTwSyD0zF5GAUFvV-KfHLF9ELzCf_fg/s1600/OUTLAND+%252867%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1280" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzmYCXM0kYt-7ESmwSns6XPiWVR9qZr-97RkL5rYdVks023aaq3kin5ZpDqTVnkgnAdwqaANEIuZ6LMAcmudRxUt787Ve7qWyipsyb8Br1HDGBTwSyD0zF5GAUFvV-KfHLF9ELzCf_fg/s400/OUTLAND+%252867%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">German Lobby card showing miners at work</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
No way will the Company bring automated vacuum loaders here; when they did it on 14 and 23 they claimed it was temporary – well, they’re still there and with a seven-worker shift!. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIM9mCyULa8jtKq30DSVEaO2VEUQBLQ0QRrybiYIRPFgQM1_7alnuwtaUlMHTa-gEhbqzEz-uWgceYs6s8XS67Tuh6d4IqmiS_14uscemkAGjrxRPXhwAQlDiRNyNFY1Zngvxw8FAZCWU/s1600/OUTLAND+%252832%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="999" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIM9mCyULa8jtKq30DSVEaO2VEUQBLQ0QRrybiYIRPFgQM1_7alnuwtaUlMHTa-gEhbqzEz-uWgceYs6s8XS67Tuh6d4IqmiS_14uscemkAGjrxRPXhwAQlDiRNyNFY1Zngvxw8FAZCWU/s400/OUTLAND+%252832%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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What did the shop steward say?; zip – contract says eight, that’s what it says. And why can’t they regulate these suits? -175 degrees and they broil their asses off. Mylar over the sensor; that’s the trick – fools the sensor and steps down the coil. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While
these two grind their teeth, Tarlow, another miner seems to be having
some sort of problem. Panicked and sweating profusely, he begins
stamping on the metal catwalk – spiders – he has to kill the spiders.
The two gripers aren’t falling for it; how could there be spiders out
here?. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4mJyhc1Ti0Z27I3_TBTjtygeidDWb8f2C9hI_V7Cg3uyQq1GHBjPmA9KzQxV0doKBudqe2GolrBQHLE33GtO87pFnWbgNAsX0HXt63YN7k2QiJMgPK7w1-15mZ-9vxW88vEGHYooeCU/s1600/OUTLAND+%252856%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="1024" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4mJyhc1Ti0Z27I3_TBTjtygeidDWb8f2C9hI_V7Cg3uyQq1GHBjPmA9KzQxV0doKBudqe2GolrBQHLE33GtO87pFnWbgNAsX0HXt63YN7k2QiJMgPK7w1-15mZ-9vxW88vEGHYooeCU/s400/OUTLAND+%252856%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gripped by some unseen terror, Tarlow screams for help, clutching
at his oxygen hose and tearing it free from the coupling. </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmiaX1JmQCoRK3pyqtAiejYAPF7pUzn9nuK4IJQCKVT8ysRhtnasH04vNRDe9DFlsTsWdHsZ9_4cBPYtkmC6eyFDe7ISs9n1dMPTehDthN8rciVntM6mRPM-EZoLqO6vb7jAoGJOuq9s/s1600/1+TARLOW+BLOWS.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmiaX1JmQCoRK3pyqtAiejYAPF7pUzn9nuK4IJQCKVT8ysRhtnasH04vNRDe9DFlsTsWdHsZ9_4cBPYtkmC6eyFDe7ISs9n1dMPTehDthN8rciVntM6mRPM-EZoLqO6vb7jAoGJOuq9s/s400/1+TARLOW+BLOWS.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Horrified, the others can only watch as exposure to the absolute vacuum of space handles the rest, Tarlow’s skull exploding against his faceplate, the corpse tumbling over the side into the fathomless depths below the gallery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnyzvGpFLf_bdE35Id4HOS29VD0kLbx3zEWvDsQWIEW99PxJabvjU4TNWuWiIZtN9xT_i9B3VGrDX1TrLGcHd6h-PifPcYytsPzW8tB-9IV8vfVS47UVxBXnvLKlsKtnhyrfmIJNqSzM/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-09-25-17h18m08s968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnyzvGpFLf_bdE35Id4HOS29VD0kLbx3zEWvDsQWIEW99PxJabvjU4TNWuWiIZtN9xT_i9B3VGrDX1TrLGcHd6h-PifPcYytsPzW8tB-9IV8vfVS47UVxBXnvLKlsKtnhyrfmIJNqSzM/s400/vlcsnap-2018-09-25-17h18m08s968.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the O’Niel accommodation unit, Paul O’Niel is complaining about the buttermilk and his mother tells him they ran out of the other kind. He can hardly talk with these braces. They’ll be off soon. How soon?. ‘How soon for what?’ Marshal William T. O’Niel enters, six feet two inches of languid forcefulness, moving easily in his muscled frame. He’s heard it all before; jokes the boy will be missing some teeth if he doesn’t eat breakfast. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1yWrVpGMUT0H5MQXxQYVv06XRfapPZWbaBVCupS9snxWGI4r26a9WmiOvAOvt1e4WkTI3TpemEJPdNiPkgNXcKmxjNmVSYoGmvk3rj-p8dhTp9clUKcATbSSqenv0XH2wwDSonOyAE/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-09-26-17h41m57s590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1yWrVpGMUT0H5MQXxQYVv06XRfapPZWbaBVCupS9snxWGI4r26a9WmiOvAOvt1e4WkTI3TpemEJPdNiPkgNXcKmxjNmVSYoGmvk3rj-p8dhTp9clUKcATbSSqenv0XH2wwDSonOyAE/s400/vlcsnap-2018-09-26-17h41m57s590.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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Grabbing a coffee, the Marshal goes to his desk and pushes his card into the slot to access the system. There’s a message from Lowell, one of the Deputies; the Night Watch went ok – a few drunks. Next one from Sergeant Montone, O’Niel’s second in command. Nothing more on the incident in the mine – guy went whacko. The Company’s shipping what’s left of him out on the next shuttle. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubYXfOb9pLJA3_t8fBkg1R5B_yP86ER7I6cqOYrMPzCp90NXHMcfAZmGpshRUB4HH3np1JMV3mrmiY4B40LVp1hyCqX6OXbGQW4-DxY0pudHd7kiWanaVZJhvvASlqN40iU6uj5fFyC0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-09-26-17h44m02s578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubYXfOb9pLJA3_t8fBkg1R5B_yP86ER7I6cqOYrMPzCp90NXHMcfAZmGpshRUB4HH3np1JMV3mrmiY4B40LVp1hyCqX6OXbGQW4-DxY0pudHd7kiWanaVZJhvvASlqN40iU6uj5fFyC0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-09-26-17h44m02s578.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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As the Sergeant explains no autopsy was possible due to the mess, Carol looks at her son, worried about the effect on the boy. Montone’s image tells O’Niel it happens here; some people let this place get to them. Oh – and Transportation got the tickets Mrs. O’Niel wanted. Off-handedly, she claims they were for friends of friends. <br /><br /><br />O’Niel has to go to work, but seeing the dejection on Carol’s face he pauses. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
He knows it’s a lousy assignment, how difficult for her. Just, give it a chance. As her husband leaves, Carol O’Niel’s mind is firmly set. She cannot bear to let him go without a kiss, a hug. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPJqiwgvGM7HFNTZizGQl-4pSxAX8VeYiPASH7sJdH05gBAgKIOdS-xkJpYD1fADlrsntxA57siIaBDCVOQiMDBjqdwyIKKiPK4Gv0slUscv9t_iaduCh1pM8aLHlfcQgO4u3Bm1apZY/s1600/OUTLAND+%252857%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1024" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPJqiwgvGM7HFNTZizGQl-4pSxAX8VeYiPASH7sJdH05gBAgKIOdS-xkJpYD1fADlrsntxA57siIaBDCVOQiMDBjqdwyIKKiPK4Gv0slUscv9t_iaduCh1pM8aLHlfcQgO4u3Bm1apZY/s400/OUTLAND+%252857%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They tell each other they love each other and he tries telling her it’ll get better. <br /><br /><br />Spota walks through the crowded staff canteen. And Spota has a purpose. Seating himself at a table, he chews gum and stares at nothing. One of the diners walks deliberately from the table, going through to the accommodation block – also crowded, along to the locker area. Yes, it’s crowded. Men are busy changing into their environment suits for the next shift. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaU9HIVbelMT8TIGiM78WOmAQQCxFGY_jq2FYYeG9b0x1RHh0e1vJ4taS_NexqBQmiz1O9XFmonUbcYxfgF18lcvFEXl0XRQQnzbnIDuICWK5xDmutchjULmnreociDlocEB-F-iMbChE/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h34m16s669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaU9HIVbelMT8TIGiM78WOmAQQCxFGY_jq2FYYeG9b0x1RHh0e1vJ4taS_NexqBQmiz1O9XFmonUbcYxfgF18lcvFEXl0XRQQnzbnIDuICWK5xDmutchjULmnreociDlocEB-F-iMbChE/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h34m16s669.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdk6p4Mk12e1DbMs6cAtXRsrXaeOv2F4-hZNjqxC1WK5FcAaBWhIWdPsPlNz0b4X9OFmM5LP00Cv5O_NLf5WuYU1Bof1fUwT-NaNPo-rlNtyJDc2H3LTslA59IrmAd6X3I6QNsOZRI80E/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h36m28s545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdk6p4Mk12e1DbMs6cAtXRsrXaeOv2F4-hZNjqxC1WK5FcAaBWhIWdPsPlNz0b4X9OFmM5LP00Cv5O_NLf5WuYU1Bof1fUwT-NaNPo-rlNtyJDc2H3LTslA59IrmAd6X3I6QNsOZRI80E/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h36m28s545.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With easy familiarity, Spota walks along to the locker area, another worker slipping through the crowd. Finding his man changing for Outside, he makes the exchange in a heartbeat, walking on as if he was never there.<br /><br /><br />In the Ward Room, O’Niel is wrapping up his ‘Getting to know you speech’ for the privileged few. Here, your coffee is brought to you, by a person. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj606epY8kzEusIiO6BkT2Ic9IsgZ2Fub7ndlmMvQRaHMII-BsryardgsI0vH-gVdLdTwLRqY2cFq6b2igx4qmNEpKad2sNqS-9y9H57rtbBffoxh9EcAJrmNX1r2AnzEwkj8qE46Iz0bU/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h36m41s369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj606epY8kzEusIiO6BkT2Ic9IsgZ2Fub7ndlmMvQRaHMII-BsryardgsI0vH-gVdLdTwLRqY2cFq6b2igx4qmNEpKad2sNqS-9y9H57rtbBffoxh9EcAJrmNX1r2AnzEwkj8qE46Iz0bU/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h36m41s369.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
They even clean up after you, unlike the canteen. The occupants of the room – among them Sheppard, watch dispassionately as the Marshal struggles through his speech. Sheppard? Sheppard is the Station’s General Manager, a bear-like man with eyes like a fox in a henhouse. One Flo Spector of Accounting Services stands to give the new Marshall a welcome that she’s just sure speaks for everyone, but then Sheppard delivers a speech of his own. Just another mining town. Never much trouble (O’Niel quips that he’s glad to hear it). But remember these men and women work hard, very hard. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHucV5rYn8dyuj-_WcjX3eQNIStjFhR4FKap2zCrZuUh6f7r2iZX2ATjnmmvnKsN3rXTwQUpQjT51EbB6lUn-s90XqZl5sEMAcjAttlrRDzk3ddJIML1c6b-IFvGFp0GkJxzot8kf2r14/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h38m42s522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHucV5rYn8dyuj-_WcjX3eQNIStjFhR4FKap2zCrZuUh6f7r2iZX2ATjnmmvnKsN3rXTwQUpQjT51EbB6lUn-s90XqZl5sEMAcjAttlrRDzk3ddJIML1c6b-IFvGFp0GkJxzot8kf2r14/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h38m42s522.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
Since he’s been general manager they’ve broken all productivity records, everyone in the room has had the bonus checks to prove it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUF9G8u-ctESZgv5MteZ7PaZeUooobwJNeIseHvMjpLtIl_Gup7vqpPdZHxHnNOdeDX3Dz7emK889rggMKjyCs9LV9fAEGXuc8z1jGVimZT4mcP8WpWVHS0DPvOd-nFmz80ofWnUDUYYk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h38m33s245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUF9G8u-ctESZgv5MteZ7PaZeUooobwJNeIseHvMjpLtIl_Gup7vqpPdZHxHnNOdeDX3Dz7emK889rggMKjyCs9LV9fAEGXuc8z1jGVimZT4mcP8WpWVHS0DPvOd-nFmz80ofWnUDUYYk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h38m33s245.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
He tells a clearly tense O’Niel to let the workers play hard, to let off steam, plus to drop by his office for a chat. Who does this guy think he is?.<br /><br /><br />Feathers ruffled, O’Niel strides along a corridor with Montone, the Sergeant trying to smooth things over; Sheppard’s an asshole, but a powerful one. Don’t mess with him. Banging through the saloon doors to the security complex, all eyes are on the Marshal as Montone explains all Sheppard wants is things to go smooth. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3W4_rElXu5nyxY4eTzhT3V5yY7vG-LFM2nG72ZrIUjVXwORq_abPTRF4hra4SwkwOrDi5bVwodMBqvpGZz5yyK-RrPhumw8tfeP4SDCpjtMthSLUgSCHfq9vW6KHMvqt3RhZWxD5a78o/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h39m29s370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3W4_rElXu5nyxY4eTzhT3V5yY7vG-LFM2nG72ZrIUjVXwORq_abPTRF4hra4SwkwOrDi5bVwodMBqvpGZz5yyK-RrPhumw8tfeP4SDCpjtMthSLUgSCHfq9vW6KHMvqt3RhZWxD5a78o/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h39m29s370.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Nobody’s here for the scenery; things go smooth, they make their money. O’Niel goes through the glass door with his name emblazoned across it, leaving Montone to look through it with a look that might mean a number of things. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqD5RDXvEAHLagsyPIceeE2_t5WVpVa38f_vwayIp7payckDdAhmKO_hepZN_EkKlgxINNktt7j2QscpiZuoWL_4IxAwXnPPGSRpGcemSH6geUb1a4mdpT8G9-npTx4jb3TsYu23LwBo/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h39m46s066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqD5RDXvEAHLagsyPIceeE2_t5WVpVa38f_vwayIp7payckDdAhmKO_hepZN_EkKlgxINNktt7j2QscpiZuoWL_4IxAwXnPPGSRpGcemSH6geUb1a4mdpT8G9-npTx4jb3TsYu23LwBo/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h39m46s066.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Or that he’s wondering if this one’s going to cause trouble. <br /><br /><br />Shift change. The elevator arrives from the mine to discharge a tired load and collect a fresh one. Tired men are relieved of their bulky suits by the assistance staff, while others don theirs prior to charging their tanks and going Outside.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhT3r2pmQJ5chtVmMFgn04uIDtqE6vMgj6oZZaXdns9e7ZFnqmS_FfO0pXLywt4-ZQpXbJOXTzPNx7BFs6lM-PeHUtcQGM9af5WhAgfzY3Lm7t096q3Be8VZ-D08a9gidUceAl9keMDk/s1600/OUTLAND+%252870%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1280" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhT3r2pmQJ5chtVmMFgn04uIDtqE6vMgj6oZZaXdns9e7ZFnqmS_FfO0pXLywt4-ZQpXbJOXTzPNx7BFs6lM-PeHUtcQGM9af5WhAgfzY3Lm7t096q3Be8VZ-D08a9gidUceAl9keMDk/s400/OUTLAND+%252870%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPikXdLtJEqBGR8VC_u_CLFVQ2V0mZM0O4wxFDkCtZkcm7y1guHkRumicVdifW2fM2knwaSTJvLOtVcFWFay8jFjZgB9KqZRapBxGcGZ1gOqsElWULcEkQemmo2BPDvLuBzscMX_6srFU/s1600/OUTLAND+%252839%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1493" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPikXdLtJEqBGR8VC_u_CLFVQ2V0mZM0O4wxFDkCtZkcm7y1guHkRumicVdifW2fM2knwaSTJvLOtVcFWFay8jFjZgB9KqZRapBxGcGZ1gOqsElWULcEkQemmo2BPDvLuBzscMX_6srFU/s400/OUTLAND+%252839%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
Through all this walks Cane, a miner. His expression is peaceful, serene – almost beatific. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aAFZQgsCEzv1Aix-tp3-jwDy5HRJoUEiPg1wZO49vNq6qX68Wplb3DeXZ2INSk9_qEtSgznn2H4ee0vaJGYKRk3uu6_ojjLmjfvrkxT5f0LSIDGcnNnYvykvcU9eo8Ypd-oC3Ci7IEs/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h42m25s118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aAFZQgsCEzv1Aix-tp3-jwDy5HRJoUEiPg1wZO49vNq6qX68Wplb3DeXZ2INSk9_qEtSgznn2H4ee0vaJGYKRk3uu6_ojjLmjfvrkxT5f0LSIDGcnNnYvykvcU9eo8Ypd-oC3Ci7IEs/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h42m25s118.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Going to the airlock, he slips in his card and punches in his id code. Nothing odd in that. Except Cane isn’t wearing a suit. The elevator comes up from three and opens. He yanks a lever to open the door, at which people finally take notice; that guy isn’t wearing a suit. Smiling as if seeing his first sunrise, Cane steps into the elevator. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbCQ4Jr9W-8GMKzHs3haiCgta6z401mWxchF5bmfOP_6TBZaK8D42kEhpJFAoUgIesU6qOBLHilDyJ6qVXTWI5k3JHwy8nIUhlwhA_y_IlhF2qQc3tRWXG0G33VIj3H5gNwbiqrmpOG8/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h43m28s944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbCQ4Jr9W-8GMKzHs3haiCgta6z401mWxchF5bmfOP_6TBZaK8D42kEhpJFAoUgIesU6qOBLHilDyJ6qVXTWI5k3JHwy8nIUhlwhA_y_IlhF2qQc3tRWXG0G33VIj3H5gNwbiqrmpOG8/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h43m28s944.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
However fast you try, you can’t uncouple from an air charging station and reach the elevator in time to stop a man – not in a bulky environment suit, you can’t. Horrified, the miners can only look through the porthole to see Cane smiling back at them as the airlock door opens to the elevator itself. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiongTN4TXZO_6xsElQLW3xij6Q_OYcxfxbvg4nL_k-Ea59FZDVl_wj6xgh-1fbAIJ6ojPlbkVLnYxa-hw-_fQaajHteZiqT9J54O6oAAuPwteA2wGFNwFmEv6f54pde5jXdRkU3JIpvn4/s1600/2+CANE+GOES+OUTSIDE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiongTN4TXZO_6xsElQLW3xij6Q_OYcxfxbvg4nL_k-Ea59FZDVl_wj6xgh-1fbAIJ6ojPlbkVLnYxa-hw-_fQaajHteZiqT9J54O6oAAuPwteA2wGFNwFmEv6f54pde5jXdRkU3JIpvn4/s400/2+CANE+GOES+OUTSIDE.gif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And pounding on the glass does nothing to stop what’s coming. The elevator seems tiny as it slides down to the mine, surrounded by a latticework of girders and struts. A tiny box carrying a tiny man, depressurising as it goes... <br /><br /><br />Down in the mine, a readout follows the elevator’s inexorable progress as it decompresses. The glass ports are now covered with fresh blood. The miners waiting for the ride up gasp in horror at the sight they are presented with – Cane’s body lies in front of them, his intestines exposed where they burst from his body.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUqjVsjitxW-dW9kDzgrr5HfshNSU3aJfSfisuGy64PUz8aA3RDY7Ebf-k4crtNG3IgWnWSYRx3PmsZf2jqSIuxPQoU1CrEg036dhOfJOyHfUh_pGWUcX2AEF8J3MG0hGU9n_Hs0PCNA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h45m51s680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUqjVsjitxW-dW9kDzgrr5HfshNSU3aJfSfisuGy64PUz8aA3RDY7Ebf-k4crtNG3IgWnWSYRx3PmsZf2jqSIuxPQoU1CrEg036dhOfJOyHfUh_pGWUcX2AEF8J3MG0hGU9n_Hs0PCNA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h45m51s680.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">O’Niel returns to the family accommodation unit to find it in darkness, empty. He punches his card and a message comes up. Carol. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_4TP0lRVx6npOO-r1mG7L5yMDirecfSI5ryvH5EEDo_MZVQdhnBni4nrwXgAn8x_0ZlHmQ1KFfDnwaLrMEr4k6V1WfZEF6TpcIFqDqY8OTmtjj5UFXTAb4GD0KeUy5j9ajOtGfzABiE/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h46m27s843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_4TP0lRVx6npOO-r1mG7L5yMDirecfSI5ryvH5EEDo_MZVQdhnBni4nrwXgAn8x_0ZlHmQ1KFfDnwaLrMEr4k6V1WfZEF6TpcIFqDqY8OTmtjj5UFXTAb4GD0KeUy5j9ajOtGfzABiE/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h46m27s843.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
She’s trying to keep her composure, and like everything else she does she’s messing it up… she couldn’t look at his face and say what she’s going to; she’d change her mind and doesn’t want to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jTH-vAknkd6LvnPntWJtq_Jf0kEpU-P4Y0IKLMN_IflmE5yyr8Qckdcj6ZVADq2VApjWIpTD8Bv08SMoTsTU3uXU6tTyZcxeTTrAbyx3LPIcB9zHxsYN0V8iYy9BN1ffhOgenQbwfzw/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h46m56s091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jTH-vAknkd6LvnPntWJtq_Jf0kEpU-P4Y0IKLMN_IflmE5yyr8Qckdcj6ZVADq2VApjWIpTD8Bv08SMoTsTU3uXU6tTyZcxeTTrAbyx3LPIcB9zHxsYN0V8iYy9BN1ffhOgenQbwfzw/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-16h46m56s091.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
She loves him, he should know that. She can’t take it anymore – they’ve been through this so many times, something snapped. She couldn’t bear to see Paulie clatter around another bleak place. He’s never set foot on Earth, ever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0yHQe8VbUhn0ljlTi_2-nJY-9wBZqf5pHWbK3NMNJ98XgJBitbxcOhghoF4W1Oq7meL2m7x3HJ5XEtu6CkZ5AXFg5y5FsTQypGPwFVCjBPGBeckMr_Q2Kp_0q5f5oRLLcLENBq7N5kY/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h25m38s290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0yHQe8VbUhn0ljlTi_2-nJY-9wBZqf5pHWbK3NMNJ98XgJBitbxcOhghoF4W1Oq7meL2m7x3HJ5XEtu6CkZ5AXFg5y5FsTQypGPwFVCjBPGBeckMr_Q2Kp_0q5f5oRLLcLENBq7N5kY/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h25m38s290.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
He deserves a childhood, to breathe air, real air. So, she’s taking him back home. She has to go, but she’ll contact him from the Space Station before they leave for Earth itself. Through all this, O’Niel’s face speaks for his side of the conversation. Dismay. Sadness. Acceptance, perhaps. The screen blinks off and he sits, alone with his thoughts in the dark.<br /><br /><br />In the security complex, Montone smokes a cigar as he goes through the watch detail and roll call. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMszurNAtr6U7RiwgA1a4rxRP5EascA9fXslwAUPXkH_BmTVei9r2xGDzlcfuJW_SQSV-zhH7M7p6M8pE7_y3rOX696MN5d7LQKTNfHL3pS3o6qbHZbUCD1elhzDKcNJdNHIPo9HE0Us/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h27m52s649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMszurNAtr6U7RiwgA1a4rxRP5EascA9fXslwAUPXkH_BmTVei9r2xGDzlcfuJW_SQSV-zhH7M7p6M8pE7_y3rOX696MN5d7LQKTNfHL3pS3o6qbHZbUCD1elhzDKcNJdNHIPo9HE0Us/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h27m52s649.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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O’Niel is sat in his office, brooding. The Sergeant asks Deputy Ballard what’s going on with the Purser’s area. They monitored the area; things have been quiet. Montone says to keep the monitors on another two weeks, then asks Deputy Nelson about the detonators. They were found. Where?; he doesn’t know, just says the shift foreman reported them found and said to forget about it. Patiently, Montone explains these are nuclear detonators, you just don’t lose then find them – you lose your comb and then find it, not nuclear detonators. He wants to know where and by who. Next up, he asks Slater about the incident in the mine. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8gbFP28C1XR16CHp6BlGGv4j9iBr-FXvJigHHtNLqBHg6KLZ1CdtdpgnUI0DjAuS53L_u76Enrjn3ZvvQ7f0hUxLuXgAxFrtQLH1oeInMEY-uhQcVP6Fyy8fVwZ25HtwSnobXzxTJnk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h28m22s105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8gbFP28C1XR16CHp6BlGGv4j9iBr-FXvJigHHtNLqBHg6KLZ1CdtdpgnUI0DjAuS53L_u76Enrjn3ZvvQ7f0hUxLuXgAxFrtQLH1oeInMEY-uhQcVP6Fyy8fVwZ25HtwSnobXzxTJnk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h28m22s105.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
With a shrug, the Deputy says ‘Nothing much to tell.’ Some cupcake name of Cane decided he didn’t need an environment suit; they’re still sponging him off the elevator walls. O’Niel’s curiosity is piqued; Slater expands that Cane was alone, that some guys tried to get into the airlock, but he’d sealed it. No way it was homicide. ‘Did he leave a note?.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxzBEXLhjRiovVx4-Vpz-b8oJ18bN3j1nSTq-EE5JeXGNm95bWB2esf-3dguo3fSJubcfx-FL7wj6anpPy1bSRy_BaU7gPReJxMt70YU_cbZoI5Ds2d6kvgdGo7iJM-gUl8LJOSsQflk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h28m58s469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxzBEXLhjRiovVx4-Vpz-b8oJ18bN3j1nSTq-EE5JeXGNm95bWB2esf-3dguo3fSJubcfx-FL7wj6anpPy1bSRy_BaU7gPReJxMt70YU_cbZoI5Ds2d6kvgdGo7iJM-gUl8LJOSsQflk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h28m58s469.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
O’Niel’s question cuts through the air. None that they know of. So, how do they know it was a suicide?. Awkwardly, Slater tells the Marshal there’s no other explanation – he knew what he was doing, that’s for sure. You can’t fall into an airlock and then an elevator; hatches have to be worked, buttons pressed – it’s the only explanation. After a silence, O’Niel thanks the deputy, who is clearly relieved to be off the bosses’ hook. The Marshal wanders back into his office and Montone continues with the detail. <br /><br /><br />In the Hospital, Doctor Lazarus is demanding to know who ordered all the pressure packs. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsWZvdQoBmo-nFjmilME0cB4qmTxig_OIQN888dfOiF5Cqd31LrSJt-S2ZoWy2m3qvfgvOi8QzloKg59fJDXEAO7pi_nJeH0ZjgY4I-QVa2rVuQkEl4rW2K01Cwuau031pX_CSRyaflA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h30m44s635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsWZvdQoBmo-nFjmilME0cB4qmTxig_OIQN888dfOiF5Cqd31LrSJt-S2ZoWy2m3qvfgvOi8QzloKg59fJDXEAO7pi_nJeH0ZjgY4I-QVa2rVuQkEl4rW2K01Cwuau031pX_CSRyaflA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h30m44s635.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
This is a mine, not a war. The Nurse replies that she did, but Lazarus is not to be trifled with. She said one hundred, not one thousand. As O’Niel enters he finds Lazarus giving a demonstration of the difference; one thousand, one hundred… they are totally different – does O’Niel think they sound the same? Who is he anyway? Is she Dr. Lazarus? Yes, take two aspirin and call her in the morning – that’s a Doctor joke. He’d like to talk to her for a few minutes. Tells her about Cane and Tarlow before that. It happens here. How often? She doesn’t know why – it just happens here. She’s not a psychiatrist and can’t tell him why. Did she do autopsies? No, the company wanted them shipped out quickly and secondly when someone exposes themselves to zero atmosphere there isn’t a whole lot left to inspect. In the third place, he’s becoming a nuisance. Undeterred, O’Niel agrees, laying a folder onto her clipboard. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He would like a report of all these incidents happening over the past six months, he’d like it really soon – or he might just kick her nasty ass all over this room. That’s a Marshal joke. He leaves her to process the joke.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqP4Bda0XymqYx5_CDBAVNNlSsNxMn09Oy9r8_zWFcEckbgkHEygU6k13AsiIG8JahLDr_g51NGi56E4VbGEEkjyIU3NYOmNGOhCVNY3XYp5E_SM_bZIEmrR4vcw-w2yeaSQhSqpyroes/s1600/OUTLAND+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1266" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqP4Bda0XymqYx5_CDBAVNNlSsNxMn09Oy9r8_zWFcEckbgkHEygU6k13AsiIG8JahLDr_g51NGi56E4VbGEEkjyIU3NYOmNGOhCVNY3XYp5E_SM_bZIEmrR4vcw-w2yeaSQhSqpyroes/s400/OUTLAND+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The miner’s accommodation is best described as functional, rows of stacked steel cages with enclosures just big enough for a bunk and a small locker for personal effects. Popping gum in his mouth, Spota walks along the catwalk past the rows of off-duty personnel as they chat or lie reading, killing time before they have to go Outside again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnx7FiV1LpD_bXt4BY6zf9BDOnXNNl8-xfZD_uQWICOe4D3gj_SdvboEeivK3vIrOl__nsfrO_GKauwNIwTtlsJMmjBAtEMks53NGSRWxJITEJm4dbFmZtNImBMhTRcZGU09arXm243s/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h33m28s568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnx7FiV1LpD_bXt4BY6zf9BDOnXNNl8-xfZD_uQWICOe4D3gj_SdvboEeivK3vIrOl__nsfrO_GKauwNIwTtlsJMmjBAtEMks53NGSRWxJITEJm4dbFmZtNImBMhTRcZGU09arXm243s/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h33m28s568.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">One man waits on his bunk until Spota has passed, before sliding down to follow him into the washroom. Spota takes a stall, the other man the adjacent one. The exchange takes a second and the man, Sagan by name, returns to his bunk. Pulling down the blinds that provide the only semblance of privacy, he reaches over and removes a panel, retrieving a jet injector, which he loads with the phial of red liquid Spota supplied. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6NE0AmmhbB7ivezs0gw8YSs3XObRHNwyxS1DEZVz0UDxkOdyM9WrbUTUNgNCc2rv_OMKtXMpkWsKE3p3sLXvWlRFq4hZEI97blr6oLiV8CPE6CxRJZ2LUXnSXjIdbc5HlLNHtxfdPYvk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h35m51s198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6NE0AmmhbB7ivezs0gw8YSs3XObRHNwyxS1DEZVz0UDxkOdyM9WrbUTUNgNCc2rv_OMKtXMpkWsKE3p3sLXvWlRFq4hZEI97blr6oLiV8CPE6CxRJZ2LUXnSXjIdbc5HlLNHtxfdPYvk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h35m51s198.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Injecting mid-thigh, Sagan’s eyes widen with the instant buzz.</span><br />
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Euphoria. <br /><br /><br />O’Niel sits alone on the couch in his quarters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-GEwp8YsbChW2rei53ryKzbyZiMB20Eaa9qiKnEAGFQif1dtN8tMXupCiANGZliGRBQVA6rPobgy0MjWxnPG-qMvgMHMMfZSHzfjRoZxJChpJVkIIJY4BIVzR71XWuF4T0WLFSLiUCg/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h36m37s122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-GEwp8YsbChW2rei53ryKzbyZiMB20Eaa9qiKnEAGFQif1dtN8tMXupCiANGZliGRBQVA6rPobgy0MjWxnPG-qMvgMHMMfZSHzfjRoZxJChpJVkIIJY4BIVzR71XWuF4T0WLFSLiUCg/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h36m37s122.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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A knock; it’s Montone with a tray of hot food. Setting it down, the Sergeant says he didn’t know O’Niel’s preference, so he brought everything. Can’t catch crooks on an empty stomach. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVEgHfo16MXDtvVgZjz4T25BQyfZ8TAPewE70n28ZCF2vy6bzEvkrupE4cMw_3NJVp9mTtS3qLD0wuJpZVKZEnw18y4xcPKoH6ZhYsb3cbdVYu_MMNeSHLyMF_LOjWNSTa6im1SffSD8/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h37m26s401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVEgHfo16MXDtvVgZjz4T25BQyfZ8TAPewE70n28ZCF2vy6bzEvkrupE4cMw_3NJVp9mTtS3qLD0wuJpZVKZEnw18y4xcPKoH6ZhYsb3cbdVYu_MMNeSHLyMF_LOjWNSTa6im1SffSD8/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h37m26s401.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Helping himself to a beer from the fridge, Montone tells the Marshal he knows how he feels; second tour he got back to find his Wife had skipped with a computer programmer. He has two daughters who call the programmer Daddy. His Wife said she was happy – he asked how with such a boring guy. She said he wasn’t Mister Excitement, but he was home all the time. O’Niel says nothing, so Montone says to try the food. He will. After a pause, the Sergeant says the hookers here are nice, they can help with loneliness. He gets the feeling he’s bombing, but O’Niel reassures him he’s not, he appreciates what he’s doing, but wants to be alone. Before leaving, Montone offers an ear if he needs one. Alone once more, O’Niel gets up to review his messages, spooling forward to Carol’s. The phone chirrups and he takes the call. Bad news. He rushes out, grabbing a riot gun and his belt from the rack on the way. Carol O’Niel pleads her case to an empty room. <br /><br /><br />Montone and a group of deputies are waiting outside the leisure compartment. He’s in there with a hooker and is roughing her up; she hit the alarm. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrKoekGSoCKc3-PQxBQrMqJe11ZwF9789NS5oHrGOfi1gXhGercKeAU8GLMxeArw0VsnJyCj9MVOxLR0bsSgtWd39PvsnSx8HJtCPaPR_F0GDfX4W8nEpfWZnZ4itYz6M6ImfIm2XwVY/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h46m35s977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrKoekGSoCKc3-PQxBQrMqJe11ZwF9789NS5oHrGOfi1gXhGercKeAU8GLMxeArw0VsnJyCj9MVOxLR0bsSgtWd39PvsnSx8HJtCPaPR_F0GDfX4W8nEpfWZnZ4itYz6M6ImfIm2XwVY/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h46m35s977.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A female Deputy tells the Marshal he says he’s got a knife. He’s a crane operator named Sagan, been here eleven months and hasn’t caused any trouble. Until now. Going up to the door, O’Niel raps on it. Inside, the hooker screams as Sagan holds the knife to her throat.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87DtyeQl-xJe6wdX6LkIuXBoaNZNS-MmsI8CnOXYNotMbmhaeQtSt98G_eWSLavnv7uhrPDkb5aGndOx8aWvtHBGZ6ala1zfoXqz5BIyr6pghAUL5Upi3jlQFoDRQ9mX5TlQRkCqM2Fk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h47m05s428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87DtyeQl-xJe6wdX6LkIuXBoaNZNS-MmsI8CnOXYNotMbmhaeQtSt98G_eWSLavnv7uhrPDkb5aGndOx8aWvtHBGZ6ala1zfoXqz5BIyr6pghAUL5Upi3jlQFoDRQ9mX5TlQRkCqM2Fk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h47m05s428.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
‘This is Marshal O’Niel; let the girl out and no-ones gonna hurt you.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaA2Gpv4CzoogU350SoZW_qObcqoVMhjZpjVY0yPqlSEgHxcMn4ArY2-hB5OGVZF_WZLKC593i-Xe8Kcb53nybnY12r4gzbMS7aZ_SnJcmfN_7R-S6C0UGLXLb0DXzYHic_eCWxzx1ew/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h50m17s770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaA2Gpv4CzoogU350SoZW_qObcqoVMhjZpjVY0yPqlSEgHxcMn4ArY2-hB5OGVZF_WZLKC593i-Xe8Kcb53nybnY12r4gzbMS7aZ_SnJcmfN_7R-S6C0UGLXLb0DXzYHic_eCWxzx1ew/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h50m17s770.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Sagan is freaked out, screaming for him to go away. O’Niel isn’t having any of it; he can’t go away and he knows that. Nobody’s going to hurt him; if he wants to talk they’ll talk. He won’t try to break in – and he doesn’t do anything crazy with that girl. Psychotic, Sagan leaps up, slashing at thin air, the girl hysterical with fear. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGUWEfhZYjD5-msh5hq5zvz8jG0qCRtC_x2T5wvK66SBi8HP_6wV-OIzlY1K-UtGnrJHXzTTosKX_YZiXxKDCTugXMIvE9pSRf_t3916rtxJ2VJrVIfY6ULyecYEg0C6iCQQfQbiuMwU/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h51m40s296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGUWEfhZYjD5-msh5hq5zvz8jG0qCRtC_x2T5wvK66SBi8HP_6wV-OIzlY1K-UtGnrJHXzTTosKX_YZiXxKDCTugXMIvE9pSRf_t3916rtxJ2VJrVIfY6ULyecYEg0C6iCQQfQbiuMwU/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h51m40s296.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
O’Niel whispers for a maintenance worker and one is found. He wants to know which panel leads to the air-con duct for the compartment, which she shows him. The panel opened, O’Niel sends in Montone, telling the maintenance tech he wants her to open the hydraulic valve to release the door locks on his command. <br /><br /><br />Inside the compartment, Sagan is crazed, stabbing the knife around and babbling incoherently. A total meltdown. As Montone approaches through the duct, O’Niel calls to Sagan, his voice calm, even. He’s going to explain it very carefully. He’s going to release the pressure and open the door. Why not come out and make it easy? Sagan screeches the second the door opens he’s going to kill her; he hates her. O’Niel isn’t going to argue, or trick him. He’s going to count down from ten to one. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On one, the door will swing open slowly. He won’t be shot – the Marshall doesn’t want to hurt anyone, including him. Whatever the problem is, they can work it out. Holding the knife up ready to stab, Sagan thinks O’Niel is going to kill him. The Marshal gives his word; he is not. He also has his word, if he kills the girl, he will kill him. Montone is now above the compartment, ready to drop through the grille. O’Niel begins the countdown. Ten… nine… eight… O’Niel gives the tech the nod and she begins to open the lock. On ‘One’, Montone drops to the floor and blasts the startled Sagan to the chest, killing him instantly.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">O’Niel and the rest of the deputies enter the compartment to find a defensive Montone standing over the body. Furious, O’Niel says nothing as the Sergeant defends his actions; 'He turned – I saw the knife...'</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWD2xj9auRJx7FmMmEG-YzXwZDoH4AXNqHTjVZ3QmcjGmFYBxMuV6gqUG1ftYdE8QrWTvaKhC-Vx4I9YmIeIext26PkkRUnbCdkT3qSIqDYtNkzzHcd2CHv384m00aRPDNbAS3mVXiyDA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h55m19s885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWD2xj9auRJx7FmMmEG-YzXwZDoH4AXNqHTjVZ3QmcjGmFYBxMuV6gqUG1ftYdE8QrWTvaKhC-Vx4I9YmIeIext26PkkRUnbCdkT3qSIqDYtNkzzHcd2CHv384m00aRPDNbAS3mVXiyDA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h55m19s885.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The doors to the Hospital burst open as the medical team rolls in the girl, O’Niel marching along beside, riot gun still in hand. Doctor Lazarus watches as she’s rolled straight in to the MRI scanner. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJjUVg3Q5DmwDhJ6gSem-aEQ6L4jU54w3eYVvzbqdJgqgAPwSdYgLMQ5QKBHvTXvNyY4_DTk-JvgytoRpQVjJxTap8T54tRPXcTpzCGCWr5Urhmfl0abv7NiLuldvjqCZpUdFdOHXNCM/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h55m50s934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJjUVg3Q5DmwDhJ6gSem-aEQ6L4jU54w3eYVvzbqdJgqgAPwSdYgLMQ5QKBHvTXvNyY4_DTk-JvgytoRpQVjJxTap8T54tRPXcTpzCGCWr5Urhmfl0abv7NiLuldvjqCZpUdFdOHXNCM/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h55m50s934.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Going to the console, she reviews the hooker’s injuries. Jaw looks broken… maybe the nose. Contusions and a superficial neck wound. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzrP7OLCAvPlln_DLz0GXE2Esudxv8LX0J1hI7UWp1y7866xZvKPAedU3HgsUJrc1Wk0ZAJHEqfkqUgDXdi2mLDSh0L3WA-ebtgEVRSa-iV80jNJWktlSeQf3oG8kJIxZv_agFqxyTag/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h57m12s982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzrP7OLCAvPlln_DLz0GXE2Esudxv8LX0J1hI7UWp1y7866xZvKPAedU3HgsUJrc1Wk0ZAJHEqfkqUgDXdi2mLDSh0L3WA-ebtgEVRSa-iV80jNJWktlSeQf3oG8kJIxZv_agFqxyTag/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h57m12s982.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Jesus, who did this to her? The Marshal tells her, reminds her; it happens here, remember?. Lazarus hands across the list he wanted. Will the girl be o.k.? Maybe, if he lets her do her job. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fjOe6Jf1VHUWCyo8O4hFKzeNwnYdO5fvddcJAMSDlrbcAqYeoJK5a5hTUlNevI64w5pbdL7WIkGwEgyAJ_dXTGy1UIB4JC-E5mO2LJW0loV9-ILtEa4Uw8sB6MXZu1gwAo47HEaIMnI/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h57m59s231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fjOe6Jf1VHUWCyo8O4hFKzeNwnYdO5fvddcJAMSDlrbcAqYeoJK5a5hTUlNevI64w5pbdL7WIkGwEgyAJ_dXTGy1UIB4JC-E5mO2LJW0loV9-ILtEa4Uw8sB6MXZu1gwAo47HEaIMnI/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h57m59s231.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Idly, he goes through to the morgue trays, pulling one open to find it empty. ‘28 in the last six months’ says the Doctor. Going through the trays, O’Niel wonders how many in the six months before that. 24; she’s got initiative. None of the trays contains a body, but O’Niel is gripped by Lazarus’ next statement. In the six months before that; 2. Is she sure? - yes, she’s unpleasant, not stupid. What accounts for it? She doesn’t know; almost everybody here doesn’t have both oars in the water as far as she’s concerned. Where do they send the bodies? Usually shipped out on the next shuttle. They jettison them halfway to the station. Burial at sea and all that crap. <br /><br /><br />The freight dock was deserted. The largest pressurised space on Io was an eerie place to be late at night, which made it perfect for O’Niel’s purposes. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6O8_IOvymqM0oiRG8paeTtjVR6fL2hcWu2QYjx2AYpX19Oy-p_LEVgIhrJNK5GUxVHUAd3SpevwC_wsKqyFoUGULy_KMDXEOSI3Jbp1WIal7k3_uy4v17PqkXRmu5LFanRBa1ggYpN0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h59m54s320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6O8_IOvymqM0oiRG8paeTtjVR6fL2hcWu2QYjx2AYpX19Oy-p_LEVgIhrJNK5GUxVHUAd3SpevwC_wsKqyFoUGULy_KMDXEOSI3Jbp1WIal7k3_uy4v17PqkXRmu5LFanRBa1ggYpN0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-19h59m54s320.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Footsteps clanking hollowly on metal, he walks along the silent rows of containers ready for collection, shining his torch on the doors until he find the one he’s looking for. The one with the ‘TO BE JETTISONED’ tag hanging from it. Taking the power-lift up to the container, he opens the doors and walks in amongst the cages of waste material. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSl7xh2KRCQuE2cSRv7WHj-857k_uZy7aTu8p2_j7XdLmcC5Ty7UL8-r8xCjaYfeGLYa3YuETzfIMGlVCJKkDZBF6SskO3kuk2wszOj2m95eKjDsENgYQVjB0rseM-AuuIDTszCukeO4/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h01m58s375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSl7xh2KRCQuE2cSRv7WHj-857k_uZy7aTu8p2_j7XdLmcC5Ty7UL8-r8xCjaYfeGLYa3YuETzfIMGlVCJKkDZBF6SskO3kuk2wszOj2m95eKjDsENgYQVjB0rseM-AuuIDTszCukeO4/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h01m58s375.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
At the end, he finds the body of Sagan in a body-bag, takes a syringe from his pocket and draws some blood from the corpse. Sleeping on a hospital bed, Lazarus is woken by O’Niel’s call; he’ll see her in the hospital right away. Does he know what time it is? He does. <br /><br /><br />Weary, Lazarus squirts the blood sample into some tubes and drops them into the analysis machine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuUMTvqSJaQtKy0s3wFLgKNiHirEEbcYx221FDxo80t8CpNpKOEpCNCFWNql4WhprNOzDo5zT4Zygc90z_rfUyMoueLGWOrJRii7WNyRLoqa1rp6o0rxTh1LGzzofj1GfY6VEPuEVLS4/s1600/OUTLAND+%252844%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="914" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuUMTvqSJaQtKy0s3wFLgKNiHirEEbcYx221FDxo80t8CpNpKOEpCNCFWNql4WhprNOzDo5zT4Zygc90z_rfUyMoueLGWOrJRii7WNyRLoqa1rp6o0rxTh1LGzzofj1GfY6VEPuEVLS4/s400/OUTLAND+%252844%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">O’Niel watches impatiently as she taps in a few commands, the readout coming to life. The blood is from a dead person, she says. No alcohol. He ate dinner. Protein, carbs, more carbs; didn’t eat his vegetables. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3Kq6rmLnfXvYhWGYdBYpoh1XqULPOHP7OrZF-66OLhIsr4LWrJ9ERJlvMrgDSI-Wp9J7HZMMWifu5C0ypZPoL32x-z3WQHJcjPx7xcby1RaoivUxaY5Wzcr8zkz5Y_XOFos8Un6AidY/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h03m37s011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3Kq6rmLnfXvYhWGYdBYpoh1XqULPOHP7OrZF-66OLhIsr4LWrJ9ERJlvMrgDSI-Wp9J7HZMMWifu5C0ypZPoL32x-z3WQHJcjPx7xcby1RaoivUxaY5Wzcr8zkz5Y_XOFos8Un6AidY/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h03m37s011.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tersely, O’Niel stalks the room, hands in pockets. Tranquilisers – company issue. Blood sugar and haemoglobin normal. A buzzer sounds. Hello. Frustrated, Lazarus bangs away at the keyboard, trying to make sense of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAcxUsOtlssUkxmxOBAsfL4hkdt417Jn7YFHMiX3fAGIsfrqVsDtCTgWKbEyRlgUHyCEGSr3qluMh5fTtlgYDpfBD4gyG-gX-Nf0cMpfaWFMfYTbRWWfpPKODGJeXEDXloo4pr7fD8Wo/s1600/OUTLAND+%252838%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="1000" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAcxUsOtlssUkxmxOBAsfL4hkdt417Jn7YFHMiX3fAGIsfrqVsDtCTgWKbEyRlgUHyCEGSr3qluMh5fTtlgYDpfBD4gyG-gX-Nf0cMpfaWFMfYTbRWWfpPKODGJeXEDXloo4pr7fD8Wo/s400/OUTLAND+%252838%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Wryly, she tells the Marshal he doesn’t have your medical all-star here. Company doctors are like ship’s doctors; one shuttle flight ahead of a malpractice suit… As the patterns on-screen coalesce into a shape, O’Niel says ‘Something’s there, isn’t it?.’ Maybe.<br /><br /><br />More beeping and a sigh from Lazarus. She spends her days dispensing tranquillisers to the workers and certifying the company prostitutes don’t have syphilis; she doesn’t know how to analyse a new molecule. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikoMGP83U51UbhMpJdVpdH0Jc7qbNnkt48WCvz__-fByz62BpctmTqizhIYgjjuTDHVzAlUId0WZjMjEki82RZt_oBsol9InOk3aBIwCyD8PkM705klYNP-cSnLirnN-fvzuOWYJ4N8w/s1600/5+POLYDICHLOROMAWATSIS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikoMGP83U51UbhMpJdVpdH0Jc7qbNnkt48WCvz__-fByz62BpctmTqizhIYgjjuTDHVzAlUId0WZjMjEki82RZt_oBsol9InOk3aBIwCyD8PkM705klYNP-cSnLirnN-fvzuOWYJ4N8w/s400/5+POLYDICHLOROMAWATSIS.gif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
More tapping and another ‘Hello’ ‘Is it a drug?’ Asks O’Niel; he’s just won a prize. Some kind of narcotic… nothing she’s seen before, a synthetic. Then – bingo; the analysis is complete, positive for Euthimal, Polydichloric Euthimal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0Sq8Ibm70cWeMzuuachXi19u167BMeuolowEUftBwqx2aG4vYxzdWEk5iAP9klUJdQdUQ5KRtHBwIl6aQQR-FCZ2L_eLKjkb4Vq7jS9O6qrVQLAmi9QmeLSsgEqGXhAchh9jz24xL84/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h06m24s242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0Sq8Ibm70cWeMzuuachXi19u167BMeuolowEUftBwqx2aG4vYxzdWEk5iAP9klUJdQdUQ5KRtHBwIl6aQQR-FCZ2L_eLKjkb4Vq7jS9O6qrVQLAmi9QmeLSsgEqGXhAchh9jz24xL84/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h06m24s242.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">She is appalled; those stupid bastards are taking Polydichloric Euthimal! Answering the Marshal’s unspoken question, she explains. It’s an amphetamine, strongest thing you ever saw. Makes you feel wonderful; you do fourteen hours of work in six hours, that kind of nonsense. Especially manual labor, it makes you work like a horse. The Army tested it a few years back. Made everybody work all right. Then it made them psychotic. It takes a while; ten, maybe eleven months – and then it fries your brain. O’Niel asks her if it could be made here on Io. No; impossible – it has to have been shipped in. O’Niel walks it through; no autopsies… so nobody knows. Workers produce more – the Company makes bigger profits. Quite a set up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDbO_UD4xc1BAsQwgcuvupNpeMJMhyphenhyphennet-ORcmh4FCLRPcaSsF65WW8Sr00_kz-SE1d9Rsgs7zQUIBgAhf2Ykbhn4QSBt75_aT2gL0CDlPhyfieRU6BGCewNYMu9gikSLpB5xtn4QjNs/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h08m18s408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDbO_UD4xc1BAsQwgcuvupNpeMJMhyphenhyphennet-ORcmh4FCLRPcaSsF65WW8Sr00_kz-SE1d9Rsgs7zQUIBgAhf2Ykbhn4QSBt75_aT2gL0CDlPhyfieRU6BGCewNYMu9gikSLpB5xtn4QjNs/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h08m18s408.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Leaving, he tells her not to say anything about this. She did good, didn’t she – for a wreck? Smiling, he agrees; she did good. <br /><br /><br />In his quarters, O’Niel works the machine, asking for a confidential rundown on employee’s criminal records. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiL5lYC_9SjdPApFcmUFJt7sJO1BDbgmSCsCkzFiG14veKTluq9wQ4-SmG_SVfhF7D2Rclob2qxLcDF3uORgAcum0brYFKXVDCuOntNTCsr-H35J_mYLpY_Oo7VOZS0DrC_C3jRlBGzR8/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h13m47s294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiL5lYC_9SjdPApFcmUFJt7sJO1BDbgmSCsCkzFiG14veKTluq9wQ4-SmG_SVfhF7D2Rclob2qxLcDF3uORgAcum0brYFKXVDCuOntNTCsr-H35J_mYLpY_Oo7VOZS0DrC_C3jRlBGzR8/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h13m47s294.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
There’s seventeen, the names appearing on-screen in their turn. He cross-references; how many drug-related?. The list reduces to two; Spota, Nicholas P. and Yario, Russel B. Who do they work for?: Leisure and Shipping. Gotcha… so, who approved their employment?. Sheppard, Mark B. He calls up the two mugshots, memorising the faces on the screen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOhSpC8dGFIIUXzQ1P4Jz2KnXISzTpnzLQzJn_9zgL880noLoHLzVCPJPDF1SmjKhyphenhyphen7dB71DX44AX9xFGV-qnBF2FLJU5E2cw_rGNJYZMtaVzDSmdWl1SwMXPgL4vMljMqJzWLndvAOE/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h14m08s990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOhSpC8dGFIIUXzQ1P4Jz2KnXISzTpnzLQzJn_9zgL880noLoHLzVCPJPDF1SmjKhyphenhyphen7dB71DX44AX9xFGV-qnBF2FLJU5E2cw_rGNJYZMtaVzDSmdWl1SwMXPgL4vMljMqJzWLndvAOE/s320/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h14m08s990.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZZ9Mzw-DTc5_1_0HbgM0XPXk41rkfT6csqzIIQlxTd7gRSq5CvrBOCXA2oCDyDah64ybt9AGMXI1dFTbn7SukIdtGp8Au4OhqjxIHziiPAFbEfC4u2rvLhGP9GXCFSZgIF7IMBiQhR4/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h14m27s672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZZ9Mzw-DTc5_1_0HbgM0XPXk41rkfT6csqzIIQlxTd7gRSq5CvrBOCXA2oCDyDah64ybt9AGMXI1dFTbn7SukIdtGp8Au4OhqjxIHziiPAFbEfC4u2rvLhGP9GXCFSZgIF7IMBiQhR4/s320/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h14m27s672.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Club; noisy, packed. In the smokey cones of laser beams, two pairs of dancers writhe together erotically, virtually naked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTpReMO-Lc_O5wIb8TVY9k2yKvRor_ajr7r3_gfXUxplYahRRU-n4dMmWhsb6XTLXf8xgz5N9Urg8yZ-YVZOoivPA399uWC77ThZUHRolT9gPWPXK07_R2a2Oh-Om_vaBFUoiYloL9bw/s1600/OUTLAND+%252868%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1280" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTpReMO-Lc_O5wIb8TVY9k2yKvRor_ajr7r3_gfXUxplYahRRU-n4dMmWhsb6XTLXf8xgz5N9Urg8yZ-YVZOoivPA399uWC77ThZUHRolT9gPWPXK07_R2a2Oh-Om_vaBFUoiYloL9bw/s400/OUTLAND+%252868%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lICJ5gAHt6uMucS0GfFQdCSFtknQZ-QWqlIxDKW4alsj8iHY75ou2XqPx0jwE4p3pyxJZ_-Q7JWKVay0zSyNrIXrlXeuTr2AzmchtsGHldsPyO9UAh1_1IgwNrcaW-HeYqYbw9RtFIM/s1600/6+THE+CLUB.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lICJ5gAHt6uMucS0GfFQdCSFtknQZ-QWqlIxDKW4alsj8iHY75ou2XqPx0jwE4p3pyxJZ_-Q7JWKVay0zSyNrIXrlXeuTr2AzmchtsGHldsPyO9UAh1_1IgwNrcaW-HeYqYbw9RtFIM/s400/6+THE+CLUB.gif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
The music is ambient, techno, pulsating and loud, bar-staff busy keeping the patrons lubricated. On the wall, one of the many large readouts counts down the time until the next Shuttle flight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQU8raeE1j8VfRuacKkkPk4JRGRKiThyphenhyphenurqOy_CRBKjnCElopAoFcL9UH-zmEMemnnBRcm3qjtd6CuaEvIBOsKPF2z552pvDmtWuSIUIjsE8499NTcbeOHh3PG2rw-nolEdKYIPVamoXA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h16m25s242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQU8raeE1j8VfRuacKkkPk4JRGRKiThyphenhyphenurqOy_CRBKjnCElopAoFcL9UH-zmEMemnnBRcm3qjtd6CuaEvIBOsKPF2z552pvDmtWuSIUIjsE8499NTcbeOHh3PG2rw-nolEdKYIPVamoXA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h16m25s242.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Unseen, a camera tracks the scene below, watched silently by Marshal O’Niel from the console in his office. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9MdO8YXpAo3xO8XTVufK0KAyQpqagbXth_JdNHu6XMQIDBUMxxiLwKAT-vSUnTmKysG_BJUuB7MQIItJAYib3caU39dRVM493Ldj8gntXiTF1ma39C5dGSJF5QFJZLs-qxWABSjGjZk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h16m10s438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9MdO8YXpAo3xO8XTVufK0KAyQpqagbXth_JdNHu6XMQIDBUMxxiLwKAT-vSUnTmKysG_BJUuB7MQIItJAYib3caU39dRVM493Ldj8gntXiTF1ma39C5dGSJF5QFJZLs-qxWABSjGjZk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h16m10s438.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Spota breezes in, engaging a female customer in unheard conversation. The camera zooms in for O’Niel to make the I.d, but the target has moved. Following from above, the Marshal locates him at a crowded table. Talking with Yario. Russel B. However, some new arrivals catch his attention. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcnvk7HK4enroYQDn1jeAYCcCg1TpwgzlI51aWGq3Va4SZKx2WjLN4kJq-4snh94tYMgy2BjiFJPQkXrPhmwwWH2NF_4Fuk9-2XXTNWQ9npbcJYc-CXVgnQRYMF63h_nETXhEwEK7fiE/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h20m31s282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcnvk7HK4enroYQDn1jeAYCcCg1TpwgzlI51aWGq3Va4SZKx2WjLN4kJq-4snh94tYMgy2BjiFJPQkXrPhmwwWH2NF_4Fuk9-2XXTNWQ9npbcJYc-CXVgnQRYMF63h_nETXhEwEK7fiE/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h20m31s282.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
Sheppard and Montone, taking a table for a chat. O’Niel’s face hardens to stone. It gets better; Spota and Yario have now joined the General Manager and the Sergeant. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6rxkrjoPHlB9BP6PuPVOZVZsHkUcTBsNj2lhrFGfN_CY5byJaSZA9sAzwTYt6j4jQ2a1nBKJXA5jX_L_Q9SWaiJMLaVCGi3IUlaoyx5yl8_P348bB_ogty_k1vQBkldfJ81AUzJcA2A/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h20m50s955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6rxkrjoPHlB9BP6PuPVOZVZsHkUcTBsNj2lhrFGfN_CY5byJaSZA9sAzwTYt6j4jQ2a1nBKJXA5jX_L_Q9SWaiJMLaVCGi3IUlaoyx5yl8_P348bB_ogty_k1vQBkldfJ81AUzJcA2A/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h20m50s955.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
The racquet-ball bounces off the grubby wall of the court, the sections of which light up as they are hit. O’Niel is playing Montone, the Marshal going down hard with a curse. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PIdq_DOy0dHVXzc7WRebfVdSZAbSQJrEhRB6RIB0yqgNdzvGcZ8sK89bq4dyEujyGw4xQIRZGlxxE7YAifpYuUQf03ZD6oEm2-Y2qdlWB_tqfoYWAT6FgWj-oXBCsKp-ZMdg7j42Y04/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h22m30s265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PIdq_DOy0dHVXzc7WRebfVdSZAbSQJrEhRB6RIB0yqgNdzvGcZ8sK89bq4dyEujyGw4xQIRZGlxxE7YAifpYuUQf03ZD6oEm2-Y2qdlWB_tqfoYWAT6FgWj-oXBCsKp-ZMdg7j42Y04/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h22m30s265.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Montone calls it; 9-7 and serves. As play resumes, O’Niel stops it again asking about Sheppard. How deep is he in?. Earnestly, Montone pauses for breath. Not too deep; he’s paid to look the other way. Dejectedly, the Sergeant launches the ball off the wall, but O’Niel catches it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTz0Di93S0eXtuGiGUeBuug2f1V4ET7ivRM6RVlz7uLQ1rNN3m6SUyHHmIi9t5c_DKxhU6g8ZuRid9LDBn1-S2jBJEbelqnuCzcqlHuHneheTuoUJayksW889z_Pqjn6GZppX_LSNLvSM/s1600/8+RACKETS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTz0Di93S0eXtuGiGUeBuug2f1V4ET7ivRM6RVlz7uLQ1rNN3m6SUyHHmIi9t5c_DKxhU6g8ZuRid9LDBn1-S2jBJEbelqnuCzcqlHuHneheTuoUJayksW889z_Pqjn6GZppX_LSNLvSM/s400/8+RACKETS.gif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
He gets it; he doesn’t do anything bad – he just doesn’t do anything good, right?. Montone sighs, unable to answer. Vehemently, O’Niel says ‘I’m gonna bust Sheppard.’ and bangs out a serve. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZo5EbWvwYZvkeKM38TmY5ayy54BHn-r2ljHJ3TCbkGr3pr7mvwg_lkP_IDNThFo3OT4ubw55pa8-igCoSYTzdKjm_aUPZBczW1oE5j4V4t-UeQIY5CkM_Yv8-PKisNhA3OBWEzSS8Vs/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h24m31s124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZo5EbWvwYZvkeKM38TmY5ayy54BHn-r2ljHJ3TCbkGr3pr7mvwg_lkP_IDNThFo3OT4ubw55pa8-igCoSYTzdKjm_aUPZBczW1oE5j4V4t-UeQIY5CkM_Yv8-PKisNhA3OBWEzSS8Vs/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h24m31s124.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">
Is he serious? This is no place for heroes. The game continues, with the Sergeant warning the Marshal he’s messing with more than he thinks. He’s talking about the General Manager, a real hot-shot with the Company; big money. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuA_v_VdWLCdLEVOUdbks3WeiIVZeRsgTzMnmYcrgMilS1Fl5v_ZXZB-odqFewoN7-IHWuRyThUWTAgxmfqnXixAPZMlQHyv9pIG6-lYScVc40xBduqwrunaScYfjD7GWNLAiD7yo-TI/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h24m34s182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuA_v_VdWLCdLEVOUdbks3WeiIVZeRsgTzMnmYcrgMilS1Fl5v_ZXZB-odqFewoN7-IHWuRyThUWTAgxmfqnXixAPZMlQHyv9pIG6-lYScVc40xBduqwrunaScYfjD7GWNLAiD7yo-TI/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h24m34s182.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
The guy is connected and with more than just the company – there’s serious stuff involved. Pausing again, Montone looks the other man in the eye. What will this prove? O’Niel isn’t trying to prove anything; that stuff they’re selling is killing people. Eyes downcast, Montone wants to know his future; does he want his resignation. No; just don’t come between Sheppard and him – keep taking the money and looking the other way. He wants Sheppard. <br /><br /><br />In the freight dock, Yario sets the loader in motion, his arm tattooed with a snake, cigarette between his lips.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBsbVqWcctjDF_22QOVYGqx2FKTnckjela_LlSFWXsQqcizQSqpycBcEc7fJ8MnqY9xcfnPZbWHSghUb34k8ZPuBD3yan-LaFVMchpEoA-dUca4ngAUahRgoi1Rl7y4HcpoN63Zq6fRs/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h26m30s034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBsbVqWcctjDF_22QOVYGqx2FKTnckjela_LlSFWXsQqcizQSqpycBcEc7fJ8MnqY9xcfnPZbWHSghUb34k8ZPuBD3yan-LaFVMchpEoA-dUca4ngAUahRgoi1Rl7y4HcpoN63Zq6fRs/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h26m30s034.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRe1InsYJVqk8HuGekmTSRlsA1NF5iQAX9sapZ3-2aAQJTyInbObg0CXm6we9e2RyjhgvGF1p9GDUZQLA0f4BAgvp62MXCnsRXAIggmzT9wRg7z4zZpVaF5HMisDgICNcrZ8VlzBcmcc/s1600/OUTLAND+%252840%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="1280" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRe1InsYJVqk8HuGekmTSRlsA1NF5iQAX9sapZ3-2aAQJTyInbObg0CXm6we9e2RyjhgvGF1p9GDUZQLA0f4BAgvp62MXCnsRXAIggmzT9wRg7z4zZpVaF5HMisDgICNcrZ8VlzBcmcc/s400/OUTLAND+%252840%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Lobby Card showing Freight Dock</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He drives beneath a watchful camera. O’Niel is monitoring. Spota enters the bay and the cameras track the pair as they duck into a blind spot. They split up and O’Niel clicks the buttons to find Spota walking through an access-way. Grabbing a riot gun, he runs from the security complex, sprinting down access-ways as, unaware, Spota walks into the locker area. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuUKgKN-9zCl9oNB6lheXkDQXdzn8PEBOMM5dey2jNVAAOynfrr1vlyoT_UwSrtSFmhfkhwz1FoL0eim81G8aOQJyNRpVCTUcw0rPhecCuc1ft656k_XTj0eds0AR5wFha0FHdWFchzI/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h30m45s135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuUKgKN-9zCl9oNB6lheXkDQXdzn8PEBOMM5dey2jNVAAOynfrr1vlyoT_UwSrtSFmhfkhwz1FoL0eim81G8aOQJyNRpVCTUcw0rPhecCuc1ft656k_XTj0eds0AR5wFha0FHdWFchzI/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h30m45s135.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The Marshal isn’t far behind. Spota’s next customer is waiting for him, but as they make the exchange O’Niel barges into a miner and the commotion alerts the dealer; Spota makes a run for it. Dashing through into the accommodation area, Spota moves fast, narrowly avoiding the Marshal who crashes down from the walkway above. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYT9dPO3F3VNYLX9znnJzaNpfmni1GsK4spKaR8aLBvb4mLOwyRk4dCkMBFq1JoAHNYhR4YkdVz4a3edmkRo07zEG8kzf78LNmptTpKBBBGs3btmYqQJ1UgjId_BSKmLWDd4WT4bz3w4/s1600/9+THE+CHASE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYT9dPO3F3VNYLX9znnJzaNpfmni1GsK4spKaR8aLBvb4mLOwyRk4dCkMBFq1JoAHNYhR4YkdVz4a3edmkRo07zEG8kzf78LNmptTpKBBBGs3btmYqQJ1UgjId_BSKmLWDd4WT4bz3w4/s400/9+THE+CHASE.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Hot on his heels, O’Niel sees the fleeing dealer go through one rack of bunks and leap across to the next. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVH6BdjttrLjquKl18O3oXlEMyHzse_znvLO3BxYsjffRzwpE273iBuYjyq1qi0aWhDuLbSaaqnjcwY2_8SmQu_J5XBw9FSRMaoApkgXuIWqnpTyj842w6SGtUJjdsb9QMwwJNPd-uz0Y/s1600/10+SPOTA+JUMPS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVH6BdjttrLjquKl18O3oXlEMyHzse_znvLO3BxYsjffRzwpE273iBuYjyq1qi0aWhDuLbSaaqnjcwY2_8SmQu_J5XBw9FSRMaoApkgXuIWqnpTyj842w6SGtUJjdsb9QMwwJNPd-uz0Y/s400/10+SPOTA+JUMPS.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Anything you can do… O’Niel’s own jump isn’t so graceful as he crashes to the steel decking. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9S6XUVg4TfyXjQBqrqlYTZQaEvpSyFCdgX5Tj3p8In4HsR6Go1rlG2-oIwteR-mcuhGhPgjr6HDgpPDVltG0Y15LIGhKkSyW7pmGqI2jtTAAX579-hzEwSdUjWWKSRn8d7CGmXWpVGIU/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h36m04s313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9S6XUVg4TfyXjQBqrqlYTZQaEvpSyFCdgX5Tj3p8In4HsR6Go1rlG2-oIwteR-mcuhGhPgjr6HDgpPDVltG0Y15LIGhKkSyW7pmGqI2jtTAAX579-hzEwSdUjWWKSRn8d7CGmXWpVGIU/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h36m04s313.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The chase continues through the vast complex, Spota sliding down a ladder to the level below, where he hurtles up each set of steel steps beside the bunks to jump to the next. The athleticism doesn’t get him anywhere; O’Niel knows the layout of his territory and cuts him off. Spota isn’t done yet, with the Marshal closing he bulls his way back through the locker area.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSiP37PLS1Ry0BIWj11s4lwb4a6BApR3NE01uCa7t2UtaXbjh7mNOTk1qUAbMlq1n4EltQOyL4VAuhIYMg4uozEYBPtqW2nXu7GTog40QXerQUCUsjDmsalnWmDTjVWerQU3O8zCvG_U/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h42m01s544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSiP37PLS1Ry0BIWj11s4lwb4a6BApR3NE01uCa7t2UtaXbjh7mNOTk1qUAbMlq1n4EltQOyL4VAuhIYMg4uozEYBPtqW2nXu7GTog40QXerQUCUsjDmsalnWmDTjVWerQU3O8zCvG_U/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h42m01s544.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Running through an access-way, the Marshal raises the riot gun, but no-one in their right mind opens fire in an access-way; too easy to puncture the thin skin and depressurise. Without pausing, Spota runs on, into a cross-junction, slamming and sealing the hatch behind him. By the time O’Niel’s got his card out and re-opened the hatch, the fugitive dealer has a head start on him.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCZtT5tPWBmZPZJVHE-K59mcXEm4IrhNDPWP4Dan0HSJDBJdb0nNkoxwsYw2sIkfsj7wB1sc1_E9OsjD11W5ZlpSugJMgtpmsz-qTV6HqGBiQvGluLf4qqNs4fDQrwG_CPza7E-veIRw/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h42m38s992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCZtT5tPWBmZPZJVHE-K59mcXEm4IrhNDPWP4Dan0HSJDBJdb0nNkoxwsYw2sIkfsj7wB1sc1_E9OsjD11W5ZlpSugJMgtpmsz-qTV6HqGBiQvGluLf4qqNs4fDQrwG_CPza7E-veIRw/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h42m38s992.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Exploding into the canteen, Spota causes mayhem, terrorising the diners as he shoves aside a food cart and tramples his way across from table-top to table-top. Never the easy route with this guy. O’Niel comes in behind him, moving fast; Spota is running out of room to escape as he dives over the serving counter, knocking a terrified cook to the floor. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawtm5NtS4S6UTCNqYSE2ekBWY2N65wxyhfQVHNRdC2Ujss6DE90duSbFiQpv5v0v9kgaUVCoxzv5cZvuj20ec_xNCSSKxpIIYSZocMAIguWwgyev8fNRmwv9iHph5EQkfNgmVqaJKOeM/s1600/11+SPOTA+HITS+THE+COOK.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawtm5NtS4S6UTCNqYSE2ekBWY2N65wxyhfQVHNRdC2Ujss6DE90duSbFiQpv5v0v9kgaUVCoxzv5cZvuj20ec_xNCSSKxpIIYSZocMAIguWwgyev8fNRmwv9iHph5EQkfNgmVqaJKOeM/s400/11+SPOTA+HITS+THE+COOK.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Finally, O’Niel has his man cornered in the kitchen, but Spota reaches into his bodywarmer for a bag of red liquid, dropping it into a pan of boiling water. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6u1CDCxqJh851LzuYvc74tzpwwiyA5d9yIBd80600DCY7PzcCAEECI3ZAfGaowVNQu8hYXTEr09eq0nrDibPg5WNCQtow4z1N2QYCCgCM9uFES_A4vjcpZRilICJi9u-wWQukAKdx3s/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h45m43s949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6u1CDCxqJh851LzuYvc74tzpwwiyA5d9yIBd80600DCY7PzcCAEECI3ZAfGaowVNQu8hYXTEr09eq0nrDibPg5WNCQtow4z1N2QYCCgCM9uFES_A4vjcpZRilICJi9u-wWQukAKdx3s/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h45m43s949.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Without hestitation, O’Niel reaches in – screaming as his hand is scalded. Spota crashes some crockery over his head, following up with a vicious kick to the torso. The merchandise and the riot gun go skidding across the metal flooring.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQvZlNt_bQSZ3MpVYLaye9eH5ODbJ2nQDyMJAwYffwnqDHxMhfSnq8WX5QGIQq_DU7kmhtMjOAwqxCMinYIsfw1-e7FQc5BKvLuyzSehwSAuHduHBc9h0LU7KgKjQWFlkMuTtF5pzmrg/s1600/OUTLAND+%252866%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1280" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQvZlNt_bQSZ3MpVYLaye9eH5ODbJ2nQDyMJAwYffwnqDHxMhfSnq8WX5QGIQq_DU7kmhtMjOAwqxCMinYIsfw1-e7FQc5BKvLuyzSehwSAuHduHBc9h0LU7KgKjQWFlkMuTtF5pzmrg/s400/OUTLAND+%252866%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lobby Card showing the fight in the Canteen</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Spota raises an orange juice container over his head, prepared to smash it onto the Marshal, but gets a leg trip for his trouble, the container shattering on the floor plates. The two men grapple, Spota possessed of a desperate strength – forcing the Marshal’s head back over the sizzling french fry fryer. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw30SwnkS0NNcGtfn3G3UCi2m5CsjenSBi9ULLUkIAsovcnoQkoW1KljsPfLhxQ9so4MAeRuvlGyx59ZZl77TH7Hq0eTsUCyflhC8K2-pKHtxOucATMHDdlxS2xHGm-NJkfzhWqt-4Rxw/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h47m46s544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw30SwnkS0NNcGtfn3G3UCi2m5CsjenSBi9ULLUkIAsovcnoQkoW1KljsPfLhxQ9so4MAeRuvlGyx59ZZl77TH7Hq0eTsUCyflhC8K2-pKHtxOucATMHDdlxS2xHGm-NJkfzhWqt-4Rxw/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h47m46s544.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Federal Marshals are a tough breed, however and this one is no different. Freeing a hand, O’Niel delivers a solid punch to the ribs, breaking the thug’s hold and following up with a hard right to the guts. The two wrestle again, Spota lifting the heavier man clear of the floor before taking a bunched fist to the face. O’Niel finishes it by ramming the dealer’s head into a heavy dough mixer, or so he thinks. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPANDB6F-M4-i159YVMBmKHAIadmI0Syr5NtLtDAdWll4ZQsWFpu5m3gqv1_sF-Ba97Mg4J6_uqToE_BI8VQUkilbytWwp5_qv_IqYI8IiMK9Iv6_ZlVrrXZM9toZkc-XnMbI1AmYlMY/s1600/12+SPOTA+TAKES+A+SLASH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPANDB6F-M4-i159YVMBmKHAIadmI0Syr5NtLtDAdWll4ZQsWFpu5m3gqv1_sF-Ba97Mg4J6_uqToE_BI8VQUkilbytWwp5_qv_IqYI8IiMK9Iv6_ZlVrrXZM9toZkc-XnMbI1AmYlMY/s400/12+SPOTA+TAKES+A+SLASH.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Spota isn’t done just yet; grabbing a carving knife, he slices at his antagonist’s shoulder. O’Niel throws an arm over the knife arm to grab it with the other hand – and rams the would-be killer backwards into a row of storage lockers, the knife falling from his hand as the wind is knocked from him. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6gCRxhDyv-gWXxvPiHgnTYaavcIVaFJzhCY5WR9VKvGMRLL2W6gNsncu01V6or6mwEAiF59NHRzTSzoj9cJ7YkfWIVI3idmo0dV8DJDdP2cEz3rj4gatr26lh5lo50gfANmiLeokj1I/s1600/OUTLAND+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1277" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6gCRxhDyv-gWXxvPiHgnTYaavcIVaFJzhCY5WR9VKvGMRLL2W6gNsncu01V6or6mwEAiF59NHRzTSzoj9cJ7YkfWIVI3idmo0dV8DJDdP2cEz3rj4gatr26lh5lo50gfANmiLeokj1I/s400/OUTLAND+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
An elbow into the guts and he staggers away, exhausted, pausing only to kick the knife clear and retrieve his riot gun. The full-stop comes as the shotgun barks three times, sending shot screaming around Spota’s head. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnLPQS9BGRleXqMsVS8-VwyyV6v7jm8yqg6A5UjzL7gzby6t869IElK0weV7aF_DtbxS84l4-CouzUHOMRPsvsnfClC2HnJ2jZenyys53Zi7qV9t2HISuzbWzU7fDHxvyp8DYJk4iM_g/s1600/13+THINK+IT+OVER.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnLPQS9BGRleXqMsVS8-VwyyV6v7jm8yqg6A5UjzL7gzby6t869IElK0weV7aF_DtbxS84l4-CouzUHOMRPsvsnfClC2HnJ2jZenyys53Zi7qV9t2HISuzbWzU7fDHxvyp8DYJk4iM_g/s400/13+THINK+IT+OVER.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6SmK7cKcxOegOx_j-eW6JsHOw3V7atubALkevt_JQf0_Sp-rwuQofqjxr2OGnZR3w1DaDhf4CyV-hDRDE9FdUzjpOhKGhZjm4iz2-qF1mz4pv4cZmF5VdbbSS_JgR7tFPqwNgjZIMNw/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h52m35s009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6SmK7cKcxOegOx_j-eW6JsHOw3V7atubALkevt_JQf0_Sp-rwuQofqjxr2OGnZR3w1DaDhf4CyV-hDRDE9FdUzjpOhKGhZjm4iz2-qF1mz4pv4cZmF5VdbbSS_JgR7tFPqwNgjZIMNw/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h52m35s009.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
With a grim finality, the Marshal tells him; ‘Think it over.’ <br /><br /><br />Montone leads O’Niel into the cell block, the row of zero-g chambers brightly-lit, some with prisoners floating gently in atmosphere suits. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Z-t7FOi9bSJ4UyKhYmvT0-t6GM42w0h0CYS6v7WESehaksz8t-JywUvr_lRw1zLUoU8BQDnc_EOjSPVYS-gUOl6zxPlXxd8WMXaVD-XT48CoG5_QZxffqeYvM3xJYkqQ8Dw_2y6H8t0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h52m53s187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Z-t7FOi9bSJ4UyKhYmvT0-t6GM42w0h0CYS6v7WESehaksz8t-JywUvr_lRw1zLUoU8BQDnc_EOjSPVYS-gUOl6zxPlXxd8WMXaVD-XT48CoG5_QZxffqeYvM3xJYkqQ8Dw_2y6H8t0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h52m53s187.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
No-one wants to make trouble if it means risking their air line. Spota’s in 36. No-ones’ asked after him yet, O’Niel wants to know if anyone does. Picking up the intercom, the Marshal addresses his prisoner. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImhV95K1rSW1SDnrfKw7l1U9Ua6N_EKTKbMgbsPjgV26PzFYzPcSYzNOz_wixwy9jKHB_wOg1JVvGHG6rZkRa7wU2am8tRb3gNQP3yiTsWbYU4dVeyz6XR_b0HnqNM8Gxt1CGJplnYv0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h53m51s048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImhV95K1rSW1SDnrfKw7l1U9Ua6N_EKTKbMgbsPjgV26PzFYzPcSYzNOz_wixwy9jKHB_wOg1JVvGHG6rZkRa7wU2am8tRb3gNQP3yiTsWbYU4dVeyz6XR_b0HnqNM8Gxt1CGJplnYv0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h53m51s048.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
He was found with four ounces of Polydichloric Euthimal, 400 doses. Spota doesn’t know what he’s talking about. How much does Sheppard pay him?. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhF019dX0jvEJlB_hooSmbQhGdS_6amCaCd9ZWawWiPoqcnZyWaBLSd1FVJ4awbBj6wS_mlNXqLNorOyDKXdUlmMOFr2mGRbz44SoFlhDcjGvHXYOdhtWWaEBi9i2syqd2LfspoYWWXpc/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h54m09s279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhF019dX0jvEJlB_hooSmbQhGdS_6amCaCd9ZWawWiPoqcnZyWaBLSd1FVJ4awbBj6wS_mlNXqLNorOyDKXdUlmMOFr2mGRbz44SoFlhDcjGvHXYOdhtWWaEBi9i2syqd2LfspoYWWXpc/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h54m09s279.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Spota doesn’t know what he’s talking about. O’Niel ramps it up a bit, telling the dealer some go crazy at night, unable to feel the floor – sometimes the air tether gets knotted and a man suffocates. Not too often. Spota tells him to piss off. <br /><br /><br />‘I like that. You're real quick with a comeback. I've got you nailed. I've got witnesses and evidence;<br />You'll be shipped back and do time that will make this place look like a picnic! Now don't do a deal with me. Don't get yourself a reduced sentence. Just do your hard time while Sheppard laughs his ass off. I've got to hand it to you. You're pretty sharp… see you around, tough guy.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2Hr9HA6uKKufIYL6ycSvMehrtF7_UXYtr2HAMf0-5n_ykOAJjcMxPU2pUdBY-GBVWXGxbWQudSUW1myDmegu5e0-emzF9-9MZUCPv6l_QfUlu03jslqi8NJgZDeoQT-rJxzewPlocB4/s1600/OUTLAND+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1273" data-original-width="1600" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2Hr9HA6uKKufIYL6ycSvMehrtF7_UXYtr2HAMf0-5n_ykOAJjcMxPU2pUdBY-GBVWXGxbWQudSUW1myDmegu5e0-emzF9-9MZUCPv6l_QfUlu03jslqi8NJgZDeoQT-rJxzewPlocB4/s400/OUTLAND+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Hanging up, O’Niel tells Montone ‘Nobody talks to him, nobody touches him – I mean nobody; you understand?.’ He understands.<br /><br /><br />Sheppard’s ball hits the auto-putt and it sends the ball back across the expanse of office floor tiling. By Io standards, the room is huge.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnWLNsWreQ3FTOc5k_KbEwWdq6m2rDRIyUTkvsG6ys3Os_xnEKEySafRZoBDs3PrAUgefrc1wmN2bGFL-sJZXaR8lFd2Cv0hOImM_y4TUFODXeQ8xaY_GSydrAvPSNsEyfhjHq_sOsr0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h55m44s783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnWLNsWreQ3FTOc5k_KbEwWdq6m2rDRIyUTkvsG6ys3Os_xnEKEySafRZoBDs3PrAUgefrc1wmN2bGFL-sJZXaR8lFd2Cv0hOImM_y4TUFODXeQ8xaY_GSydrAvPSNsEyfhjHq_sOsr0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h55m44s783.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Without turning from his practice, he addresses his visitor. ‘You know something? I can hit a seven iron five hundred yards in this place.’ O’Niel declines a drink. Sheppard observes ‘You’ve been busy.’ ‘So have you.’ Comes the reply. How much does he want?. When the Marshal stays silent, Sheppard comments that’s just what they need here – a god-damn hero. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuJJzuQWSsgvTNbFteGeN_UmW_O4aXpqZO4cMZc0TSWUN483utd0NSbsOSH6HUZtloJkA9iT0L3yANgMKKyBVQEBBvuqd6GgbbFVYEusXlDGT15wWl5wj_V7dGQ6SDlAuriYHoEgamyE/s1600/OUTLAND+%25283%2529.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuJJzuQWSsgvTNbFteGeN_UmW_O4aXpqZO4cMZc0TSWUN483utd0NSbsOSH6HUZtloJkA9iT0L3yANgMKKyBVQEBBvuqd6GgbbFVYEusXlDGT15wWl5wj_V7dGQ6SDlAuriYHoEgamyE/s640/OUTLAND+%25283%2529.PNG" width="432" /></a></div>
O’Niel isn’t buying, his ‘Sounds wonderful’ making that clear. Nothing here is wonderful, says Sheppard; it works. That’s enough. Every year a new Marshal comes to start his tour. They all know the score – so does O’Niel, surely?.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiYK9rEZRLs0yZAKs7ywIWTxPksFqqJRe9yERDOTf5v5VDqbpX9Ul9J6aj5b8iKN7gHQS0wZL27ZcUvVhUhAdp_svRKnkUnch77j00NRmIqq3WRYkmq75uzvo1t4wsgKlcGJwV9PetQc/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h57m03s984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiYK9rEZRLs0yZAKs7ywIWTxPksFqqJRe9yERDOTf5v5VDqbpX9Ul9J6aj5b8iKN7gHQS0wZL27ZcUvVhUhAdp_svRKnkUnch77j00NRmIqq3WRYkmq75uzvo1t4wsgKlcGJwV9PetQc/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h57m03s984.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
If this hero routine is to get his price up he’ll consider it. What are you after?. The reply is simple. ‘You.’ Sheppard laughs – if O’Niel were such a god-damn super-cop what’s he doing on a Company mining op like Io?.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfa5nLy9XOLKq5NvALtUPBppI3srFsbDz2lXLuUInmSoRsGxllc3b5bD-KBVq7aT4_3IXEykl1ww2QxUKruCzFZc4VbU8Ff_Nd6qDNhwunw0pZJ7nCVeWGKJHQq7TeZ4g3CQNoWyIA1A/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h57m32s042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfa5nLy9XOLKq5NvALtUPBppI3srFsbDz2lXLuUInmSoRsGxllc3b5bD-KBVq7aT4_3IXEykl1ww2QxUKruCzFZc4VbU8Ff_Nd6qDNhwunw0pZJ7nCVeWGKJHQq7TeZ4g3CQNoWyIA1A/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-20h57m32s042.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This hits home, but the general manager continues with it. They didn’t send him here as a reward for sterling service. They both know it. Besides, he read his record. O’Niel has got a big mouth, that’s why he’s sent from one toilet to the next. Sheppard? - he doesn’t plan on spending the rest of his life doing this. Good for him says O’Niel. Sheppard tries once more; this charade of his is silly. He meddles, he wants him to know what he’s meddling with – if he has something to prove, prove it to himself. Going to the door, O’Niel says ‘I’ll see you around.’ Sheppard has a parting shot. ‘If you’re looking for money, you’re smarter than you look. If you’re not, you’re a lot dumber.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With a rueful smile, the Marshal’s response is ‘I’m probably a lot dumber.’ Sheppards smile loses what warmth it had. ‘That can be very dangerous.’ O’Niel returns his stare and exits the room.<br /><br /><br />Late that night O’Niel enters the cell block in darkness. Picking up the handset he goes to talk to Spota. He’s past that; he’s dead, blood all over the wall and viewport. Shit!. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal dashes back out, leaving Spota’s blood lazily rising into the air from where the tether was cut. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Going to Montone’s quarters, he finds them apparently empty, although the Sergeant’s cap is on his bunk. Opening a secure locker with his pass code, the Marshal is shocked as Montone’s corpse falls out, the garotte wire that killed him still embedded in his neck.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Back in his own quarters, O’Niel checks his messages to find an encoded message waiting for him. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It’s from Montone. Decrypted it reads simply; ‘Food Shipment Montone’<br /><br /><br />Alone again in the freight dock, O’Niel opens the refrigerated container, switching the internal lights on and zipping up his jacket against the bitter cold. Inside, carcasses hang in their straps, ready for processing. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Suddenly, a thin wire is whipped around his neck by Yario, who strangles him, the Marshal’s lifeless body falling to the cold floor. Well, that’s f*cked it… roll the credits, put up the house lights…<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yario turns to a carcass labelled ‘GENERAL MANAGER’ - and is slammed off it, losing teeth as his face connects with the solid meat. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Falling, he gets a savage knee to the face to finish the job. Going over to the side of beef Yario was interested in, O’Niel pulls out the plastic collar he was wearing underneath his own. Crafty bugger!. Reaching inside, he pulls out first one, then more long strips of pouches of a familiar red liquid. Enough doses to send the whole mine crazy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />This time Sheppard is standing in front of a green, projected onto the wall. He takes a swing and a computerised ball flies down the fairway, almost in the rough. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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‘What’s the matter? Sun in your eyes?’ Sheppard turns to find O’Niel in the doorway.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He asks the General Manager if he can guess what he just found in a meat locker. Two hundred-fifty pounds of hamburger named Yario that works for Sheppard. Sheppard lines up another shot on another hole and O’Niel stands beside him, nonchalantly informing him he also found his shipment of PDE. So he threw the hamburger in the jail and the PDE in the toilet – or was it the other way round?, he really can’t remember.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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‘You’ve been a busy Marshall.’ ‘Yeah, you proud of me?.’ ‘Real proud.’ Sheppard fires off the ball. Did he really destroy the entire shipment?. Yes. Smiling, the manager concedes he has a flair for the dramatic. Was it expensive?. More than he could ever imagine. ‘Looks like you could be out of business.’ Anger underneath the surface, Sheppard tells the Marshal he misjudged him; he’s not stupid – he’s crazy. Does he think he’s caused more than an inconvenience?. Who not go home and polish his badge? – he’s dealing with grown-ups here. O’Niel says whoever sent the shipment will be mad he lost it; grown-ups have no sense of humour. Hands in pockets, he walks out, advising Sheppard to play a firm eight-iron and swing easy. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sheppard isn’t done; ‘Marshal. You’re dead. You hear me?’ Yes, O’Niel hears him. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sheppard hits one straight down the fairway this time.<br /><br /><br />Signals flash through the ether; Sheppard calls someone called Bellows on the space station; his contact man. He asks for two of his best men. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What about the two he had? - just send them, he’ll have everything straightened out. When does he need them? On the next shuttle. He’ll see what he can do, he’ll call Sheppard back later. <br /><br /><br />O’Niel climbs down into the communications bay; here all the terminals for the various parts of the mine are housed.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Opening the housing on the bay marked ‘General Manager’, he reaches in and uncouples the fiber-optic cabling before isolating a cable, cutting it and slipping on a bypass before reconnecting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /><br />Back in the security complex, he’s met by Sergeant Ballard with the latest; a failed break-in at the women’s quarters and a fight in the cafeteria. Both parties cooling off in the tank. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal notices he’s not wearing his sergeant’s stripes and Ballard explains it’s only a couple of days since Montone… but O’Niel isn’t in the mood. He’s the new sergeant; he wears the stripes. At his desk, O’Niel taps into Sheppard’s communications. 3 inter-office, 1 long distance, from the space station. He replays the message. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sheppard’s face appears on-screen to be told by the unseen Bellows he has the men he wanted, but it wasn’t easy. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bellows’ people are very unhappy; this could cause trouble for their other operations… if the Company got wind of it, they’d clamp down like a vise. If the Company lost the franchise, his people would be out of business. Unruffled, Sheppard replies not to worry, asking how good the men are. The best; they arrive on the shuttle Sunday. Weapons? Yes. O’Niel watches as Sheppard calmly states the target; Marshal O’Niel. Jesus!; he’d better not mess this up. Bellows asks how much help the Marshal will have. None. Yes, Sheppard’s sure of that; no-one here will stick their neck out. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Swallowing hard, O’Niel looks out through the glass doors to the squad room, realises he is alone. Sheppard will spread word that pros are coming – he’s got an inside man to do it. There’ll be no trouble. O’Niel is a dead man. Bellows has a threat of his own: ‘Sheppard I’ve gotta tell you – if this doesn’t work out the next guys who come for someone will be coming for you.’ Slowly, Sheppard pushes his chair away from the console, lost in his own thoughts.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The red planet hangs over Io like a portent as O’Niel walks into the Club. Heads turn; everybody knows. He walks past the dancers in their smoky cones of light, through the noise and chatter to order a drink, pausing with it halfway to his lips until the patrons get the message and finally look away. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Looking over to one of the ubiquitous shuttle arrival displays he sees he has a little over sixty hours until they come. The clock ticks loudly. 50 hours. <br /><br /><br />In his chair, O’Niel looks over the squad room, catches Ballard’s eye and beckons him over. ‘How many can I count on?’ Ballard doesn’t know. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What about him? Awkwardly, the new sergeant tells him most of them are young, they have families. ‘I have a family’ says O’Niel. Ballard stands there uncomfortably until the Marshal lets him off the hook by telling him at least he knows where he stands.<br /><br /><br />In the freight dock, teams of workers move to and fro, beneath another readout. 40 hours. Dr. Lazarus finds O’Niel killing time playing himself at racquet ball. He isn’t winning. ‘That’s pretty good – playing by yourself and losing.’ She’d join him in a game if she could play sitting down. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, she’s well – not that he asked. Pretty busy. Some kind of flu going round – he’d be surprised the number of workers who’ll be sick this Sunday. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Leaning against the wall, O’Niel asks is she going to be sick this Sunday?. If he’s looking for sterling character, he’s in the wrong place. He slides down to sit facing her and she observes that if he was the kind of guy he was supposed to be, he wouldn’t stick around; that’s why they sent him here. Bravely, he says ‘Maybe they made a mistake.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She was afraid he’d say something like that. ‘You really think you’re making a difference?.’ O’Niel makes a gesture that might be construed as a shrug. ‘Then why, for God’s sake?.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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‘Because… maybe they are right. They send me here to this pile of shit because they think I belong here. I want to find out if… well if they’re right. There’s a whole machine that works because everybody does what they’re supposed to. And I found out I was supposed to be – something I didn’t like. That’s what’s in the program – that’s my rotten little part in the rotten machine. I don’t like it – so I’m going to find out if they’re right.’ Lazarus considers what he’s said and then sighs. His wife is one stupid lady. Does he wanna go get drunk?. Yes, he does. <br /><br /><br />20 hours. And tick-tick ticking. Always ticking. (Quite why digital readouts have to tick evades me; ramping up tension?.) Alone in an access-way, O’Niel carefully adjusts the controls on a bulkhead, subtly altering the settings. Every game of chess begins with a small move. Next, he goes round adjusting the security cameras, tightening focus, tweaking angles of coverage. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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10 hours. Sitting – alone, in his quarters, O’Niel waits as countless others have done before entering battle. The mind is the first enemy you have to overcome. He’s startled by the sudden blip as a signal for him comes in. Carol, from the space station. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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They exchange Hellos. She’s doing it again; she’s had so much time to prepare what to say and she’s looking at his face and her mouth has gone to mush. How’s Paul?. Fine – he’s in the next room, she promised him he could talk to his father. Is he well?. Ok. She’s booked herself and Paulie on the next flight home. The reservations are for three. Thoughtful of her. She pleads with him, but he can’t. He just can’t. She wants to know what’s so important and, unable to tell her, he claims to be too tired to try to explain it. Does he think he’s making a difference? Is it worth giving up his family? Resignedly, she tells him he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. Choked, he tries to say ‘yes’, but it comes out in a quiet voice, barely a word at all. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Carol O’Niel has known her husband for years; something’s wrong there, on Io. He tries to lie, but she knows he’s in some kind of trouble; when he starts speaking in one-word sentences, she knows it. So he goes for the Big Speech; ‘I’m o.k.’ ‘Damn you.’ she says to take care, then calls in their son, telling her husband she loves him. The words hit him like a kick from a horse. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7HgGxvzV2EFm3O4yvjQ6hM6WTMfe1MrXKHx-F4_BnncMKu1gDXqbuq1Tjom8qjKoPpieNigPDUdpRB29P0bDcO-b79tte8yD-JQvZXzka0BPKVEdm2csx-cKY68Eqk8cx08w2vzgvIA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h35m28s766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7HgGxvzV2EFm3O4yvjQ6hM6WTMfe1MrXKHx-F4_BnncMKu1gDXqbuq1Tjom8qjKoPpieNigPDUdpRB29P0bDcO-b79tte8yD-JQvZXzka0BPKVEdm2csx-cKY68Eqk8cx08w2vzgvIA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h35m28s766.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Paul comes on-screen and O’Niel pushes down his feelings to chat with him and make it o.k. again. Mommy says as soon as he’s done, he’s coming home. O’Niel reassures him. What’s it like on Earth? Beautiful – he’s going to see many wonderful things and have friends to play with. Mommy says on the flight they put you to sleep for more than a year. Will it hurt?. Not a bit; it’s like going to sleep and waking up at home. The boy’s worried he’ll sleep through his birthday. Next birthday, he gets two presents. Paul asks is O’Niel can’t come home with them and O’Niel’s mask cracks as he replies; ‘Not right now.’ Soon? Soon. ‘I love you daddy.’ Jesus. Leaden, O’Niel responds. He tells Paul to take care of mommy and the transmission ends. O’Niel sits with only his thoughts for company - and the ever-present ticking.<br /><br /><br />The Club is trying to do the usual trade, although the dancers are absent for once and the music with them. The conversation is subdued, as well it might be with the readout clicking down to an hour and a half. O’Niel finishes his <i>pare bellum</i> by stashing a riot gun beneath a maintenance panel. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97gle7haqlWKZHGmHfvajIPcUkdPp7fvoGifq65JnplFZNIENxMymB7aJwYOTnzCO1vZmIljE3qy7UpGVT0dSTboPPys4T1Xlsw2lFMRbmILZnZ-xhLXMQyIAWUVFveRIlRh56SyzJfs/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h38m02s552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97gle7haqlWKZHGmHfvajIPcUkdPp7fvoGifq65JnplFZNIENxMymB7aJwYOTnzCO1vZmIljE3qy7UpGVT0dSTboPPys4T1Xlsw2lFMRbmILZnZ-xhLXMQyIAWUVFveRIlRh56SyzJfs/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h38m02s552.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
In the washroom, men shave and clean the sweat from a shift Outside while Sheppard sits in his office., reading and smoking. Outside, a beacon blinks from inside an approaching shadow as, Inside the alarm goes and the readouts go from 42 minutes to EARLY. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In the freight dock, workers scramble to meet the shuttle. In the worker’s accommodation, nobody moves; everyone waiting until it’s over. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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O’Niel enters the crowded Ward Room and interrupts the meal in progress as efficiently as if he’d arrived naked. ‘I could use a little help.’ Silence. ‘I thought so.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One asshole pipes up; he’s supposed to protect them. He’s the police, it’s his job. Where are his men?. ‘My men? My men are shit.’ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal turns his back on the room. <br /><br /><br />The alarm still sounds throughout Con-Am 27, the beacon is larger now, answered now by a radiating landing light on the pad. In the dock, a worker hands out pairs of ear defenders to the reception crews. Sheppard walks into the Club. O’Niel loads another riot gun. Outside, the gigantic landing vanes deploy, with a grinding noise that reverberates through the complex, ready to receive their burden, while Inside workers shut hatches and seal containers.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlY_pTriETeHsEGCmrkKZqdK3aTG_NqacGMLfMvTdmxrjQ4B0-bhmBucwtsNEvulUAkkaY_Sdc_wzrduyCMk86A1c63cajeZ_qVE12Z2PGbX7ijFoGnY73UOrGC9xzuA3FKTV67BaP5N0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h42m00s762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlY_pTriETeHsEGCmrkKZqdK3aTG_NqacGMLfMvTdmxrjQ4B0-bhmBucwtsNEvulUAkkaY_Sdc_wzrduyCMk86A1c63cajeZ_qVE12Z2PGbX7ijFoGnY73UOrGC9xzuA3FKTV67BaP5N0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h42m00s762.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The shuttle is now more than a shadow, its become a definite shape and suddenly it’s thrown into stark relief by the landing lights that blaze downwards. The reception crews throw on the hearing protection and for a reason. The retros firing sound like hail and thunder, only a thousand times louder, even through the vacuum the gigantic forces at play resonate through the metal pad. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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O’Niel finishes loading and moves out from his quarters, past a photo of his wife and child. The shuttle sets down on gigantic shock dampers as O’Niel jogs along an access-way, breathing hard now. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Massive gantries bend forwards to secure the umbilical access-ways to the shuttle’s hull. The Thunderbirds tune plays. Just kidding…<br /><br /><br />Gasping for breath, O’Niel bursts into the oddly-abandoned security complex and calls up the cameras covering the freight dock, a pressurised elevator making its way down the gantry from the shuttle. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hand to his headset, a controller operates the massive steel airlock door and air rushes through to equalise the pressure, the dusty air lit by an unseen light source. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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O’Niel’s eyes are glued to the screen as he waits for the first sign of the passengers who are disembarking. Sheppard sits, silently in the Club. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Shadows ripple through the vapor and, bags in hand, the new arrivals come in along the walkway, watched by the reception crews, but not as closely as by the Marshal. Just mine workers; nothing to see here. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQP0k0lK_KDZpjSZBug7cb5O-_3fO-VeEy6RL81XoXvgDCMSLBhp_ZPz1leaitKmb8bgyIkH3r6IeHLTz8reK2U5ih8LjWMmOFQXnrjZj5OfOBhBCfFn8PltQ8QAsBsFG3nu1YI82a15I/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h46m37s482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQP0k0lK_KDZpjSZBug7cb5O-_3fO-VeEy6RL81XoXvgDCMSLBhp_ZPz1leaitKmb8bgyIkH3r6IeHLTz8reK2U5ih8LjWMmOFQXnrjZj5OfOBhBCfFn8PltQ8QAsBsFG3nu1YI82a15I/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-21h46m37s482.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Reaching the junction they file off automatically according to their assignments. All except one man, a tall, well-built fellow with red hair and a moustache who lingers in the junction. Waiting. Waiting for the man who joins him, a hard-faced individual with the features of a boxer or a nightclub bouncer. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Satisfied they are now alone, the two take a knee and open their bags, extracting what might almost be components for machine tools to lay them on the metal deck. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Quietly and efficiently, practised hands assemble the weapons of O’Niel’s death; they put together lethal-looking shotguns with high-tech looking sights, but O’Niel has seen enough. Dashing from the complex, he pauses only to grab a handful of spare shells for the riot gun. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The two killers split up, moving easily with the casual movements of the professional. The Club is the only busy place on Io; the safest place to be, it seems. The rest of the complex is eerily deserted, such as the canteen where O’Niel is prowling softly, gun in hand.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdaKUnN7kfObjrXyj48AFzWWSxRbEOeHaHBKa3bvqbpZqDeL8GRVobXgpyKkcrV6ztIeR1tOVX9SmR5fHGjQsa-AZ3IST6JA8pr37aoAbYI7cnm2YNSHVLnoi1Y-IRgQ5aMAjddeMhws/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h28m48s461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdaKUnN7kfObjrXyj48AFzWWSxRbEOeHaHBKa3bvqbpZqDeL8GRVobXgpyKkcrV6ztIeR1tOVX9SmR5fHGjQsa-AZ3IST6JA8pr37aoAbYI7cnm2YNSHVLnoi1Y-IRgQ5aMAjddeMhws/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h28m48s461.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The rounds explode off a steel table, barely missing the Marshal who hits the deck to return fire through the ceiling grille to where the pug-faced killer is lurking. Swift footsteps sound from above and O’Niel moves across the floor and away. If he’d been in his office, he’d have seen Red walking through an access-way, tracked automatically by the cameras. All the while, Sheppard is alone at a table with his drink and his thoughts. Perhaps the other patrons avoid him because of his status – or perhaps because they know the score and keep a distance through fear. <br /><br /><br />O’Niel stalks his man through the service space above the canteen, the metal creaking beneath his weight, the darkness making it hard to see any threat. Unless you have an infra-red sight on your weapon like the pug. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal looms large in the centre of the cross-hairs and the round misses him by a hair’s breadth, the next two exploding around him as he shelters, blind, behind an uncomfortably thin stanchion. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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O’Niel groans in agony; his left shoulder has taken a hit. Salvation is sometimes just luck; blinking away the sweat, the killer takes a second to re-focus on the target – just as O’Niel drops away to a catwalk on a lower level and runs for it, unarmed. He lopes through an access-way – watched only by the monitors. And, of course, Red who is watching them in the Marshal’s office. Going to the maintenance panel where he stashed the spare riot gun, O’Niel finds it has gone. He moves on, leaving a trail of blood spots.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Entering a junction, he ducks back as one of the doors begins to unlock – prepares to strike and almost takes out Doctor Lazarus.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJGAup0Y7qcLsBtfZlh4rtB1lpzLEug4pg9sho13CaTM48JxuiGFu_CySfxUbcyZn6niF3oUtReyj5pGgDw-TJZODl2UYfRzGN_4vIcCsFJnhD7OliPdgQthgchELeqIpsI2MR8CvtnNA/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h34m53s955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJGAup0Y7qcLsBtfZlh4rtB1lpzLEug4pg9sho13CaTM48JxuiGFu_CySfxUbcyZn6niF3oUtReyj5pGgDw-TJZODl2UYfRzGN_4vIcCsFJnhD7OliPdgQthgchELeqIpsI2MR8CvtnNA/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h34m53s955.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
What’s she doing here?; she went to his office and saw hi on the screens – he’s headed right for the two of them. Noticing his shoulder, she casts her physician’s eye over the wound. They missed the artery; she offers to dress the wound for him and they go off together.<br /><br /><br />In the abandoned worker’s accommodation, Lazarus bandages O’Niel’s wound with some material she found there. He asks which way they were heading; they were headed to the operations wing, trying to cut him off. He asks if she could seal off the access-ways in the East quadrant.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He could go around them. She agrees. Meanwhile, Red has entered the accommodation block and is on the hunt. Lazarus finishes off her makeshift dressing and O’Niel thanks her. She isn’t pleading character – just temporary insanity, she says. They both freeze as a footstep sounds somewhere in the vast chamber. Going through to the lockers, the Marshal tries them until he finds an environment suit. Whispering to Lazarus, he tells her to get the hell out of there; he’s going Outside. She stands there, unmoving. Go on! She offers to help, insists on it. Thinking it over, O’Niel tells her to seal the access corridors, lead them into C5. He smiles, grateful to have an ally, but she brings him back to Earth – or Io, at least; ‘Don’t get maudlin.’ And she leaves, sneaking off.<br /><br /><br />Red moves methodically, using his sight to quest for the target. Lazarus tippy-toes along and nearly has a heart-attack when she comes face to face with a Con-Am uniform left hanging up. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The second killer, meanwhile, kicks open the door to the O’Niel’s bedroom to find the place empty as the tenant himself is going Outside, waiting while the steel door pulls back and rotates to allow him egress. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Lazarus is playing her part, making plenty of noise as she runs towards C5, Red following. O’Niel steps Outside as Inside, the Doctor seals off a hatchway with her security code, leaving one option clear. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She runs on, to the next hatchway, C5 - which she seals and then back the way she came, ducking through the other hatch to seal that, leaving one way apparently clear. Red enters an access-way, following the blood spatter. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Outside, O’Niel slowy makes his way to a vantage point overlooking the junction. Six access-ways radiate from it. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Carefully, he measures the jump – and leaps into the airless void, falling gently to land on all fours atop the beam-framework of one of the passages. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Red enters the junction; there’s only one green option, so he takes it, stepping through to the access-way leading to C5. As O’Niel approaches the central joint above, the shadow of the killer is visible through the opaque plastic. Praying she’s timed it right, Lazarus goes back through the hatch into the junction and risks a look as O’Niel begins the laborious job of uncoupling the joint holding the two sections of access-way together.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Spotting Lazarus, Red begins firing rapidly, his shots sparking off the heavy hatch as he begins to sprint back towards the junction. Quickly, a frightened Lazarus seals the hatch as the sections begin to part with an explosion of electricity. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To his horror, Red realises what’s happening as the oxygen vanishes and his face expands and bursts. Exposed to Space, at least it didn’t take long…<br /><br /><br />The Greenhouse; hydroponic food supply for the operation. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you can grow vegetables locally, shipping costs are lower. The Pug-faced killer enters level C2 and clambers down a ladder past the racks of vegetables and fruit. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8kfF4wkfSvk0LgzMH1mzFic1aYP33jJDzBRVYH8WYVvSRjE7ZzhAUeaVyKQjYw0iOAZdLFsKunKjUrBzhu_vcrNtG1KVbCCRSWGXh2fIyDrmLEXgMZ3rLTMlkmlgMuK4iHQLjiRA2Gk/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h52m58s669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8kfF4wkfSvk0LgzMH1mzFic1aYP33jJDzBRVYH8WYVvSRjE7ZzhAUeaVyKQjYw0iOAZdLFsKunKjUrBzhu_vcrNtG1KVbCCRSWGXh2fIyDrmLEXgMZ3rLTMlkmlgMuK4iHQLjiRA2Gk/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-22h52m58s669.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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O’Niel walks towards the exterior as, Inside, the hitman jogs along past the long rows of produce. <br /><br /><br />Lazarus runs into the security complex to the Marshal’s desk to check the monitors, but is startled by Sergeant Ballard. Can he help? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He’s a bit late… the Sergeant asks if the Marshal’s alright. Where is he? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Outside, somewhere. Outside where? How the hell should she know? Maybe the Greenhouse. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Outside the Greenhouse, O’Niel watches as Pug moves along the rows, going to a ladder to take him up the exterior structure, grunting with the effort despite the low gravity. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It’s a long climb; the greenhouse is thin, but tall, to catch what light it can from far away Sol. Atop the dizzying structure, O’Niel looks down to see a shadow tracking along from Inside. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The gunman pauses every few steps, scanning the dark green environment with his night scope. With an effort, the Marshal bends down to haul a cooling panel from its slot – holding it out to drop it over the side. It falls, spinning, down and keeps falling. The gunman is quick, but only on the trigger.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Spotting the movement, he fires, blowing a neat hole in the glass from which cracks begin to radiate. With a wooshing of air, plants are uprooted before the entire pane fails and, with an explosion of decompression, the contents are pulled through into the vacuum, including the killer, who screams as he is sent hurtling out to explode into chunks. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wearily, O’Niel pulls himself to his feet and begins the long walk back Inside. <br /><br /><br />Lazarus goes into the Club, looking around the place. Everyone’s chatting to keep their spirits up, except Sheppard, who sits motionless.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLK_0kQZVeC0MUms23uhuh6Cjk-7rIB0fnVSv829ffGKVqBNZwlK0jde0J0F5_d4O69sc8NToO0owhOqrooo0HoUL2SIzZYwyq2gBO6A-0W-KDBcs2PIKLTiAsnUgLypNEhr_NDr4EjYI/s1600/OUTLAND+%252836%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1352" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLK_0kQZVeC0MUms23uhuh6Cjk-7rIB0fnVSv829ffGKVqBNZwlK0jde0J0F5_d4O69sc8NToO0owhOqrooo0HoUL2SIzZYwyq2gBO6A-0W-KDBcs2PIKLTiAsnUgLypNEhr_NDr4EjYI/s400/OUTLAND+%252836%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
O’Niel moves along the catwalk leading to the massive solar arrays that provide electrical power to the complex. A shot bursts off the girders beside him and a helmet lights up. Ballard. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sheppard’s inside man, remember?. The Sergeant begins to run along a parallel gangway, his legs fresher than those of the man he is betraying. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal begins to climb another long ladder. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12QRJ1CIT5sA__eENE9i2YmbTrUtUbH9AOjso2ti_Q2i29x3Acv_GH4qDMsR5fBhnibXVjpG1EgoLPS7_DCgEoxYw3rJ6ZiNPUN8QcpwRVnT549QUfGehY_yYf31hWJK7bUWidxxlwo0/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-23h01m57s616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12QRJ1CIT5sA__eENE9i2YmbTrUtUbH9AOjso2ti_Q2i29x3Acv_GH4qDMsR5fBhnibXVjpG1EgoLPS7_DCgEoxYw3rJ6ZiNPUN8QcpwRVnT549QUfGehY_yYf31hWJK7bUWidxxlwo0/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-23h01m57s616.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Ballard patrols along one of the narrow catwalks along the face of the solar collector panels, looking around cautiously. If he looked up, he would see O’Niel crawling along the catwalk above towards him.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Marshal stands in his bulky suit, steadies himself and launches himself out over Ballard, crashing down on him and sending him sprawling, his riot gun falling down to spark off the huge panels, the lethal electricity running across their surface suddenly evident. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbC9iBj5RDNrHOd5QtHOXe522zTCxaYuXW3hYdsA76-3tITjaxA9HNL-uqYDQsrA07QNh-OkDklk7KbkxyTkT9Vxbdb925xsdq0ZOKhkPBkEaYaGqTMN53t4122YXfMC_UwdDFv2sA1Y/s1600/OUTLAND+%252869%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1280" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbC9iBj5RDNrHOd5QtHOXe522zTCxaYuXW3hYdsA76-3tITjaxA9HNL-uqYDQsrA07QNh-OkDklk7KbkxyTkT9Vxbdb925xsdq0ZOKhkPBkEaYaGqTMN53t4122YXfMC_UwdDFv2sA1Y/s400/OUTLAND+%252869%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
O’Niel hangs perilously from the catwalk, his insulated boots sparking as the toes come into contact with the panels. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0DYbR1T6ibg7qnA9vZPFUVqdKV5rBF5c0Fl4bd_6LHQqT2RhmsP6W5dLrQNcuuckh1P0EH_fNzPu-ZjVhLOY_C9MZiLxMrKc3McoorlfQiUzZ_4eznNCrwje0jd4pmqTs79W8-anWC4/s1600/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-23h39m58s652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1387" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0DYbR1T6ibg7qnA9vZPFUVqdKV5rBF5c0Fl4bd_6LHQqT2RhmsP6W5dLrQNcuuckh1P0EH_fNzPu-ZjVhLOY_C9MZiLxMrKc3McoorlfQiUzZ_4eznNCrwje0jd4pmqTs79W8-anWC4/s400/vlcsnap-2018-10-02-23h39m58s652.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
He looks up in time to get a vicious kick from Ballard. He only just manages to hold on, struggling with the treacherous Sergeant. The two wrestle and fall the long distance together to the next catwalk down. This time, Ballard is left hanging, O’Niel gasping in pain from landing on his bad shoulder. The Sergeant pulls himself up and strikes at the Marshal, ramming him against the panel, his helmet sizzling and sparking with the contact. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwKGoda6Q3F59VF11QNCXJspyOuCa4RHE02z6fM15NvdDG8bGP61d-dLgUW1ql36289mmsmUq2xrtC82BWNivEtJnKZhszfOk3zrjWCbf_I2cUHvXH91pqe8ogw-po5QRxayb8Ih0X2c/s1600/25+SPARKS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwKGoda6Q3F59VF11QNCXJspyOuCa4RHE02z6fM15NvdDG8bGP61d-dLgUW1ql36289mmsmUq2xrtC82BWNivEtJnKZhszfOk3zrjWCbf_I2cUHvXH91pqe8ogw-po5QRxayb8Ih0X2c/s400/25+SPARKS.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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Again he pushes him into the metal grid, hoping to short out O’Niel’s suit. Mining suits are built to take a lot of abuse, but only so much. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kN7e-StaXV6DibnpG9kNhfGgGNRVvSG1m5CQLJnwDy6Gz9qkccGuaJHc7VvzTiA5if1aLMYOrhhDRgFpC9UN3zYCVaAvl407kdgCNutQk2UVc5Zr9zX0kmIyZIyd5CUh2Z6QEXrYRHs/s1600/OUTLAND+%252816%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1017" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kN7e-StaXV6DibnpG9kNhfGgGNRVvSG1m5CQLJnwDy6Gz9qkccGuaJHc7VvzTiA5if1aLMYOrhhDRgFpC9UN3zYCVaAvl407kdgCNutQk2UVc5Zr9zX0kmIyZIyd5CUh2Z6QEXrYRHs/s400/OUTLAND+%252816%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Lobby Card showing the fight on the Solar Grid</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Striking back, O’Niel gets the younger man in an arm lock and the life or death struggle continues… until, with grim finality, the Marshal grasps the other man’s air hose and savagely yanks it free. Ballard’s scream is lost in the sudden vacuum and his corpse falls down leaving a trail of sparks to finally be incinerated atop an industrial transformer. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila7ckNI0bZNyfcyOx15DKSNIj6mI2c94D29u6WDA9-U9QvnS9zC0sfSBXRzH031A7fA3NGLgeCeRHL1jSOmPlF-Psuv25wonjffAapKvWvNwT2n3M-wIlbebVFxAlK6x671IbFTNuTy8/s1600/26+BALLARD+LIGHTS+UP.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="747" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila7ckNI0bZNyfcyOx15DKSNIj6mI2c94D29u6WDA9-U9QvnS9zC0sfSBXRzH031A7fA3NGLgeCeRHL1jSOmPlF-Psuv25wonjffAapKvWvNwT2n3M-wIlbebVFxAlK6x671IbFTNuTy8/s400/26+BALLARD+LIGHTS+UP.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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The forced, artificial cheerfulness of the Club dies as the door opens. O’Niel walks in, staggering and wincing the pain and effort. Lazarus is there as he approaches Sheppard. The General Manager turns to face the man he tried to have murdered as he approaches.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Standing before him, O’Niel croaks out his name, then half turns. ‘Oh, fuck it...’ his swing sends the heavier man clean over a table, the glass top breaking in his wake – much to Lazarus’ delight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">No-one moves as O’Niel casually walks out, save to shrink back from the vengeful Marshal. <br /><br /><br />In his quarters, O’Niel finishes his packing. Lazarus turns up to see him off. How’s the arm? Smiling, he says it’s all right. She was on her way to drinking herself into a stupor when she thought she’d drop in to say goodbye. </span><br />
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Touched, he tells her she was a good friend – and thanks her. Nonchalantly, the old war horse says she should be thanking him; there hasn’t been so much excitement in this heap for some time. </span><br />
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He has to leave. So does she; it’s going to hit the fan and she wants to watch it happen. Pausing, she says ‘You did good.’ ‘So did you.’ She returns his smile and nods jauntily. Damn right… <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Going to the screen, he types in a message; TO O’Niel, CAROL G. FROM O’NIEL, W.T. ARRIVING IN TIME FOR FLIGHT. KEEP TICKET WARM. JOB DONE. KISS PAUL FOR ME. LOOKING FORWARD TO SLEEPING WITH YOU FOR A YEAR. O’NIEL, W.T. END TRANSMISSION.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><b>(ABOVE) Re-Mastered <i>Outland</i> Trailer by</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzXm9BttXswFqYGXSV-XmNw" target="_blank"> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzXm9BttXswFqYGXSV-XmNw</a></b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf4YPh_Cgw1zNKq9lnLDJWw2wBDFXmCrPIW7qb1fzUa-ABu8g2isxP3NkUHAehbe6M2uWDXQPxfyNmFk0BdAEhSd1VZFRPYPDR8nZW41nrjOMj83vDi6Yrk5Ass4kB6YkTpKFK7eKXpw/s1600/OUTLAND+%252872%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1024" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf4YPh_Cgw1zNKq9lnLDJWw2wBDFXmCrPIW7qb1fzUa-ABu8g2isxP3NkUHAehbe6M2uWDXQPxfyNmFk0BdAEhSd1VZFRPYPDR8nZW41nrjOMj83vDi6Yrk5Ass4kB6YkTpKFK7eKXpw/s320/OUTLAND+%252872%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Sean Connery on the Racquet-Ball set with Director Peter Hyams and unknown</span></b></td></tr>
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Peter Hyams wrote and directed Outland (1981), but he already has a place in Volcano Cat’s heart for his superb Capricorn One (1977) and his later Timecop (1994). Hyams conceived of a Western with more than a passing resemblance to High Noon (1952) in which Gary Cooper’s Marshal has to face a gang of killers alone. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2a6ySIGHn-a-H53kzNtjKqP-E20lRyk6Qld5a_KxjtbdeFQ4JZzWkxJRD2y54B8iPwCUeajkSKGnSqw8lQuYmDSFP86K2e4feWvpsBvyJHE4YgMssVsdmc3V7CAyqzjMDYu6MbctCNSg/s1600/OUTLAND+%252826%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="620" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2a6ySIGHn-a-H53kzNtjKqP-E20lRyk6Qld5a_KxjtbdeFQ4JZzWkxJRD2y54B8iPwCUeajkSKGnSqw8lQuYmDSFP86K2e4feWvpsBvyJHE4YgMssVsdmc3V7CAyqzjMDYu6MbctCNSg/s320/OUTLAND+%252826%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Sean Connery on the set with Director Peter Hyams</span></b></td></tr>
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Western’s weren’t in vogue at the time, however and funding didn’t appear – so he changed tack, setting the film in Space. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVQRT2m5O7HM98QtWwz6bTxecms7R5MFzKaZPSG-4J_XFZfHG9wWqxS6YhxsjT2q0QuydbwlTNQIdpSs4f7xIW5fuoOAjTwi-6DrlnlakTcuruPmYr2j-OxFQ30ugAI21Ij9o3KmLgG0/s1600/OUTLAND+%25282%2529.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVQRT2m5O7HM98QtWwz6bTxecms7R5MFzKaZPSG-4J_XFZfHG9wWqxS6YhxsjT2q0QuydbwlTNQIdpSs4f7xIW5fuoOAjTwi-6DrlnlakTcuruPmYr2j-OxFQ30ugAI21Ij9o3KmLgG0/s640/OUTLAND+%25282%2529.PNG" width="432" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Filming at the legendary Pinewood studios, Buckinghamshire started with miniature work in May, 1980 and principal photography from June, 1980. The score was composed and conducted by Jerry Goldsmith, (Capricorn One, 1979’s Alien and many, many other great titles) Outland was the first film to use a revolutionary process called Introvison, a variation on the front-projection principle. Click the following links for more; <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zr1kal2hvPc">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zr1kal2hvPc</a> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Introvision">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Introvision</a> Outland was one of the few films to be released theatrically with the "Megasound" sound system format. A movie theatre sound system created by Warner Bros in the early 1980s. It was used to enhance the premiere engagements of a handful of Warner features. Theaters equipped for Megasound, had additional speakers mounted on the left, right and rear walls of the auditorium. Selected soundtrack events with lots of low-frequency content (thuds, crashes, explosions, etc) were directed to these speakers at very high volume to thrill the audience. </span><br />
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<br />Sean Connery – later Sir. Sean, plays the role of Marshal O’Niel with flinty Scots toughness; he’s made for the part of the slightly over-the-hill man trying to prove he’s better than the expectations of his corrupt contemporaries. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxw82Fos0ZnRSnnIVDgj0j6pLqYVrPNi9vK6R5A37hs1eAJWgi2HnWQ2G96czIueHvt5wavn5ugCSJhBu1JQtdPfaF9W0oqJpjuzyEsb2sdOC8Vv1Lso2nH7fpaZ54kZc_YcEnuYQvKs/s1600/OUTLAND+%252850%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="672" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxw82Fos0ZnRSnnIVDgj0j6pLqYVrPNi9vK6R5A37hs1eAJWgi2HnWQ2G96czIueHvt5wavn5ugCSJhBu1JQtdPfaF9W0oqJpjuzyEsb2sdOC8Vv1Lso2nH7fpaZ54kZc_YcEnuYQvKs/s640/OUTLAND+%252850%2529.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Sean Connery is Marshal W.T. O'Niel</span></b></td></tr>
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Hard to pick out a ‘stand-out’ moment, but I’m going with the scene with Lazarus in the Racquet-ball court. His honest reflection shows a man looking inwards and afraid of what he might find, yet determined to do so and it is a moment of brilliance. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfzFzvyYuCrwdp-CDSakA-Z_iVm8XxXIGO7zKyUbj9dq2ZtHau1cqF_-_1_7lzTiv4DGtndHkDrRh1pOb3rH9zbHv9vsJx4DtsFMrz0-dAj-sl7A5Q7IjFr1d9RoyDFhhOkS-zMrGCy0/s1600/OUTLAND+%252821%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="620" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfzFzvyYuCrwdp-CDSakA-Z_iVm8XxXIGO7zKyUbj9dq2ZtHau1cqF_-_1_7lzTiv4DGtndHkDrRh1pOb3rH9zbHv9vsJx4DtsFMrz0-dAj-sl7A5Q7IjFr1d9RoyDFhhOkS-zMrGCy0/s400/OUTLAND+%252821%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Frances Sternhagen as Dr. Lazarus</b></td></tr>
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Likewise Frances Sternhagen as the salty Dr. Marian Lazarus; a quality performance throughout, as irascible as ‘Bones’ from Star Trek and with more credibility and toughness. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0i1njXWc10BEbKmREjnpqqwgVRY1mEvoQxlVZIdZbtpjDEP6242PzuSK2dtd8qcl602D6gVphxIhDUNvigyBcduNR8ph8FQNimNY2AzOHfqCJPiJd7Ax-ttwq4woHUuD-WPEKENR5OY/s1600/OUTLAND+%252871%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1280" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0i1njXWc10BEbKmREjnpqqwgVRY1mEvoQxlVZIdZbtpjDEP6242PzuSK2dtd8qcl602D6gVphxIhDUNvigyBcduNR8ph8FQNimNY2AzOHfqCJPiJd7Ax-ttwq4woHUuD-WPEKENR5OY/s400/OUTLAND+%252871%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Peter Boyle plays Sheppard, seen here relaxing between takes with Star Connery</span></b></td></tr>
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Peter Boyle had worked with Director Hyams before and his portrayal of corrupt Manager Mark Sheppard is on the money – a ‘less is more’ performance that gives Connery just enough to fight against. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMeY_hwqsFd-3dg2H1Ci714fEkoUVLGRZhwc1FpbT3J32LwvmGhhS3JYo4NZL8riKDW_zsOiG0CxM2XD-SPu5X9BPYLt2tqVRdZH1GUubIUOgSClJdu753aqIojfJnYxNRcqwmRUOHjGE/s1600/OUTLAND+%252841%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="1000" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMeY_hwqsFd-3dg2H1Ci714fEkoUVLGRZhwc1FpbT3J32LwvmGhhS3JYo4NZL8riKDW_zsOiG0CxM2XD-SPu5X9BPYLt2tqVRdZH1GUubIUOgSClJdu753aqIojfJnYxNRcqwmRUOHjGE/s400/OUTLAND+%252841%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Peter Boyle is Sheppard</span></b></td></tr>
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James B. Sikking (Hill Street Blues) plays Montone, the corrupt, but likeable Sergeant and plays the role to a ‘T’. Steven Berkoff (Beverly Hills Cop/Octopussy)has a minor role as Sagan, the crazed miner who attacks the prostitute. He plays nutters well, that man… Spota is played by Stuntman/Stunt Co-Ordinator Marc Boyle. Eagle-eyed viewers may wonder where they saw the character I described as ‘Red’, the Hitman; P.H. Moriarty played ‘Razors’ in 1979’s The Long Good Friday and ‘Hatchet Harry’ in the superb Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Peter Hyman’s married George-Ann Spota, hence the dealer’s name in Outland. The name appears in many of his films.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzm7ege4XrpCRn03G6M8rMYUGt1Nz76jJHV4LUadJTQA8uNNhb6rueI1vIx0JMFHo2uLCM8YZ9OBY03x2V1thpdWXFn4tnj6lQ8JmX0Iwa_UO8TI-9y9yH-M6h9zhs1tqmcci_5-QSRM/s1600/OUTLAND+%252861%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1600" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzm7ege4XrpCRn03G6M8rMYUGt1Nz76jJHV4LUadJTQA8uNNhb6rueI1vIx0JMFHo2uLCM8YZ9OBY03x2V1thpdWXFn4tnj6lQ8JmX0Iwa_UO8TI-9y9yH-M6h9zhs1tqmcci_5-QSRM/s320/OUTLAND+%252861%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7tK5JAxvX8TOdejtcc6P2MA5qbRb-JGHuIX9Lgd1asGV0bNP6gHSezIEnI24-d3fcTstyFXbnKjh9sUaSTd9T3q_U3i6q9960WiGYJ4OPSg6ujJjX4QxlqC13A_yXKzY6K7WnPm5ca8/s1600/Martin+Bowers+model+shuttle_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1024" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7tK5JAxvX8TOdejtcc6P2MA5qbRb-JGHuIX9Lgd1asGV0bNP6gHSezIEnI24-d3fcTstyFXbnKjh9sUaSTd9T3q_U3i6q9960WiGYJ4OPSg6ujJjX4QxlqC13A_yXKzY6K7WnPm5ca8/s320/Martin+Bowers+model+shuttle_edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Martin Bower's incredibly-detailed model for The Shuttle</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">The working title for Outland was ‘Io’, but as a Ladd Company executive pointed out, audiences would read that as either ‘10’ or ‘Low’, so Hyams was persuaded to change it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdDMLY-WM6FFRWyXiy0msVEXttwUrGLtizFOrfpYSPqy1IlJhG2ZMjll-bzwr21cFxirs-RPO-aMFPbRSzRlHc4qbCoXs-uofHqOnD3V7picvZQ6SHRTegKSYeszWyaxA3ZXohbie3CM/s1600/OUTLAND+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="1000" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdDMLY-WM6FFRWyXiy0msVEXttwUrGLtizFOrfpYSPqy1IlJhG2ZMjll-bzwr21cFxirs-RPO-aMFPbRSzRlHc4qbCoXs-uofHqOnD3V7picvZQ6SHRTegKSYeszWyaxA3ZXohbie3CM/s320/OUTLAND+%25288%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKixmqI8iSQbyV5wqewUoSfvOaGiRJ-5RFebCtlYXT_SArPFTTgDkmg0AuEKxPXFBtrESJkDjxDHwoiII4_dBvE5rCVkNNKtMHoSKiDTluFddb3hbNu60B7su4gibJ0kEea8XaVYAC3uY/s1600/OUTLAND+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1000" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKixmqI8iSQbyV5wqewUoSfvOaGiRJ-5RFebCtlYXT_SArPFTTgDkmg0AuEKxPXFBtrESJkDjxDHwoiII4_dBvE5rCVkNNKtMHoSKiDTluFddb3hbNu60B7su4gibJ0kEea8XaVYAC3uY/s320/OUTLAND+%252810%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7BbnLdnAk7WTwanuxF0eKdkfABeYkGJrHjuLMjopNdS2_p4HZ-c7T_XaRmusDkyIIYQ5uckXwDYJtrWhdUb-ZQWoX5ZcMTz2nzrbrnpSDoZEGD4L-5P-xGuCDBHWmnUSKyMAPPw5Nzw/s1600/OUTLAND+%252827%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="972" data-original-width="1575" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7BbnLdnAk7WTwanuxF0eKdkfABeYkGJrHjuLMjopNdS2_p4HZ-c7T_XaRmusDkyIIYQ5uckXwDYJtrWhdUb-ZQWoX5ZcMTz2nzrbrnpSDoZEGD4L-5P-xGuCDBHWmnUSKyMAPPw5Nzw/s320/OUTLAND+%252827%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Con-Am 27 - the model</span></b></td></tr>
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‘Con-Amalgamate’ was also the name of the company making the defective life-support systems in Capricorn One.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TvPVuQ5d48AKcAiKouxZu0TjJ6FZvCN5u7rcG3PDHunaWn3lXoJi30GTrwcC1KgVlvlEYm7Hnrj0InVcwXLMq5ygDJeM-Mb1BmN3eafkL98qSfa7j8FLGS_d2YDPS6i1IEQUTZsgB2Y/s1600/OUTLAND+%252828%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TvPVuQ5d48AKcAiKouxZu0TjJ6FZvCN5u7rcG3PDHunaWn3lXoJi30GTrwcC1KgVlvlEYm7Hnrj0InVcwXLMq5ygDJeM-Mb1BmN3eafkL98qSfa7j8FLGS_d2YDPS6i1IEQUTZsgB2Y/s320/OUTLAND+%252828%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Teaser Poster</span></b></td></tr>
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Some time after this film, Frances Sternhagen played the mother of John Ratzenberger’s character in Cheers (1982-1993). so?; Ratzenberger plays Tarlow, the first victim of PDE in Outland.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoz9HxBuBAqNvHSV9C_cGYGUbL5CHcORBR42eNkh7S1N9OGl4f0m-WALQvriSl01saTMzOFZk7UDmc2clyC9JqxO6ZvQgE5R2VahQeBVb_jfU7qh5YBTuNCvJiA8r4UdcWlrFiS-9J1vI/s1600/OUTLAND+%252829%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoz9HxBuBAqNvHSV9C_cGYGUbL5CHcORBR42eNkh7S1N9OGl4f0m-WALQvriSl01saTMzOFZk7UDmc2clyC9JqxO6ZvQgE5R2VahQeBVb_jfU7qh5YBTuNCvJiA8r4UdcWlrFiS-9J1vI/s320/OUTLAND+%252829%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) UK Poster Variant</span></b></td></tr>
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When Connery’s character says ‘I could use a little help’ he’s repeating the line Gary Cooper spoke to the townsfolk in High Noon, a film in which the Marshal’s only ally is a woman with a doubtful reputation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEm9KZF4_EFFHTLaSHaNQyfyMDXi0zmpGLxv5HFpRL5KdSY7Mr2t9dPPEnHAvTfYvhcUnEezCNumFxg_-ArXplNslhfsG9_qIFh48opOylkB32UoljBXaUZwfqznmyDZOHETVptdO_qgU/s1600/MISHTAKES.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="1600" height="97" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEm9KZF4_EFFHTLaSHaNQyfyMDXi0zmpGLxv5HFpRL5KdSY7Mr2t9dPPEnHAvTfYvhcUnEezCNumFxg_-ArXplNslhfsG9_qIFh48opOylkB32UoljBXaUZwfqznmyDZOHETVptdO_qgU/s400/MISHTAKES.PNG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<br />When Spota tries to smash the orange juice container onto O’Niel, the clearly plastic container smashes with a ‘crockery breaking’ sound effect.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGB5l-SQz_az9OiXmbjK-BjsQWhSZ4oliahLNXTasQCapwBuFZd_-cQfGsM_pvwP51qzrmF2GcDzGedoB7o2pfb8ZhHwkIhcNpp5AoUsJwsCvwpwq2sWdcf9MJZQVw7ObuoXVHYqldAo/s1600/OUTLAND+%252851%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="748" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGB5l-SQz_az9OiXmbjK-BjsQWhSZ4oliahLNXTasQCapwBuFZd_-cQfGsM_pvwP51qzrmF2GcDzGedoB7o2pfb8ZhHwkIhcNpp5AoUsJwsCvwpwq2sWdcf9MJZQVw7ObuoXVHYqldAo/s640/OUTLAND+%252851%2529.jpg" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) The French Poster</span></b></td></tr>
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Spota’s corpse; his dead arm changes position between shots. <br /><br />Speaking of dead Spotas, Blood wouldn’t go up in zero-g.<br /><br />The access key-pads used throughout are clearly just digital calculators.<br /><br />O’Niel’s name-tag changes several times to read ‘O’Neil’. <br /><br />As O’Niel struggles with Ballard Outside, for a brief moment O’Niel’s glove shifts, revealing a hirsute Scottish arm – and the fact that this isn’t in fact a real space suit. Another illusion shattered, eh?<br /><br />The human body doesn’t explode when exposed to the vacuum of space.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZl_ODjA_cldywI9DZGJG6N6Kgb1Ui4pW_Ru2MzZUro0xAdmvnByfVhUSGSxpNB7bVys6eT4JuPeWJ5Vwd335sC42Dve2sKMUhwQ1YTda6BPJ_VsQwRvFDTGJom9mfA7wQzgU-MpjJlQ/s1600/Outland_onesheet_UK-1_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1088" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZl_ODjA_cldywI9DZGJG6N6Kgb1Ui4pW_Ru2MzZUro0xAdmvnByfVhUSGSxpNB7bVys6eT4JuPeWJ5Vwd335sC42Dve2sKMUhwQ1YTda6BPJ_VsQwRvFDTGJom9mfA7wQzgU-MpjJlQ/s640/Outland_onesheet_UK-1_edited.jpg" width="433" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) UK Poster</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
O’Niel is showing floating around in low Gravity; as Io is shown to have 1/6 Earth Gravity, the hitman seen inside the Greenhouse (For instance) should also be experiencing the same low gravity. <br /><br />A semi-permanent base on Io is unlikely; radiation levels are too high for humans to survive without ridiculous levels of shielding.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJCw_O0Nk3o8Fev1-6d7bhtviH1kT_gKz2dAZt8KrrU1peKVQ5h7Vky4hHCcn1cOFtfawxQZlSR7LcjOiD4-MUZj7aI2v4KILp49zE3Le9RpUnVOv-UHxJvYu-52KajL0A7qMF3cOqnk/s1600/OUTLAND+%252813%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJCw_O0Nk3o8Fev1-6d7bhtviH1kT_gKz2dAZt8KrrU1peKVQ5h7Vky4hHCcn1cOFtfawxQZlSR7LcjOiD4-MUZj7aI2v4KILp49zE3Le9RpUnVOv-UHxJvYu-52KajL0A7qMF3cOqnk/s640/OUTLAND+%252813%2529.jpg" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Connery poses for a publicity shot</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">
In the opening sequence, a computer readout gives us the statistics for the Con-Am operation on Io. ‘Marshal’ and ‘Principal’ are misspelled. (Who am I to talk?)<br /><br />When messages are sent to and from the Space Station, they arrive instantaneously, instead of being delayed by the distances involved.<br /><br />Had the Shuttle arrived early, it would have missed the moon entirely.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5ivSzfwEz-O1jAa9OtPNZzmWSuE9E8St5oMvyKnOgJAfQFuyIXbvbhfkjojkVNSsNQ3aE_St37mmW4SlclX1qQI0Er7mNg5-CJy6HneSjsmKdj9uBOy4lJlIbQPHbvzUKsG3_0U2hcA/s1600/OUTLAND+%252825%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1017" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5ivSzfwEz-O1jAa9OtPNZzmWSuE9E8St5oMvyKnOgJAfQFuyIXbvbhfkjojkVNSsNQ3aE_St37mmW4SlclX1qQI0Er7mNg5-CJy6HneSjsmKdj9uBOy4lJlIbQPHbvzUKsG3_0U2hcA/s400/OUTLAND+%252825%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Connery poses for a publicity shot used on this Lobby card</b></span></td></tr>
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To get blood from a corpse that has been dead for some time, you have to take it from beneath the body as it pools low in the body. It could be argued that this is ‘Space’, but the interior of Con-Am 27 is consistently shown to be ‘normal’ gravity (Aside from the inexplicable Zero-G confinement cells.)<br /><br />Finally, when O’Niel goes Outside, he’s wearing a suit belonging to someone named ‘SZARAVAR’ -something or other; the label isn’t entirely visible. Later, when he fights Ballard, his name tape reads ‘STEVENSON’. He hasn’t nipped back Inside to change… so how is that happening?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ai2gCKEVca9hBMy4350nm9xQNuPkL-NrJKo6PIUnB1yDxpO5alpcztYj7bAwKPSC2-Z0h95gb3xNY0Gkoy08tlY_EP7ySfvRfo-FvTo9G5uCZnh-hAI9rbFViXFz620mFVprpJTq0V4/s1600/OUTLAND+%252865%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1243" data-original-width="1600" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ai2gCKEVca9hBMy4350nm9xQNuPkL-NrJKo6PIUnB1yDxpO5alpcztYj7bAwKPSC2-Z0h95gb3xNY0Gkoy08tlY_EP7ySfvRfo-FvTo9G5uCZnh-hAI9rbFViXFz620mFVprpJTq0V4/s400/OUTLAND+%252865%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Some Screen-used patches from the film</b></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDIMLFXDJ7jDzaOJGK9Hz2GLzump7kFNb5ERNXzq8sLRB42bXnfzPB13QALR6Yhw-d8pi-z6dagQOlEMpBAEXeveRPt_R8hdk8lcDsLKdyCKlT6aeBPxlz8lOL30RMj990NO8Gae7G4k/s1600/OUTLAND+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDIMLFXDJ7jDzaOJGK9Hz2GLzump7kFNb5ERNXzq8sLRB42bXnfzPB13QALR6Yhw-d8pi-z6dagQOlEMpBAEXeveRPt_R8hdk8lcDsLKdyCKlT6aeBPxlz8lOL30RMj990NO8Gae7G4k/s640/OUTLAND+%25289%2529.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) Foreign-Language Poster variant</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, is this film worth seeing/spending two weeks of your short life reviewing?. Well, yes – to be fair if it wasn’t you wouldn’t be reading any of this twaddle… the plot is good fun, the sets are great and the effects – revolutionary in 1981, hold up well today, despite the old-fashioned cathode-ray computer screens and monitors. The miniature work is exquisite, adding greatly to the feeling of being far, far from home and in a hostile and claustrophobic environment. Volcano Cat gives Outland 8.5/10<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHH8el16VCHo_Wj7t8pUPWwlBS2qW50-El8iLyV7kdRhHAciyZDB_bHY8nxIJ86QkOq1GZaTlRdnnO9ZOIKeKnus37N1OnqtnMZGTkSy4fefNk56jX_dCezLAvSH0mpMWto1aWY3-6Nc/s1600/outland_poster_us_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHH8el16VCHo_Wj7t8pUPWwlBS2qW50-El8iLyV7kdRhHAciyZDB_bHY8nxIJ86QkOq1GZaTlRdnnO9ZOIKeKnus37N1OnqtnMZGTkSy4fefNk56jX_dCezLAvSH0mpMWto1aWY3-6Nc/s640/outland_poster_us_edited.jpg" width="419" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">(ABOVE) The US Poster</span></b></td></tr>
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The artist Jim Steranko adapted the film for <i>Heavy Metal</i> magazine; some penals from this awe-inspiring series are shown below;</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcXBrcL-g5Ikk3tfZRH2BARNCQk0lzFmuXl5GdqZgShUhG_2InPzjJ9F4y7oLeSWO8PnrAQ4ERTu8iXzuKmE5GvYAeGnGpgH2VV4tJEZUBBc2NSkfKS7epq-ij-Ysqh61BuO0whjTXL8/s1600/STERANKO+OUTLAND+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcXBrcL-g5Ikk3tfZRH2BARNCQk0lzFmuXl5GdqZgShUhG_2InPzjJ9F4y7oLeSWO8PnrAQ4ERTu8iXzuKmE5GvYAeGnGpgH2VV4tJEZUBBc2NSkfKS7epq-ij-Ysqh61BuO0whjTXL8/s640/STERANKO+OUTLAND+%25285%2529.jpg" width="456" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, while researching this piece I stumbled across a wonderful site, catspaw dynamics (Cats get everywhere, don’t they?) I would be a tight old sod if I didn’t share this link; <a href="https://www.catspawdynamics.com/outland-the-press-kit/">https://www.catspawdynamics.com/outland-the-press-kit/</a></span></div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-1781522854786689162018-07-20T12:30:00.002+00:002018-07-20T12:30:42.070+00:00Life imitating Art?; the REAL Volcano Cat emerges...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In an odd twist, earlier this year, Mount Shinmoedake in the Kagoshima Prefecture (Me neither) of Japan erupted. The only reason this made it onto our hallowed pages is that, of course, Shinmoedake happens to be the exact same (then-dormant) volcano featured in the James Bond film <i>You Only Live Twice </i>(1967). Yes, <i>that </i>one - Blofeld's hideout and the reason this Blog is named so oddly... (My persona here is, of course taken from the fluffy white cat that spent every scene trying to claw Donald Pleasance, to whom it took an immediate and pointed dislike...) So, how can I justify this drivel?; well, Twitter user Yuhei took a snap earlier in the year that, once seen, cannot be unseen... the <i>literal</i> Volcano Cat... ain't life strange?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8P20zy5VRJu6Lyq658Vzh4MZWd-LBjasSa_QWiCbBAV3G0jRmFo-ik-8t88c63zMINBNVeLDp2RZwt4u31Yt93HDtLr3-qO6-1T-KHTkQIW4V74v1_gjOfqUjPcB2xZORGLpXXwXJoUU/s1600/shinmo+eruption+copyright+yuhei+twitter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8P20zy5VRJu6Lyq658Vzh4MZWd-LBjasSa_QWiCbBAV3G0jRmFo-ik-8t88c63zMINBNVeLDp2RZwt4u31Yt93HDtLr3-qO6-1T-KHTkQIW4V74v1_gjOfqUjPcB2xZORGLpXXwXJoUU/s320/shinmo+eruption+copyright+yuhei+twitter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copyright; <a href="https://twitter.com/jzx100v2/status/972401550134947840" rel="noopener" target="_blank">yuhei</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/nisiko64240/status/972898835629395969" rel="noopener" target="_blank">さんぱち3号8号</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-5525520280117238332018-07-10T19:57:00.004+00:002018-12-18T13:21:13.368+00:00The Rocketeer - a love-letter to the Golden Age of serials<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvD8sA6yxwtBi297_LyM0S0VmN8wRdDfduwPX6Oo3aTG0AO-q6MjRw3oyA2dDSc8B4Sk-XmP2q5sxDjHczO8_RZnrA-vZE34cVDzyBwCZuBSn5ZeVwvKMTx_Q33HVnZ9RAb6RQpZ2OJQ/s1600/TITLE.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvD8sA6yxwtBi297_LyM0S0VmN8wRdDfduwPX6Oo3aTG0AO-q6MjRw3oyA2dDSc8B4Sk-XmP2q5sxDjHczO8_RZnrA-vZE34cVDzyBwCZuBSn5ZeVwvKMTx_Q33HVnZ9RAb6RQpZ2OJQ/s320/TITLE.PNG" width="305" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Los
Angeles, 1938</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN1EHyfnvRqw4fKbNtj_d_yyeL2TzOHri9j773boNbNrGw_18CMf2M_bgx0d8kCIDdwcw56KU7DLVrVObFEhtCgxnikCV-vLS8hAVRzvkYIulqB5RswwEzaTKsHNxAFZiPUjpON_f0VM/s1600/Image0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN1EHyfnvRqw4fKbNtj_d_yyeL2TzOHri9j773boNbNrGw_18CMf2M_bgx0d8kCIDdwcw56KU7DLVrVObFEhtCgxnikCV-vLS8hAVRzvkYIulqB5RswwEzaTKsHNxAFZiPUjpON_f0VM/s320/Image0002.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">(Spoilers Throughout; Be Warned!)</span> </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
the grandly-named Bigelow Aeronautical Corporation at Chaplin Field,
a beautiful little plane is rolled out, Old Man ‘Peevy’ Peabody
giving Pilot Cliff Secord some last minute advice. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0Tu0sB-TVPhnEnLQcaRir9lQmPByOtjncNpuR8P54ZbHEyKSP7Bb792oTuc3hbMnrxRZFPIuH_xRvNKg8qKauKvcc7J3gL_YK1VKQBzUB4RQFzF0i2hFy56dxmMirM0F7myIWsmoBfk/s1600/Image0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0Tu0sB-TVPhnEnLQcaRir9lQmPByOtjncNpuR8P54ZbHEyKSP7Bb792oTuc3hbMnrxRZFPIuH_xRvNKg8qKauKvcc7J3gL_YK1VKQBzUB4RQFzF0i2hFy56dxmMirM0F7myIWsmoBfk/s320/Image0007.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">They have hopes
for the Nationals with this one. The Gee Bee is a handful, to say the
least. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNU2_WHAXIeMFfZxYThpxmMDnisD0YZO4fulH1w0g-vu81ACK-HmLzIQTGHYfPLScWfRbey5dNL_tq_GnUWT_TWKyuxQh1Gc-A66nEBrjeTzuUDTM2hsZKf607RMPn0mKKQJPSxQVALE/s1600/Image0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNU2_WHAXIeMFfZxYThpxmMDnisD0YZO4fulH1w0g-vu81ACK-HmLzIQTGHYfPLScWfRbey5dNL_tq_GnUWT_TWKyuxQh1Gc-A66nEBrjeTzuUDTM2hsZKf607RMPn0mKKQJPSxQVALE/s320/Image0009.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sticking some lucky gum on the rudder and the picture of his
girl on the instrument panel, Cliff takes her up as the crew watches
expectantly, unaware Peevy snatched the lucky gum from the rudder.
<i>Oh-oh...</i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJejJyswNtwP5O5ACw8l7DyepVrCq2ritvujOFmL1DRF8ax7sJGNu8dKE5oj7gyJiqsS7EbVGiYEPrj6v_EeMKFd4ktCKp9odKIZeqI88nviH_6k-JGCQTnrbpwtn_N89ckerpJH3esUY/s1600/1+CLIFF+FLYBY.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJejJyswNtwP5O5ACw8l7DyepVrCq2ritvujOFmL1DRF8ax7sJGNu8dKE5oj7gyJiqsS7EbVGiYEPrj6v_EeMKFd4ktCKp9odKIZeqI88nviH_6k-JGCQTnrbpwtn_N89ckerpJH3esUY/s320/1+CLIFF+FLYBY.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Buzzing the field in a low pass, he continues the
test flight as, nearby a Ford V8 flees from the Police and FBI, both
sides exchanging gunfire. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSr1nvm2-5zv8ehYq-OCuB9EKDctC3PUgcfAwALSX-qdXGd_Mw8am0fYq1EiGGBvKSLYqBFZ56moEiwr9kPImbICd77G-wrAAdj9UqglFE80BGbI599axhihvmQ1AKPprSoJ0uGhtz-hg/s1600/2+DRIVEBY+12+FRAMES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSr1nvm2-5zv8ehYq-OCuB9EKDctC3PUgcfAwALSX-qdXGd_Mw8am0fYq1EiGGBvKSLYqBFZ56moEiwr9kPImbICd77G-wrAAdj9UqglFE80BGbI599axhihvmQ1AKPprSoJ0uGhtz-hg/s320/2+DRIVEBY+12+FRAMES.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The cops have pistols – the bad guys have
a Tommy gun. In back of the Ford is a box marked ‘Authorised
Personnel Only’. Cliff flies over the procession as they take to a
field and takes some rounds from the Thompson. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKd64-Kse7FVot8_Crj-M6F5g7tvDaD5m74csX5cVkkRwBWxXQzVrw9eszXOTzHylb0kBcc5TPUHdqEXkEqC-ALRyfBU26XZIh1BrZnoIs0IsIs97CK8tb6r3q4HzUKZNWXnUBVcYQbM/s1600/5+CHASE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKd64-Kse7FVot8_Crj-M6F5g7tvDaD5m74csX5cVkkRwBWxXQzVrw9eszXOTzHylb0kBcc5TPUHdqEXkEqC-ALRyfBU26XZIh1BrZnoIs0IsIs97CK8tb6r3q4HzUKZNWXnUBVcYQbM/s320/5+CHASE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Immediately, the plane
loses control and, trailing smoke, he makes for the field skimming
past an oddly-rural billboard for the new Neville Sinclair flick. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMebl0VmaXqXjRBD90eY5yRzOtTDJB7GVHNVSiIY6pCVqLdpyWHrM4BVTijfsB3BOSgJP5Zll9LgtZ9P8lYnW1HBBCn9DhprAbRxQ9AQFHMuNlrIg6DL5Iy4FuOWAXJLy0ydtQj62-9lU/s1600/Image0052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMebl0VmaXqXjRBD90eY5yRzOtTDJB7GVHNVSiIY6pCVqLdpyWHrM4BVTijfsB3BOSgJP5Zll9LgtZ9P8lYnW1HBBCn9DhprAbRxQ9AQFHMuNlrIg6DL5Iy4FuOWAXJLy0ydtQj62-9lU/s320/Image0052.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile the sole surviving crook stashes the contents of the box in
the empty hangar, switching them for a Hoover he spots on a
workbench. Back outside, he drives off, pursued by the Feds. As luck
would have it, the thief is forced to bail as Cliff’s plane comes
in to land, the undercarriage smashed away by the impact as it hits
the V8. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfL_nnXAfFB74fvg7G9nwN5Yi8NbImKl5r2Ir08nkqiUzvKhYZaxO3X4vRtoV9F007j13C8NR9_fGAkUp4fRYo47HA0XHUt0IyMD5rWHRnM1JMeHP8BqLPJc9nhKx-TSv-8GhJgtx1i0/s1600/7+CRASH+HUGE+FILE+NEEDS+SIZE+REDUX.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="750" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfL_nnXAfFB74fvg7G9nwN5Yi8NbImKl5r2Ir08nkqiUzvKhYZaxO3X4vRtoV9F007j13C8NR9_fGAkUp4fRYo47HA0XHUt0IyMD5rWHRnM1JMeHP8BqLPJc9nhKx-TSv-8GhJgtx1i0/s320/7+CRASH+HUGE+FILE+NEEDS+SIZE+REDUX.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Ford hits a fuel bowser and is incinerated in the
explosion. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkICOijGvUOaYFj6DL24BZsoBMyRLPRGRwHr4G2YdgnQQkN0D1uDCTOFADPuNcgFf_O7U8QPgMEFvYU9GTsNQP8LQmW9itioHa622-qB7gdjyr7U5M7tNZQ2p00VdFg76dKNBeLrP6YK8/s1600/Image0076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkICOijGvUOaYFj6DL24BZsoBMyRLPRGRwHr4G2YdgnQQkN0D1uDCTOFADPuNcgFf_O7U8QPgMEFvYU9GTsNQP8LQmW9itioHa622-qB7gdjyr7U5M7tNZQ2p00VdFg76dKNBeLrP6YK8/s320/Image0076.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgif286yVtse8LlYg3iUNNfzQPWmFPPUOTGWfRevUhzmevxD6mE1lB_RXmviqy8VpIoH9Rxl9u8jwqaEfCcHEXkoS35-swExlz87aImpqbFPFk37arcqO19oahc2ILStAUkg8SiYjNWiW4/s1600/Image0077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgif286yVtse8LlYg3iUNNfzQPWmFPPUOTGWfRevUhzmevxD6mE1lB_RXmviqy8VpIoH9Rxl9u8jwqaEfCcHEXkoS35-swExlz87aImpqbFPFk37arcqO19oahc2ILStAUkg8SiYjNWiW4/s320/Image0077.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNO8F97p50T8WZPANKysD6P4-ttNi8sf4utUgedGOhzEwPj5M3dBxyM5kHBJ0WMd2Fgjqo-frFkuT6ar9lVbQLHP13xkzt_-D9IlMdw9Rd67lR-jIZj2vDtv3qAn5Zt8Y5Ozv83b-BEw/s1600/Image0078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNO8F97p50T8WZPANKysD6P4-ttNi8sf4utUgedGOhzEwPj5M3dBxyM5kHBJ0WMd2Fgjqo-frFkuT6ar9lVbQLHP13xkzt_-D9IlMdw9Rd67lR-jIZj2vDtv3qAn5Zt8Y5Ozv83b-BEw/s320/Image0078.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Totalled, the Bee Gee catches fire and the ground crew
gets Cliff out just in time. There goes the Nationals.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBK4ijCtm6Eug6nk3qNDfExseZ-dAOySCLGBslIEUk1z5A2X03glQzpn8po9BCHg3JMxb3dpjiXc7vMTgmWzyPvjiGH47QMWjZQLWO_pvMI3irtId_4FvsiCZ7KJ3tX5_-NVjnZxLfJo/s1600/Image0083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBK4ijCtm6Eug6nk3qNDfExseZ-dAOySCLGBslIEUk1z5A2X03glQzpn8po9BCHg3JMxb3dpjiXc7vMTgmWzyPvjiGH47QMWjZQLWO_pvMI3irtId_4FvsiCZ7KJ3tX5_-NVjnZxLfJo/s320/Image0083.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
FBI aren’t sympathetic to the loss of income the crash represents
and after slugging it out with one of the agents, a hard-case named
Fitch, Cliff’s lucky not to be in jail.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5mwx-gm-dqLBIZjNAExdLVB9-pwoeJVx-2TGjMXOW6ojD-V1japtoTybt8aOGP86CHang1zdJlWhls3o1KCW1nAKtO7VXyWgt_JVDWmCUvGalFHjFSR44uXRDhABC4MZRF8qaikhbW0/s1600/Image0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5mwx-gm-dqLBIZjNAExdLVB9-pwoeJVx-2TGjMXOW6ojD-V1japtoTybt8aOGP86CHang1zdJlWhls3o1KCW1nAKtO7VXyWgt_JVDWmCUvGalFHjFSR44uXRDhABC4MZRF8qaikhbW0/s320/Image0088.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Questioning Wilmer, the
injured hoodlum, the G-Men Fitch and Wooly want to know one thing:
where’s the package?. Blown to hell… Retrieving the mangled
remnants of the Hoover from the wreck, the FBI takes it away,
confident they have the right gizmo. </span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxTuaIYR9xkpEXXzOU-C6RfbP7b5CQ78p8SDY8eTEgQNk1fAkn1pXoyEgt4SwD0rCgEHZopWsGXOH5PCZjZuaMu7srMUZd8jfCzQepOYeG7-3l5gBM0ZtZkgRpT0AreLP0jA8_nnEnQg/s1600/Image0094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxTuaIYR9xkpEXXzOU-C6RfbP7b5CQ78p8SDY8eTEgQNk1fAkn1pXoyEgt4SwD0rCgEHZopWsGXOH5PCZjZuaMu7srMUZd8jfCzQepOYeG7-3l5gBM0ZtZkgRpT0AreLP0jA8_nnEnQg/s320/Image0094.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6RpoDwvscQcOAY-hLRRkhoDFJ4N7s_TwkkFZPxug4BBSSK8Xvgeq6f8CvpzUFEJU1L61ZHqL2TjXru4zGpsclpWZ9n7A3Q16CTWSBMlg4wGoKYroBATzN9uXewP0prOfRBs8C6TdmfM/s1600/Image0095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6RpoDwvscQcOAY-hLRRkhoDFJ4N7s_TwkkFZPxug4BBSSK8Xvgeq6f8CvpzUFEJU1L61ZHqL2TjXru4zGpsclpWZ9n7A3Q16CTWSBMlg4wGoKYroBATzN9uXewP0prOfRBs8C6TdmfM/s320/Image0095.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
Hughes Aircraft Corporation, the legendary Aviator and
multi-millionaire Howard Hughes takes the call from the Feds
personally; there can be no doubt… the X-3 has been destroyed. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4J3P2rLHTNdmyXQYNRscwRrU2-RQEdkJIPRAzavy6WV9OHR8MFPaUqdO0kROUTmPY_eX-zLWyI1rMYodhUbfliutLZ-GJuuHFK3MzpVzFspSw-JBNnTdP_KM9m5zPo1rVMn6GKeJct0/s1600/Image0098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4J3P2rLHTNdmyXQYNRscwRrU2-RQEdkJIPRAzavy6WV9OHR8MFPaUqdO0kROUTmPY_eX-zLWyI1rMYodhUbfliutLZ-GJuuHFK3MzpVzFspSw-JBNnTdP_KM9m5zPo1rVMn6GKeJct0/s320/Image0098.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hughes tells his visitors – an Army General and a Government man,
there’s no chance of rebuilding it. Two Test Pilots died flying it
and he flatly refuses to make another, tossing the blueprints onto
the fire.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJ3Y5pYuvBWxl02hyphenhyphenztTEhkazU_SbVXnbMAki4Cu2n-MWibl6-Dmdt47uTbWBE6GXZp3qcteE718RWMrh93vtqm_2JQGUYSIUpJJ78JFuVwFmQ8AesGXiS4SdEywNh0Iw14GzCyLMz08/s1600/Image0106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJ3Y5pYuvBWxl02hyphenhyphenztTEhkazU_SbVXnbMAki4Cu2n-MWibl6-Dmdt47uTbWBE6GXZp3qcteE718RWMrh93vtqm_2JQGUYSIUpJJ78JFuVwFmQ8AesGXiS4SdEywNh0Iw14GzCyLMz08/s320/Image0106.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back
at the airfield, things have gone from bad to worse; Bigelow wants
the money for his bowser and the fuel in it. The only option is for
Peevy and Cliff to work the old clown act again, to pay off the debt.
That means ‘Miss Mabel’ - the old Standard J-1. Jumping into the
cockpit, Cliff discovers the gizmo the crook stashed. The dingus –
whatever it is, is streamlined aluminum, beautifully crafted and
purposeful. A leather harness invites further inspection. Finding a
button, Cliff ignores Peevy’s advice and pushes it. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qHjk421eNRxsHma9kxfK4NE1t5AgwvYZosuJyljnwkHyAVIe4GAiBwUXEr-enP8Dp0wLAeGy5fDBbtpMQb7TKPnrp_1a6Fs8MyaUFJerym-e5qIttshF44bszB7HUktmgN_C87Dg3FY/s1600/9+THE+ROCKET+REDUX+10+FRAMES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qHjk421eNRxsHma9kxfK4NE1t5AgwvYZosuJyljnwkHyAVIe4GAiBwUXEr-enP8Dp0wLAeGy5fDBbtpMQb7TKPnrp_1a6Fs8MyaUFJerym-e5qIttshF44bszB7HUktmgN_C87Dg3FY/s320/9+THE+ROCKET+REDUX+10+FRAMES.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">A turbine spins
up and suddenly, with a colossal roar, flame shoots from the ports
beneath the gadget and it hurtles itself into the air, careening
around the hangar to come to rest against the office wall.
Cautiously, Cliff kills the device by hitting the button with an
extended broom. Peevy wonders what the damned thing’s for. And
Cliff answers by putting on the harness. It’s a rocket pack.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizj4o1X5_-yb81JGopqs7k74t5_Vl1Qtt3iJbgyegTwbF1CWbVyn9OT-S2uGyvNAd7zJ7BhZy7ECISD-zzGnXXdEO40WOwsqlmdIlMICvjCa4xCq5_PQlApk-YCFG8VxZfeugKbffHxVg/s1600/Image0131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizj4o1X5_-yb81JGopqs7k74t5_Vl1Qtt3iJbgyegTwbF1CWbVyn9OT-S2uGyvNAd7zJ7BhZy7ECISD-zzGnXXdEO40WOwsqlmdIlMICvjCa4xCq5_PQlApk-YCFG8VxZfeugKbffHxVg/s320/Image0131.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
night, the sound of sawing can be heard outside ‘Lucky Lindy’s’
Flight School. Cliff and Peevy are hard at work ‘borrowing’ the
statue of Lindbergh to use as a Test-Pilot for their mystery find,
driving it off in a pick-up.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnIIe3xF78x5IUS2OQGmfhUGJQLT2MH9dao1-75nZBSAD8-Xx7FqfVmrwLWbWNp119qLvRzdA36tiPiKED8Ly1LNOdpmxeasR5MWhxrnFnD-SsmNpJQA0X6cFoWq3MpxpyUMZAzx6DC4/s1600/Image0139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnIIe3xF78x5IUS2OQGmfhUGJQLT2MH9dao1-75nZBSAD8-Xx7FqfVmrwLWbWNp119qLvRzdA36tiPiKED8Ly1LNOdpmxeasR5MWhxrnFnD-SsmNpJQA0X6cFoWq3MpxpyUMZAzx6DC4/s320/Image0139.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDg6iGr3QkjQ2STNVzQ2we_PVbqZ-telwK0rSOG0paD8Ry-6KRUWVohOroD3SP2QcK6nDsNgvmvrPJQp3I_Ut6Xg8Mnxl0_W7vPgwNjZM-_OGbgrHzyLjnUidNKhq_66QXRdPu7gH1mM/s1600/Image0140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDg6iGr3QkjQ2STNVzQ2we_PVbqZ-telwK0rSOG0paD8Ry-6KRUWVohOroD3SP2QcK6nDsNgvmvrPJQp3I_Ut6Xg8Mnxl0_W7vPgwNjZM-_OGbgrHzyLjnUidNKhq_66QXRdPu7gH1mM/s320/Image0140.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
the jaw-dropping home of the famous Actor Neville Sinclair, Mobster
Eddie Valentine isn’t happy at the loss of two of his boys. They
didn’t expect the FBI, but Sinclair thought Snatch and Grab was
Eddie’s specialty; it’s what he paid him for. The Swashbuckling
star toys with a rapier as Valentine wants to know why the package
they stole is so important to the Feds, but a winning smile is all
the answer he gets. Taking his goons, he makes to leave, but Sinclair
stops them in their tracks by revealing it’s a rocket. So what
happened to it?; only Wilmer knows – and he’s in the Hospital,
surrounded by cops. When Sinclair proposes a visit, Valentine finds
it hilarious – until he finds the point of the Actor’s sword
against his throat. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hqzicZBPpMJWQv4-vyCOphbaoxwqdSUd7JUKbRXQRYtid_ZrLOgxAUF3RWkMGQ1bmfAh0uQtFtPN4qKpCius0zzk6bGvES5Gli8GZuWSB-_NTC772eRPRDMteFK-TCFgSVq9mU6B9RA/s1600/MV5BMTk5NTIyMTE0NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMjc0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SX1535_CR0%252C0%252C1535%252C999_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1535" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hqzicZBPpMJWQv4-vyCOphbaoxwqdSUd7JUKbRXQRYtid_ZrLOgxAUF3RWkMGQ1bmfAh0uQtFtPN4qKpCius0zzk6bGvES5Gli8GZuWSB-_NTC772eRPRDMteFK-TCFgSVq9mU6B9RA/s320/MV5BMTk5NTIyMTE0NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMjc0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SX1535_CR0%252C0%252C1535%252C999_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">B&W (Durrr) Production Still of the scene.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">He wants the rocket. And he wants it now. He
offers double the price, but the quietly furious Gangster demands
triple.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUUjMv0_MKQxsdivU7qiSr0vQoD_kEF5FPbP6Y-q0ZWnAcojVhVdDNnGkvTKMGxhGOOcR6nFR6-uopabLVVqYW3mc1L6UTXWyfo0KAm55FZoQGy8al68YIpcY6GPk4DldIT81vZKV2qY/s1600/Image0160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUUjMv0_MKQxsdivU7qiSr0vQoD_kEF5FPbP6Y-q0ZWnAcojVhVdDNnGkvTKMGxhGOOcR6nFR6-uopabLVVqYW3mc1L6UTXWyfo0KAm55FZoQGy8al68YIpcY6GPk4DldIT81vZKV2qY/s320/Image0160.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alone,
Sinclair makes a call to an associate. Lothar is to make a condolence
call. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-afCaHUXf9Hr7qFQPoQuOaaap0hULJn9xAQtwbislkcMBDxmUZaDN7QJMaIQOiWIa2CVLn0LkplGgULjNsscmxdvdNS4iP5t7KscGyRYTsoKm2mVn-zpc1cqA1jaNEgVIzIWWH5-5fYo/s1600/Image0166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-afCaHUXf9Hr7qFQPoQuOaaap0hULJn9xAQtwbislkcMBDxmUZaDN7QJMaIQOiWIa2CVLn0LkplGgULjNsscmxdvdNS4iP5t7KscGyRYTsoKm2mVn-zpc1cqA1jaNEgVIzIWWH5-5fYo/s320/Image0166.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tethering
the rocket in a nearby field, Cliff and Peevy fire the pack remotely,
testing Lindy’s famous luck to new limits as the peg is ripped from
the ground, substitute-Pilot and Pack disappearing into the night sky
like a gravity-defying comet. Just when they think it’s gone
forever, the wooden Lindy and his extraordinary aircraft come
hurtling back to Earth, forcing the two to duck as it crashes to
Earth, ending up head first in a pile of dirt. As the pair carry the
statue back to the truck, Peevy wants nothing more to with the weird
contraption; the FBI are involved. Cliff, however, sees an
opportunity to make some real money. Seeing Lindy’s head has been
worn away by the crash, Cliff reasons they’ll need a helmet.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
the lodging house for young actresses Jenny is putting a stocking on
a shapely leg when the sound of a horn announces her date has
arrived. The matronly Mrs.Pye warns the young couple she locks up at
eleven sharp. Jenny thinks she’s got the part in a Neville Sinclair
movie; just one line. Cliff wants to see a Cagney movie tonight, but
it’s Jenny’s turn to pick and she’s chosen <i>‘Wings of
Honor’</i> - the new Neville Sinclair picture. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MWrSR2CFN9X9_RZe_LXeJ9qrdQa9gsehwwDy8uxVq2bRyZe0DFPjc71CHQ6M2Cqwy3eL6qe4zjQ2VZbVohAzVaTv1pyPvh26CtM6FoGVr2qcqbKiqdVxBnEi4PeDNcYCIPWmcjYeYWI/s1600/Image0183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MWrSR2CFN9X9_RZe_LXeJ9qrdQa9gsehwwDy8uxVq2bRyZe0DFPjc71CHQ6M2Cqwy3eL6qe4zjQ2VZbVohAzVaTv1pyPvh26CtM6FoGVr2qcqbKiqdVxBnEi4PeDNcYCIPWmcjYeYWI/s320/Image0183.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
they take their seats, the newsreel assures America Herr Hitler has
no intention of invading Czechoslovakia – and the latest Zeppelin
‘Luxembourg’ is on a goodwill visit to the United States,
culminating in Los Angeles. Cliff isn’t buying the ‘goodwill’
part – cynical, eh?. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlw5evtMLGiWgBLXWPVPo-8hrUjiZDVYpukMDe7X4YMigj1No-ne2mXYmhuMito2_HrNA0mC177RJqlXAINCzD28n9tLB2UGIcWWg3XdLCxZsw-2ExwGJCtWXZn7y6iihX8czLoFxz1A/s1600/10+GOODWILL+MY+ASS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlw5evtMLGiWgBLXWPVPo-8hrUjiZDVYpukMDe7X4YMigj1No-ne2mXYmhuMito2_HrNA0mC177RJqlXAINCzD28n9tLB2UGIcWWg3XdLCxZsw-2ExwGJCtWXZn7y6iihX8czLoFxz1A/s320/10+GOODWILL+MY+ASS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">While
Wilmer recuperates, asleep in his hospital bed, a massive, mis-shapen
figure quietly breaks in through the window, while the Nurse and Cop
on guard drink coffee and listen to the radio outside the room. This
is Lothar – and he wants to know where the rocket is. In a voice of
pure gravel, he interrogates the helpless goon, pulling and lifting
his battered body to get what he wants. By the time Mr. and Mrs.
Vigilant get there, Wilmer has been folded like an unwanted bill.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ws4qM3EAWTYusME9qnkE5Nebg49meIShDg46B_1r7G1xmoRZLhUxHvPCKGfRlBEO1472qLW2luF7mv6Dsv_3EwDHgKJARI85mKgydpIZrQrRUyCTbL4vRKVCu95okKZd2J8R8LosG6A/s1600/Image0203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ws4qM3EAWTYusME9qnkE5Nebg49meIShDg46B_1r7G1xmoRZLhUxHvPCKGfRlBEO1472qLW2luF7mv6Dsv_3EwDHgKJARI85mKgydpIZrQrRUyCTbL4vRKVCu95okKZd2J8R8LosG6A/s320/Image0203.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Bull Dog cafe is one of those places you used to everywhere in
Roadside, America; restaurants shaped like hats, diners shaped like
hotdogs or teapots. Programmatic they call it these days. The Bull
Dog is, as the name suggests, a giant Bulldog. Outside, an actual
bulldog waddles towards the joint, while inside, Skeets, Malcolm and
the rest of the usual crowd laughs as Cliff describes the cornball
Neville Sinclair movie. At the end of the flick, Sinclair’s
character flies over enemy lines to drop a bottle of champagne on
them. Jenny insists her hero was just being chivalrous. Malcolm, an
old-timer doesn’t recall any liquor stores when <i>he</i> was at
the front. Fixing a broken toy plane for little Patsy, his fingers
are shaking so much the wheel ends up in Jenny’s soup. Being shot
down does that for you. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ckdrMrxGETYEe6bDEqTRquYw0jOlvVRfwut0Z-sEqxdw16E4l58CKsu333fYmAbxULdlnX4NU8JVtSDAzkvwWWukL2M2m-SatJ0TLGN8uyFI2OC-eQcdKVZtPEXpmV7f5eDkQP9wk1I/s1600/Image0218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ckdrMrxGETYEe6bDEqTRquYw0jOlvVRfwut0Z-sEqxdw16E4l58CKsu333fYmAbxULdlnX4NU8JVtSDAzkvwWWukL2M2m-SatJ0TLGN8uyFI2OC-eQcdKVZtPEXpmV7f5eDkQP9wk1I/s320/Image0218.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dreamily,
Jenny hankers after a change of scene; somewhere <i>not </i><span style="font-style: normal;">the
airfield. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Where?; the Copa?,
the Brown Derby? - how about the South Seas Club?. Undeterred, she
offers a deal; they’ll have a real night out on the town after he
wins the National. She isn’t best pleased when the regulars tell
her about Cliff’s ‘landing’ today. Why is she the last to hear
the news?. Cliff points out she’s never there, always chasing a
part – like the time she got to stand behind Myrna Loy holding some
grapes. When she flounces off, Millie, the cafe owner tells the flyer
to go after her, but she’s hopped on a coach. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStVIyDkbuQKQJiy7qh38AzYWuCk4iPzB_XiNKbfjLNW92-LBwtSi2TG-8KO0rw5rQZ-RkUa1NGMwkozgNPUagew5GlfcF9AuBnzZcKfEZMNUtnY_OOMLi9FJEkWL82inyRxKfQ2cPW5E/s1600/MV5BMTMwNjk4MjQ4M15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzk0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SX1535_CR0%252C0%252C1535%252C999_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1535" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStVIyDkbuQKQJiy7qh38AzYWuCk4iPzB_XiNKbfjLNW92-LBwtSi2TG-8KO0rw5rQZ-RkUa1NGMwkozgNPUagew5GlfcF9AuBnzZcKfEZMNUtnY_OOMLi9FJEkWL82inyRxKfQ2cPW5E/s320/MV5BMTMwNjk4MjQ4M15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzk0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SX1535_CR0%252C0%252C1535%252C999_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Arriving
at the house he shares with Peevy, Cliff finds the old man working on
an old radio. Unburdening himself, the younger man can’t figure the
girl out; she hangs around with Hollywood types talking about Movie
stars all day. Peevy explains that’s just her job – she doesn’t
care about phoneys, she cares about <i>him</i>. Secord wants to make
something of himself, but Peevy tells him if she flies to coop, it’s
his fault. What does he know anyway?. Cliff leaves him to it, cutting
up the old radio with a hacksaw. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Next
day, bright and early, Cliff comes down to find the old man asleep.
Curious, he examines his work, to find the old radio has now become
an Art Deco helmet, like something from a science-fiction serial. In
place of goggles, two smoked visors for protection, a grille over the
mouth and a prominent fin. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH66LUP5R-G5NZNQOIIDOZfos1V45X7B8krND9EjUM0c0N9IYMQcW5dZmsnnLIDW6T6LqiT7UN-aPwZklm7X2eyWa58wGgPkRVbz75jIPVN9pE573Pi_FOvbIdkn0kSaUH1yd6PNSf_zY/s1600/Image0240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH66LUP5R-G5NZNQOIIDOZfos1V45X7B8krND9EjUM0c0N9IYMQcW5dZmsnnLIDW6T6LqiT7UN-aPwZklm7X2eyWa58wGgPkRVbz75jIPVN9pE573Pi_FOvbIdkn0kSaUH1yd6PNSf_zY/s320/Image0240.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkkmB21QTKSbc8HwbvVFtEV-4KO05c2Fa-BPoDd-Qitr1VU2IvHM5GEAVYf3sooYFspi8B5pywKH4mrCxJUEcia6tky54lQDj95F19UxPTtwh2_AMuMbVdSIBlpw3_s-xsupAurMvs9Q/s1600/Image0241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkkmB21QTKSbc8HwbvVFtEV-4KO05c2Fa-BPoDd-Qitr1VU2IvHM5GEAVYf3sooYFspi8B5pywKH4mrCxJUEcia6tky54lQDj95F19UxPTtwh2_AMuMbVdSIBlpw3_s-xsupAurMvs9Q/s320/Image0241.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the Castle, the Laughing Bandit is fighting the Villanous, well,
<i>Villain</i> to the death, swords flashing, buckles swashing. All
around them, their men fight, a melee of chaos. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3_5L4U6cGWRzAegNhI4NMgpWa0a8UIZ-qu87SdH_PDGV8LtL4UEWJeW4mgpRez9o3OyhMU3JRUSQuSZ8YKNVn3ydKDLITXymZGvv6k83di53guhbTHQpmL3HSJJC78qymWC2xVLpcns/s1600/10+ERROL+WHO.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3_5L4U6cGWRzAegNhI4NMgpWa0a8UIZ-qu87SdH_PDGV8LtL4UEWJeW4mgpRez9o3OyhMU3JRUSQuSZ8YKNVn3ydKDLITXymZGvv6k83di53guhbTHQpmL3HSJJC78qymWC2xVLpcns/s320/10+ERROL+WHO.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gallantly, the hero
flips his blade to send the flower pinned to the villain’s chest
into the hands of the fair maiden, engaging in witty repartee as he
does battle with the dastard. But who is the mysterious and elusive
Bandit?. Removing his mask, he reveals himself to be both Neville
Sinclair and ‘Sir. Reginald.’ Zounds!. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UXDkFuu2iT-iOVeGfu8eIsPzOdadiHLWH9W96mOQj3p1dXO7Cbzbbn5YnQu56wchdmtHqCGrQfV8EsDqPuArPctotsT_JuJmY_WHYNakEDsUJpqIVEqNDer3EiS4clCW7txnY-t7suM/s1600/Image0244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UXDkFuu2iT-iOVeGfu8eIsPzOdadiHLWH9W96mOQj3p1dXO7Cbzbbn5YnQu56wchdmtHqCGrQfV8EsDqPuArPctotsT_JuJmY_WHYNakEDsUJpqIVEqNDer3EiS4clCW7txnY-t7suM/s320/Image0244.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despatching the foe and
swinging on a chandelier rope, the Bandit quaffs from a tankard and
the Fair Maiden delivers her line…<i> ‘</i><i>Oh, my prince,</i></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> would that you drink of my lips as deeply...’. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">More Ham than </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Walmart. Sinclair’s features twist into a grimace at the insult </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">and the Director yells to cut.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZTPMBWP_9FhuslAgCvVNoJmohZuGvypMRL_AGk3Gg3I60HJnoH_dk6szGMP1ehNK4FQsUouMFLQKSlWide7iaE8ZRJQjkUwVNQMSVI9cSdgM4mSLT321Ox6xgRXKOYsdxmRRic2FO4E/s1600/Image0258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZTPMBWP_9FhuslAgCvVNoJmohZuGvypMRL_AGk3Gg3I60HJnoH_dk6szGMP1ehNK4FQsUouMFLQKSlWide7iaE8ZRJQjkUwVNQMSVI9cSdgM4mSLT321Ox6xgRXKOYsdxmRRic2FO4E/s320/Image0258.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
</div>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As the harassed Director takes his leading lady off for </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">impromptu acting lessons, the extras relax between takes, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">among them Jenny. Her audition was better – but what does </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">that matter when the Producer’s niece wants the part?. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">As </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">they go for take 28, Cliff Secord shows up backstage. This </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">time, all goes well and Cheesey delivers her line adequately. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Did I say ‘all goes well?’ - well, up to the part when Cliff </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">accidentally knocks the scenery over, the flat almost </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">flattening the Star, who escapes impending flatness by </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">ducking under a table. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrO1CaDouJw1bH_-rggEZLxe9c3D-rNq56PbvqNPHTq4U9kKx3NZnf8VbTf-X_lIPf3zfb5sNfgyI1sepk-0EG005DBRYlv77NLHZhg55DBbshfNabWJ97Ls8efUzdbhBa-bCM9AiBJQ/s1600/12+BRINGING+THE+HOUSE+DOWN.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrO1CaDouJw1bH_-rggEZLxe9c3D-rNq56PbvqNPHTq4U9kKx3NZnf8VbTf-X_lIPf3zfb5sNfgyI1sepk-0EG005DBRYlv77NLHZhg55DBbshfNabWJ97Ls8efUzdbhBa-bCM9AiBJQ/s320/12+BRINGING+THE+HOUSE+DOWN.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
Embarrassed, Secord explains he just came by to see Jenny. Laughing it </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">off with a quip, Sinclair’s mood changes when it’s realised the villain </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">has been stabbed. For real. Taking charge, Sinclair calls for his driver </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">to take the stricken Actor to the Hospital, before rounding </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">angrily on the Director. This is meant to be a closed set. He </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">demands that Jenny be banned from the lot. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoZToCZUcwhPI_xe1SIxFOxjj8AHPyZ0_ldah25GquJ-X_bmZfRtEdNlG0QPi-wKImfRnWuMD3tVLfK9U9Y2-5L-JOQ0bmwOcP9Tw6HoaCQ1aX5CL5rIGn2UnrhwCGMemIcEMIw7ZFDI/s1600/Image0296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoZToCZUcwhPI_xe1SIxFOxjj8AHPyZ0_ldah25GquJ-X_bmZfRtEdNlG0QPi-wKImfRnWuMD3tVLfK9U9Y2-5L-JOQ0bmwOcP9Tw6HoaCQ1aX5CL5rIGn2UnrhwCGMemIcEMIw7ZFDI/s320/Image0296.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Cliff’s apology isn’t going down well, but he wants to </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">explain; he’s found something, something really big. He </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">explains it’s an engine which you strap to your back. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Overhearing the conversation, Sinclair cannot believe his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">luck. </span><i>The Rocket</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. When Jenny gets her papers Cliff is left </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">stranded, removed from the set. Suddenly all charm, Sinclair </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">intercepts the heartbroken young actress and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">offers the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">tearful girl the role of the Saxon Princess. They could discuss </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">it over dinner?; he has a table at the South Seas Club… her </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">star truly struck, Jenny agrees.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4A61JPfJnBcZmOD5ih1kFb76DkbwxzrQoiPDGUimyvRdaCRyjhEuC0TsgRHr1nOx8mGHUpN-wBpLtyTZwKarYhyphenhyphenj2pOsB6L-21scbzcqGZAnJCJWfyxNIEpmZiOtnf4H4bVHBGILUyxE/s1600/13+A+DAY+AT+THE+RACES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4A61JPfJnBcZmOD5ih1kFb76DkbwxzrQoiPDGUimyvRdaCRyjhEuC0TsgRHr1nOx8mGHUpN-wBpLtyTZwKarYhyphenhyphenj2pOsB6L-21scbzcqGZAnJCJWfyxNIEpmZiOtnf4H4bVHBGILUyxE/s320/13+A+DAY+AT+THE+RACES.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The Air Races and Malcolm is selling programs </span><span style="font-style: normal;">to the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">bleachers </span><span style="font-style: normal;">as the places race neck and neck, wing-tip to wing-</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">tip. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Signing off for a brand-new bowser, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">(And ordering the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">driver to leave this one in a safe place)</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> Bigelow demands to </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">know where Secord is; the kid’s late.If he’s a no-show, they’ll </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">need to find a new hangar. Hearing this, Malcolm heads </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">towards ‘Miss Mabel.’ </span><i>He’ll</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> give them a show… </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Eddie Valentine and his thugs are among the crowd; they’ve </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">searched everywhere for the rocket, to no avail. All they </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">found in the old plane was Jenny’s picture; so maybe she </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">knows something. Rumbling up on his Harley, Cliff sees </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Malcolm take the old plane out, the announcer mistaking </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the veteran for Secord. Horrified, Cliff and Peevy can only </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">watch as the old J-1 starts misfiring, smoke pouring from the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">worn-out old plane. Cliff runs for the rocket…</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MznCudWoyD0rDlTKdLgPVjfY7ywK-qTbQii3jGQYXOloBxhVJh1TxJl5LjTmkEAa1HYK6c689Ks2L6xZITh5o5vxSeQg_KmP7fF_BG5HKktdoB-FIJzaxE8fui3a3HAYVbHF2DW_Rig/s1600/Image0326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MznCudWoyD0rDlTKdLgPVjfY7ywK-qTbQii3jGQYXOloBxhVJh1TxJl5LjTmkEAa1HYK6c689Ks2L6xZITh5o5vxSeQg_KmP7fF_BG5HKktdoB-FIJzaxE8fui3a3HAYVbHF2DW_Rig/s320/Image0326.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Unawares, Malcolm is drifting towards the race lane; a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">terrible tragedy is seconds away, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the racers scattering to </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">avoid the stricken biplane. In the Hangar, Peevy has caught </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">up with Cliff to find him donning the rocket-pack. They </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">haven’t tested it properly!. Relenting, Peevy runs him </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">through the improvements he’s made and, for luck, hooks the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">gum out of the pilot’s mouth and slaps it onto the tank. With </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">the helmet on, Cliff looks like a hood ornament. Looking up, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">he presses the button and Peevy is blasted off his feet as </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Secord is thrown upwards into the sky. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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To the amazement of spectators, pilots and gangsters all, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Cliff whooshes over the stands, passing the racers to smash </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">through Mabel’s bottom, startling the hapless Malcolm, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">who’s knocked cold by the joystick in the process. Clambering </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">up onto the lower wing, Cliff desperately tried to revive the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">old-timer, but is thrown clear, falling into thin air. </span></span></span></pre>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuKgKrrQobJRD9iMNi_XKfovQa_f7yEMoT3sb8zllzzxePMDHSsO830maOAq7PTMKWkhWDtM_ETloh0TWUglhJeh5CcAnr7oRvUeGgdT8-nGzdrtzO1PHTqLQte4EvKiuxVVsVW_ODh8/s1600/17+TO+THE+RESCUE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuKgKrrQobJRD9iMNi_XKfovQa_f7yEMoT3sb8zllzzxePMDHSsO830maOAq7PTMKWkhWDtM_ETloh0TWUglhJeh5CcAnr7oRvUeGgdT8-nGzdrtzO1PHTqLQte4EvKiuxVVsVW_ODh8/s320/17+TO+THE+RESCUE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Powering up, he zooms back to the plane and accidentally </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">kicks the joystick in the co-pilot’s seat behind, sending the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">plane rearing into a climb and him back into freefall. If at </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">first, you don’t succeed… the plane is now diving, luckily</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">towards a safe place. The same safe place the shiny new </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">bowser happens to be parked. Desperate, Cliff unclips </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Malcolm’s harness and blasts the pair of them from the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">doomed aircraft. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Dropping Malcolm off*, Cliff zooms away </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">into the sky – leaving the assembled Press-men – </span><span style="font-style: normal;">and </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Mobsters</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> to scramble for their </span><span style="font-style: normal;">phones and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">cars. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">A Rocket-</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Man!; w</span><span style="font-style: normal;">hat a scoop!. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">*On what looks suspiciously like a disguised stuntman’s air-</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">bag, but is meant to be a partially-inflated balloon from the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">show.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">T</span><span style="font-style: normal;">he rocket sears through the sky, propelling Cliff Secord </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">through the clouds. </span></span></span></pre>
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</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Coming across a Ford Trimotor, he gives </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">the passengers something to tell their grandchildren with </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">his fly-past. Until, with a cheeky salute, he accidentally kills </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">the throttle. Plummeting to Earth, he’s spotted by Peevy in </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">the pick-up as he manages to re-ignite the rocket and collects </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">a sheet from a woman’s laundry as he flashes past. </span></span></span></pre>
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Hurtling through orange grove and wheat field alike, he </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">skims like a stone across a pond to come to an undignified </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">halt. Peevy catches up with him and finds his steaming </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">prot</span><span style="font-style: normal;">é</span><span style="font-style: normal;">g</span><span style="font-style: normal;">é</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> sat in the water. Cliff liked the ride, but Peevy </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">reminds him he doesn’t know little details like fuel </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">endurance, plus he has a rudder; the vane on the helmet </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">steers the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">whole contraption. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></pre>
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Spotting cars approaching, they decide to beat a hasty </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">retreat – but the old Ford won’t start. Peevy puts it in neutral </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">as Cliff climbs in back and gives the old jalopy a rocket-</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">assisted getaway. Valentine and co. can only watch in </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">disbelief as their prize escapes them once more.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At the airfield, Bigelow is assailed by a legion of newshounds, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">all eager for more about the rocket. One problem; he doesn’t </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">have a clue about any of it – another, what to call the rocket-</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">flier?. Rocket-Boy?. Missile Man?. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking out of his office </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">window, Bigelow spots a Pioneer Petroleum sign. Wait… </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Pion</span><i>eer - </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocket</span><i>eer. </i></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Next day, Cliff joins the crowds jostling to buy the papers, but </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">at the studio, Neville Sinclair is less happy about the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">headlines. However, the last word on the news falls to </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Howard Hughes, who assures the two red-faced FBI men that </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the vacuum cleaner they recovered won’t fall into the wrong </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">hands. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">That night, the two unlucky Feds call at Bigelow’s office, to </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">find it trashed, papers scattered all over the place. Neater, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">perhaps, is Bigelow’s corpse. It’s been folded in half. A </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">notepad bears the imprint of the last words he ever wrote; </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">1635 Palm Terrace and we see the original note held in </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luthor’s vast paw. </span></span></pre>
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</span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The giant lumbers towards the house as, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">inside, Peevy pores over diagrams and schematics. Hearing a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">sound, he grabs a hammer. Cliff pulls up on his Harley just as </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the back door gives way with a tinkle of glass. Cliff throws </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the hammer and somehow misses, scoring a hit with a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">trophy. It doesn’t even slow the monstrous assassin. Barging </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the front door, Cliff tries to bust in, until Lothar unlocks it to </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">send the airman sprawling. The FBI come screaming up and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">swarm over the front of the house as Cliff is rammed through </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">the ceiling as if he were a child’s doll. The creature speaks!; <i> </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>‘Where is it?.’ </i>The answer is: hastily concealed beneath a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">lampshade in plain sight. As Cliff tries to act dumb, the light </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">from six headlamps floods the room and Fitch, one of the FBI </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">men calls for Secord and Peabody to open up. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Tossing Cliff through a table, the mis-shapen killer draws a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">pair of toy guns. Well, they’re 1911 Colt .45’s, but they <i>look </i> </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">like toys in those mammoth fists. Opening fire, he’s met with </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">a fusilade from the G-Men, Tommy guns and pistols blazing </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">into the wooden house and blowing Lothar’s hat off. Bending </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">to retrieve it, he spots Peevy’s diagram and steals it, crashing </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">through a side door to make good his escape. While the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">going’s good, Peevy and Cliff follow, the latter grabbing the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">rocket and helmet. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPdBkRr_8kARouh9_DTipQNVpTBlezSS-7kOD1ZqliFD3bA2-Wh36dAX9W3g5-DF-EAXvfhNs6BIhawL24lO8CX6Eil58P8yU0zsUvvN2IdkTWK9OkA6mY-hcxAY8E5m-FiDAeVcDJAw/s1600/Image0454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPdBkRr_8kARouh9_DTipQNVpTBlezSS-7kOD1ZqliFD3bA2-Wh36dAX9W3g5-DF-EAXvfhNs6BIhawL24lO8CX6Eil58P8yU0zsUvvN2IdkTWK9OkA6mY-hcxAY8E5m-FiDAeVcDJAw/s320/Image0454.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">The South Seas Club and the band is playing <i>Begin the </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Beguine. </i>As Melora Hardin<i> </i>(Exquisite, herself) steps out from </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">a giant clam behind the soloist, Neville Sinclair brings Jenny </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">down the steps where they rub shoulder with Clark Gable. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jenny wears a silk number and looks fabulous. Right at home. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Charm set to overdrive, Sinclair turns on the charm and this </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">time, it’s W.C. Fields who arrives to greet the matinee idol. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before Sinclair can get to work, however a ‘telephone call’ </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">beckons and he leaves Jenny to the dubious care of Fields. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjNuoARVeEau4lMouTIlFz4oKLas1RYV7YQ3d-5AVtIKWNJSh4YooUZp2JDUgVRTj48QWMdjBV-kQaWT74o1FqH_ff9gDEuwoIkcDXAB2ozUN57Rq6V2-w5oEmhT9tRlZ5BySKdNtQLA/s1600/rocketeer15.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1093" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjNuoARVeEau4lMouTIlFz4oKLas1RYV7YQ3d-5AVtIKWNJSh4YooUZp2JDUgVRTj48QWMdjBV-kQaWT74o1FqH_ff9gDEuwoIkcDXAB2ozUN57Rq6V2-w5oEmhT9tRlZ5BySKdNtQLA/s320/rocketeer15.jpeg" width="218" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Production Still of Jenny</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">The ‘phone call’ is actually an invite to Eddie Valentine’s </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">office in back of the club, a mermaid in a tank forming part </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">of one wall. One of Valentine’s men gets off the phone to tell </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">him ‘Spanish Johnny’ is checking out the Bull Dog cafe. When </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sinclair informs the Hoodlum that the girl he’s with is Cliff’s, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Valentine is all for interrogating her, but the actor won’t </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">hear of it. They’ll do it his way. If this means folding any </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">more of his men in half, Eddie warns – he’ll kill Sinclair. As a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">parting shot, Valentine threatens the star that if he goes </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">down, he’s spilling everything, taking Sinclair down with </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">him. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Malcom enters the Bull Dog as, upstairs, in the dog’s head so </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">to speak, an anxious Secord and Peevy are hiding out, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">listening to the news bulletin. </span><i>The helmeted mystery man </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>disappeared into the </i><i>Baldwin </i><i>hills moments after the </i><i>daring </i><i> </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>rescue and has </i><i>yet to step forward and identify</i><i> himself. But </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>air circus owner, Otis Bigelow, promises his bird man will </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>return. </i><i>Until then, </i><i>Los Angeles is buzzing. Who is the </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Rocketeer?. </i><i>And n</i><i>ow, back to our programme of dance band </i></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>favourites… </i><span style="font-style: normal;">switching off the radio, Peevy outlines his idea. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">They’ll call the FBI, get rid of the damn thing. </span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Cliff reasons the FBI will just lock them up; they think they were </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">shooting at them at the house. Knocking up, Malcolm tells the two </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">that Bigelow’s office is crawling with cops. And he’s been killed. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Cliff has had enough; he climbs down to make the call.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">T</span><span style="font-style: normal;">wo cars full of hoods rumble to a halt outside and as Cliff is </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">making his call, they breeze in. Spotting the danger, he </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">pranks the FBI man answering the call and sits down at the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">counter, next to Peevy. The goons tell Millie they are looking </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">for a Pilot, Cliff Secord by name. They offer money as a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">finder’s fee, but no-one’s biting. </span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Gamely, Millie tells them to order or leave and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Spanish Johnny</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">sends a pie display crashing to the floor. Guns are drawn as the mask </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">of politeness slips. Two bullets silence the radio and throwing </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">old man Peevy aside, ‘</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Spanish’</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> grabs hold of Cliff. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Peevy is held over the griddle and a cocked pistol tells Cliff </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">not to try anything. Spotting Jenny’s number on the wall, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><i>J</i><span lang="es-ES"><i>ohnny </i></span><span lang="es-ES"><i>E</i></span><span lang="es-ES"><i>spañol </i></span><span style="font-style: normal;">pulls out her photograph. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">As Luck would </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">have it, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Lady Luck left her phone number… </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Jenny’s room-mate takes the call, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Johnny pretending to be a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">florist with flowers from Cliff. Cleverly, the dope tells him </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">she’s at the South Seas. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Cliff listens intently as the goon tells </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">his subordinates. She’s with the Limey. Leaving two </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">meatheads to guard the diner’s captive patrons, Johnny </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">blows. One of the knuckle-draggers starts perusing the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">photos on the wall, spotting a picture of… Cliff with Jenny. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Slowly, the penny drops – as does the moron when he gets a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">face-full of Cliff’s fists. Skeets jumps the other dope and Peevy </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">leaps the counter to subdue him, a shot going through the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">ceiling. Millie puts the full-stop on things with a well-placed </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">(And rubber, if you look closely enough) frying pan</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> to the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">skull. Never upset the chef. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Scrambling up the ladder, Cliff buckles up, a furious Peevy </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">protesting the only place the rocket is going is back to the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Feds. He loves her. Cliff loves the girl – he has to go, but </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">promises when he’s through the thing goes back. Finally, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Peevy spots where the punk’s bullet went, a ricochet hole in </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">the back of the rocket-pack testament to bad luck. It’ll take </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">hours to fix, but there aren’t any hours to fix with… </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">improvising, the old man patches the leak with the lucky </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">gum. </span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Stepping outside onto the roof, the Rocketeer sends </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">himself – and Peevy, flying once more. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">As he regains his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">senses, the old man finds himself staring down the barrel of </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">a Colt Official Police. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Back at the South Seas, Neville Sinclair is busy charming the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">knicker elastic from Jenny, who is naturally smitten with her </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">elegant new surroundings. He wants to dance – but there’s no </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">music. He hears music anyway… don’t you just want a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">bucket?. As the Rocketeer zips past Grauman’s Chinese </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Theatre, the patrons of the club watch as Sinclair leads Jenny </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">onto the deserted dance floor</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. </span><i>S</i><span lang="la-VA"><i>ine musica. </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Arriving outside, Cliff stows his gear in a bag he didn't have when</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">he took off and which looks too small for the pack and helmet anyway. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sorry. Sinclair is working the girl hard now, giving her the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">full treatment;</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>One day, Jenny a man’ll look into those eyes </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>and drown. </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">(To be fair, every man watching this film is </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">halfway under; she is stunning...) Luckily for Sinclair, the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">band that wasn’t there a second ago are now all waiting in </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">position and they strike up a tune. I really should stop nit-</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">picking. Everyone in the place has partnered up and the floor </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">is filled with couples who didn’t need the loo or a drink. Ok; </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">I’ll stop!. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Smashing a window, Cliff breaks in </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and, with his thankfully </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">now big-enough sack, stows it in the laundry, emerging into </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the Club proper in a waiter’s tunic. He isn’t best pleased to see </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">his girl in the arms of the actor, </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">her figure showcased </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">beautifully by her dress, her tight, firm</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> but... luckily </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">(</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">But not </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">f</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">or my blood pressure) </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the sumptuous </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Melora is back to rub it </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">in with her rendition of </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>‘When Your Lover Has Gone.’ </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Seeing the song is making Jenny sad, Sinclair probes her for more </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">about Cliff </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and she reminisces, unwittingly giving Sinclair – </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">let’s not forget he’s a total shit – background to use. The </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">waiter puts a bowl down with a message written on a scrap of </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">paper. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Meet me by the big fish </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><i><u>now</u></i></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>. </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">The Rockewaiter tells an </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">impatient Sinclair a fan of his sent some soup over. So where </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">is Cliff now?. She’s about to tell the cad Secord has an engine </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">when he ‘accidentally’ knocks her drink into her lap. Angrily, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sinclair orders the World’s clumsiest flying waiter to fetch </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">something to clean it up, but before he can get more about </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the rocket, she makes an excuse to duck out for a second. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Pulling Jenny into some shrubbery, </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">(Why not?)</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> Secord tells </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">her about Bigelow’s murder. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">They’re trying to get to him </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">through her. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Prepare for a shock – he’s the Rocketeer. The </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocke-who?. She’s the only person in LA who hasn’t read the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">papers. Before he can explain, Spanish Johnny and goons </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">appear and </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">he tells her to get to her Mom’s place. She asks for </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">one good reason to believe a word of this... he’ll go out of his </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">mind if anything happened to her. They kiss. Irritably, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sinclair waits alone at the table, where the note has surfaced </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">in Jenny’s soup. The girl herself makes to leave as Cliff spots </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">something that confirms his suspicions; Sinclair giving </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">orders to the hoodlums. </span></span></span></span></pre>
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</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">The heat intensifies as Lothar unwinds his enormous frame from </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">a taxi outside. And Secord bumps right into him. With Lothar, Spanish </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Johnny and henchman in pursuit, Cliff makes a break for the rocket </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">pack. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Ducking into the laundry, he scrabbles among several dozen </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">identical laundry bags, desperate to find the right one as </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Lothar batters the handy reinforced steel door. A Maximum </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Security Laundry?. Finally breaking in, the goons spot Cliff’s </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">booted legs in the chute just as a furnace blast propels them </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">from sight. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">(From below, if you watch the sequence frame-by-</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">frame, but you don't have to, Dear friends - I, the Volcano-Cat)</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">am here to do it all for you.) </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">A maid is tossing away some laundry in the Ladies’ Powder </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Room above when a giant hood ornament erupts from the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">chute onto a trolley and roars out into the club, causing </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">mayhem. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Eddie Valentine leaves his office to find the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocketeer zipping around causing panic and generally </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">setting table cloths alight. Jenny has just managed to find a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">cab when the patronage emerges screaming in terror. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sinclair orders a flunky to lock the doors; they’ve got him </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">trapped!. Seeing something’s amiss, Jenny runs back, but is </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">locked out. </span></span></span></span></pre>
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Landing on an ice sculpture, the Rocketeer sends </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">it crashing through the doors and she enters. Before the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">flying man can escape, Sinclair grabs a tommy gun and </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">blasts away to send a hanging ‘fisherman’s net’ down, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">catching the flying fish. So to speak. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Spotting Luthor’s advance, the Rocketeer hits the switch and </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">butts him to the floor, but the big man is up in no time, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">drawing a pistol to finish Cliff off. Jenny k.o.’s the lummox </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">with an ornamental seahorse. Looking up, Cliff sees a way </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">out; a stained-glass skylight and blasts off through it, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">narrowly escaping the hail of tommy gun fire that follows. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Not so lucky is Jenny, whose own exit is halted by a less than </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">charming Sinclair and a napkin. Is it me, or does it smell of </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">chloroform?. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Jenny slowly comes to to find herself on a bed in the home of </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Neville Sinclair. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">The door’s locked, but through a window she </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">gets a glimpse of Sinclair himself closing a secret panel in </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the library. She’s back on the bed feigning sleep as he enters </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">with brandy and smelling salts. Does he have to drug all his </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">women to seduce them?. Jenny confronts him, but ever the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">actor he tells her he was forced to kidnap her. He’s a victim </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">too. They’re blackmailing him. He gives her a line, but being </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">a fan she recalls he said the same words to Garbo. Trying </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">again, he gives her the ‘I can make you a star’ bit, but she’s </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">not buying; he said the same to Lombard. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Moonlight on </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>Broadway... </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">giving up the schmaltz (thankfully), he tells her </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">she can’t be comfortable in that gown. Disappointingly, he </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">means to offer her another outfit, revealing he keeps a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">wardrobe full of women’s clothes. Judge not lest ye shall be </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">judged, I say. Offering her a sheer back number, he starts </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">with the </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">old favourite, </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">ear-nibbling...</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Trying to come</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;"> to her senses, Jenny </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">is confused. Does he want </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">her to try the dress on?. Desperately, he replies. In the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">changing room, she calls to him to help her out of her dress </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and he’s there like a </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">dog at a Butcher’s. Am I being too </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">slushy?</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">. As he reaches for the zipper, she gives it to him with a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">vase. Out like a light. She goes through the house, but knocks </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">over a candelabra and rouses the suspicions of Luthor, who is </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">sat downstairs getting around some chicken drumsticks. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Backing into a room, she finds herself in the library. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Searching for the book that activates the secret panel, she </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">sees </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>The Conquests of Casanova</i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">. Wish she’d kicked Sinclair </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">when he was down, don’t you?. </span></span></span></span></pre>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKICf1xogX6kNBPUO3NfHZIxExFrjRd7vUb2cOYn8bE1IXlARkFWNNjAkKehr9OY_aube3I70oW8AO1rPtqyJoTLjAripvDNs-5r4VmCjUSZANdW8z1RVrrDzzw-uDKyOK4bhJJX8HuDA/s1600/Image0676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKICf1xogX6kNBPUO3NfHZIxExFrjRd7vUb2cOYn8bE1IXlARkFWNNjAkKehr9OY_aube3I70oW8AO1rPtqyJoTLjAripvDNs-5r4VmCjUSZANdW8z1RVrrDzzw-uDKyOK4bhJJX8HuDA/s320/Image0676.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">The book opens the panel and she finds that unlike Errol Flynn’s </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">house, Sinclair doesn’t have a sex dungeon, but a radio and Peevy’s </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">diagram of the rocket. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Quickly, she tucks the drawing into her dress, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">next to her firm and burgeoning resolve. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Flipping on the transmitter,</span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">she calls for help, but gets a german speaker. Maybe a radio </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">ham from Hamburg?. The Nazi book she finds next to the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">radio tells a different story. Sinclair is a spy!. Said spy opens </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the bookcase panel and Jenny screams as Lothar bears down </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">on her. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Arriving back at the Bull Dog, the Rocketeer sneaks round </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">back and dumps the helmet and rocket-pack in the garbage. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Tomorrow’s not Thursday, right?. It’s late and the place is </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">deserted, so he climbs to the loft to find that is too. Little </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Patsy calls up; startling him. He comes down as the phone </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">rings. It’s Valentine, offering an exchange; at Griffith </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">observatory, 4 a.m. by some statues. He comes alone or Jenny </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">gets it. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Frightened, Patsy asks what will happen to Jenny </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and a distracted Cliff rebukes her before apologising. But, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">before he can explain how the Rocketeer will save Jenny, the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">FBI bursts in. He’s surrounded. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Meanwhile, Peevy explains to Howard Hughes how he </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">improved the Rocket-pack by simply bypassing the pressure </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">valve. As ever only truly relaxed in the company of fellow </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">engineers, Hughes comments that the helmet-rudder </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">addition was a work of genius. Praise from the Master, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">indeed. Just then, the Feds burst in with a handcuffed Cliff. </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">There’s no sign of the rocket – or, for that matter of FBI search </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">procedures. Fortunately, Howard Hughes has a brain and </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">orders* </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Wooly to remove the cuffs</span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">He asks if Secord knows </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">who he is; what pilot </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>doesn’t?. </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">He designed the Cirrus X-3 </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">himself, and informs him the pack was stolen from his </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">factory. And he wants it back. Cliff can’t do that – not with </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Jenny in peril!. Hughes tries another tack; showing Secord a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">movie.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">*Yes, ordered; when Howard Hughes gave an order, it was </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">obeyed, not matter who you were. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39tFNEdpsbnfjlBW1bcwQSmc846nzFVUx66tHlyrNHGCT1ncKIsXQoJIEyJCFmY5pUS71LnaW6tsy5SCkXe0SK4JVfnYmFO0YuyOPHqCmMD1pYg8-KQPUDTbi4XMH6U9wba7ZIBIFswI/s1600/Image0714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39tFNEdpsbnfjlBW1bcwQSmc846nzFVUx66tHlyrNHGCT1ncKIsXQoJIEyJCFmY5pUS71LnaW6tsy5SCkXe0SK4JVfnYmFO0YuyOPHqCmMD1pYg8-KQPUDTbi4XMH6U9wba7ZIBIFswI/s320/Image0714.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocketeer Creator Dave Stevens gets a cameo here as the Nazi test-pilot.</span></span></span></span></span></pre>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">As a black and white movie flickers, Hughes narrates </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">personally. Hitler and his cronies with a test-pilot, a rocket </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">strapped to his back. Their prototype suffered with the same </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">design flaw as Hughes’; overheating of the combustion </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">chamber. Kaboom. He solved the problem, leaving the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">German threat irrelevant... until America got their hands on </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">the </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>next </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">film...</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></pre>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nxXAM3XAhGfNlIMPSk91mBUhdFzVNTunWUwufKcNaJbVNhOZJ6ZOiE5SE95q5d9rsAYY0Ku1eI8FGNynNAAJuLhwU5xCf_FBV7MTLueTy_Ebn0eJXKZLqqEIDcofgEs6ahQ1ThzAMGA/s1600/34+FLYING+NAZIS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="1218" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nxXAM3XAhGfNlIMPSk91mBUhdFzVNTunWUwufKcNaJbVNhOZJ6ZOiE5SE95q5d9rsAYY0Ku1eI8FGNynNAAJuLhwU5xCf_FBV7MTLueTy_Ebn0eJXKZLqqEIDcofgEs6ahQ1ThzAMGA/s320/34+FLYING+NAZIS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">A propaganda cartoon, this short is entirely more chilling; </span></span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and it cost a man’s life to get this film out of Nazi Germany. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i> </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>A New Beginning... </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">A dreaming sky is filled with a swarm of </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">animated Nazi Rocket-troopers, the Nazi dominion extended </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">across Europe. Peevy’s thoughts are clear as he watches the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">mad dream unfold. And to America, the Stars and Stripes </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">falling in flames – Washington helpless to prevent the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">airborne invaders. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">The American Eagle melts to become the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Nazi ‘chicken’. Now Cliff can see the terrible implications for </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">America and the Free World if the Rocket falls into enemy </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">hands. </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Today Europe, tomorrow the World!. </i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhaWnJWMk5-pz_i5TArTgUrD4vbXDCoNDkWqJJGhmGwB80Oftkzsc0g74eaqdgAG1uVOrPqLjRvsHEnjk9oXdNg7CdpIeudzzMG8LdpfRuPuil6GWIy6wb8EfV0podFGwe1f1e1GAr1U/s1600/Image0730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhaWnJWMk5-pz_i5TArTgUrD4vbXDCoNDkWqJJGhmGwB80Oftkzsc0g74eaqdgAG1uVOrPqLjRvsHEnjk9oXdNg7CdpIeudzzMG8LdpfRuPuil6GWIy6wb8EfV0podFGwe1f1e1GAr1U/s320/Image0730.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Once more, Hughes asks where his rocket is; but Cliff needs it </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">one more time. Tired of the kid gloves, Fitch threatens Secord </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">with the entire book; everything from Grand Theft to Treason.</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">With the cuffs about to re-appear, Cliff spills; they’ve got his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">girl. Hughes is understanding, but says the FBI can handle it. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Cliff has to go alone or else... he can handle Valentine. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">At the mention of the Mobster, Hughes informs the pilot that </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the gang is merely muscle for a Nazi agent; somone believed </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">to be highly-placed in Hollywood society, but as yet </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">unidentified. Putting the last piece together, Secord realises </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">it’s Neville Sinclair. The G-Men don’t believe a word of it. The </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Swashbuckler?. No way!. Frantic, Cliff decks Fitch and breaks </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">away to leap onto a hanging scale model of a giant </span><span lang="la-VA"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">sea</span><span lang="la-VA">plane. Is that Sprucewood?. </span><span lang="la-VA">The model reaches the end of </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">its rail and Cliff drops to the ground outside the hanger, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">leaving the model to sail off into the night. Delighted, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Hughes observes </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>‘The sonovabitch will fly...’</i></span><span lang="la-VA">. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Griffith Observatory, oh-Dear o’clock and a 1931 Phantom II </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">(See?; I’ve got IMCDB too!) Rolls up to the waiting Valentine </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">and assorted thuggery. The beauty looks like a child’s pedal </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">car to Lothar, who gets out to bring Jenny to the Gangster. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Neville Sinclair tells Valentine to cheer up; he’s about to make </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">himself a fortune. More than enough to repair his Club and </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">plug his ulcer. Jenny watches in disbelief as The Rocketeer </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">comes in to land, removing his helmet to walk purposefully </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">through the parting goons to face Valentine and Sinclair – </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">who tells him to take the Rocket off. First, says Cliff, let Jenny </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">go, emphasising his point by lowering a thumb over the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">launch button. The steel in his eyes can’t be denied, so </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Sinclair makes to hand her over, drawing a Walther and </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">pressing it to her temple. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Bluff called, </span><span lang="la-VA">the Rocketeer asks the </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Racketeer</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> what it’s like </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">working for a Nazi. Does he get paid in Dollars or </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Deutschmarks?. </span><span lang="la-VA">This is news to the Mobster, but Sinclair </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">laughs it off; the kid’s been flying too high, all that thin air’s </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">got to him. Jenny tells valentine to ask about the secret radio </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">room and, wising up, one of the wise guys trains his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Thompson onto Lothar. Sinclair says what does it matter who </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the Gangster is working for – it matters to him. He might be a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">crook, but he’s a Patriotic one damnit!. He don’t work for no </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">two-bit Nazi – and pulls his piece. Let the girl go. Laughing </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">sinisterly – well, how else </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>should</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> a Nazi laugh? - the actor </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">calls out; ‘</span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Sturmabteiling angrieffen!’ </i></span><span lang="la-VA">At which the storm </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">detachment does indeed attack, the well-hidden Stormtroops </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">surrounding Eddie’s* men. Left with little choice, Eddie and </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">his men drop their guns. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">*Now he’s on our side, he’s Eddie. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">The thrumming noise in the air heralds the arrival of the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">monumental </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Luxembourg</i></span><span lang="la-VA">, the Zeppelin filling the night sky </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">above the observatory. </span><span lang="la-VA">Get the rocket, quickly!, orders </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Sinclair. As the pack is removed, Sinclair turns to leave, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">wishing Eddie a Happy Valentine’s day as a parting shot. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Before the Germans can mow down the Mob, however, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">powerful searchlights are trained on the party and the FBI </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">calls for the Nazis to put down their guns. Sinclair orders </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Lothar to shoot Secord, but he dives to one side and hits the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">button, propelling him and an unwary Nazi through a fence </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">into the safety of the undergrowth. </span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"> Grabbing a Tommy gun, Eddie lets the stormtroopers have a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">taste of lead and the FBI join in, Fitch warning not to hit the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">looming Zeppelin: it’s full of hydrogen. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">On the roof, Sinclair fires away at the advancing Feds as </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Lothar drags Jenny to the rope-ladder the Luxembourg has </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">thoughtfully lowered. </span><span lang="la-VA">Aboard, the traitor orders the Captain </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">to take the ship out of range. A waiting Gestapo man angrily </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">asks where’s the rocket?, Sinclair countering they have the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">girl: the rocket will come to them. </span></span></span></pre>
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Snatching the unconscious Nazi’s pistol (A Mauser C96 </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">‘broomhandle’ for the cosplayers out there), Cliff dashes </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">back into the fray as the combined forces of America and Her </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Gangsters push the Nazis back, the irony of the situation </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">clearly not lost on Eddie Valentine. The Zeppelin is making a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">getaway, but then the assemblage spots The Rocketeer </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">preparing to give chase from the roof. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">(It’s the Rocketeer!) </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Blasting up onto the horizontal stabiliser, The Rocketeer </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">grabs a cable, falling down to rip a large section of fabric </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">from its vertical counterpart, aka the rudder, before making </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">his way beneath the World’s Biggest Swastika for’ard. That’s </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">forward to those in the cheap seats. The rudder is jammed, </span><span lang="la-VA"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">much to the Teutonic constertaion of the crew. Meantime, The </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Rocketeer has found a maintenance hatch atop the gigantic </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">airship and readies his Mauser for it’s knocking-overboard</span><span lang="la-VA"> </span><span lang="la-VA"> </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">when Luthor bangs the hatch open. Oops. Snapping on a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">safety-belt, the giant hefts a hefty wrench and menaces our </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">hero, who tries a kick to the pills when the big guy is </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">distracted by his favourite hat being blown off. Balls of steel. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Knocking Cliff over the side, Luthor is caught by surprise as a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">second later The Rocketeer powers around from beneath the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">airship to return the favor. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">In the cockpit, the Captain reassures Sinclair his is the finest </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">pilot in Germany. But they’re not in Germany, as the out-cold </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Luthor demonstrates by swinging through the windscreen at </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the end of his tether (Well, it’s been hard for everyone), </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">sending Deutschland’s finest flyer, well, </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>flying</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> through a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">window to make Germany’s worst landing on Los Angeles. Is </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">there a pilot in the house?. Appalled at the damage to his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">oversized assassin, the Gestapo man screams that it’s all </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Sinclair’s fault, but </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Herr Kapit</i></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>ä</i></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>n</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> says they must shed ballast: </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">they are too heavy. </span><span lang="la-VA">Eager to comply, Sinclair shoots the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Gestapo man when he berates him as a mere Actor, the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">German G-Man falling out of the window. Summoning a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Luftwaffe man, the actor - sorry, </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Spy </i></span><span lang="la-VA">tells him the girl’s friend </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">is up there and, touchingly stupid, up goes Fritz just in time to </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">meet American fist. </span><span lang="la-VA">His ‘English’ accent has notably slipped, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">revealing the true German beneath. Ach so!. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Cliff follows the German down into the cabin, to find Sinclair </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">holding Jenny at gunpoint. The traitor has had a bellyful of </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">his ‘cheap’ heroics. Hand over the rocket or her brains go all </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">over the cabin. Valiantly, Jenny tells him not to, but he has no </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">choice. Sliding it to the Nazi, Cliff cunningly thumbs aside the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">gum patching the leak, and a trickle of fuel emerges from the</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">bullet-hole. Handing the Captain his Walther, Sinclair leaves </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">him to cover the girl while he himself grasps the rocket. </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Pluckily, Jenny stamps on the Captain’s foot and kicks him </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">through the window. Decking the actor, Cliff asks where’s his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">stuntman – but gets a haymaker in return. He does his own </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">stunts, it seems. </span><span lang="la-VA">The two grapple, in a life or death fight. In </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the process, Sinclair tries to stab Cliff with a navigator’s </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">compass and a locker bursts open, a flare gun spilling onto </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the deck. Sinclair is battering the seventh bell out of Secord </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">when </span><span lang="la-VA">he spots the all-important rocket sliding towards the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">abyss; Himmel!. As the treacherous saboteur dives for the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">prize, a</span><span lang="la-VA"> desperate Jenny levels the flare gun, sending a flare </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">whanging around the cabin and destroying a fair part of it to </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">boot. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">The fire spreads and Cliff appeals to Sinclair to help put it out, </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">but he’s donned the rocket and prepares to leave, expressing </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">regret he couldn’t take Jenny </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>vit</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> him. Hatred on her pretty </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">face, Jenny tells him everything about him is a lie. It vasn’t </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">lies – it vas acting. Raising his hand in a Nazi salute, he </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">prepares to blast off, but hasn’t noticed he’s dripping pure </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">alcohol. He’ll miss Hollywood... </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Blasting off into the sky, Sinclair cackles manically, until the </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">pack begins to misfire, sheets of flame as leaking fuel meets </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">rocket exhaust.</span></span></span></pre>
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His parting words become eerily prophetic as, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">in a ball of flame, the traitor descends in flames to hit the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">‘LAND’ part of the HOLLYWOODLAND sign. He did, indeed, </span><span lang="la-VA"><i> </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>miss</i></span><span lang="la-VA"> ‘Hollywood’. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Atop the stricken Luxembourg, Cliff tells Jenny what will </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">happen when the fire meets the hydrogen, but she grabs him, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">telling him she loves him. The two kiss, but Luthor has </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">regained consciousness – climbing the tether to produce a </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">vicious-looking knife. It’s like putting a spike on a tank. Just </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">in the very nick, though, the hydrogen envelopes of the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Zeppelin erupt into flame, one after the other the cells </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">explode, from the front back and the trio runs for the ‘safety’ </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">of aft. </span></span></span></pre>
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Help is at hand, from the Hughes Autogyro flown by </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the man himself, with Peevy observing. </span></span></span></pre>
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Swooping low over the dying airship, they fly to the rescue </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">as Lothar runs out of line, turning to face the inevitable as </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">he’s consumed in the fire. Dropping a caving ladder, the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">autogyro plucks the young couple to safety as the leviathan </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">crashes to Earth in flames. Oh!; the humanity!. Fittingly, the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">last thing to be devoured by the fire is the Nazi Swastika. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Across from the Bull Dog, Millie is picking oranges straight </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">from the grove as a cheerful Skeets and Malcolm wave her </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">good morning. </span></span></span></pre>
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</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Inside, an amused Peevy reads the line the </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Government spun the papers; </span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Neville Sinclair killed by </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>flaming debris falling onto his touring car. </i></span><span lang="la-VA">Jenny remarks </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Cliff he looks awful blue for a guy who saved the World: he’s </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">got the cracked ribs to prove it, but he has her... </span><span lang="la-VA">and, maybe</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"> more. </span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">The unmistakable sound of a Gee Bee engine alerts </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">everyone to the arrival of a brand-new racer, which taxis </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">around to a stop in front. Piloted by none other than </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">America’s most famous recluse. Exiting the tiny plane, </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Hughes asks for a moment alone with Cliff. He’s been </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">meaning to ask; what was it like?, strapping that thing to his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">back?. It was the closest he’ll ever to get to Heaven is his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">reply. Looking over at Jenny... maybe not... </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Hughes takes his leave, leaving Cliff to process the gift he’s </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">left, but pauses to toss him something...</span></span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">A pack of Beeman’s gum. Don’t ever fly her without it. Climbing into his </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Pierce-Arrow, Hughes leaves his men to tear off the tape covering </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">Cliff’s name, painted on the racer. </span></span></span></pre>
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</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">He never even got the chance to thank the man who gave him two of </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the most incredible flying machines ever built. Jenny has something </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">too, for Peevy, handing him his schematic diagram that she </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">took from Sinclair’s house.</span></span></span></pre>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtUuGymGWdWqYQ3hpn8uLJFbfZhVPVRzgGtmRLaZ8J5JiAB0jyKyT9-v1oXmdhAIeDFP9p2UfMWCh_mDSQVmg8xNAVNQRslHkiQZ5xfPh_irjvICqyP7ebbaAino6CkBVAVfxu1Wh5sk/s1600/Image0965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtUuGymGWdWqYQ3hpn8uLJFbfZhVPVRzgGtmRLaZ8J5JiAB0jyKyT9-v1oXmdhAIeDFP9p2UfMWCh_mDSQVmg8xNAVNQRslHkiQZ5xfPh_irjvICqyP7ebbaAino6CkBVAVfxu1Wh5sk/s320/Image0965.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">Cheekily, Cliff asks Jenny to give him her line </span></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>‘</i></span><span lang="la-VA"><i>Oh, my prince, </i></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><i>would that you drink of my lips..’ </i></span><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">and he does. Engrossed in </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">his diagram, Peevy is already working out how to build a </span></span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA"><span style="font-style: normal;">new rocket. If they </span></span><span lang="la-VA">increase the manifold pressure </span><span lang="la-VA">and switch </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">the fuel-to-air ratio... but neither of the youngsters are </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">listening, lost in each other as they embrace. </span><span lang="la-VA">(As the locals </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">admire Cliff’s new plane, a kid chases around the crowd,</span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">pursued by little Patsy, in a homemade tin-can Rocketeer </span></span></span></pre>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<pre class="western" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="la-VA">get-up. The first of many, many more cosplayers to come...)</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgq1D3zm2pvl0-QdowddbYHYGTYokZRU42lTY5SF6KnyTsjTPeKiEqdi-kBqr6r1n1MlppYli6wiAYEavJ8JtCYDfuQbXyqSbc9rsrr6ZtyN22kxBM4AlJyN960GRAYnEkH-32PD4ghQ/s1600/Image0969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgq1D3zm2pvl0-QdowddbYHYGTYokZRU42lTY5SF6KnyTsjTPeKiEqdi-kBqr6r1n1MlppYli6wiAYEavJ8JtCYDfuQbXyqSbc9rsrr6ZtyN22kxBM4AlJyN960GRAYnEkH-32PD4ghQ/s320/Image0969.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="la-VA"> The End.</span></b></span></span>
</span></pre>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ig3M4YjgEZRSOLCBUKw723nf5m46cnq6a5ovU5wWKZeCHC2Vst26IK5tK9ACbI_bTxLGf0cbpuXWWyOaJ1JHIOjQ7MdKLTYC2ekKW-BJoRd87zUlO6HVlysXSj5lYBjxX0ziWcoXyZE/s1600/PRODUCTION.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1000" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ig3M4YjgEZRSOLCBUKw723nf5m46cnq6a5ovU5wWKZeCHC2Vst26IK5tK9ACbI_bTxLGf0cbpuXWWyOaJ1JHIOjQ7MdKLTYC2ekKW-BJoRd87zUlO6HVlysXSj5lYBjxX0ziWcoXyZE/s320/PRODUCTION.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEKlj6cT4ymlJmYsVKMYnByZq9LfaYeyDpqQl7iOMmlhk88rWwRdUBZ_ID-BKNoAdoobPSAfiLxZ7AvMiXEqdZrcl8yxGnYG_acLA95BG_O0E85J2gQ8Tcqna4PCc3AjP0kZIedyW5Ew/s1600/rocketeer-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEKlj6cT4ymlJmYsVKMYnByZq9LfaYeyDpqQl7iOMmlhk88rWwRdUBZ_ID-BKNoAdoobPSAfiLxZ7AvMiXEqdZrcl8yxGnYG_acLA95BG_O0E85J2gQ8Tcqna4PCc3AjP0kZIedyW5Ew/s320/rocketeer-poster.jpg" width="216" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
1982, the Artist Dave Stevens created a comic-book hero called <i>The
Rocketeer, </i><span style="font-style: normal;">selling the film
rights to Disney in 1985. After languishing in development hell, the
movie was finally made and released in 1991. And bombed. From a
budget of $40,000,000 </span><i>The Rocketeer </i><span style="font-style: normal;">made
just $46,000,000 and the suits cancelled planned sequels. Now, in
2018, Disney are planning a remake, plus a children’s animated
series is in production. </span></span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy-6p6_UrZjKwA8yg4e3L21zIjL38db3PCTLn5nhaZeCN66dmvSeIbrhV4JD4CUkVPNC8Vuxtn3_VKUq6atng' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> (Above; Original Theatrical trailer.)</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1bY33QpGX-vgFKUOqiIxeEELiKVngHiL81GwZEFj487FARN2Oq1rlpiSyC0PMZcYYAIh0jzlR2qzz7BCUZSHpYERx5y6cF02BDkGVi-1qqadrGRH2IvqAKkTmTmRnKwvi-5ZBZQPOe4/s1600/dave+stevens+with+bill+campbell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1393" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1bY33QpGX-vgFKUOqiIxeEELiKVngHiL81GwZEFj487FARN2Oq1rlpiSyC0PMZcYYAIh0jzlR2qzz7BCUZSHpYERx5y6cF02BDkGVi-1qqadrGRH2IvqAKkTmTmRnKwvi-5ZBZQPOe4/s320/dave+stevens+with+bill+campbell.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Rocketeer creator Dave Stevens with Billy Campbell on set</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The movie is a cult classic, beloved of fans
worldwide, who now wait with bated breath to see if Disney wrecks or
revives the character they love… Stevens himself succumbed to
Leukaemia in 2008 at the young age of 52, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">but
he lives on through his work – and a cameo as the German test pilot
who is killed when his jetpack explodes. When I say that after a
year’s break from posting, this was the only choice of film for me
to review, you might get an idea of the impression </span><i>The
Rocketeer </i><span style="font-style: normal;">made on me…</span></span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyk491T0BV46Y8LYhm86Cm-NACPMwFMEd41bgZT-wrV0VtHzTmAwOzA9FOSd-47CNpcEckEZfg-7hW_ykOEP3DjF9gkAVz1I1unP5mrdcRIHnJuKhizaTJlkaGMzM9ffatRDAwSQGbu0/s1600/IMG_0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1047" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyk491T0BV46Y8LYhm86Cm-NACPMwFMEd41bgZT-wrV0VtHzTmAwOzA9FOSd-47CNpcEckEZfg-7hW_ykOEP3DjF9gkAVz1I1unP5mrdcRIHnJuKhizaTJlkaGMzM9ffatRDAwSQGbu0/s320/IMG_0012.jpg" width="209" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Dave Stevens' comic-book inspired a great film</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Disney
did everything they could to get in the way of the film-makers; from
Michael Eisner’s interference with helmet designs to Dave Steven’s
recollection of how unwelcome they made him feel on set. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Having
said that, Disney went all-out to market the film, spending
$19,000,000 on TV adverts alone, along with a long list of licensed
products, including video games and novelizations. The Premiere was
held at the newly-refurbished El Capitan theater on June 19</span><sup><span style="font-style: normal;">th</span></sup><span style="font-style: normal;">,
1991, after an Art-Deco overhaul Disney conducted. With</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
a stirring soundtrack from James Horner (</span><i>48hrs</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
</span><i>Commando</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, </span><i>Aliens</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
</span><i>Titanic</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, </span><i>Braveheart</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
etc etc) and Production Design from Jim Bissell (</span><i>E.T</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.,
</span><i>Jumanji</i><span style="font-style: normal;">) the film is a
gem. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPwE2cmIs1eRHD9uY3SWL4R8Ql8O_PBScG_53POkUEQswLiCGjsKTdVnSEKlo0ly_sBmMRZF7oL1FAcBKqGx0HPhASFYaKZFtvDS9jT6eUkpq2n0OEIhVMfP7ewXeYrMy_iEd80ZXqQM/s1600/Joe+Johnston+wit+Billy+Campbell++onset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="971" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPwE2cmIs1eRHD9uY3SWL4R8Ql8O_PBScG_53POkUEQswLiCGjsKTdVnSEKlo0ly_sBmMRZF7oL1FAcBKqGx0HPhASFYaKZFtvDS9jT6eUkpq2n0OEIhVMfP7ewXeYrMy_iEd80ZXqQM/s320/Joe+Johnston+wit+Billy+Campbell++onset.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Director Joe Johnston on set with Billy Campbell</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Director Joe Johnston started his career as a Stormtrooper in
</span><i>Star Wars </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(1977) and
went on to Art Direction for films such as the first two </span><i>Indiana
Jones</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> films, before helming
</span><i>Honey I Shrunk the Kids, Jumanji, The Iron Giant, </i><i>Captain
America: The First Avenger </i><span style="font-style: normal;">amongst
others. His work on </span><i>The Rocketeer </i><span style="font-style: normal;">is,
for my money, close to flawless. A breathless love-letter to the</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Golden Age of serials, <i>Rocketeer </i>is perhaps Disney's best film since Walt Disney ran the show. Make sure you see it. </span></span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMuX6X4TDfhhDMHLWiAYpqTWgJ15C7Xt-5PFgxgPDmoFUPn0V0smnTcqcmp6SgRklFeK8640UaQ548nQXVcA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> (Above; the - sadly, late - Dave Stevens discusses his idea. Gone too soon.)</span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJdDX5iBGL3l2qCm_GLXSzVPj0G5X9Zngbp5w3JvqDFv8pWb8_rWuF_KSosW8me4qZcEtyYNKe3UAih7AAiImn_hGxxqWDbKNNUZFXLBkX2nE_pHh41LDQpYun01SX3ZeIz6F01Q0u70/s1600/CAST.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1000" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJdDX5iBGL3l2qCm_GLXSzVPj0G5X9Zngbp5w3JvqDFv8pWb8_rWuF_KSosW8me4qZcEtyYNKe3UAih7AAiImn_hGxxqWDbKNNUZFXLBkX2nE_pHh41LDQpYun01SX3ZeIz6F01Q0u70/s320/CAST.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">No
reviews here; the whole ensemble shines on this one.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOVxy2538_WuPGoHExtBXvQijV7iX8meo7lRpOYrVZyuEXlSvgzDnqkJgXv6RCl98tAuZoxHF8TojhtenUjght7nZse7dOMoZf3uLf6_TC82vaObpPLz6FmYKaYvxxd_cdJmWwQQnbSI/s1600/iu7ytr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="678" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOVxy2538_WuPGoHExtBXvQijV7iX8meo7lRpOYrVZyuEXlSvgzDnqkJgXv6RCl98tAuZoxHF8TojhtenUjght7nZse7dOMoZf3uLf6_TC82vaObpPLz6FmYKaYvxxd_cdJmWwQQnbSI/s320/iu7ytr.jpg" width="255" /></a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Unusually-tense image of the two stars; rumour has it they shared an on-set romance, though it's hard to see it here.</span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Billy
Campbell of <i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dynasty </span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">fame
is Cliff Secord/The Rocketeer.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANXoILjj7X86q7uGIchTWezJ8Dm15jD0qBhKYafA1cK2rwMO6-4OcNIGeGljm6ugsc_mHtb5HZVlQnF52bWKM01aAfP6g0hzDbmi1AqIvG-NvH5aCXB3lxFEWtKzDus-ryL26IAl1pm8/s1600/888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="566" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANXoILjj7X86q7uGIchTWezJ8Dm15jD0qBhKYafA1cK2rwMO6-4OcNIGeGljm6ugsc_mHtb5HZVlQnF52bWKM01aAfP6g0hzDbmi1AqIvG-NvH5aCXB3lxFEWtKzDus-ryL26IAl1pm8/s320/888.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
exquisite </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Jennifer Connelly
is Jennifer. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">She starred in
films such as </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Labyrinth</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">
and </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">A Beautiful Mind.</span></i></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVnegZlKOTVSAGI0gAdS67eIKolx4FA_w06xH-4lq9v1rLoqkyTX2DxlxIG-oOype1wOv8y74IlM7YZxZwXLivIbtTXmV3Qgj9Kny-210Fb9F0YoM6MUP6a7_avkGasF46L0sXv-cSaY/s1600/1a8f3e27fe8976cedb2e32abb20a5619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1461" data-original-width="968" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVnegZlKOTVSAGI0gAdS67eIKolx4FA_w06xH-4lq9v1rLoqkyTX2DxlxIG-oOype1wOv8y74IlM7YZxZwXLivIbtTXmV3Qgj9Kny-210Fb9F0YoM6MUP6a7_avkGasF46L0sXv-cSaY/s320/1a8f3e27fe8976cedb2e32abb20a5619.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Alan
Arkin plays Peevy. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Check him
out as Yossarian in </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Catch-22,
</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">or </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">as
Freud in the fabulous Sherlock Holmes film </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Seven-Per-Cent-Solution. </span></i></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBj6mTZTp3T3KYHqwzdiaDm-_kN1MN55ErrhZjbPYrqnQIv0siMMUWvKtuPyCQur3abh51yasSaMa6fKcuV0Ye-PRTOoIsNSFEunQR6bTSqNfOmLWaGIlfLKz_TyTVK5dI1aadGxCs2s/s1600/wwww.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUBj6mTZTp3T3KYHqwzdiaDm-_kN1MN55ErrhZjbPYrqnQIv0siMMUWvKtuPyCQur3abh51yasSaMa6fKcuV0Ye-PRTOoIsNSFEunQR6bTSqNfOmLWaGIlfLKz_TyTVK5dI1aadGxCs2s/s320/wwww.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Jennifer Connelly with Billy Campbell</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Timothy
Dalton is Neville Sinclair (Booo!). </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Among
his </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">oeuvre </span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">are
such films as </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Flash
Gordon, Hot Fuzz</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> and </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Living Daylights – </span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
latter being one of the finer James Bond outings. </span></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY45vKOAkV9lURTZfoI99mE6Hl5o5ojIv2vrvwfRm0tCsZLZKSgZqRlZSw87k8-nFK3j49-Mskjeh8UAsh7nH3ph3-tUGoHZyCiQEaFc_41Z5W7e8l2h1oyQ087CbpGpyJBkr1Se3f7LY/s1600/2ab2918a7673cde05370fc47d9a94254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="1160" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY45vKOAkV9lURTZfoI99mE6Hl5o5ojIv2vrvwfRm0tCsZLZKSgZqRlZSw87k8-nFK3j49-Mskjeh8UAsh7nH3ph3-tUGoHZyCiQEaFc_41Z5W7e8l2h1oyQ087CbpGpyJBkr1Se3f7LY/s320/2ab2918a7673cde05370fc47d9a94254.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">(Above) Lobby Card featuring Timothy Dalton</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Paul
Sorvino </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">(</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Goodfellas</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">)
</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">appears as Eddie Valentine</span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaU_ywkJ1ksYRBLmhCgxbqz0pYgiDWttEMZDn9vTNRdTB-XK_TiA9RdIVszMF5GhlDTuy78FgOTEQlF22ypggUv_FSZvoGpPQ0fIHGjGApfE2ETFS7Mgbsspce8r7kzkJb-npwLRxgQ0/s1600/MV5BMTUwNjQyNTcxNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTU0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1602%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1600" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaU_ywkJ1ksYRBLmhCgxbqz0pYgiDWttEMZDn9vTNRdTB-XK_TiA9RdIVszMF5GhlDTuy78FgOTEQlF22ypggUv_FSZvoGpPQ0fIHGjGApfE2ETFS7Mgbsspce8r7kzkJb-npwLRxgQ0/s320/MV5BMTUwNjQyNTcxNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTU0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1602%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Terr</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">y</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">
O’Quinn (</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lost</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">)
portrays Howard Hughes; probably the best screen incarnation of the
legendary Aviator. </span></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS60Bi78FcTVgNG6f7rJjyQLdq7cgKvKGe2OSz8pfhfTXT176so_n1LSBt71TXbIh3Ho7bkv7Z6TjgJg216eV0M8lVwp2yyNgV_DhWFzKuXo4z3c2wpAjuLV95eWIBKFKgEG0v8PjePUY/s1600/MV5BMTMxOTAxMTU3NF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMjY0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1484%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1484" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS60Bi78FcTVgNG6f7rJjyQLdq7cgKvKGe2OSz8pfhfTXT176so_n1LSBt71TXbIh3Ho7bkv7Z6TjgJg216eV0M8lVwp2yyNgV_DhWFzKuXo4z3c2wpAjuLV95eWIBKFKgEG0v8PjePUY/s320/MV5BMTMxOTAxMTU3NF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMjY0NDgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1484%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Interesting Production Still, showing an unused shot featuring Terry O'Quinn as Howard Hughes</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;">‘<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Tiny’
Ron Taylor plays Lothar, a clear tribute to Rondo Hatton, a character
actor in vintage movies such as the 1944 Sherlock Holmes film, </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Pearl of Death.</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxynOhDD4d92zJIDaP2SdTGFpp9MF-Cl5guaYXcTH4KIZ6eqozq0SK1bydn8Eqox9xlEYm1Giq-lKGZS56alVSvWQusitJwsIYTC6FpEbawEHXlE6-SR6L6oT3OYReK1hl1ckjQSEoRHA/s1600/img01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1181" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxynOhDD4d92zJIDaP2SdTGFpp9MF-Cl5guaYXcTH4KIZ6eqozq0SK1bydn8Eqox9xlEYm1Giq-lKGZS56alVSvWQusitJwsIYTC6FpEbawEHXlE6-SR6L6oT3OYReK1hl1ckjQSEoRHA/s320/img01.jpg" width="236" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Hollywood Legend Rick Baker sculpted this prosthetic for 'Tiny Ron Taylor to become the sinister Lothar</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Look
out for William Sanderson as Skeets; he played J.F. Sebastian in
<i>Blade Runner. </i></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-OkT2NLngdZ79Pn0Mce7qi34bxB5ajv4XzuEgtrIq3jHLTAsLTb1nyGpcy4rL-LKs2VEr5pYwBhACqgrNmA5geb8nM4GI1tZMM36rpZEPflbtaWgqaLt5mUHG-_IEFslrY3fhSQBQQs/s1600/rs-180631-109186242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="700" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-OkT2NLngdZ79Pn0Mce7qi34bxB5ajv4XzuEgtrIq3jHLTAsLTb1nyGpcy4rL-LKs2VEr5pYwBhACqgrNmA5geb8nM4GI1tZMM36rpZEPflbtaWgqaLt5mUHG-_IEFslrY3fhSQBQQs/s320/rs-180631-109186242.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Cast at the 1991 Premiere.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCXkIu4pkqzHnY09ZxO_fhk3dyfEnkIuSAoe26pzGJwre2h0s3xhJhARs2ncA4Y91RTZgLqzPOtiGScwbkLUTYnUk9T4JtZUPZdl4iZ3BKJ33vxk2y2STLNS2Ow8tWGA51fMkuhCjQiA/s1600/TRIVIA.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1000" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCXkIu4pkqzHnY09ZxO_fhk3dyfEnkIuSAoe26pzGJwre2h0s3xhJhARs2ncA4Y91RTZgLqzPOtiGScwbkLUTYnUk9T4JtZUPZdl4iZ3BKJ33vxk2y2STLNS2Ow8tWGA51fMkuhCjQiA/s320/TRIVIA.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Neville Sinclair character is clearly based on swashbuckling
womaniser and hell-raiser Errol Flynn; possibly due to an unreliable
and badly-sourced hagiography accusing him of being a Nazi spy. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7ubF_PN6xwbM7dMq-d1DKYB9MnKQP_o7fzn3lU3PLk2mENHgBju_9-O55fVuEjAhdOZF2YVK2JCfeUWDGzhZFMfH4j19-zLf6WmfzeZ6llSqlIJoV01ChuhEDDmoNf16aoQMj7bYvts/s1600/Annex+-+Rathbone%252C+Basil+%2528Adventures+of+Robin+Hood%252C+The%2529_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7ubF_PN6xwbM7dMq-d1DKYB9MnKQP_o7fzn3lU3PLk2mENHgBju_9-O55fVuEjAhdOZF2YVK2JCfeUWDGzhZFMfH4j19-zLf6WmfzeZ6llSqlIJoV01ChuhEDDmoNf16aoQMj7bYvts/s320/Annex+-+Rathbone%252C+Basil+%2528Adventures+of+Robin+Hood%252C+The%2529_02.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">(Above) Errol Flynn with Basil Rathbone in <i>The Adventures of Robin Hood </i>(1939) </span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">For
some unique Rocketeer imagery and content, you could do worse than
visit here;
<a href="https://thehobbitholeplusme.wordpress.com/2017/10/13/the-rocketeer-the-history-jet-packing-around-disney-world/">https://thehobbitholeplusme.wordpress.com/2017/10/13/the-rocketeer-the-history-jet-packing-around-disney-world/</a></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC9G8Qhp2vMWMoaIIZZpenBIKvwjpeFGnGcJzrsrr7wfNJ7YDxC41A98fgysdfDqxx6aANtee8QnU8sha8FnZ74cdzfUwzO9Y6hFGole9msCDpb-hPuz2WOFPqaZ61PmlYxTljNUZ8Aw/s1600/x3blueprints.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1235" data-original-width="1600" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC9G8Qhp2vMWMoaIIZZpenBIKvwjpeFGnGcJzrsrr7wfNJ7YDxC41A98fgysdfDqxx6aANtee8QnU8sha8FnZ74cdzfUwzO9Y6hFGole9msCDpb-hPuz2WOFPqaZ61PmlYxTljNUZ8Aw/s320/x3blueprints.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Screen-Used Hughes jetpack schematic</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
real Bulldog cafe was situated at </span>1153 West Washington
Boulevard. Built in 1928, it was demolished sometime after 1966. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-bQTbgM5vBRTqqp3B2sDxDlZBfjAaGe1j9k5gsxSUneSfv9vtsu2X0OMviidmApEODjvhVupvWxCzG5aMFhtSnBDKPsqUZwTyRXM3PYJfwj8ZHqYFCvaH3gt_550VtuvMlRec5lI7Qs/s1600/Bulldog_Cafe_ca1928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="1065" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-bQTbgM5vBRTqqp3B2sDxDlZBfjAaGe1j9k5gsxSUneSfv9vtsu2X0OMviidmApEODjvhVupvWxCzG5aMFhtSnBDKPsqUZwTyRXM3PYJfwj8ZHqYFCvaH3gt_550VtuvMlRec5lI7Qs/s320/Bulldog_Cafe_ca1928.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">(Above)The original Bulldog cafe</span></span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFrvKkGySe-3oflMK9a9kbQPyR-bCD-y1jM9_Y7Hm2NR71eNe-p-RwjtUwupKAAuOL8NOG3ZbiZf0IKRk-UXWhl9sbt7F4a4G79rzuTmLPryZnhAlEi066ovTEE6bIIeGAuhQhzNRVIQ/s1600/20090545_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="1600" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFrvKkGySe-3oflMK9a9kbQPyR-bCD-y1jM9_Y7Hm2NR71eNe-p-RwjtUwupKAAuOL8NOG3ZbiZf0IKRk-UXWhl9sbt7F4a4G79rzuTmLPryZnhAlEi066ovTEE6bIIeGAuhQhzNRVIQ/s320/20090545_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">(Above) production-used model of the Bull Dog</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the original comic, Doc Savage the Man of Bronze invents the
rocket-pack. Rather than become entangled in a copyright wrangle,
Disney opted to replace him with Howard Hughes. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVWcqy5oH8r7pHZmxbW2SML4G8x7hzwxL7Roy9ky_kxJFdDTf8qDibADE55FPFOWJI0FQm-QRff11gDHfC9AcpcPoo6BcqbpQdDKL6JLU0J43jaUhFDNTWyENOGnZ_mLFybbxVitsPksI/s1600/screen+used+miniature+sold+for+5000+dollars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="593" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVWcqy5oH8r7pHZmxbW2SML4G8x7hzwxL7Roy9ky_kxJFdDTf8qDibADE55FPFOWJI0FQm-QRff11gDHfC9AcpcPoo6BcqbpQdDKL6JLU0J43jaUhFDNTWyENOGnZ_mLFybbxVitsPksI/s320/screen+used+miniature+sold+for+5000+dollars.jpg" width="189" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">This screen-used miniature was sold at auction for $5,000</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">For
a look at an incredible collection </span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">of
props from the film</span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"> (Albeit with
copyright notice all over the pictures) look here;
<a href="https://www.therpf.com/showthread.php?t=80659">https://www.therpf.com/showthread.php?t=80659</a></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_4hZg4Ur1XWKVBvhUgrgLa83bv_tCEgdXV7wYSWniiET9hz2ElapI6bZHdoYcOqQLsSyaiOpKt5Jb6jkifO3gdWKltzZE4TPfBYM20pS6k2NPNZITYABgJGINhHMsj01tPMhZBKFGsw/s1600/13226823_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="1600" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_4hZg4Ur1XWKVBvhUgrgLa83bv_tCEgdXV7wYSWniiET9hz2ElapI6bZHdoYcOqQLsSyaiOpKt5Jb6jkifO3gdWKltzZE4TPfBYM20pS6k2NPNZITYABgJGINhHMsj01tPMhZBKFGsw/s320/13226823_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Production used 'Hero' Helmet, sold at auction for $25,000</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
‘I do my own stunts’ line is probably a reference to the fact
Timothy Dalton was famous for doing much of his own stuntwork. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPilpwORwPeKI-iBpasT4SUsKgV2SrMwZxmVKXe0y_u7pEgZO8tMdUMMY6JxWq5psmEYGBDfKGv3wJoyHo4fNzpzLQa7pOJEGmgbuPjxcRsdd6kv8fRF-b8tLdC-q3rH5iYfhlbUzrjI/s1600/57e181e1a7b3411394ad1c1729ff9dc7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPilpwORwPeKI-iBpasT4SUsKgV2SrMwZxmVKXe0y_u7pEgZO8tMdUMMY6JxWq5psmEYGBDfKGv3wJoyHo4fNzpzLQa7pOJEGmgbuPjxcRsdd6kv8fRF-b8tLdC-q3rH5iYfhlbUzrjI/s320/57e181e1a7b3411394ad1c1729ff9dc7.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Costume display of Secord and Jenny's outfits</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
German radio transceiver Jenny discovers in Sinclair’s secret lair
is a Torn.Fu.b1 (Transmitter 3.0 MHz – 5.0 MHz Receiver 3.0 MHz –
6.66 MHz in case you couldn’t sleep for wondering). The model was a
portable field radio used by the German military in the mid to late
Thirties. Quite why he couldn’t just have gone to RadioShack evades
me… </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3l6oOxm_Q26KBrBF1WnoR656xHBlgg868CWnKXxGZ6c0yeP5sEzMhyPIevGDH3E6cNompTciPyhmUoZNsu9wtW_OfjXtYtpqyPx2voxVElYpZ0DshRG0AN3VE3V2-kyGCpImpZaDU7U/s1600/e6517110f7429d306167909d2cc4f12e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="1225" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3l6oOxm_Q26KBrBF1WnoR656xHBlgg868CWnKXxGZ6c0yeP5sEzMhyPIevGDH3E6cNompTciPyhmUoZNsu9wtW_OfjXtYtpqyPx2voxVElYpZ0DshRG0AN3VE3V2-kyGCpImpZaDU7U/s320/e6517110f7429d306167909d2cc4f12e.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">(Above) Two of the most sought-after ILM Crew items are these brass helmet and the Zippo lighter. I'll have the lighter, should you be feeling generous...</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember
the hopeless actress Neville Sinclair expresses his frustration
with?; that’s Lisa Pedersen, Director Joe Johnston’s wife. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z0K8WkiC-LcoEMeAYtCn1mgslv_s3A9tmGY4q2dL6yoIVdAxMKNEns7xDjcwxdKhafratPdBj89OcUWuetVW1bgirFFgglENZHU9_t-RNeCpDY-2cAHRC_IgB0lbFthtF3vB8NQyPVs/s1600/2014120900001337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="800" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z0K8WkiC-LcoEMeAYtCn1mgslv_s3A9tmGY4q2dL6yoIVdAxMKNEns7xDjcwxdKhafratPdBj89OcUWuetVW1bgirFFgglENZHU9_t-RNeCpDY-2cAHRC_IgB0lbFthtF3vB8NQyPVs/s320/2014120900001337.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: blue;">Timothy Dalton exploding; the effects team blew him up for real, but weren't happy with the effect, so they cloned him for this effort. I really must apologise...</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
hope you all enjoyed the Zeppelin explosion; that effect alone cost
$400,000 to make. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6TWLVDFq1BFPMrY7r-qfEi2Cvl2t8Q3CFS90fRR6Cb_73N8e3_Ta51Ha-8SIXeUOi6w7uABHTQnqnabEdhNw6mlgMVI9pLZVNfvz7Uz7SFNhoeO2pq9z4B5l89M_xqlRQb6IebyT5Y88/s1600/ILM+zeppelins+MICHAEL+FULMER+1944+to+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="1500" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6TWLVDFq1BFPMrY7r-qfEi2Cvl2t8Q3CFS90fRR6Cb_73N8e3_Ta51Ha-8SIXeUOi6w7uABHTQnqnabEdhNw6mlgMVI9pLZVNfvz7Uz7SFNhoeO2pq9z4B5l89M_xqlRQb6IebyT5Y88/s320/ILM+zeppelins+MICHAEL+FULMER+1944+to+2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">ILM Production models made by the late, great Michael Fulmer (1944-2016)</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">For
a look at a (Low Definition copy of) an original Documentary,
‘Excitement in the Air’ featuring behind the scenes glimpses and
presented by Bill Campbell, click here;
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAHJH7nGn2E">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAHJH7nGn2E</a></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DwouI3iUDLVXgNQSr9owiKvnvY40BesjNhRb4EOHwW7IOt6Hi5r_ZEY414xr1Gos3sGF0pvGKi17QU1Hbl4JkXzNuXn-7Iyn3Z-OvAGh3WZzcxGy8TL7A3q-x6AouXRGJS8souU9AXg/s1600/eyth+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="777" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DwouI3iUDLVXgNQSr9owiKvnvY40BesjNhRb4EOHwW7IOt6Hi5r_ZEY414xr1Gos3sGF0pvGKi17QU1Hbl4JkXzNuXn-7Iyn3Z-OvAGh3WZzcxGy8TL7A3q-x6AouXRGJS8souU9AXg/s320/eyth+a.jpg" width="248" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">(Above, Below) Edward Eyth's original production designs for the Rocket-Pack.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZ1xlI9yIJ8USIC8O6rYbYfXlLvalYN-s5IIMppb_FBnZpMYhyGPneMvWXRykXjEGxTo82lJUbNYWPB8wp_YuZqcrfnDkPvkrePc_BGCTaKFrEk067T7BAigeC091-lu2hBBASE0E_mg/s1600/eyth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1099" data-original-width="1500" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZ1xlI9yIJ8USIC8O6rYbYfXlLvalYN-s5IIMppb_FBnZpMYhyGPneMvWXRykXjEGxTo82lJUbNYWPB8wp_YuZqcrfnDkPvkrePc_BGCTaKFrEk067T7BAigeC091-lu2hBBASE0E_mg/s320/eyth.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4TGhv5bMCSDtW9w5HyMqGUj0i2MHQHWAeXJpzdzGjXDRsYrrQQRop_0UP2UabfqqSXFGrw-gqgJVegabSCw1x1TI7PVOSlWksJ2JVo0vK37nYQSkl1Be1PEuPwAU_PBTM1kgst1uEkk/s1600/KFNueuE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="852" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4TGhv5bMCSDtW9w5HyMqGUj0i2MHQHWAeXJpzdzGjXDRsYrrQQRop_0UP2UabfqqSXFGrw-gqgJVegabSCw1x1TI7PVOSlWksJ2JVo0vK37nYQSkl1Be1PEuPwAU_PBTM1kgst1uEkk/s320/KFNueuE.jpg" width="254" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLQDk9_8Fwz-LYZWoopbJNyvdzpfpILP2YSUGJU4EM9Ajf12zTGXYP_wuPN2ui_zpfGGNhyt9nZqsOB1h1DBuCgMqYjwKGb4-Vtr-EYtMZ9nYJfHMUMSrw_xM9J8wpaexDNSjzoXrI6A/s1600/rocket_pack_1_by_eyth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLQDk9_8Fwz-LYZWoopbJNyvdzpfpILP2YSUGJU4EM9Ajf12zTGXYP_wuPN2ui_zpfGGNhyt9nZqsOB1h1DBuCgMqYjwKGb4-Vtr-EYtMZ9nYJfHMUMSrw_xM9J8wpaexDNSjzoXrI6A/s320/rocket_pack_1_by_eyth.jpg" width="280" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoap-0B3ZUOk435Q699C8oF0nl588fl138nVsx6b45rS0lIMfsyHXeBbIoleIAUmS2mXBNWt0oIIIztfxQC83227A_x8R7ukJbCiUeJd6v7PtAgZHIKQhxiz16lqNUYi8tsJBW4H4JZA/s1600/rocket_pack_final_by_eyth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoap-0B3ZUOk435Q699C8oF0nl588fl138nVsx6b45rS0lIMfsyHXeBbIoleIAUmS2mXBNWt0oIIIztfxQC83227A_x8R7ukJbCiUeJd6v7PtAgZHIKQhxiz16lqNUYi8tsJBW4H4JZA/s320/rocket_pack_final_by_eyth.jpg" width="235" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6J3d77ZWJXmE39vob8yrnMrLgj0fBTwr5Tx-jn9-Vs0GDjfyDB0DvgrrcEHeXPMUL8vJ6Vdg7Etv9A3fRrekbePyhRj14-cuKS-RVRoyG15xJt8vbGd-wp83H8-KDjOipluhBfXN58x0/s1600/rocket_pack_flame_concept_by_Edward+Eyth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="1280" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6J3d77ZWJXmE39vob8yrnMrLgj0fBTwr5Tx-jn9-Vs0GDjfyDB0DvgrrcEHeXPMUL8vJ6Vdg7Etv9A3fRrekbePyhRj14-cuKS-RVRoyG15xJt8vbGd-wp83H8-KDjOipluhBfXN58x0/s320/rocket_pack_flame_concept_by_Edward+Eyth.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the graphic novel, Secord’s girlfriend is ‘Betty Page’, a
dead-ringer for Bettie Page, the pin-up, glamour and bondage model.
After learning Ms. Page was retired and living near to him, Dave
Stevens befriended her and helped her secure royalties she was due
for the use of her image. Apparently, she was bewildered to discover
how famous she had become. Naturally, Disney got cold-feet about a
sexy character, so substituted her for an aspiring actress. Inspired,
eh?.</span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizL-obGrT-GsvMW64oojCk4xoxJsF5gPg9i4bSI4nJGQMHbnOg2ioulURYIzMvqxgaZs01p9PB8wCPECP9TDSyFMXqF_SUHJIP8L2OETI72JGRI_1jo5VAUWCVvr71M0cx-bfxK3sASpQ/s1600/rocketeer01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizL-obGrT-GsvMW64oojCk4xoxJsF5gPg9i4bSI4nJGQMHbnOg2ioulURYIzMvqxgaZs01p9PB8wCPECP9TDSyFMXqF_SUHJIP8L2OETI72JGRI_1jo5VAUWCVvr71M0cx-bfxK3sASpQ/s320/rocketeer01.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Although
Disney raised the budget during production, some economies still had
to be made; including the scene set at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
The replica at </span>Disney-MGM Studios Theme Park was to stand in
for the original, with a two-day shoot planned. The idea was, Bette
Davis would be making imprints of her hands in the concrete when the
passing Cliff spots a man falling from the top of the building,
swoops to save him and ends up leaving an impression of both his
boots and rocket blast in the wet cement. Interestingly – or not –
at Disney’s replica theatre, the boots and blast imprint is clearly
visible along with <i>6-21-91</i> - the release date for the film.
Part of the scene survives, as Cliff flies past Grauman’s you can
see the Premiere of a Davis film being held.</span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2pQ1OcAw65cYRYvQtyCtf_3qZc68VKdAVYmR7YITyIN4Q7U7rmXw3GZbygBlpABB4do4icnimlnVy5WL6Bhyphenhypheni4sAKrT1VENutNzkkyDx0gHo2ellWidEAuIT35OVKkMCHjq-ohbgMwk/s1600/2017-disney-302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="791" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2pQ1OcAw65cYRYvQtyCtf_3qZc68VKdAVYmR7YITyIN4Q7U7rmXw3GZbygBlpABB4do4icnimlnVy5WL6Bhyphenhypheni4sAKrT1VENutNzkkyDx0gHo2ellWidEAuIT35OVKkMCHjq-ohbgMwk/s320/2017-disney-302.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">For one year (1991) there was a real-life Rocketeer display at Disney's HollyWood Studios, Walt Disney World. Below is a photograph of the stuntman, flying with what looks like a Bell Jet-Belt, as seen in the 1966 James Bond film <i>Thunderball.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoo0gnIwfERDFVKrBYoNdV42OuULrxKm9Ahi8J47w0STe5eu9GycUrCzBJJ876dsV5lsTsYKJmlvVSDDBXZebZnhEx0MJCArM1A0GN9PI_tIvK7H6oz8II5nW_fOSX4LcoVf_tQAfjRSE/s1600/RTM423LARGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1395" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoo0gnIwfERDFVKrBYoNdV42OuULrxKm9Ahi8J47w0STe5eu9GycUrCzBJJ876dsV5lsTsYKJmlvVSDDBXZebZnhEx0MJCArM1A0GN9PI_tIvK7H6oz8II5nW_fOSX4LcoVf_tQAfjRSE/s320/RTM423LARGE.jpg" width="206" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Speaking of Disney, the following shots show the Rocketeer prop display from the early nineties. Intriguingly, some props are still on show at various Disney attractions.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyRNH4xSa7sPQpyGGH0rj8QHDVfAhRO7Ji2zy8exIEli-wj4bxJaW88i55x92VCJ__hEgVhQsWZBpkBkB8xDCktj0f8KTsiCSgoRCc3065rSC-d-T_St9bm4d6HzE3HqFk-uAG8f_ipY/s1600/DISNEY+MGM+1991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="800" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyRNH4xSa7sPQpyGGH0rj8QHDVfAhRO7Ji2zy8exIEli-wj4bxJaW88i55x92VCJ__hEgVhQsWZBpkBkB8xDCktj0f8KTsiCSgoRCc3065rSC-d-T_St9bm4d6HzE3HqFk-uAG8f_ipY/s320/DISNEY+MGM+1991.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSS27WPUfPPn0BCtn-zy5OyOqUJaoEWbfDkIR9p0ZYa_nqIpAIjclAmZ5f9Zu_affUTVbrII5xT_e2hsqhZQ1Y_MhdUvkWfquWj6hMiB60eQ0SKj3CFg9OQbb2XX8jcKnUZhpiKOIkfk/s1600/mgm+disney+tour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1024" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSS27WPUfPPn0BCtn-zy5OyOqUJaoEWbfDkIR9p0ZYa_nqIpAIjclAmZ5f9Zu_affUTVbrII5xT_e2hsqhZQ1Y_MhdUvkWfquWj6hMiB60eQ0SKj3CFg9OQbb2XX8jcKnUZhpiKOIkfk/s320/mgm+disney+tour.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-SFE-uWklWK78xjyrmp2EghiiSsx5Ypny3h2wv4mlpQ4IxLBfoQmFjeRE5gX6En-DTy0j_GMs0UWeMdyoG_XEegFqK1KOoaL3N8Miwkzt2SYiYyTuHDswGtTiJ7FEqUxNboKtSdoUsw/s1600/orlando+mgm+disney+1992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="618" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-SFE-uWklWK78xjyrmp2EghiiSsx5Ypny3h2wv4mlpQ4IxLBfoQmFjeRE5gX6En-DTy0j_GMs0UWeMdyoG_XEegFqK1KOoaL3N8Miwkzt2SYiYyTuHDswGtTiJ7FEqUxNboKtSdoUsw/s320/orlando+mgm+disney+1992.jpg" width="193" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
The Rocketeer falls from Malcolm’s borrowed plane, frame-by-frame
examination shows a hint of the parachute rig installed beneath the
mock-up rocket-pack. Stuntmen take extraordinary risks for their
trade – and this is one example. </span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVZf6Gu4-Bf2XbNQJehOBxINrQ8tLxRdRHlq4G1IN2LLzQ8tkN_JGTnK2mNleeb3SL3ohTHHnQ4WSCWLmayVTW_5LhoNXUh_SwVeK1awNbIgCATihOxZOLBMYKNhxC_TCdrMvv3J1uIk/s1600/rock_rocketmanposter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1008" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVZf6Gu4-Bf2XbNQJehOBxINrQ8tLxRdRHlq4G1IN2LLzQ8tkN_JGTnK2mNleeb3SL3ohTHHnQ4WSCWLmayVTW_5LhoNXUh_SwVeK1awNbIgCATihOxZOLBMYKNhxC_TCdrMvv3J1uIk/s320/rock_rocketmanposter.jpeg" width="201" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">The Rocketeer is, in part, a homage to the Movie Serials of the Golden Age, such as <i>King of the Rocket Men </i>(Republic, 1949)</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not
sure about this one, but when the clapperboard is used for ‘The
Laughing Bandit’, the names Berg and Carlson are seen for Director
and Cameraman. The Set Designer for <i>The Rocketeer </i>was John
Berger, so this might be an in-joke. As for Carlson?; you tell me. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLC7I1LVPaAWlz2YsffDzpjTpL0WBIpleFLuq3JvMiF6dAJU_d4bEfrg_v8EldimYa-buUp0kRxjp1bT_unfmr1uSvaae7fDLM3Kfw0ztzdGlcErEAWyfv251bYAEC-ZSWZF84rxUjFII/s1600/SANTA+MARIA+MUSEUM+OF+FLIGHT.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLC7I1LVPaAWlz2YsffDzpjTpL0WBIpleFLuq3JvMiF6dAJU_d4bEfrg_v8EldimYa-buUp0kRxjp1bT_unfmr1uSvaae7fDLM3Kfw0ztzdGlcErEAWyfv251bYAEC-ZSWZF84rxUjFII/s320/SANTA+MARIA+MUSEUM+OF+FLIGHT.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The air-show scenes were shot at Santa Maria Airport, California; the Bigelow hangar is still on display there, albeit in a new location and heavily-restored (Termite damage, no less)</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Want
to see some of the movie props?; me too – this video is from a 1991
tour of the Disney/MGM Studios. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PH9rdZQsVU8"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PH9rdZQsVU8</span></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Gee Bee racer seen in the film is a </span><span style="font-style: normal;">replica
of a</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> real aircraft from 1931;
notorious for being hard to handle, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">it
killed it’s pilot in a crash.</span></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FTY5cQFezeIQVpHLV3sQXts1fc7d4YFBKLcsfCmTTQ3LOKCo3RTRSq-NagzzS-w20_TrI37WNvCiqI8T06Z2_FqvlPOc7lug3Xqn3lQpEFaUMi_xIDTWcgJM5UWzUxNKgUhCH9c8Wqo/s1600/Rocketeer+%2528Mark+Sullivan%2529+DSC09453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FTY5cQFezeIQVpHLV3sQXts1fc7d4YFBKLcsfCmTTQ3LOKCo3RTRSq-NagzzS-w20_TrI37WNvCiqI8T06Z2_FqvlPOc7lug3Xqn3lQpEFaUMi_xIDTWcgJM5UWzUxNKgUhCH9c8Wqo/s320/Rocketeer+%2528Mark+Sullivan%2529+DSC09453.JPG" width="294" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">(Above) Mark Sullivan created the Matte Paintings for the film, one of the last great shouts for a dying art. Below is one example of his photo-realistic work. Have fun spotting the rest!.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ltcmYY3jcSQR4ZJR53CMKxZ2uoHlRID7ykSZdiXPKxrhidtLbP1GgXFvxIJiLs0WFCyvVu_yIl7rUaGJ-NHTG_U_M13k951KoCWuiwyVIrx0GGnwa-xZ0Rzsm_XcU47Q5VVwy9l6uMY/s1600/ROCKETEER_Overhead.2K..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1014" data-original-width="1600" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ltcmYY3jcSQR4ZJR53CMKxZ2uoHlRID7ykSZdiXPKxrhidtLbP1GgXFvxIJiLs0WFCyvVu_yIl7rUaGJ-NHTG_U_M13k951KoCWuiwyVIrx0GGnwa-xZ0Rzsm_XcU47Q5VVwy9l6uMY/s320/ROCKETEER_Overhead.2K..jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Johnny
Depp was Disney’s first choice for the role of Cliff Secord. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja07tBt_ZcHNW2jjpsO_tQl_yHokMPkTD-kH6T7FEW6wz3f-fJ56bg4Ufk4bWpT_UfPosXVqTfeR6paLPFvwE90rNYuNrLj5jNZq4xTiP7ZMc1Mk68wTK-Kgoc1pB_klpPB-05Ox90H7g/s1600/jhgfd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="949" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja07tBt_ZcHNW2jjpsO_tQl_yHokMPkTD-kH6T7FEW6wz3f-fJ56bg4Ufk4bWpT_UfPosXVqTfeR6paLPFvwE90rNYuNrLj5jNZq4xTiP7ZMc1Mk68wTK-Kgoc1pB_klpPB-05Ox90H7g/s320/jhgfd.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Sheet from the Press Pack</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Secord grabs the model aircraft to glide down to safety, Howard
Hughes comments that it will fly. This is a reference to Hughes’
legendary aircraft the Hughes H-4 Hercules, popularly known as the
‘Spruce Goose’. The largest aircraft made at the time (Made after
the film’s 1938 setting), the H-4 only ever flew once, in 1947.
There had been increasing speculation in the press that it would not
be able to fly, but Hughes himself flew the aircraft for about a
mile, reaching a height of just 70 feet during a taxi run. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzcb070ns7q8wJloA_UDgJzqfndpwlGydcMEuPIWZVsWQ6sPdkxGImMC-JPPsbNvkEenOp90nU7ELCls97LelyspA8lXOsSncdBWlU2dX42YMNLkCeauG-Kub9qcL13rOWyDug8QL6PU/s1600/http+_a.amz.mshcdn.com_wp-content_uploads_2015_08_sprucegoose-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1331" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzcb070ns7q8wJloA_UDgJzqfndpwlGydcMEuPIWZVsWQ6sPdkxGImMC-JPPsbNvkEenOp90nU7ELCls97LelyspA8lXOsSncdBWlU2dX42YMNLkCeauG-Kub9qcL13rOWyDug8QL6PU/s320/http+_a.amz.mshcdn.com_wp-content_uploads_2015_08_sprucegoose-17.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">The
‘Spruce Goose’</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
‘Lucky gum’ Cliff chews is Beemans, known as the brand favoured
by Aviators of the time. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2A6ZAuqciwgSkQRfl5ILQuumln3hPseSmSPjGNNDDnRzXmgutZNNvfHhxoKnhzVR0nzbm4ot0KLNNwPHbd_CCcOsUQwo2iYSsCg_8-J6k7Wbb6NU3uesGd1zSpYH_U_Q_lhxFlIrmTX8/s1600/1765c4e43e864eda627870739c9d8dab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="500" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2A6ZAuqciwgSkQRfl5ILQuumln3hPseSmSPjGNNDDnRzXmgutZNNvfHhxoKnhzVR0nzbm4ot0KLNNwPHbd_CCcOsUQwo2iYSsCg_8-J6k7Wbb6NU3uesGd1zSpYH_U_Q_lhxFlIrmTX8/s320/1765c4e43e864eda627870739c9d8dab.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Neville
Sinclair’s house is a recreation of the famous Ennis house, built
in 1924 by Frank Lloyd Wright. If the house seems familiar, it’s
because it featured briefly as the exterior of Deckard’s apartment
in <i>Blade Runner</i> and the distinctive tiles were replicated for
<i>Predator 2 </i>and<i> Mulholland Drive.</i></span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIz_pHqzjmCXQkRzP9hz7SDZJBqTtFuDe-3Qw4hO6CHkh49GWmIR-IMH-SxuWduMgHDcnWjXhLEuQnmRpoxf8kacI2H83RMyaBTIOdF0KMfpSo-kCUwBOX8jWevNeL9QU9CsWZukmnafo/s1600/1E2P6618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIz_pHqzjmCXQkRzP9hz7SDZJBqTtFuDe-3Qw4hO6CHkh49GWmIR-IMH-SxuWduMgHDcnWjXhLEuQnmRpoxf8kacI2H83RMyaBTIOdF0KMfpSo-kCUwBOX8jWevNeL9QU9CsWZukmnafo/s320/1E2P6618.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Above, Below; the Ennis House.</span></span></b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9I8cuy6rKj_tasQgB321-KGihG300ulhyphenhyphen5scy1Udqqz5yUehakbe_9n5gOX0dFnkRDb6BjC8P5E0szVR5-lSEv7mnryz_qdNXz-xMmic7_B8maKvgxNsgb9MPHAe30lbQp2Lb69bYFc8/s1600/1E2P6662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9I8cuy6rKj_tasQgB321-KGihG300ulhyphenhyphen5scy1Udqqz5yUehakbe_9n5gOX0dFnkRDb6BjC8P5E0szVR5-lSEv7mnryz_qdNXz-xMmic7_B8maKvgxNsgb9MPHAe30lbQp2Lb69bYFc8/s320/1E2P6662.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9Taf20u_ycJuG6OY7MhJ-nhK9NdjurDeIFwtqGVTfHJ2i0jEWyjwsOrDsvC2wjEgmG2Cme10OhPNjxW1MBpqxJMaKtMqt1kMAYoKs0hor0pL8vxPZ13u5vFrWeHkUi5ygaT_BmiGtnQ/s1600/ennis_house_580672007794c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1140" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9Taf20u_ycJuG6OY7MhJ-nhK9NdjurDeIFwtqGVTfHJ2i0jEWyjwsOrDsvC2wjEgmG2Cme10OhPNjxW1MBpqxJMaKtMqt1kMAYoKs0hor0pL8vxPZ13u5vFrWeHkUi5ygaT_BmiGtnQ/s320/ennis_house_580672007794c.jpg" width="228" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hit
‘pause’ as the Gee Bee brushes by the billboard for ‘Wings of
Honor’ just after Cliff’s plane is shot by the mobster; the movie
stars Neville Sinclair (You wouldn’t know it from the illustration)
and is produced by Lawrence Franco while Vilmar Fidgge directs. Larry
Franco is an Executive Producer on <i>The Rocketeer</i>, while his
son Matt – more famous as a Professional Baseball player, did some
stunt-work on the picture. Vilmar Fidgge?; not a Scooby, but some
anagrams (Hey, we all get bored) are; Grave Dig Film, Gag Driver Film
and Film Gig Raved. Yeah, I was hoping for ‘Neville Sinclair’s
the Baddie!’, but it didn’t turn out that way...</span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyS-2FsjOacbNQmKKHKyQj_SuLKaVT_q4aA6HqdK6iM0E7IbyVCUk5bpuOGMzJcJDcoGfHYBHxYKrc77GAmY6V7D9qsOtalVN2zQAJcR__RIkpepAvikOTHPrHTLFD7gukCIjtBXcRvqY/s1600/Image0052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyS-2FsjOacbNQmKKHKyQj_SuLKaVT_q4aA6HqdK6iM0E7IbyVCUk5bpuOGMzJcJDcoGfHYBHxYKrc77GAmY6V7D9qsOtalVN2zQAJcR__RIkpepAvikOTHPrHTLFD7gukCIjtBXcRvqY/s320/Image0052.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
get the shots of Cliff in the air, a replica cockpit was built in the
rear seat of a biplane, plus part of the Gee Bee mockup was suspended
beneath a helicopter. So I’m told.</span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgDFB8vJKumcxisQGSqrH8Zoz2M89OeOEXaYAclcVj12MNgVy6E1-DeojvBX8YKFYEiXdHrV38eWnTXzoeI2tfCHZj2zcBo0t26eXDEU5t74E2E4K8pTjO_xbDMDstpRPP783yByxfos/s1600/F8E214F03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1149" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgDFB8vJKumcxisQGSqrH8Zoz2M89OeOEXaYAclcVj12MNgVy6E1-DeojvBX8YKFYEiXdHrV38eWnTXzoeI2tfCHZj2zcBo0t26eXDEU5t74E2E4K8pTjO_xbDMDstpRPP783yByxfos/s320/F8E214F03.jpg" width="229" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Behind the scenes shot of the scene at Sinclair's house</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
The Rocketeer flies for the first time, just after he tears away the
sheet from the washing-line, two ‘Good Old Boys’ are seen
marvelling at the ‘Big gopher’. The one on the right is <span style="font-weight: normal;">‘Tiny’
Ron Taylor, </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lothar out of
make-up.</span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF9oIYkfsfVCNxfodOGcFrxd-kdwi-intZu0DmYYW_JBBZySKux1F1bvcsjaAjgFKq5TQS74cIvHFomVbXnap-pPZcc_TQ6aW5X24vqCoV-ClCzQZJ2RuKwDQ-oaAhdSKMQgBxiNliHk/s1600/Image0391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF9oIYkfsfVCNxfodOGcFrxd-kdwi-intZu0DmYYW_JBBZySKux1F1bvcsjaAjgFKq5TQS74cIvHFomVbXnap-pPZcc_TQ6aW5X24vqCoV-ClCzQZJ2RuKwDQ-oaAhdSKMQgBxiNliHk/s320/Image0391.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Sinclair wishes Eddie Valentine a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. This
is a tongue-in-zer-cheek reference to the notorious Valentine’s Day
Massacre in which seven Gangsters were killed in Chicago in 1929. It
is suspected a gang working under Al Capone lined up the mobsters and
murdered them with Tommy gun fire. </span></span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkFFxxdjrDN5iWmz2XniNqld-JOvVDmWF1zrowFA_sFjnD9uzygoGGrx1rhVB_JrG7Gg2Qfc0wrvcpU4k5LyT9xGmnHzogHnXNQvVZswpOdPsl-Ftc_LqywS_zUSquwhBliGEuaiVVlI/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkFFxxdjrDN5iWmz2XniNqld-JOvVDmWF1zrowFA_sFjnD9uzygoGGrx1rhVB_JrG7Gg2Qfc0wrvcpU4k5LyT9xGmnHzogHnXNQvVZswpOdPsl-Ftc_LqywS_zUSquwhBliGEuaiVVlI/s1600/index.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Above, below; Merchandise and tie-ins are relatively sparse, video games, flying glider toys among the few.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSSC7oA7Wk4lhMrhpvIvakJ8OI_ViLmYbBxFmJG_8WSPIFK-U2MRbc6_t9ePxe6ND4yXRS4FBqVs7Y5KVvTtaq4xypY9axm8Z_I7lUQrXlvpB31LMPt_OcTMCQeYrNFLIMbLwLtsNP9U/s1600/Rocketeer_Pizza_Hut_Box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1046" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSSC7oA7Wk4lhMrhpvIvakJ8OI_ViLmYbBxFmJG_8WSPIFK-U2MRbc6_t9ePxe6ND4yXRS4FBqVs7Y5KVvTtaq4xypY9axm8Z_I7lUQrXlvpB31LMPt_OcTMCQeYrNFLIMbLwLtsNP9U/s320/Rocketeer_Pizza_Hut_Box.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Neville
Sinclair comments that he’ll miss Hollywood; he’s right - as he
then crashes into the ‘LAND’ part that was then part of the
Hollywood sign. (In real-life it was originally a promotion for a
real-estate company, but the ‘LAND’ section was removed </span><span style="font-style: normal;">in
1949</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> to reflect the growing
status of Hollywood as an icon of the movie industry.)</span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBOA31TJlSLdaPlpQbmnxEv4KFL9u0mhQX-eryTp0ecsAFfJ0IwFCJc2mD0DkaofN4LK-7mvmrBKB7vSYjtg2y8sRK4a9rH016cUXxCI-FWGjW7joLIix9FmYGzeIbcN0m-BMRbkKVbI/s1600/MISTAKES.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1001" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBOA31TJlSLdaPlpQbmnxEv4KFL9u0mhQX-eryTp0ecsAFfJ0IwFCJc2mD0DkaofN4LK-7mvmrBKB7vSYjtg2y8sRK4a9rH016cUXxCI-FWGjW7joLIix9FmYGzeIbcN0m-BMRbkKVbI/s320/MISTAKES.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">‘<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: small;">Deutschmarks’
weren’t introduced until the late forties.</span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even
though it’s made clear the Rocket-pack is steered by the rudder on
the Pilot’s helmet, we see Cliff turn his head with no effect on
flight.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Cliff first dons the iconic helmet to become The Rocketeer, his
chin-strap does itself up between shots. This isn’t actually a goof
– rather testament to Peevy’s incredible 1938-era engineering
skills. 2018 now and I still have do buckle my own car seat. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Watch
the Gee Bee crash closely; you can see the cable towing it in one or
two frames. Just about. During filming, this snapped and narrowly
missed removing a leg from Alan Arkin, who felt it hit the back of
his knee.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">More
noticeable, perhaps, is the joystick of the original yellow Gee Bee,
which changes color from red to yellow for some reason. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not
really a goof, more visible equipment - but as Cliff presses the
button just after he and Peevy discover the rocket, the cable used to
pull the pack upwards is clearly visible for an instant. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin46DZZLqN4LZHXtvT7gKUBpLtKBpv9MlDefxvQh1fqJgB1nBQw6P3vNAiXFJ-vhcDblGi_M5KUbD8VzxMbUm2AUNUVIlfNwqJBE1WLzSilKjYmqptOdOYFN-GWxhy6xVks7O5YWp_zro/s1600/Image0124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin46DZZLqN4LZHXtvT7gKUBpLtKBpv9MlDefxvQh1fqJgB1nBQw6P3vNAiXFJ-vhcDblGi_M5KUbD8VzxMbUm2AUNUVIlfNwqJBE1WLzSilKjYmqptOdOYFN-GWxhy6xVks7O5YWp_zro/s320/Image0124.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Zeppelin seen in the news-reel is clearly a real one and not the
fictional ‘Luxembourg’; both the Olympic rings visible on the
skin and the designation D-L Z-129 clearly show this to be the
‘Hindenburg.’ </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">After
the Gee Bee crashes, a furious Peevy tells the G-men they spent three
years of their lives building that plane. Perhaps they developed and
modified it, because it clearly shows on the aircraft itself it was
made by the Granville Brothers of Massachusetts. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
Cliff is blinded by oil on the windshield of the Gee Bee, he punches
a hole to aid his vision; for a second or so, the pattern is visible
where the windshield was scored or cut to help it break. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUZy0tx_-ACKr4cHWlwb0YubWBpOpiRYx1VMl_DyVUWq45RBUnXaWlxXMbRVLfH_gRio-qY4auow5aqJAvGm6aYQ1aERnxhgJkZ0TUsc2vYBErdToJjlyU-ou7-bZcOOb5ofNGA9Hjc8/s1600/Image0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1520" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUZy0tx_-ACKr4cHWlwb0YubWBpOpiRYx1VMl_DyVUWq45RBUnXaWlxXMbRVLfH_gRio-qY4auow5aqJAvGm6aYQ1aERnxhgJkZ0TUsc2vYBErdToJjlyU-ou7-bZcOOb5ofNGA9Hjc8/s320/Image0050.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
gum travels around the back of the rocket in some scenes.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Watch
the Ice Sculpture scene; the wheels on which it travels can be –
just - glimpsed briefly.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Nazi Storm-troops have MP-40’s – but at the time, they would have
had the MP-38. A small detail, as the MP-38 is less readily-available
these days. Blame the Allies. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Various
people have pointed out that the placement of the rocket-pack nozzles
are wrong; the flier would simply be smashed into the ground
face-first every time. Nor could Cliff have escaped serious injury by
pushing the pick-up; the force required to move a 2 ton vehicle that
quickly would snap the strongest arms. Who cares?. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9gGCmQbOPASEOAicWvbkP5T0lkuzIdeOEe5pWDepZk0_bjSMgj5KBS8_g0GKyoSIhPU85Ycpz4cS05GFLpm1jPhJWcNxKJZAdIZEJmUMrWFAnM2KDhUVx7QjBeL3bRCdbh1ilFrCT20/s1600/485a33cf1edeb666b8db8c258494b393.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9gGCmQbOPASEOAicWvbkP5T0lkuzIdeOEe5pWDepZk0_bjSMgj5KBS8_g0GKyoSIhPU85Ycpz4cS05GFLpm1jPhJWcNxKJZAdIZEJmUMrWFAnM2KDhUVx7QjBeL3bRCdbh1ilFrCT20/s320/485a33cf1edeb666b8db8c258494b393.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Finally, apologies for the formatting errors; these belong to Blogger, not me. If you found it frustrating, imagine a week's work ruined by crappy software.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-50726719307005888812018-07-10T14:13:00.001+00:002018-07-10T14:13:57.182+00:00Important* News *To my accountant. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABrReq-iVsyOAvce2BnyK78OLgqV_Nb98DxwEGuT0XQcP3p_i_WQt24JL95ZHXWA4uUIp6q48WJB7wH6DzrZRmsI_GzQTv5YCIw8JfN5pm8H2aoOfiRcLMOlkjhLwzzKiaflE1dmqUTQ/s1600/PhotoFunia-1531231731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABrReq-iVsyOAvce2BnyK78OLgqV_Nb98DxwEGuT0XQcP3p_i_WQt24JL95ZHXWA4uUIp6q48WJB7wH6DzrZRmsI_GzQTv5YCIw8JfN5pm8H2aoOfiRcLMOlkjhLwzzKiaflE1dmqUTQ/s320/PhotoFunia-1531231731.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
HOWEVER... I've been busy writing my second book and I'm positively virtually thrilled to announce The Absentee Detective will be available from MX Publishing and Amazon.com from October. Ish. You can order a copy from all good bookstores as well as the middling kind. 'But what about the blog?' said none of you... well, I'll be posting as and when time allows, but to keep you ingrates satisfied my review of 'The Rocketeer' (1991) will be published on this very Blog today. Thank You for sticking with me. Unless you didn't, in which case you stank anyway.<br />
</div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-18784732833115771842017-09-22T12:37:00.001+00:002018-12-18T13:21:58.151+00:00WHO KNOWS WHAT EVIL LURKS IN THE HEART OF MEN?... THE SHADOW KNOWS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1PmGBOYMEFgb4qW22dSNSnr2tzITLQQ7OKxVIX-Gte1nXlFc7uXwoMmyLxQuq82SvbBcqfSi3zGnrSRWl0hRVlw_2P6RjXuit8gQSEytttzYOOChQowNGrT81fP9y6G4CP9NQbdBLAw/s1600/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1PmGBOYMEFgb4qW22dSNSnr2tzITLQQ7OKxVIX-Gte1nXlFc7uXwoMmyLxQuq82SvbBcqfSi3zGnrSRWl0hRVlw_2P6RjXuit8gQSEytttzYOOChQowNGrT81fP9y6G4CP9NQbdBLAw/s320/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
opium fields of Tibet, the cutters hard at work slicing the
un-ripened pods to allow the gum to ooze out. A 1936 Buick makes its
way through the dirt road winding between the fields, guards on
horseback keeping a watchful eye on its progress. Ahead, a
fortress-like temple guarded by four stone lions on plinths. Three
men emerge from the rear of the Buick; one, Li Peng is dragged into
the building by the others. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-IxZbuKAhlkDzi3P0YcBNCTyBE8t787C7P5gSpB-amxQtWGEk4EFH24Uskf3okPX3qqZsNhEs320e7Ab1F8_iTzctoRx6xPC0r3GkbCqKJy3vdjOOXFicfWWXXN78NfaQiyIkAIzI88/s1600/vlcsnap-00008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-IxZbuKAhlkDzi3P0YcBNCTyBE8t787C7P5gSpB-amxQtWGEk4EFH24Uskf3okPX3qqZsNhEs320e7Ab1F8_iTzctoRx6xPC0r3GkbCqKJy3vdjOOXFicfWWXXN78NfaQiyIkAIzI88/s320/vlcsnap-00008.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">They take him into a large chamber in
which a multitude of people, both occidental and oriental lounge
around, smoking opium. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlbccgeYXt-RxtypATBKNqIb3ti3gtCEHwcLrsron1I74CwqJyScGeRf8x-ydCHwGzBI4vazJ1OFC5BbYMwQuBGk1eY35w1B8VtnmWfltEiwFyUTl7-StuT-igc1UKv9RuimlTW4LwEE/s1600/vlcsnap-00010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlbccgeYXt-RxtypATBKNqIb3ti3gtCEHwcLrsron1I74CwqJyScGeRf8x-ydCHwGzBI4vazJ1OFC5BbYMwQuBGk1eY35w1B8VtnmWfltEiwFyUTl7-StuT-igc1UKv9RuimlTW4LwEE/s320/vlcsnap-00010.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbPoqJj-o72V1FJEld578Ii8Yg-c4aJcyfWkrgny8Ix8SkTRN61Ej6gAjP8iU6sv_JHCSTI-twCCuysZJ5KSAcB3o-ZSaJyBkp7WiKOnCpGIl2_gali6OeRN3mm_yyFPVmkHzc2s30FM/s1600/vlcsnap-00011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFbPoqJj-o72V1FJEld578Ii8Yg-c4aJcyfWkrgny8Ix8SkTRN61Ej6gAjP8iU6sv_JHCSTI-twCCuysZJ5KSAcB3o-ZSaJyBkp7WiKOnCpGIl2_gali6OeRN3mm_yyFPVmkHzc2s30FM/s320/vlcsnap-00011.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The man looks around, his gaze settling on the
shadowy occidental figure seated behind an imposing table, smoking. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGZhZZXMCc6PMRjXdDld2glN5KQ6dmgoaJJkovLPGAHp1Je86RAey5OLG6v7pEDhfn4NNZ-CxVgJNCJtpfJbpgk4fHtD94ywSZ6vMaKBFnoux9p7cGJp7hjLXwXEQ5lP1Pmz4Vik2jV0/s1600/vlcsnap-00018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGZhZZXMCc6PMRjXdDld2glN5KQ6dmgoaJJkovLPGAHp1Je86RAey5OLG6v7pEDhfn4NNZ-CxVgJNCJtpfJbpgk4fHtD94ywSZ6vMaKBFnoux9p7cGJp7hjLXwXEQ5lP1Pmz4Vik2jV0/s320/vlcsnap-00018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Wu,
an oriental man bearing a book of some description comes up, accusing
the newcomer and his brothers of murdering three of their men.
Gesturing towards the smoking man; Li Peng insists he would have done
the same too. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHrz-iPMvKZNH2BuXw2BnvpNNgy4M2ENFDpUR9pqFNRr_Ff3VMizroedpQDs5MIlL_JZcLqQhRPkL8YpFHAUHF964nnbClzWwXzkXCDwFbVMHJy6654OTKvrV0SpGImXohcHfEZII3vM/s1600/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHrz-iPMvKZNH2BuXw2BnvpNNgy4M2ENFDpUR9pqFNRr_Ff3VMizroedpQDs5MIlL_JZcLqQhRPkL8YpFHAUHF964nnbClzWwXzkXCDwFbVMHJy6654OTKvrV0SpGImXohcHfEZII3vM/s320/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Send three more, he says and they will die too. His
tone suggests his defiance is losing to his fear. As the seated man's
long-nailed fingers select a scrap of meat for his favourite dog, Li
Peng continues his defence – that he already controls the opium
trade across Asia... may no-one prosper, but Ying Ko?. His fields are
tiny by comparison!. Gathering all his courage, Li Peng points a
finger of accusation at Ying Ko directly – if he kills him, he
promises his brothers will avenge his death. Leaning forward, the
seated Ying Ko makes him a promise by way of return; he will bury
them beside him. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiX7sHwTcR7_S8NHrgBdywkqbQUcow9rA0ohZIu2O0d4NofcvEOJgV9xfNPmO6_yOqkA-1uGVdQCOAqKDvj691N4jxPjdBoyYIjqOqg2gInWED4EDiU2Gkl1VcvfCCqdHUCYHLoVYSp30/s1600/vlcsnap-00020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiX7sHwTcR7_S8NHrgBdywkqbQUcow9rA0ohZIu2O0d4NofcvEOJgV9xfNPmO6_yOqkA-1uGVdQCOAqKDvj691N4jxPjdBoyYIjqOqg2gInWED4EDiU2Gkl1VcvfCCqdHUCYHLoVYSp30/s320/vlcsnap-00020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">'Kill
him.' At Ying Ko's command, his men move to carry it out, but a
desperate Li Peng strikes out, snatching the dagger from his would-be
assassin and taking Wu hostage. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSClExBwEPKdr8WsIPW3yhcUAupI5MQZHf8Xo_texvRkuCMw7zcwqKD-65wBD66cLDXGABZmQYL-6udNkQKCK2OBw2ZO5wV8iT-I8PreMgPUxBQzmjl_4MJbepW-EUQduUwJsYceIYGI/s1600/vlcsnap-00021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSClExBwEPKdr8WsIPW3yhcUAupI5MQZHf8Xo_texvRkuCMw7zcwqKD-65wBD66cLDXGABZmQYL-6udNkQKCK2OBw2ZO5wV8iT-I8PreMgPUxBQzmjl_4MJbepW-EUQduUwJsYceIYGI/s320/vlcsnap-00021.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Ying Ko's bodyguards draw their heavy
Webleys, their boss striding out from behind his desk menacingly. Li
Peng threatens to cut Wu's throat, warning Ying Ko's bodyguards
aren't marksman enough to shoot around his hostage. Suddenly
conciliatory, Ying Ko raises his hands in a gesture of supplication;
Li Peng is right – Wu is a wonderful friend, like a father to
him... turning away, he orders his men to shoot through him. The .455
Webley rounds tear through the hapless Wu, killing him and Li Peng
instantly, Ying Ko making a joke in Tibetan, much to the amusement of
the assemblage.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kJYIqHopwL0LA3EnDYmL0nqQPxOMIN4cfgLYeqChdnM9gDDrzN1KIhvXnksCADg3NKc5EBskPucwlNpEbpQrHLS3upDFBAJvXr7v7LEvITQqy3VtmDLFFBIK75nAtFPmUY2DACvYtBc/s1600/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kJYIqHopwL0LA3EnDYmL0nqQPxOMIN4cfgLYeqChdnM9gDDrzN1KIhvXnksCADg3NKc5EBskPucwlNpEbpQrHLS3upDFBAJvXr7v7LEvITQqy3VtmDLFFBIK75nAtFPmUY2DACvYtBc/s320/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qo744mjiSZI_cvWacd6RYTiYLyg7Z_TkQyJ4kNr7fy3Mv_i9odwfGOvQOdXNvCMUP3LJGIOsh8Q58NriOeMnp-fCFrszvmnbjNRsHZtpYXyebKeueSM88mKg3F_1kgYRP9pg9aA8zJ8/s1600/vlcsnap-00025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qo744mjiSZI_cvWacd6RYTiYLyg7Z_TkQyJ4kNr7fy3Mv_i9odwfGOvQOdXNvCMUP3LJGIOsh8Q58NriOeMnp-fCFrszvmnbjNRsHZtpYXyebKeueSM88mKg3F_1kgYRP9pg9aA8zJ8/s320/vlcsnap-00025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">That
night, sleep does not come easy to Ying Ko. Lying in bed with three
of his concubines, he is woken by a mysterious vision, then a shadow
passing overhead. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3S7XS7pPVERQVLov9K4t19ECUkJWz4Ej-u6nZAxsFZNAF6cxS14exTx1w6BfmUAr4Vwt_gtr5y0irQ1dqUzh-e6rCrYZisEae8uxGanHpIyZoABoXTsEOJGMtrBAm0Tgm6GVTDYijl1o/s1600/vlcsnap-00029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3S7XS7pPVERQVLov9K4t19ECUkJWz4Ej-u6nZAxsFZNAF6cxS14exTx1w6BfmUAr4Vwt_gtr5y0irQ1dqUzh-e6rCrYZisEae8uxGanHpIyZoABoXTsEOJGMtrBAm0Tgm6GVTDYijl1o/s320/vlcsnap-00029.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Arising, he faces the open window, curtains
billowing, to be felled by a single blow from an intruder's fist. He
finds himself tied to horse, kidnapped by agents of the Tulku. Taken
to the Tulku's encampment, he is told the Tulku wishes to see him at
his temple. All he sees is a spartan <i>ger</i>, a tent, but the
mists behind it clear mystically to reveal a splendid sight – a
fantastic gilded temple, steps leading up to the entrance, itself
styled as a golden cobra's mouth. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRknvwpd5iUQceG3-MEW_PTTnWDh9w3NZNf2VSWAOh6l8f8z9Z7OSP1IwjLT7YHWpfgTreX4rqvO5DzI5qPVbF683hZZzb-3mK7IcyWEys1VATjGjYEwVTDRqBfYISlY60ceEg8v0YH0/s1600/2+TULKUS+TEMPLE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRknvwpd5iUQceG3-MEW_PTTnWDh9w3NZNf2VSWAOh6l8f8z9Z7OSP1IwjLT7YHWpfgTreX4rqvO5DzI5qPVbF683hZZzb-3mK7IcyWEys1VATjGjYEwVTDRqBfYISlY60ceEg8v0YH0/s320/2+TULKUS+TEMPLE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dGTi-b_J1ufy_yXLUYXx0-2lnW_3Fq90M4Z7CI-tW9LpdO6Xn14oLp50j-eR7XMqpEVVEXbyUSz5ZzsCmotje6RgJS5bTiUJuxXv001iqYxvTzpAVfwXEeFi4T4RhdMhdqgumE0WR7k/s1600/vlcsnap-00032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dGTi-b_J1ufy_yXLUYXx0-2lnW_3Fq90M4Z7CI-tW9LpdO6Xn14oLp50j-eR7XMqpEVVEXbyUSz5ZzsCmotje6RgJS5bTiUJuxXv001iqYxvTzpAVfwXEeFi4T4RhdMhdqgumE0WR7k/s320/vlcsnap-00032.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Fascinated, Ying Ko asks where it
came from, to be told 'The clouded mind sees nothing.' </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">His
hands untied, Ying Ko is pushed towards the inner sanctum of the
Tulku, a phalanx of monks in attendance, rhythmically beating their
drums and spinning their mani wheels. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">A shaking of bells – these
guys must have great parties – and the monks depart, leaving Ying
Ko alone with the barely-visible figure behind a fine silken screen.
Ying Ko asks who this is, to be told 'I'm your teacher.' The voice
that comes to him is deep, remote, as if speaking from the depths of
a well. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b7U3o9W25Tz478WA106KWNZ4Ze2GnqOt6dYhY2QHNaNm4qx1mpso1EnOryP8umWwHmlIsnv4fncGx921iwSKDSsSpEMrMHV_iCpGmkPn027XMEXGsVMR25Hq1mZMkfr9RFn-vAXQu9U/s1600/vlcsnap-00036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b7U3o9W25Tz478WA106KWNZ4Ze2GnqOt6dYhY2QHNaNm4qx1mpso1EnOryP8umWwHmlIsnv4fncGx921iwSKDSsSpEMrMHV_iCpGmkPn027XMEXGsVMR25Hq1mZMkfr9RFn-vAXQu9U/s320/vlcsnap-00036.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Does he have <i>any </i><span style="font-style: normal;">idea
who he's just kidnapped?. Unexpectedly, the answer comes from behind
him; </span><i>Cranston... Lamont Cranston. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Far
from being an aged wizard, the Tulku has the appearance of a mere
boy. Ying Ko is amazed to discover he knows his real name, but there
is more. The Tulku knows that as long as he can remember he has
struggled against his own black heart.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
the Tulku speaks, he steps back into the shadows, anticipating the
crude attack that Ying Ko... </span><i>Lamont Cranston </i><span style="font-style: normal;">now
launches, the mystical figure trans</span><span style="font-style: normal;">poses
his form to stand across the room. Defiantly, Cranston asserts that
he isn't looking for redemption – but the Tulku has chosen him. He
has no choice; the Tulku will teach him to use his own black shadow
to fight evil. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAnUFa9ZRSAN600PgiwAh46TugaNgti3wdB_prsE1KAQMh-cH3BMBQxorWJwMzVVFmEymAckJ1obkgApP5CLj68aPH-zCH9qhOLg5VNj6x2y86FxRJk9bXsXIWHnDVc9MFI5KYza-l3s/s1600/3+PHURBA.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAnUFa9ZRSAN600PgiwAh46TugaNgti3wdB_prsE1KAQMh-cH3BMBQxorWJwMzVVFmEymAckJ1obkgApP5CLj68aPH-zCH9qhOLg5VNj6x2y86FxRJk9bXsXIWHnDVc9MFI5KYza-l3s/s320/3+PHURBA.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Reaching for a ceremonial </span><i>phurba </i><span style="font-style: normal;">dagger,
Cranston is amazed to see it begin to spin in his hand, before
flipping away as if of its own accord to hover in mid-air. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSviR5E7MsaPmYfWEovbuQ-bRUHwYqHwBqGFDJN4_sXy0jhWrpRpGK2ulkADGfUSerrQ3wC9wN3YBwC0t4Rzw-xHJkUT1QA0Wh7ogTAE_vTf5x5Huwm9oLFT-R9GBEeScV2TsaJq_Hho8/s1600/vlcsnap-00039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSviR5E7MsaPmYfWEovbuQ-bRUHwYqHwBqGFDJN4_sXy0jhWrpRpGK2ulkADGfUSerrQ3wC9wN3YBwC0t4Rzw-xHJkUT1QA0Wh7ogTAE_vTf5x5Huwm9oLFT-R9GBEeScV2TsaJq_Hho8/s320/vlcsnap-00039.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Leaping
desperately for the dagger, Cranston is left sprawling as it rises
into the air out of reach, before spinning and flashing down to bury
itself into his left thigh. Again the phurba darts, missing his groin
by inches. Seizing the dagger, Cranston is terrified to see the face
of the Bhudda transformed into a snarling demon, razor-sharp teeth
bared in a snarl. Bending at the pommel, the teeth sink into
Cranston's hand, drawing blood!. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFj7GW0_JEItvginpo_dwPLyJ3fRcS2tFxXY-tigPPx8YOYHYgeZBTGZCTS8LeDTPJCSywIq5oo0B-m2-vZ5-2y66Fw2gwF5AeK6Ex03lRTiFjEtPByD2bfZ8AJ5a4LvyZVQZFDGbJwE/s1600/4+PHURBA+BITES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFj7GW0_JEItvginpo_dwPLyJ3fRcS2tFxXY-tigPPx8YOYHYgeZBTGZCTS8LeDTPJCSywIq5oo0B-m2-vZ5-2y66Fw2gwF5AeK6Ex03lRTiFjEtPByD2bfZ8AJ5a4LvyZVQZFDGbJwE/s320/4+PHURBA+BITES.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Again the phurba attacks, the
terrified American dashing to a pillar for safety. At last, the Tulku
calls the dagger off and, reluctantly, the weapon flies back into his
hand. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Exhausted,
Cranston asks if he is in hell. The Tulku's reply is not promising;
</span><i>'Not yet...'</i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYPSEzvbSwVP8dEOnSb9awVwYqXHABK7DGp9ELbpGamPpaUWQD6pnz2mfzogkXHYCouBZKGtc-AOt5lELpbAc1kjWoqMl_WGAPNtpSi2B1Z0BpRqK-7IBexx3ZjAJMSvIm7eaORpSYII/s1600/vlcsnap-00044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYPSEzvbSwVP8dEOnSb9awVwYqXHABK7DGp9ELbpGamPpaUWQD6pnz2mfzogkXHYCouBZKGtc-AOt5lELpbAc1kjWoqMl_WGAPNtpSi2B1Z0BpRqK-7IBexx3ZjAJMSvIm7eaORpSYII/s320/vlcsnap-00044.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">A
Ford V8 De Luxe pulls up on a bridge at night, the Gangster Duke
Rollins climbs out, orders his men to fetch his terrified victim from
the car. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEKc71YLyCx-3wHenjbu_BAQ8THr4uhIPXa5pD7PR_T-aIOCPAZ_rfbjvFbROi3ZuPWiFUaShMhEseFIaGJjzRAf1dP5qFDbb6oHOBgbkvNBjbHFRV3R3TcbYZRhUfb21W0DwIUDpELk/s1600/vlcsnap-00046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEKc71YLyCx-3wHenjbu_BAQ8THr4uhIPXa5pD7PR_T-aIOCPAZ_rfbjvFbROi3ZuPWiFUaShMhEseFIaGJjzRAf1dP5qFDbb6oHOBgbkvNBjbHFRV3R3TcbYZRhUfb21W0DwIUDpELk/s320/vlcsnap-00046.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Dr. Tam's feet are encased in concrete, as he is dragged to
the rail he swears he will keep his mouth shut – but it was his bad
luck he happened to look down that alley when he did...</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Petrified,
Dr. Tam insists he won't talk. Striking a match on his victim's chin,
Rollins agrees; 'Oh, I know you won't.' Blowing the flame out, the
Duke turns his back as his men carry out his orders, Dr. Tam pleading
for his life. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4QiJ_Mc2lceBhUhUwVmMWAjatasB7l5L-CqM4ZWKQW4IpASO4cWhtFcTd8fpK4h49qyWA_mdiqcGIRTJxpIRLFAr5sUaSvCT9X1Me4HofYKpLb0W16MQLb_bsPJWafKuhOs9xDkXQ4M/s1600/vlcsnap-00052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4QiJ_Mc2lceBhUhUwVmMWAjatasB7l5L-CqM4ZWKQW4IpASO4cWhtFcTd8fpK4h49qyWA_mdiqcGIRTJxpIRLFAr5sUaSvCT9X1Me4HofYKpLb0W16MQLb_bsPJWafKuhOs9xDkXQ4M/s320/vlcsnap-00052.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">As they heave him over the side, he hangs, screaming in
terror over the dizzying drop to the waters far below. Just then, a
strange, sinister laugh comes echoing through the night; from
everywhere and nowhere. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkvw504ur-fiL54iWq7RRprr2bEquOfqkKUDg_S9CZo6G6ynXe35_48_OkYaK9TghZfDHlqp7edRg4pkz1Uh8VupXXrvKCNeDgbQcz7uiS9iCiNhZ8B4FF2aeuQXYECHetl1qZ7GaX6Q/s1600/vlcsnap-00053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkvw504ur-fiL54iWq7RRprr2bEquOfqkKUDg_S9CZo6G6ynXe35_48_OkYaK9TghZfDHlqp7edRg4pkz1Uh8VupXXrvKCNeDgbQcz7uiS9iCiNhZ8B4FF2aeuQXYECHetl1qZ7GaX6Q/s320/vlcsnap-00053.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Panicked by this uncanny intrusion, the
Duke's henchman set Dr. Tam back down on the bridge and pull their
pieces as their boss pulls his gun, to the sound of manic laughter.
By now seriously un-nerved, the Duke tries to point his revolver
everywhere at once. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUGqre5aHHme9kjulvT_AcaqXSWRlkmgTRVn8wtCdMoPRJlj02ih3RfcZaQbj-KznwKr_0zInWpPfjCZ5VMJkyfzpUgxYpehldcrc3jYKqV14RywDTyB3fWmR-MkbIciwQxUt9Fhte4Q/s1600/vlcsnap-00057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUGqre5aHHme9kjulvT_AcaqXSWRlkmgTRVn8wtCdMoPRJlj02ih3RfcZaQbj-KznwKr_0zInWpPfjCZ5VMJkyfzpUgxYpehldcrc3jYKqV14RywDTyB3fWmR-MkbIciwQxUt9Fhte4Q/s320/vlcsnap-00057.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The voice coming through the night air is
resonant, ethereal;</span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'You
murdered a Policeman.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'The
Weed of Crime bears bitter fruit.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'Did
you think you'd get away with it?'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'Didya
think... I wouldn't know?.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Desperately,
the mobster empties his pistol into the night, into thin air. Again
that mocking laugh!. Tossing the piece, Duke Rollins dashes to the
car for a bigger weapon; a Thompson. Unloading the tommy gun into the
darkness, everyone else ducks as the rounds fly, richocheting and
sparking off of everything in sight. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtAFJdMIoQN5nFc269XwyogF8M47ishoyS0-TgGU4hZJNdKTwn5vKQr5xxRRvmMh1cvzr_j2kvoZeyH35Me0Tt8ubJpGU3BDB-OXXbjFYADX30rAwQ1xZ4npHPI1vYrRxrHkmnMfox40/s1600/5+DUKE+SHOOTS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtAFJdMIoQN5nFc269XwyogF8M47ishoyS0-TgGU4hZJNdKTwn5vKQr5xxRRvmMh1cvzr_j2kvoZeyH35Me0Tt8ubJpGU3BDB-OXXbjFYADX30rAwQ1xZ4npHPI1vYrRxrHkmnMfox40/s320/5+DUKE+SHOOTS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Duke hoses down the whole
area; even raking his own car. Nothing is going to survive a burst
from a 'piano.' Nothing. One of his stooges thinks he got him; so
does the Duke. Right until the night opens and the fist smashes into
his jaw. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDrHhobbdRDA0AnVtRo2FfiqpWHEHV4AGiK_UWxAypoXcYxHnftlEWlHjg563M1ZLd3Re9VNufZV7DridEXZuEio8KPXX9vrRAg62DooC3Zna63e-KHIH9egKm5G7qn3q9Uz1nxe3EOQ/s1600/6+DUKE+HITS+THE+BRIDGE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDrHhobbdRDA0AnVtRo2FfiqpWHEHV4AGiK_UWxAypoXcYxHnftlEWlHjg563M1ZLd3Re9VNufZV7DridEXZuEio8KPXX9vrRAg62DooC3Zna63e-KHIH9egKm5G7qn3q9Uz1nxe3EOQ/s320/6+DUKE+HITS+THE+BRIDGE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'You
committed murder, Duke – now you're going to confess to it.' </b></i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Like
hell!; again the wraith materialises from nothingness, again the
fists crash into Duke's flesh and blood body.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnN8tnFM1v2RLgwOjLWGJ4Nv20KgjJ3q_GOFyWpksGm_-BsboU-oXbzii7aecS0ohSSVJKdRiYpB5lnOr8f_wWDEqsslEva8c2AzEKmd7cc7Yi9ZE6-rqXn3JU_7zDmaTmmOb4OTz1gM/s1600/vlcsnap-00061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnN8tnFM1v2RLgwOjLWGJ4Nv20KgjJ3q_GOFyWpksGm_-BsboU-oXbzii7aecS0ohSSVJKdRiYpB5lnOr8f_wWDEqsslEva8c2AzEKmd7cc7Yi9ZE6-rqXn3JU_7zDmaTmmOb4OTz1gM/s320/vlcsnap-00061.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'You
will Duke, because if you don't – I'll be there.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
ghostly figure hauls Duke clean off his feet, throwing him onto the
roadway. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'I'll
be there... around every corner, in every empty room – as
inevitable as your guilty conscience.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Defiance,
still; the Duke shouts he isn't scared, but again the blows come. The
eerie voice commands him to turn himself in at the 8</span></span><sup><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Precinct House and surrender himself. And he will do it </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">now...
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
gangster is lifted over the rail, to dangle as his victim did so
recently. Hysterically, the Duke agrees to turn himself in </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
is unceremoniously flipped over into his own windshield for his
troubles. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJVRB0z-Ms6mJsbAv6RUPfvsayHAB8mxFQSl373O8wHOjd_bmqXWStxJ1pad0ozFsfPEOjMg5hQiK7rYoxRFqTH3t6MKYXLxI75iY4wZQmx_sOZ4ewFnFzVnXRGhW4W-G3XKDBHlDMDE/s1600/7+THE+SHADOW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJVRB0z-Ms6mJsbAv6RUPfvsayHAB8mxFQSl373O8wHOjd_bmqXWStxJ1pad0ozFsfPEOjMg5hQiK7rYoxRFqTH3t6MKYXLxI75iY4wZQmx_sOZ4ewFnFzVnXRGhW4W-G3XKDBHlDMDE/s320/7+THE+SHADOW.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JPdAjsWEiIenkj_UCv481IbwEvKizXMZ4jjLYH8mtwak2ZQTm7ySZCacBYys7VzrAco-N1fcHjAMR3JTHR7wLW1dUlnIFTNJg8EwT2O2FCv9MO7biaQcpr9rqLa8iL5maC9JiGkpFfw/s1600/alec_baldwin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="1500" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JPdAjsWEiIenkj_UCv481IbwEvKizXMZ4jjLYH8mtwak2ZQTm7ySZCacBYys7VzrAco-N1fcHjAMR3JTHR7wLW1dUlnIFTNJg8EwT2O2FCv9MO7biaQcpr9rqLa8iL5maC9JiGkpFfw/s320/alec_baldwin1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Subdued, his two thugs watch in fear as a spectral shadow
looms above them, cast by the figure now standing in the road before
them. In trenchcoat and cloak above high boots, large brimmed hat,
pearl-handled automatics sitting in their twin shoulder holsters, the
man wears a crimson scarf to conceal his features, of which all that
are visible are a prominent nose and a pair of glittering dark eyes
below bushed brows. Not unwisely, the two wise guys make a run for
it. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RjcqkHUdMyU2z9I7oP3W2KYJXpiPCuoJ91X6gpFNzTClDRjxSfEWxRWDqpZ2TiCEFuV04cogLP7pSWltSCaVN-gOy4utAdSCpDLF49Dqu8wzHXUuAmexmSAmckWEIwBfajWNlCEdCUA/s1600/280956_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="676" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RjcqkHUdMyU2z9I7oP3W2KYJXpiPCuoJ91X6gpFNzTClDRjxSfEWxRWDqpZ2TiCEFuV04cogLP7pSWltSCaVN-gOy4utAdSCpDLF49Dqu8wzHXUuAmexmSAmckWEIwBfajWNlCEdCUA/s320/280956_full.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">lone
with the weird interloper, Dr. Tam lies helpess, his feet encased in
the concrete block, face contorted in fear as the strange figure
approaches and draws the two massive automatics from their holsters. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgK7L1WEHuJH2CzaoaLmktM0Fk79S00G7V_-VFKsQ0HQUZlEaFkWJp8NaQN-0ZWY-eBR_HRK8poCcy_jviUX2jCOETlkHCuUpD0hYkLZezMG-l83v8poXIPyeH-fwg4fSM5ir-HH1u_o/s1600/8787740_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1024" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgK7L1WEHuJH2CzaoaLmktM0Fk79S00G7V_-VFKsQ0HQUZlEaFkWJp8NaQN-0ZWY-eBR_HRK8poCcy_jviUX2jCOETlkHCuUpD0hYkLZezMG-l83v8poXIPyeH-fwg4fSM5ir-HH1u_o/s320/8787740_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The barrels lower towards him... and a volley of fire rings out!.
Instead of death, however, Dr. Tam looks down to find the concrete in
pieces, his feet freed. A be-ringed and gloved hand reaches down as a
Sunshine Radio cab pulls up, its rear door opening as if by magic. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3GfbEbl3zgfgRvtNLd_m68CGoMB25nuJ8OJgMeoSy7jnmFL5EfPUb_WJ2eLbXwH-ba3M4xmlWWYo6kZX1vjXeROpoNPJoBmkdiBylxiUmqdHPpc4iw3eBfmp2M-9q89OhXdLuMjOl-c/s1600/vlcsnap-00077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3GfbEbl3zgfgRvtNLd_m68CGoMB25nuJ8OJgMeoSy7jnmFL5EfPUb_WJ2eLbXwH-ba3M4xmlWWYo6kZX1vjXeROpoNPJoBmkdiBylxiUmqdHPpc4iw3eBfmp2M-9q89OhXdLuMjOl-c/s320/vlcsnap-00077.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">At
the simple command </span></span><i><b>'Drive'</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
car pulls away, Tam thanking his saviour than asking to be dropped
off. As if he had never spoken, the unearthly voice states that he
is Dr. Roy Tam, a Professor in the Science Department at NYU. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'I
saved your life, Roy Tam – it now belongs to me.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As the
bemused Dr. Tam listens in the back of the speeding cab, the stranger
tells him he will become one of his agents, like dozens of others all
over the World. Can he ask his wife about this?; no!. He goes on; Mr.
Shrevnitz here – the Cab Driver – will instruct him in the ways
in which he will contact him should he need his help. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When he hears
one of his agents say 'The Sun is shining.' he will respond; 'But the
ice is slippery.' </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFgGh_ONSkAzhCiXPQZfW1XyjUHnbQ7hJtgi8XM0zmElwbaezO_bmKuFzVGeARfiN9RCM2qyCakho0ITuq-gkqw5yfxguTH35Sw1_9AuOuXPuBrgIbHE6e86_8kwEHoxfijDcWsZXTnJc/s1600/10+THE+SUN+IS+SHINING.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFgGh_ONSkAzhCiXPQZfW1XyjUHnbQ7hJtgi8XM0zmElwbaezO_bmKuFzVGeARfiN9RCM2qyCakho0ITuq-gkqw5yfxguTH35Sw1_9AuOuXPuBrgIbHE6e86_8kwEHoxfijDcWsZXTnJc/s320/10+THE+SUN+IS+SHINING.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This will identify them to each other. To make sure
he understands, the mysterious figure goes through it with him. Dr.
Tam has one question; how did he know what was happening to him?, who
he was?. This elicits a ring of laughter from both the man in the
scarf and the Cabbie, as if it were a joke. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'The
Shadow knows... hahahahahaha!.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuFwNrShyphenhyphenDdQLr52jfmB08llhI4SFS9KZs4ISdtZJ17RjkBDPbcCm1qO7vYUOxcsSr5e-MSekj7fxCY4NqI1iaVUvs__WDd3wpL5w3CYfZAE1ks9vGGM9poARRHFdHeAXRIAw4sV5bFo/s1600/11+TAXI+RIDE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuFwNrShyphenhyphenDdQLr52jfmB08llhI4SFS9KZs4ISdtZJ17RjkBDPbcCm1qO7vYUOxcsSr5e-MSekj7fxCY4NqI1iaVUvs__WDd3wpL5w3CYfZAE1ks9vGGM9poARRHFdHeAXRIAw4sV5bFo/s320/11+TAXI+RIDE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Finally,
the cab skids to a halt and Dr. Tam alights, Moe Shrevnitz exiting
with him. Tam is amazed to have met the Shadow – there's always
talk of him in the papers, on the radio, but he never thought he
existed. Slipping a ruby-coloured ring onto the scientist's finger,
Shrevnitz tells him he <i>does'nt – geddit?. </i>The Cabbie taps
his own head in emphasis, revealing he is wearing an identical ring
and cautioning Tam to never remove his. So who is he?. Showing the
ring he wears, Moe replies he's somebody who owes the Shadow his
life, somebody <i>just like you... </i></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPF5ZWUhtB151DvOyxlGTYPVnPhjWxTlspaU8_Vo2YbdviY8uYhG5DiF6IFuhrhLPOxhlPuBM-jhVaTd3A34fUhft9qhhR1TrhR7Q9dkjYcxsCYKHXNMGRcxm9jDRh3nYUvUsLYSAqpuM/s1600/MV5BMTQ1OTY5MzE4NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTAwNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1550%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1550" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPF5ZWUhtB151DvOyxlGTYPVnPhjWxTlspaU8_Vo2YbdviY8uYhG5DiF6IFuhrhLPOxhlPuBM-jhVaTd3A34fUhft9qhhR1TrhR7Q9dkjYcxsCYKHXNMGRcxm9jDRh3nYUvUsLYSAqpuM/s320/MV5BMTQ1OTY5MzE4NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTAwNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1550%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Leaving
Dr. Tam to consider the bizarre turn his life has just taken, the cab
speeds off through the city at breakneck speeds. This is clearly no
ordinary hack. As he drives, concern shows on Moe Shrevnitz's earnest
features. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">'Boss,
you okay?.'</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
sweating, haggard face of Lamont Cranston answers him; 'The Cobalt
Club.'</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAoh1lNMlmr8fL6kiPHjTehB03oHPI0sQdeck0qR2MaMdcJnZ5xyDGzOHz0vdKtsX7Gm36lo_7RzED0GIchUqV5iP5i7SXbQLm-LJ9WHTcyUEUA7BLWYLLmu-LI3JpPW8hYM4lzfl0Ow/s1600/vlcsnap-00097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAoh1lNMlmr8fL6kiPHjTehB03oHPI0sQdeck0qR2MaMdcJnZ5xyDGzOHz0vdKtsX7Gm36lo_7RzED0GIchUqV5iP5i7SXbQLm-LJ9WHTcyUEUA7BLWYLLmu-LI3JpPW8hYM4lzfl0Ow/s320/vlcsnap-00097.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Cobalt Club is class all the way; from the cobalt-blue silk lining
the stage to the torch singer on it. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3x1nCqud7m8jjuqBTEQ7JOHX3zzw8tX20uVn_63_y117E_pezV8hkfYFw4pQ22kcLYx4-PykH-J8RrXt0_WwWISIIA_J0z4hqCrXGp5De_LDfPR_eYdytCzRXaQQlwXG294C1W6K6rQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3x1nCqud7m8jjuqBTEQ7JOHX3zzw8tX20uVn_63_y117E_pezV8hkfYFw4pQ22kcLYx4-PykH-J8RrXt0_WwWISIIA_J0z4hqCrXGp5De_LDfPR_eYdytCzRXaQQlwXG294C1W6K6rQ/s320/vlcsnap-00102.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An Art Deco temple. Dancers fill
the floor, elegant, refined. The club is hopping, full of the
beautiful people, lit tastefully with touches of cobalt blue
everywhere. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhvgqOBhHixsmiUUr2bv9Lwq55Xp-dLEpDfhmKPVXvNt9obBWbWwYGDaPBweYCmd7t0cNBPnDzcSVMiniNyBKO_TX8yZH2RPsiI7pVaPuJx_5I_GkMlC6jiXNpoVaBs6y9oeoMOoCGJxY/s1600/vlcsnap-00103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhvgqOBhHixsmiUUr2bv9Lwq55Xp-dLEpDfhmKPVXvNt9obBWbWwYGDaPBweYCmd7t0cNBPnDzcSVMiniNyBKO_TX8yZH2RPsiI7pVaPuJx_5I_GkMlC6jiXNpoVaBs6y9oeoMOoCGJxY/s320/vlcsnap-00103.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lamont Cranston walks in, dressed for the occasion.
Spotting his Uncle Bartholomew 'Barth' Wainwright, the Police
Commissioner alone at his table, he joins him, apologising for his
lateness. An accident on the bridge. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXe-5sWb1_QTxjZEuKeBkOWcUVxGlOPb4PQmZxuDAP9HT25eeWBWVSTfMxODBXJIBC7lajAAff4BJ5rUtnCGA2cbcMvxhhBgJb91vDo_kBcIfI0XipkFyou5kQe9k8WwMEye8YzJ4qf0/s1600/2181069%252CwaleJGu5bhdNDfcVKouuQ9gXyaiZ2DsfOv9B9TaM0WZ2XLEuodB30WbXTPDaIinMzZO93I8h2FfuRB%252BhkDRWhQ%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1024" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXe-5sWb1_QTxjZEuKeBkOWcUVxGlOPb4PQmZxuDAP9HT25eeWBWVSTfMxODBXJIBC7lajAAff4BJ5rUtnCGA2cbcMvxhhBgJb91vDo_kBcIfI0XipkFyou5kQe9k8WwMEye8YzJ4qf0/s320/2181069%252CwaleJGu5bhdNDfcVKouuQ9gXyaiZ2DsfOv9B9TaM0WZ2XLEuodB30WbXTPDaIinMzZO93I8h2FfuRB%252BhkDRWhQ%253D%253D.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His Uncle hasn't wasted time
getting around his prime ribs, however. A waiter brings Lamont his
favourite drink and Uncle Wainwright has a bone to pick; he invites
him to dinner and shows late. Lamont apologises, but his attention is
captivated by the dream that has just breezed in. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpl1F1kQs15-rmA0QWpoVtIBr0zPpFtEGyE-M7To_bgSw6GRx3w7crBBS-9y8cBaAhII10wT99O7c1lJkWVx7iOFD9_336BMK51e2U809j0WERYqjOx60dPOwpdTdJGtKWxHlBsrviLA/s1600/280964_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpl1F1kQs15-rmA0QWpoVtIBr0zPpFtEGyE-M7To_bgSw6GRx3w7crBBS-9y8cBaAhII10wT99O7c1lJkWVx7iOFD9_336BMK51e2U809j0WERYqjOx60dPOwpdTdJGtKWxHlBsrviLA/s320/280964_full.jpg" width="203" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tall, blonde, silk
dress. His Uncle hasn't noticed her; he wouldn't mind if Lamont had
something to do, a job for instance. It's unseemly – a man of his
age – and why is he talking to the back of his neck?. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His
Uncle has never meddled in his affairs, even when he went missing for
those seven years after the war. Just then, an urgent message is
handed to Barth; is the cops and robbers business slowing down?. It's
another report about that Shadow character. His Uncle is sick of the
Shadow meddling in Police affairs. This time tomorrow, he'll put a
task force on him. Suddenly, Lamont is engulfed in shadow and The
Shadow's resonant, hypnotic tones ring out. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'You're
not going to appoint a task force...'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__BxqE9aQzaOUQRO_HbtNNl5TU-xNxGmLmRqBaWl0IgSzmnSUVir8d32GrTkmVn4S2RVCM-BNUChIQ9yAmXCikifgzdIsnpe8SR38t0vs97swrtRKtcNQpQtbcDdnGp-4_GZnT5pdY70/s1600/2181108%252CJSg9qf_ICg9XI70_mnk%252B0YKnEwjDCNvEJ135zZiOOG51Em%252B3vDb9zfon3uv_jNxJfz3ogxTr3jHE26akqhRXcA%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="498" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__BxqE9aQzaOUQRO_HbtNNl5TU-xNxGmLmRqBaWl0IgSzmnSUVir8d32GrTkmVn4S2RVCM-BNUChIQ9yAmXCikifgzdIsnpe8SR38t0vs97swrtRKtcNQpQtbcDdnGp-4_GZnT5pdY70/s320/2181108%252CJSg9qf_ICg9XI70_mnk%252B0YKnEwjDCNvEJ135zZiOOG51Em%252B3vDb9zfon3uv_jNxJfz3ogxTr3jHE26akqhRXcA%253D%253D.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As if
dismissing the idea himself, Uncle Barth agrees; he's not going to
appoint a task force.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'You're
not going to pay any attention to these reports of The Shadow...'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chewing
his food, Barth is in favour; 'Ignore them entirely...'</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'These
aren't the droids...'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sorry.
(I'm <i>never </i>sorry.) The Shadow convinces his Uncle that there
is no Shadow and he comes out of it as if shaking off a headache.
Where were they?; cheekily, Lamont jerks a thumb over his shoulder
towards the girl – you were telling me who <i>she </i>is, he tells
him. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAzfybN7TM9k5telbw9Abnmd8fNzX_TZh17RmgFi8mKQvqEJj5M1QK5pCSjf6-wSRq-UfUn7fjRuZ2Yn4qzbkddJIqsHPjdd1w2h0ANnJdo2TDbw4mKCHSUTlwDW0TCIJi0o4OKiXsps/s1600/penelope_ann_miller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="1500" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAzfybN7TM9k5telbw9Abnmd8fNzX_TZh17RmgFi8mKQvqEJj5M1QK5pCSjf6-wSRq-UfUn7fjRuZ2Yn4qzbkddJIqsHPjdd1w2h0ANnJdo2TDbw4mKCHSUTlwDW0TCIJi0o4OKiXsps/s320/penelope_ann_miller.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5QhkMpBTS7noptcNtUeIzCZIdFESIRgYhQBcaiiBXbikJ-icHGyW7NBCdyfamD0eP606702GAbBCSl8Ki6z9BLG9DI5r_lyV3yeSensvDpJu2QB5VohG_KBlQcRdPlpmQafzE04ki2E/s1600/tumblr_om2vwv3g0s1va4adro4_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="983" data-original-width="1280" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5QhkMpBTS7noptcNtUeIzCZIdFESIRgYhQBcaiiBXbikJ-icHGyW7NBCdyfamD0eP606702GAbBCSl8Ki6z9BLG9DI5r_lyV3yeSensvDpJu2QB5VohG_KBlQcRdPlpmQafzE04ki2E/s320/tumblr_om2vwv3g0s1va4adro4_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Handily, Barth knows she's Margo Lane, her father is a scientist
working for the War Department. Miss Lane sits elegantly, smoking.
Also, she's smoking a cigarette... calling a waiter over, Lamont
whispers something in his ear. Uncle Barth warns Lamont off her,
she's strange – hears voices. Miss Lane is ready to order, but
before she can say 'Mouton Rothschild '28.' the wine waiter has
produced a bottle. As the label's laughably wrong and it's already
been uncorked I'd avoid it like the plague... but did they ask me?.
They did not. She asks and is told who it came from. Miss Lane lets
the man pour, looking up to see Lamont standing there. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOvCdt-geHb5gxsOS8gWY6sB6RbfOHgpUbi62snBk6GCF_Rhg1BJP0TDVarE_jjy-DcxwJ5mZ14TzecdNrn8cjer2hX0UmNc0W5QLkZ7x2X41LkYafPLcc0QkRAAU3hCX0pX0jq8kLcE/s1600/vlcsnap-00131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOvCdt-geHb5gxsOS8gWY6sB6RbfOHgpUbi62snBk6GCF_Rhg1BJP0TDVarE_jjy-DcxwJ5mZ14TzecdNrn8cjer2hX0UmNc0W5QLkZ7x2X41LkYafPLcc0QkRAAU3hCX0pX0jq8kLcE/s320/vlcsnap-00131.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Introducing
himself, he sits and, reading her thoughts sees she has a craving for
Peking duck. He suggests the same and she is amazed. Does she care to
join him?...</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUu07JjodhVs1_9XwGOyM5KN9MPF_kAH8BINIIEu15m4rsmzyxRnI1P8NQB_H0vmpMNVxCoJOExCPq9SgnfApc7vFoo1FdFPhlYGYaBJT1i0ZiK-qIfTmOXb6iKSujF-zrogtd1qA5Y/s1600/vlcsnap-00134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUu07JjodhVs1_9XwGOyM5KN9MPF_kAH8BINIIEu15m4rsmzyxRnI1P8NQB_H0vmpMNVxCoJOExCPq9SgnfApc7vFoo1FdFPhlYGYaBJT1i0ZiK-qIfTmOXb6iKSujF-zrogtd1qA5Y/s320/vlcsnap-00134.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lamont
orders in Mandarin, his fluency impressing Margo. They are seated in
a Chinese restaurant he happens to know. Isn't he full of surprises?.
Then, something strange*; she thanks him for the complement – she
had the dress made at Adrian's. He didn't make any complement, but he
was <i>thinking </i>it. Taken aback, Margo states that hasn't
happened to her for a long, long time. When she was a little girl she
could read her cousin Harry's thoughts, pick them right out of his
head. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOYjmL8wzLb9pgWClsQ0u3smY3JGhOgXp8bPm_78K8TPI0LF2JA6sn_H0EgBRpbtje0X0nQCSg04s_fuWrvmVx77Ws4lfR-aMl8AevUAxX3u6OVjaJWetWeuXYP04JvTS3ZVu6WLtguM/s1600/2181071%252ClK6v%252BsYivEW5JaX_K8Cm_lhWLq%252BqW9MdXzNARo8WvATuwHdtONkGV7fCXrh_NOS7eKR%252BMnLdciUDV5eX5Nv_LQ%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="507" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOYjmL8wzLb9pgWClsQ0u3smY3JGhOgXp8bPm_78K8TPI0LF2JA6sn_H0EgBRpbtje0X0nQCSg04s_fuWrvmVx77Ws4lfR-aMl8AevUAxX3u6OVjaJWetWeuXYP04JvTS3ZVu6WLtguM/s320/2181071%252ClK6v%252BsYivEW5JaX_K8Cm_lhWLq%252BqW9MdXzNARo8WvATuwHdtONkGV7fCXrh_NOS7eKR%252BMnLdciUDV5eX5Nv_LQ%253D%253D.jpg" width="211" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The look on Lamont's face tells her something might be wrong,
but he denies it. After all, what harm could a mind-reader do to
someone with his secrets?. Gaily, he dismisses the thought, reaching
for his glass. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">*It's
all relative.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkPuekJFgje09rvfYFCMswzqd6sm11BRFnO0XEU5Bsgossp4lqbGKZzoqyxOAlPdTthc5F9R7uE-WTUowzQEP9rcu30GOap-VF5w3ZgMMLbvlsW4DquhDidR7sVYK8tx7f3yaMYChroo/s1600/vlcsnap-00139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkPuekJFgje09rvfYFCMswzqd6sm11BRFnO0XEU5Bsgossp4lqbGKZzoqyxOAlPdTthc5F9R7uE-WTUowzQEP9rcu30GOap-VF5w3ZgMMLbvlsW4DquhDidR7sVYK8tx7f3yaMYChroo/s320/vlcsnap-00139.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Sunshine cab drops Margo off at her place. Standing on the pavement,
the two elegant people take their leave after their night out. She
thanks him for a wonderful time, whilst he can't recall an evening as
– stimulating. As they drive away, Moe tells his boss he likes her;
she's different to his usual dames.<i> More than she knows... </i>She
has abilities she's completely unaware of. Sadly, that makes it too
dangerous to see her again. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Cranston mansion; think the Ch<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;">â</span>teau
de Blois in New York. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tfefFAPYSJypOKUbnWAN137v3Q3wQ_erjBR3AMymZt54ng1HuDgxRdZoCXpIFEILllJZahyVQ_BHPITB7t1hj-cdngywWysDKcmL7xdNJ9_w4QwYFPH0-4NrazcskilUJlNY-x406F0/s1600/vlcsnap-00147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tfefFAPYSJypOKUbnWAN137v3Q3wQ_erjBR3AMymZt54ng1HuDgxRdZoCXpIFEILllJZahyVQ_BHPITB7t1hj-cdngywWysDKcmL7xdNJ9_w4QwYFPH0-4NrazcskilUJlNY-x406F0/s320/vlcsnap-00147.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lamont Cranston lies dozing in a comfortable
chair before the fire, his glass of brandy still in hand. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgmceKW7kU_732MZqrE0s_BjWTauqNNH_PJ1827Q0dZ-nOeNK9-9vFQxabnTV7PSmwbMbjQItLA1J01HbUfDHVB_6_y8N7L83yH1RnY_GgQoIO8hb9hZhaAtXpTIjw8VSt5Mvg2l3k4E/s1600/vlcsnap-00149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgmceKW7kU_732MZqrE0s_BjWTauqNNH_PJ1827Q0dZ-nOeNK9-9vFQxabnTV7PSmwbMbjQItLA1J01HbUfDHVB_6_y8N7L83yH1RnY_GgQoIO8hb9hZhaAtXpTIjw8VSt5Mvg2l3k4E/s320/vlcsnap-00149.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Suddenly,
the fire billows out to take the form of a man's face, laughing in
defiance. The brandy in the glass is set afire and the glass
explodes, Lamont bursting into wakefulness as the fiery apparition
retreats into the fireplace. The omen is clear; <i>Someone's
coming...</i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-q7wy2YNAH_enwZx0zNtRlWHUYqdMEkHrpTt-GhfzF1k7Sr3NFgPyGCRld-zhV-F7ENPNMyd4UPn0KWmF2DqhcIEzOPB_a9ec82cPAiFi_jRlYBl0OnD6BhiNrOg2b9jP_Jr9_r51TE/s1600/vlcsnap-00150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-q7wy2YNAH_enwZx0zNtRlWHUYqdMEkHrpTt-GhfzF1k7Sr3NFgPyGCRld-zhV-F7ENPNMyd4UPn0KWmF2DqhcIEzOPB_a9ec82cPAiFi_jRlYBl0OnD6BhiNrOg2b9jP_Jr9_r51TE/s320/vlcsnap-00150.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
New York Museum of Natural History. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbpBIndd6UafP2PRVhn4PJ9TsKoKZyXMkacM1ihQbwsul1DPvlb8wjoo-9rm6LIwBiFxTEJCxDmGrl3IalS7_Rk5Fwm3coFA6f9VA20O5HaT4rH8MasMkq4ZjYhyphenhyphenlh0dOX_VHQwwBhIY/s1600/vlcsnap-00153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbpBIndd6UafP2PRVhn4PJ9TsKoKZyXMkacM1ihQbwsul1DPvlb8wjoo-9rm6LIwBiFxTEJCxDmGrl3IalS7_Rk5Fwm3coFA6f9VA20O5HaT4rH8MasMkq4ZjYhyphenhyphenlh0dOX_VHQwwBhIY/s320/vlcsnap-00153.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The curator is called to the
loading bay to find an unusual delivery; </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">what
looks to be </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">a
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">metal
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Tibetan
mummy case. His harassed assistant thought it might be a sarcophagus,
but Tibetan sarcophagi are made of stone. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Along
with a security guard, the two examine the ornately-worked case. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVf3GNJGCxx5fsyT_h72r9KwXbYGY-sxuBuSCr2dhT7WU1ywn1ZCGQoYVHwfuAMXc_7XioV2TGi_x4dyZ5hed4W7DUkk4dJWm_BwhKjEJIi1RfR0832x_1UJIRp6vth-izVrQuMMFIC8/s1600/vlcsnap-00157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVf3GNJGCxx5fsyT_h72r9KwXbYGY-sxuBuSCr2dhT7WU1ywn1ZCGQoYVHwfuAMXc_7XioV2TGi_x4dyZ5hed4W7DUkk4dJWm_BwhKjEJIi1RfR0832x_1UJIRp6vth-izVrQuMMFIC8/s320/vlcsnap-00157.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Clearly a mistaken delivery as nothing is known about it. The curator
is taken aback to find the coffin is made of solid silver. Ordering
the sides of the packing crate removed, the curator </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">translates</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
a Latin inscription now visible. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dDoi5VGxWXGsbKoAL3M8P1ZBFOKKRIWE_l84LBK6fbxPxaD30cfnvNAg6fDJVx79t5eQFbSidB9n9l3cbi2ZZ6dzE1QRXfJgAVWB-zTHsr9n8iXQL3PNv84yQ3wPkH_OG6o_s6CzNSQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dDoi5VGxWXGsbKoAL3M8P1ZBFOKKRIWE_l84LBK6fbxPxaD30cfnvNAg6fDJVx79t5eQFbSidB9n9l3cbi2ZZ6dzE1QRXfJgAVWB-zTHsr9n8iXQL3PNv84yQ3wPkH_OG6o_s6CzNSQ/s320/vlcsnap-00162.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
power of God on Earth, the seal of the Emperor of mankind. </span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
is the silver coffin of Temujin!. The assistant asks the question for
us, to be told he was the man who nearly conquered the globe eight
centuries ago. And how come we've never heard of Temujin?; because it
was the birth name of Ghengis Khan. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Curator must make some calls, find out where it came from –
un-nerved, the assistant offers to come with him. The curator's
parting instruction to Nelson, the security guard; don't open it. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNHMKDUbiwC8dKTcdZzkl5OgdQi6EF2Z82ufHOuEslzAzNCzXtkkfNu4O4Ba998VFHYT24fpEVhtOv8w0dqFUIx47lXunBmuD_37txon6UDESibqMXnFcBzi6TnfLa36mTS-mGaygTa0/s1600/vlcsnap-00168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNHMKDUbiwC8dKTcdZzkl5OgdQi6EF2Z82ufHOuEslzAzNCzXtkkfNu4O4Ba998VFHYT24fpEVhtOv8w0dqFUIx47lXunBmuD_37txon6UDESibqMXnFcBzi6TnfLa36mTS-mGaygTa0/s320/vlcsnap-00168.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Once
he is alone, Nelson begins to whistle, himself somewhat nervous.
Sitting at his little desk, he hears a noise from inside the coffin.
Approaching it, he is startled when one of the clasps securing it
pops open. Drawing his pistol (!) he reaches a hand out to close it,
but it snaps shut of its own accord. Then it happens again, then
another clasp opens and, before he knows what's what, all of them are
manically opening and closing. Its as if the damned thing were alive.
Shaking ominously, the coffin suddenly opens, an armoured figure
standing challengingly within. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxmm3QgBgXcLqDbeIcwFSdLxzPHWpkY9Xes8nN9mABwGCtbz9wGquW7KgRXiEgrs8C1aM9zbSNj6JxIOXu7hCmG0U_OGgBe5n19twc1f7x2EzF8OiUOaML10PYmSTNhj2NYtuqwTjyGo/s1600/13+THE+COFFIN+OPENS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxmm3QgBgXcLqDbeIcwFSdLxzPHWpkY9Xes8nN9mABwGCtbz9wGquW7KgRXiEgrs8C1aM9zbSNj6JxIOXu7hCmG0U_OGgBe5n19twc1f7x2EzF8OiUOaML10PYmSTNhj2NYtuqwTjyGo/s320/13+THE+COFFIN+OPENS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Reaching a hand up to the faceplate,
the sinister figure pulls it away and savours its first breath </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">of
American air</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
pair of dark eyes, mesmerising, hypnotic. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
is Shiwan Khan.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOntUc8WdjG1nLTMXWaDTIL0r2fhrSNBHN_1WpyAVCRvuiUMRz1OLhAyDNbOOxSYzYHb1YlQen3DetAo4zrzNDDP4lMACkFtkUUSTPlY5JFf_iaIaVpX72_uxiWXWiHoqIH7kRiIs1NhI/s1600/MV5BMTI3OTA5NTQ3OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDk5NTgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C624%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="624" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOntUc8WdjG1nLTMXWaDTIL0r2fhrSNBHN_1WpyAVCRvuiUMRz1OLhAyDNbOOxSYzYHb1YlQen3DetAo4zrzNDDP4lMACkFtkUUSTPlY5JFf_iaIaVpX72_uxiWXWiHoqIH7kRiIs1NhI/s320/MV5BMTI3OTA5NTQ3OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDk5NTgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C624%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4BFGPiIwTvP5vWdGXi_ZPVIjYcaY5GREFbSzbLWs6QolfiDjlm_nURfahQTZ49LCS-vwHXHGLm2Fy23LHEtWNwunybGxJ06eM2qges_FjL0Fh5-HknKGpKNXoX6IYk_mqjKFXOzKs_4/s1600/2181098%252CCh5IaQqnxxXrfoqhNaMHsk_Tn6biqPwv1WKFW8fmhtv37f0lxjx99739iAnbLhL0RGx37Cc1sqYCy1AsbIYeeA%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="504" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4BFGPiIwTvP5vWdGXi_ZPVIjYcaY5GREFbSzbLWs6QolfiDjlm_nURfahQTZ49LCS-vwHXHGLm2Fy23LHEtWNwunybGxJ06eM2qges_FjL0Fh5-HknKGpKNXoX6IYk_mqjKFXOzKs_4/s320/2181098%252CCh5IaQqnxxXrfoqhNaMHsk_Tn6biqPwv1WKFW8fmhtv37f0lxjx99739iAnbLhL0RGx37Cc1sqYCy1AsbIYeeA%253D%253D.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
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<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'Join
me... or die.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Handy he
speaks English, eh?. He repeats the words and, nervously the guard
informs him he's on private property. Khan can tell his mind is weak*
and commands him to fall to his knees, which he does. (Don't panic,
it's not an 18 Certificate) Next, the Mongol warlord commands him to
put his gun to his own temple. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">*So
could my neighbour's cat, to be fair. </span></span>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>'Sacrifice
yourself – to me.'</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvqJhiySajXrsFk72dZK8mgQEqSHrd_TXxbyPSjOJh1KhC94nuxkZPA2MTaxJrLQNHwIdBgU95ll2urLDpsORVS3hKhCB0KTeSnF-x_N56-GOYJ1vNQZD6qIDKXMNHFdOGxDK3bnLHkY/s1600/vlcsnap-00177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvqJhiySajXrsFk72dZK8mgQEqSHrd_TXxbyPSjOJh1KhC94nuxkZPA2MTaxJrLQNHwIdBgU95ll2urLDpsORVS3hKhCB0KTeSnF-x_N56-GOYJ1vNQZD6qIDKXMNHFdOGxDK3bnLHkY/s320/vlcsnap-00177.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With the
words 'Yes, my Khan.' The guard pulls the trigger (Well, it was for
the best) and the Curator and assistant hear the shot, at which they
come running. </span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Khan</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
has cleverly concealed himself in plain sight among the exhibits.
</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Turning
his head as if on some sixth sense, the Curator sees nothing, but
mannequins. Khan is gone.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmTxlr8OzK5ATVwsJ2Y6hLQCaCl4XUMuePClEF1vQtKRkHliq8FeT6tPv9sMfcnjkB6lZ3Z8sqWxBHKJ38HxcBwwVL70wuCnLA7bkvbW1_GsjishbakB61RnlJE3YdR5ezu9Gf-_9Utk/s1600/vlcsnap-00182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmTxlr8OzK5ATVwsJ2Y6hLQCaCl4XUMuePClEF1vQtKRkHliq8FeT6tPv9sMfcnjkB6lZ3Z8sqWxBHKJ38HxcBwwVL70wuCnLA7bkvbW1_GsjishbakB61RnlJE3YdR5ezu9Gf-_9Utk/s320/vlcsnap-00182.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Federal building. Inside, two Marines, one smaller than a house,
guards the office of Reinhardt Lane, War Department Research and
Development. Inside, Farley Claymore paces the laboratory, while Lane
sits at his bench working. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tIiguGPSOtQfw4rGvgq3pYkX7ZFXqVgZoAQWzEVvkUjS7jWRB_BDxzknD3Q1x3HCwsV2zXq9KUdU_oZNOyW1mj_HCoRsgCflJLnrO2-TRFguKI4xjPcVpgVa5lFDloAuFCKvrjPOhe0/s1600/MV5BMTc4NTg0NDUzM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTExNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1513%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1513" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tIiguGPSOtQfw4rGvgq3pYkX7ZFXqVgZoAQWzEVvkUjS7jWRB_BDxzknD3Q1x3HCwsV2zXq9KUdU_oZNOyW1mj_HCoRsgCflJLnrO2-TRFguKI4xjPcVpgVa5lFDloAuFCKvrjPOhe0/s320/MV5BMTc4NTg0NDUzM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTExNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C1513%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Claymore insists he's through with the
beryllium sphere apart from underwater pressure testing. Lane insists
he is doing energy research; he's not interested in any military
applications. So why did he let the War Department pay all the
bills?; because he let Farley talk him into it. Claymore says Lane
doesn't think big – if he'd listen to him the world could be their
oyster. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Professor</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Lane tells him Oysters give him a rash. Undaunted, Farley leaves,
snapping the two Marines a jaunty salute. As he walks towards the
elevator it discharges Margo Lane, in her silk number again. All
smarm and oily charm, Farley tries to waylay her, but she adroitly
evades his clutches. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEQ_uaflrwIBqco8nnBJPIQqjCk1GWsIOIOvyLSzTivTpXXisuPWLggtUzHkB92Ax4SJo7VwopJkIy8Yyn9SSs5LukHChOtORbFwmgMZ-jlAfohxW9z5Ku6tUTz-7x8e4VPUUU868Mig/s1600/vlcsnap-00189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEQ_uaflrwIBqco8nnBJPIQqjCk1GWsIOIOvyLSzTivTpXXisuPWLggtUzHkB92Ax4SJo7VwopJkIy8Yyn9SSs5LukHChOtORbFwmgMZ-jlAfohxW9z5Ku6tUTz-7x8e4VPUUU868Mig/s320/vlcsnap-00189.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ducking back in front of her, he asks when she's
going to come down to look at his beryllium sphere. She's not
interested in his </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">spheres.</span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trying
yet again, he wags a finger in mock admonition; she doesn't return
his calls any more. Well, that's not true, she says – she never
returned them in the first place. Taking him by the chin, the
dazzling blonde tells him sweetly; 'It's because... I don't like
you.' With that, she sashays off to her father's office. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Inside,
father and daughter greet each other, Reinhardt offers her a
sandwich, but she's eaten; it's two a.m. Noticing his red shirt, she
asks where he got it. He reminds her she always said he looked good
in green; he's colour blind – she picks up his green cup to
emphasise. Going to slouch in a chair, she asks him if he believes in
telepathy. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mind-reading?; he's a scientist. Idly playing with an
apple from her dad's uneaten dinner, she says she's always felt an
indescribable connection out there, just waiting for her. And</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
suddenly tonight, there it was. Distractedly, Reinhardt replies;
'That's nice. What was it?.' A man, and she's probably never going to
see him again. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">But
why not?. </span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
just knows – it was if she knew what he was feeling. And now, she's
completely and utterly depressed. Without looking up from his work,
her father responds; W</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">ell,
that's nice, dear.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG54tgHw5ofptmwxn0XFk67IcMIusy6QUi69oT9a_alVW9vYclmopG0IhuRFYLFVqQoYS1mDyElCYxXbW2Ro5e_upR8m0uOoijIQDDwRod9RR7W-nPX5WDxgfbk44gc_YAtdl3YLPR-iQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG54tgHw5ofptmwxn0XFk67IcMIusy6QUi69oT9a_alVW9vYclmopG0IhuRFYLFVqQoYS1mDyElCYxXbW2Ro5e_upR8m0uOoijIQDDwRod9RR7W-nPX5WDxgfbk44gc_YAtdl3YLPR-iQ/s320/vlcsnap-00203.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSs-urpNl3YwM-NhwycF1Rc8H7e_8_3bEDLxK-xue-n9heOWqeXoZof_eQzCH0_BckFch7Hi7vOLTgZeM2lSYBdOWD9TS8ZUSacgK6lFvzf-lXQbe91PdtaJTgRRF7a8aqMagnD-MNp-c/s1600/vlcsnap-00205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSs-urpNl3YwM-NhwycF1Rc8H7e_8_3bEDLxK-xue-n9heOWqeXoZof_eQzCH0_BckFch7Hi7vOLTgZeM2lSYBdOWD9TS8ZUSacgK6lFvzf-lXQbe91PdtaJTgRRF7a8aqMagnD-MNp-c/s320/vlcsnap-00205.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
taxi pulls up in a quiet part of town, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">by
an empty site. All that's left is the sign. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
cabbie </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">noting
down the destination. His passenger, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Shiwan
Khan</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
demands to know why; Taxi Commission rules. Looking over to see a
small gas station is taking a delivery, the Mongol warlord uses his
fluence on the cabbie, suggesting he needs fuel. Looking without
seeing, the mesmerized man looks at the full fuel gauge and sees
empty. </span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYbnmtKHNQhYuW4eEmfHSM_5g85Iuj8MmKaCfJFDWhFZqfikKa0U61Za_oXluPIjwRr-9p5mOjZ-eqJB7XNC92HPmqUyIftuHIyl4162X_NaPOvflONbxfXvxX4Uu0q7VWGppwvhWlqQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYbnmtKHNQhYuW4eEmfHSM_5g85Iuj8MmKaCfJFDWhFZqfikKa0U61Za_oXluPIjwRr-9p5mOjZ-eqJB7XNC92HPmqUyIftuHIyl4162X_NaPOvflONbxfXvxX4Uu0q7VWGppwvhWlqQ/s320/vlcsnap-00207.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdX_p8HLzJdgDwcudaMUY5U5nFFtXNW0b7BffjGwhlBgCH8vDBX8WniN537PtrXTYgAz1IltOXdk9303HNlRpK8Bv0Y8h-iuCTmkC0rFtaQY16mwPxTwEXxfIZfneD-Y05LbdQzL7fww/s1600/14+TAXI+RIDE+TO+HELL.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdX_p8HLzJdgDwcudaMUY5U5nFFtXNW0b7BffjGwhlBgCH8vDBX8WniN537PtrXTYgAz1IltOXdk9303HNlRpK8Bv0Y8h-iuCTmkC0rFtaQY16mwPxTwEXxfIZfneD-Y05LbdQzL7fww/s320/14+TAXI+RIDE+TO+HELL.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thanking </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Khan</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
he puts his pencil behind his ear and drives into the gas tanker with
a smile. It must be his lucky day, he thinks, as the cab hits home.
With a roar of laughter, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
Mongol</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
strides across to the empty lot; standing as if admiring it.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-vOgmYME2Jp16JacYlFG_VyuzvQtKRwgzTSI4Xxd_GzT1-YcLT88Edur3opL6md0TPxQtfhgHhxQQ0hQfX0NjYmTIul3eSPa-AX_MApeKxHv6qZfcr6wQ2CUy4LDembbLIf0oEW3ygA/s1600/vlcsnap-00213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-vOgmYME2Jp16JacYlFG_VyuzvQtKRwgzTSI4Xxd_GzT1-YcLT88Edur3opL6md0TPxQtfhgHhxQQ0hQfX0NjYmTIul3eSPa-AX_MApeKxHv6qZfcr6wQ2CUy4LDembbLIf0oEW3ygA/s320/vlcsnap-00213.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Daylight.
The Museum of Natural History. Cops and a photographer do their jobs,
Barth </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wainwright
arrives to be told Inspector Cardon is in charge, the Sergeant
pointing the way, his hand sporting a rather attractive and familiar
ring. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvOaLFbj8VmEYWP9mapyPeJzMzJKSCg2iVVuqmReV9J4NhOzXHTZUzMJVrG1iat8EJ41X725lSQetkmenrXMb7ykIH68k92mWG54p_eqkxWM5CyqKFmW-QMhfFZs-mqNJUeJuXgy_v7E/s1600/vlcsnap-00216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvOaLFbj8VmEYWP9mapyPeJzMzJKSCg2iVVuqmReV9J4NhOzXHTZUzMJVrG1iat8EJ41X725lSQetkmenrXMb7ykIH68k92mWG54p_eqkxWM5CyqKFmW-QMhfFZs-mqNJUeJuXgy_v7E/s320/vlcsnap-00216.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ambling over to the empty case that until recently houses a
silver coffin, the Sergeant slips away un-noticed, through the busy
crowds to a nondescript building housing offices. In a plain-looking
hallway, he goes to a door marked 'B. JONAS' and slips a note into
the letter box. </span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOM3Kj6xUrD0Ryk7nTnKgGbrp8R0LpxH3ne5hHmvmoUh0TwkitEK8hB7hKmUofBLkWewyXpiMu9MCU9p-jlTS4NvdE_rNokOAghZI28g33SfqOu0GIUFqGyo6YH-_w4cGB1UX8RyofGc/s1600/vlcsnap-00220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOM3Kj6xUrD0Ryk7nTnKgGbrp8R0LpxH3ne5hHmvmoUh0TwkitEK8hB7hKmUofBLkWewyXpiMu9MCU9p-jlTS4NvdE_rNokOAghZI28g33SfqOu0GIUFqGyo6YH-_w4cGB1UX8RyofGc/s320/vlcsnap-00220.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This is no ordinary letter box; the note slides into
a </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lamson</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
tube mounted on the other side, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
capsule whizzing through the pipe, round a bend and out of the
building. </span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItY5g-evmZlzoAsRyUQh6r8z-ReiJK5oQZlaWHqa0M-vDbd4awfcCQKhz96OVFu8dNjDz-_Q08DtXr1CtEyCLvYir-2PCNIA6sq7qYRz9ZOSPEduZDtjZUqx4wIaEAn_k6XtUTwtQzpE/s1600/vlcsnap-00222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItY5g-evmZlzoAsRyUQh6r8z-ReiJK5oQZlaWHqa0M-vDbd4awfcCQKhz96OVFu8dNjDz-_Q08DtXr1CtEyCLvYir-2PCNIA6sq7qYRz9ZOSPEduZDtjZUqx4wIaEAn_k6XtUTwtQzpE/s320/vlcsnap-00222.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dizzyingly, we see the progress of the capsule through what
turns out to be an improbably long and convoluted pipework running
between and around buildings, until </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">it
pops out into the tray at the end. It has come to rest in a control
room, of sorts. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWWuS-AELxrQXHZPmTyaQke_yzboYgcE3z1InQVQ2W16X2bvzkNzyj70UbUuuL6GcYCKjNavuV4Q7U2iNOBqQCz6nPKDD_J_9wPlP9HGqDFMJWudTelDAjGvK8a1CdSi_-PHv4EHuhQk/s1600/vlcsnap-00225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWWuS-AELxrQXHZPmTyaQke_yzboYgcE3z1InQVQ2W16X2bvzkNzyj70UbUuuL6GcYCKjNavuV4Q7U2iNOBqQCz6nPKDD_J_9wPlP9HGqDFMJWudTelDAjGvK8a1CdSi_-PHv4EHuhQk/s320/vlcsnap-00225.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUSlH4mqtXi261_31MHbgVvWlT3ldjj8mJzEgcPd5MxMlnbweSMzczPysvqkdol_7WjKndxMXIIWp13jSu-qW8km3XhV6j2FCdROHA82tHdput1_YwaOGneFSoWRz522rXB_q2C0R1Mc/s1600/vlcsnap-00226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUSlH4mqtXi261_31MHbgVvWlT3ldjj8mJzEgcPd5MxMlnbweSMzczPysvqkdol_7WjKndxMXIIWp13jSu-qW8km3XhV6j2FCdROHA82tHdput1_YwaOGneFSoWRz522rXB_q2C0R1Mc/s320/vlcsnap-00226.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The be-ringed operative manning the message tubes
extracts the message and presses a </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">button
to summon The Shadow.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In his
dressing room, Lamont Cranston's ring begins to glow (Keep your minds
out of the gutter, kids) and he leaves the room, galvanised by the
</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">alert</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.
Across town, Moe Shrevnitz is in his cab with a fare; a well-heeled
couple in back sitting, rigid with fear. His ring is glowing; he's
needed. Screeching to a halt, he orders them out; the man actually
thanks him, pleased to be in one piece. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Trotting down his steps,
Lamont tells Moe to go to the Sanctum. Alighting in Times Square,
Cranston checks he isn't being followed as he walks into an alleyway.
Going around the corner, he walks up to a steel stair way and
casually pushes a girder angle to activate a hidden mechanism. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ROS4YzBRIOkT5gpRbczrzNEVRltHNp7adaS44p1zr0gvFAHzIr8ZVpBl3b_kzDuSrwK8H0rnGrDeWKaxkJHMqVARSdO1FuKvhwelT3Zy3-EmmZHjAr5jlbG4RJRXD3rxSkocbMwNkwg/s1600/16+SECRET+DOOR+HUGE+FILE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="355" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ROS4YzBRIOkT5gpRbczrzNEVRltHNp7adaS44p1zr0gvFAHzIr8ZVpBl3b_kzDuSrwK8H0rnGrDeWKaxkJHMqVARSdO1FuKvhwelT3Zy3-EmmZHjAr5jlbG4RJRXD3rxSkocbMwNkwg/s320/16+SECRET+DOOR+HUGE+FILE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">A
grating drops away in sections to form steps, the wall sliding back
suddenly to form a doorway. Inside, he flips another lever to close
the whole ingenious contraption behind him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtLM28OWGS6iltYiEnTZAjyT4ji5Eh-5TpMYTCEIQh767huzOOe-uG-jZaXqfs23oPc1SfS4mHEybtAQ3mGDm5f7P90MYBF6EmJjhQTg68oOFpRgqfJ7PyyQcY2bX7OTY9PmYNwX3IM0/s1600/17+MECHANISM.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtLM28OWGS6iltYiEnTZAjyT4ji5Eh-5TpMYTCEIQh767huzOOe-uG-jZaXqfs23oPc1SfS4mHEybtAQ3mGDm5f7P90MYBF6EmJjhQTg68oOFpRgqfJ7PyyQcY2bX7OTY9PmYNwX3IM0/s320/17+MECHANISM.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Descending an iron
staircase into his sanctum, the iron shutters guarding its secrets
rise to admit him. Going to a sophisticated control panel, he
activates a fantastic device, a tele-viewer, enabling him to speak to
the agent at the control room. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The agent reports; their agent
in the 26<sup>th</sup> Precinct reports a murder at the Museum of
Natural History and advises inquiry. Shutting off the futuristic
gizmo, Lamont considers the information carefully, but then notices
he is not alone; Temujin stands on his stairs. He introduces himself
as Shiwan Khan, last descendant of Ghengis Khan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqB14clUH2B1OP60VxEkk_5WDegv7OnmakTwxreV2dIws1i23tLpu9fRwqxP34uHZKZ04-77PawUbfw-ZnzIo2bRaxDpYpulAaYR-AumCsKCAYCgK5ruCpy-twtp29GyK0VB1iwdbiv-w/s1600/vlcsnap-00251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqB14clUH2B1OP60VxEkk_5WDegv7OnmakTwxreV2dIws1i23tLpu9fRwqxP34uHZKZ04-77PawUbfw-ZnzIo2bRaxDpYpulAaYR-AumCsKCAYCgK5ruCpy-twtp29GyK0VB1iwdbiv-w/s320/vlcsnap-00251.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">He tells the
confused Cranston not to feel obligated to introduce himself; he
knows who he is – and not this, temporary version of himself. He
knows who he <i>really</i> is; at the name Ying Ko, Cranston,
startled, cannot help but stare. Shiwan Khan is, he declares, a great
admirer. Lamont doesn't know what he's talking about. Khan smiles at
this; it was no more difficult for him to invade his mind than this
room. Striding through to the comfort afforded by a roaring fire and
comfortable leather chairs, Khan seats himself and Cranston follows
suit. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Shiwan Khan claims his
feelings are hurt – he would have thought Cranston would welcome
the opportunity to meet another with the ability to cloud men's
minds. Lamont realises he is talking to another student of the Tulku.
Khan tells him the Tulku spoke of Lamont constantly, but wasn't as
able to turn him so easily. Affably, Khan asks if Lamont happens to
have some American bourbon. He is happy to pay... but Lamont won't
hear of it. , going to get the drinks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Genially, he asks if his
guest happened to pay a visit to the museum last night. Yes, a
wonderful collection of Tibetan tapestries. They clink glasses and
Khan continues his reminisce; grown men still shudder at the name
Ying Ko; he is, he confesses, his idol. He studied his raid on the
village of Bargo. Lamont confesses, it rings a bell. It was a
masterstroke insists Khan. Swift, vicious and sudden!. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">So, asks Lamont, what brings
Khan to the Big Apple?. His destiny; Ghengis Khan conquered half the
known world in his lifetime. He intends to finish the job. If he told
him how it wouldn't be a surprise. He travelled to this country in
Ghengis Khan's holy crypt, absorbing his power. In three days, the
world will hear his roar – and willingly subject to the lost empire
of Sianking. The would-be conqueror's thoughts turn to the sartorial
with a question on where Lamont got his tie; Brooks Brothers, 45<sup>th</sup>
and Madison. When Lamont calls Khan a barbarian, he takes it as a
compliment. They both are – inside him Khan knows beats a heart of
darkness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Grabbing Lamont to pull him closer, he says he dips into
that heart every time he dons the hat and cloak. Join me, he says –
you are Ying Ko, the butcher of Lhasa. <i>You and only you deserve to
be by my side...</i> wrenching away, Lamont is confronted by Khan,
who has used his training from the Tulku to good effect. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Suddenly, Shiwan Khan reaches
for something, something metallic. With his heel, Lamont presses a
hidden switch at which a tray pops from the wall, an automatic in his
hand in a flash. Instead of a weapon, a Chinese coin spins in
mid-air, to be caught by Cranston. Of Khan there is no sign save his
voice; <i>For the bourbon. We will meet again, soon. </i>Closing his
fist around the coin, Lamont feels it to be charged with mystical
energy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">An elaborate floor seen from
above, patterned with gilded Chinese mozaic. Almost part of the
pattern, Shiwan Khan's ornate cloak as he prostrates himself, rising
to his knees to proclaim the day of the Mongol warrior is again at
hand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Surrounding him are such warriors, armoured, kneeling
Samurai-style. (Well, it looks good on the screen; go with it...)
Soon, with wings outstretched – we fly to our destiny!. This
prompts much roaring and spinning of swords. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">At the Tam home, Mrs. Tam
pours coffee as her distracted husband listens to the news on the
radio; another report of the elusive Shadow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">She thinks it's all a
gimmick dreamed up by the radio people, but he eyes the ring Moe gave
him and knows better. The doorbell gives him a chance to evade her
questions and there, standing on his doorstep is Lamont Cranston,
face veiled in shadow. <i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The sun is shining. But the ice is
slippery. </i>Dr. Tam thinks this to be an agent of the Shadow, but
Lamont merely replies 'Who?.' and Dr. Tam gets it, winking to show
he's on the same page. Lamont needs a metal analysis of the Chinese
coin he got from Shiwan Khan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">At Dr. Tam's lab, he pours a
liquid onto the coin, which fulminates and bubbles dramatically,
breaking the petri dish. Bronzium – the metal is Bronzium, he
didn't believe it even existed. Setting the disc under his
microscope, he explains the ancient Chinese thought Bronzium the
fabric of which the Universe was formed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The Doctor asks after its
origin, to be told Sianking. This makes sense; Tam reveals according
to the legends, Sianking was called the birthplace of the World.
Lamont asks if it could conceivably be used to make some sort of a
weapon, which sparks a fear in the doctor's mind; theoretically,
yes... he rushes to one of his weighty textbooks. Bronzium is
unstable at the molecular level, constantly given to expansion. Only
the cell bonds hold this expansion back, but if this bond was ever to
be breached... an explosion?; no, says the Doc, but if the power of
the cell was to be turned back on itself in an <i>implosion</i>,
there would be an explosion. How Big?; Dr. Tam cannot say, but the
breakdown would spread to all levels of the cell's atomic
construction. Fashioned into a bomb, the effects would be –
catastrophic. An implosive-explosive sub-molecular device. Grimly,
Lamont has another name for it; an atomic bomb. Hey, says the Doc –
that's catchy... but the bomb would have to have a beryllium sphere
to contain the apparatus – no other metal would be able to contain
the blast. None of this is possibly anyway, unless some genius
figures out how to design and make it. Going to his blackboard, he
erases his workings to draw a crude representation of the very sphere
Reinhardt Lang is working on at this very moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">In his own sanctum, Shiwan
Khan kneels before an altar, incense burning. Closing his eyes, he
claps his hands, once, uttering an incantation as old as the planet.
As the words assume their magical aspects, the very fabric of the
tapestry behind the altar begins to change, move to assume new form. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xgm-NXoh3Up6CBYpPYKXSv5K1CAXs4fn2-QKm3pBT3sOu7ek8BjPkEINS1TWF8czkS6QtGGDyjwSsudeic0OSNFQQZysnoOL3fJhwUrahD1sRV4c9PBY2HkStRp76eu16_y_-5BlMJA/s1600/20+TAPESTRY+IN+MOTION.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xgm-NXoh3Up6CBYpPYKXSv5K1CAXs4fn2-QKm3pBT3sOu7ek8BjPkEINS1TWF8czkS6QtGGDyjwSsudeic0OSNFQQZysnoOL3fJhwUrahD1sRV4c9PBY2HkStRp76eu16_y_-5BlMJA/s320/20+TAPESTRY+IN+MOTION.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The very design of the tapestry now released, it floats out above
him, wraithlike, ethereal, before returning into place. A name has
come through to Shiwan Khan; Reinhardt Lane. Projecting his
consciousness into the night, he repeats the name over and over,
sending his influence out through the city until it settles upon the
laboratory of Reinhardt Lane himself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvBSkDSPddL-Iec3bUihIcSnTy5WmE7L_-SQcVp8D7nm1dG-WVjpBFk13NBQv6W94R3E91B_KrxueOKRUNqDQcrAo2-fVq8SSo1OYnS_RRj9W0BCf9MgEX9RvHHjm1fhtwNg_ttfmyfM/s1600/MV5BMjExMjA1OTM2N15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODQxNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C608%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="608" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvBSkDSPddL-Iec3bUihIcSnTy5WmE7L_-SQcVp8D7nm1dG-WVjpBFk13NBQv6W94R3E91B_KrxueOKRUNqDQcrAo2-fVq8SSo1OYnS_RRj9W0BCf9MgEX9RvHHjm1fhtwNg_ttfmyfM/s320/MV5BMjExMjA1OTM2N15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODQxNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C608%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="194" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">He is still at work, pacing the
lab, working to perfect the beryllium sphere. Finally, he hears the
preternatural voice and, under its spell, opens the doors to the
balcony outside the lab. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">It is as if Lane were sleepwalking as he
goes out along the terrace to stand facing a cigarette advertisement
on the roof of the building opposite. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPL2hrXOQanWlotKz1hGYEKsUUa4nMHpLwU4PHbPQ95ep9j1_4km4842jrdbjNFuIjl58KIcDDR4WmIjq29wCzzdSnwB5yny8ZLgug8PDDElwZfzU0j6jm7bPGScw-cyXF8eopKIjvb1M/s1600/vlcsnap-00299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPL2hrXOQanWlotKz1hGYEKsUUa4nMHpLwU4PHbPQ95ep9j1_4km4842jrdbjNFuIjl58KIcDDR4WmIjq29wCzzdSnwB5yny8ZLgug8PDDElwZfzU0j6jm7bPGScw-cyXF8eopKIjvb1M/s320/vlcsnap-00299.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The happy smoker depicted on
the billboard blows rings of real smoke and, as if on cue, Reinhardt
reached for a pack of Llamas, lights one. Suddenly, the happy smoker
is gone, replaced by the image of Shiwan Khan, calling his name. Deep
under, Lane responds as if drugged. <i>Yes, my Khan... </i></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The band is playing up a storm
at the Cobalt Club. Over his steak, Uncle Wainwright is back on
subject number one; why a man with nothing to do is constantly late
for every little engagement. Practice, replies an amused Lamont –
lots and lots of practice. Ever the playboy. Just then, Margo Lane
comes storming up; demanding to know what the Commissioner is doing
about her father. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzbJDBU5njs3itvj7hHyXdUKDiFVs-wONtwqEnP8_nzMMwseSABHnfUAX-hFoCJOXgRjddnIHukTGzqWykMuGRjoQY34MGnHwD0RC5yXN3wTRA0UVLfncEQnK_I5nnCrhqGf4Xycxu9g/s1600/vlcsnap-00308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzbJDBU5njs3itvj7hHyXdUKDiFVs-wONtwqEnP8_nzMMwseSABHnfUAX-hFoCJOXgRjddnIHukTGzqWykMuGRjoQY34MGnHwD0RC5yXN3wTRA0UVLfncEQnK_I5nnCrhqGf4Xycxu9g/s320/vlcsnap-00308.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">His secretary made it clear; there's nothing they
can do unless... <i>unless what?, he blows himself up?. </i>On the
ropes, the old man introduces his nephew. They've met. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Politely,
Lamont takes her coat and invites her to their table. She's in a
rather fetching velvet number. Dark green, emerald and diamond
ear-rings setting it off to perfection. Again, Wainwright tells her
it's not a police matter. She says her father has decided suddenly to
take no visitors, even her. Chances are, Barth thinks, it's something
Top Secret for the Government. No, she says, his research is
harmless; some kind of implosive device. At the magic word
'implosive', Lamont is all ears. That's why, she continues she knows
something wrong. They spoke on the phone and he seemed distant,
confused. He spoke to her in <i>Chinese. </i>He doesn't even speak
Chinese!. Defeated, the Commissioner promises to send a Policeman
over tomorrow to check things out. Margo asks Cranston's opinion.
Cranston is gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Spotting Lamont leaving, Margo
chases after him as the familiar Sunshine Radio Cab pulls up outside.
As he turns, she pulls back, something in his gaze un-nerving her. He
has to go. Desperately, out of nowhere at all, she cries out a name;
Ying Ko. Even as she speaks the name, she doesn't know it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Going back
across the pavement, Lamont takes the girl by the arm and at once his
face is in shadow. <i><b>You will forget about me. </b></i>Why would
she do that? She replies, bemused. <i><b>You will give me no further
thought.</b></i> Is he drunk?. Unsettled by the failure of his
ability to cloud minds, Cranston gets in back of the cab and orders
Shrevnitz to take him to the Federal Building.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">As he drives, Moe
watches in the mirror as his boss transforms into The Shadow. The
taxi rushes onward through the rain-flecked night. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Ahead, in the laboratory,
Reinhardt Lane carefully places the beryllium sphere into a box
marked War Department. Outside, the two Marine guards debate food
choices when the unexpected arrival of the lift at the far end of the
corridor has them reaching for their holsters. The lift appears empty
and their conversation continues. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9UWZaP2JZjJQyr9imr0NJX00SSFhm8ODewGibIO_vT0ovDyyqKe_a9CJHN9cpB_atBhUDU9XBh_s-wPf3kohubtOjGDR98raBB7lPAc6_TklS9XCYAFiNrGYwAh5bl4-HV5ydssEIyc/s1600/24+BOLTED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9UWZaP2JZjJQyr9imr0NJX00SSFhm8ODewGibIO_vT0ovDyyqKe_a9CJHN9cpB_atBhUDU9XBh_s-wPf3kohubtOjGDR98raBB7lPAc6_TklS9XCYAFiNrGYwAh5bl4-HV5ydssEIyc/s320/24+BOLTED.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Right up to the part where the
crossbow bolt thuds home into the larger Marine's chest. Before he
can comment or react, the Sergeant has one in his too. Both men fall,
dead, to the floor. Lane is preparing to leave when a fully-armoured
Mongol warrior steps into the lab, demanding the sphere in Chinese.
Dazed and robot-like, the scientist obeys, but a sudden peal of
laughter interrupts proceedings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhE9aV7RLeiXbRp9Wddq804ATQnRpGwMCn8vLI9CNJs_J9OYMu1xF3vvOOi6TQ19zgz0vj58uBgjk2msRMBjBJQfYuj40kAPnZr6-Zbl6Q8YyZrPdGGh6uDgeJ5wUWOV9QCkHZM6YUkI/s1600/vlcsnap-00333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhE9aV7RLeiXbRp9Wddq804ATQnRpGwMCn8vLI9CNJs_J9OYMu1xF3vvOOi6TQ19zgz0vj58uBgjk2msRMBjBJQfYuj40kAPnZr6-Zbl6Q8YyZrPdGGh6uDgeJ5wUWOV9QCkHZM6YUkI/s320/vlcsnap-00333.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Going out to the balcony, the Mongol
searches for the source of the uproarious laugh, but sees nothing. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjam-fThjovP6cM_zycIn0C7Kgu535y_POJgqn0hp-rq_YkoKSsXELe-5Y01Lr4YYKEsvY-zB_olYxqXjjUzfC7pSqq2piQxM2AQdLxLtKORNN599aVlCiy7ZlGtrbJcEpGDasd2TjswNE/s1600/vlcsnap-00335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjam-fThjovP6cM_zycIn0C7Kgu535y_POJgqn0hp-rq_YkoKSsXELe-5Y01Lr4YYKEsvY-zB_olYxqXjjUzfC7pSqq2piQxM2AQdLxLtKORNN599aVlCiy7ZlGtrbJcEpGDasd2TjswNE/s320/vlcsnap-00335.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">A
gloved hand slaps down on the warrior's helmet and he is hauled up by
his chinstrap. Desperately, the warrior flips the Shadow over his
shoulder – the latter rolls to his feet. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_zHwghAN5R8JMmus5pu9B9FA0igNGg-FYpe-RPBLfJSZEwEhbewBVHtEe3OR2oY12kRJNFJg0qfDWQYn7TVU4YuHG1mfIq8RRciVHqP_LspQA3HZwNwRT7WERLyvMi2ek0Pwi8tM1lY/s1600/vlcsnap-00338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_zHwghAN5R8JMmus5pu9B9FA0igNGg-FYpe-RPBLfJSZEwEhbewBVHtEe3OR2oY12kRJNFJg0qfDWQYn7TVU4YuHG1mfIq8RRciVHqP_LspQA3HZwNwRT7WERLyvMi2ek0Pwi8tM1lY/s320/vlcsnap-00338.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Drawing his sword, the
Mongol attacks furiously, but the caped crime-fighter manages to
knock the weapon from his grasp. The two grapple desperately.
Possessed of immense strength, the warrior forces Lamont over the
parapet and he gets a good look at the street far below. Heaving with
all his strength, the Shadow sends them both over the edge, falling
together, the Mongol below – until a stone eagle checks their
descent, crushing the warrior and saving the Shadow, who jokes <i><b>Next
time, you get to be on top. </b></i></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8DEbVJHaOKdALGbhuxrYecUGNWmGL0XCS1M1aHw619dX4gdtVqL3FbH9D36raURIkjCP415CUSTcoP4vAgnLZ_aUuJF6hBW-ZxT90I7yUYvum4n_CtfKbp7Eg9RvpJJM7pwkFA_4gDA/s1600/vlcsnap-00343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8DEbVJHaOKdALGbhuxrYecUGNWmGL0XCS1M1aHw619dX4gdtVqL3FbH9D36raURIkjCP415CUSTcoP4vAgnLZ_aUuJF6hBW-ZxT90I7yUYvum4n_CtfKbp7Eg9RvpJJM7pwkFA_4gDA/s320/vlcsnap-00343.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Meanwhile back in the lab...
Reinhardt stands statue-like as a group of Mongol warriors enter,
searching for their colleague. They ready their weapons, aware
something isn't right. Moving around the lab and its stupefied
occupant, the largest (And most Caucasian) of the Mongols suddenly
gets a fist in the face as the Shadow materialises then vanishes into
the air itself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWK-k_w6WxOzIVrItUGu7pil3KLQnYcz5sHiE-jTL4K1BNOCcKfnk79DLOlGTm9X30e9Am-g-DNkI9crufdjGt4K-yTe9jP7tFH1zON4lWyWut625K8MjPzQAtp8lA6kJS7hkhInmsjm8/s1600/25+ZAPPED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWK-k_w6WxOzIVrItUGu7pil3KLQnYcz5sHiE-jTL4K1BNOCcKfnk79DLOlGTm9X30e9Am-g-DNkI9crufdjGt4K-yTe9jP7tFH1zON4lWyWut625K8MjPzQAtp8lA6kJS7hkhInmsjm8/s320/25+ZAPPED.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Another thug goes flying onto an equipment bench,
then a third... three down... two more take back-fists to the face
and yet more are down (More in fact than were there in the first
place...) Finally, the large Mongol (Still American) picks up a handy
torch and follows the progress of one of his stooges as he is
systematically relieved of his teeth. Suddenly, the flash throws the
shadow of... well, the Shadow against a wall. Calling up one of his
men, he has him fire a crossbow bolt at the shadowy Shadow's shadow,
then another, pinning him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19SNfTQY6f7T6Q3lIXuNNBIym5aSHKi2f4t7MmS8OQ79gLKR5OCszWMkIzYClPaN0D_bu6WiA0OBY3EzQEFN6KE3ubWYzgK9FIxQHAoFb0a6S_LmnMMjzT5IgeQMW2V2krRc6h57Ptx0/s1600/26+THE+SHADOW+PINNED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19SNfTQY6f7T6Q3lIXuNNBIym5aSHKi2f4t7MmS8OQ79gLKR5OCszWMkIzYClPaN0D_bu6WiA0OBY3EzQEFN6KE3ubWYzgK9FIxQHAoFb0a6S_LmnMMjzT5IgeQMW2V2krRc6h57Ptx0/s320/26+THE+SHADOW+PINNED.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The others begin to rally at a call from
their large colleague as, incredibly, the Shadow emerges from his
shadow into the light to stand there defiantly against the odds.
Well, aside from the guns, that is...</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ccw7kq53MF37USCdIDiyVdL3ZqSvTL0ipe7PfSLYcrGbm5AHrs6UIYmZ72xxa9LmPLlWQCO1BHf5iHSR5oa22suNRakqdgCnejf7fna4fp5Po-zfr-VPVFv-9O-oJ65B_yo385yS9os/s1600/27+EMERGENCE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ccw7kq53MF37USCdIDiyVdL3ZqSvTL0ipe7PfSLYcrGbm5AHrs6UIYmZ72xxa9LmPLlWQCO1BHf5iHSR5oa22suNRakqdgCnejf7fna4fp5Po-zfr-VPVFv-9O-oJ65B_yo385yS9os/s320/27+EMERGENCE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">As the Mongol reloads his
crossbow, the Shadow draws his automatics and blazes away, dropping
them left and right. The remaining Mongols bundle Reinhardt out of
the lab while one pursues the Shadow back out onto the balcony,
ending up hanging off it with only the Shadow's grip stopping him
from taking a long fall with bad prospects. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WQPYZpcXIJKIA2gZl0iIK-e1-f9hI5bCUbraBEjjg7yGcYh7Bphkt4pZZhYV7pjK5afJ26hTApLX1sJtXEe0ylKCGy_qWs_yPWoUwSxDuTGq0HfJCHaEnRlsIWbCKKSFjwwM7SFPonY/s1600/28+GET+A+GRIP.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WQPYZpcXIJKIA2gZl0iIK-e1-f9hI5bCUbraBEjjg7yGcYh7Bphkt4pZZhYV7pjK5afJ26hTApLX1sJtXEe0ylKCGy_qWs_yPWoUwSxDuTGq0HfJCHaEnRlsIWbCKKSFjwwM7SFPonY/s320/28+GET+A+GRIP.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Where is Khan? Demands
the crime-fighter; but he prefers death, to serve his Khan with it
rather than talk. Wriggling free, he falls. Hilariously, Moe is down
on the street reading 'Developing Your Psychic Ability' – and
senses someone is coming. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81vWY87pPxJwnxicnzA81s1_W0nHOZGCymBaAQ_vzz-B79yjkXeTh-wd8e-E-ZRDd_w1KY5030yEoujwTIxQtV6askHL42n5204xc-5wDtYK143vREtcqUwF-J72OLeDlu7IUSsxlxlI/s1600/vlcsnap-00371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81vWY87pPxJwnxicnzA81s1_W0nHOZGCymBaAQ_vzz-B79yjkXeTh-wd8e-E-ZRDd_w1KY5030yEoujwTIxQtV6askHL42n5204xc-5wDtYK143vREtcqUwF-J72OLeDlu7IUSsxlxlI/s320/vlcsnap-00371.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">He's right; the book's a winner!. Getting
back into his cab, he finds the Shadow already in back.<i> Drive...</i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Margo is just returning home
when the phone rings; it's her Father. He needs to see her right
away, he says – but he is being controlled by Shiwan Khan as he
speaks. He needs her at the lab right away, she should hurry. Doing
as she is asked, Margo arrives at the lab. Finding the Marine guards
dead, she hurries in, fearing the worst. Electricity sparks from
broken equipment and a few small fires are burning, the bodies of the
vanquished Mongols littering the place. Out on the balcony, she
approaches the Llama cigarettes sign and comes under Khan's
influence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">In Khan's sanctum, Margo
stands still as a statue as Khan runs his hands over her*, examines
her as if she was a horse he was interested in buying.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8MKbvEqF3ueqvuFZOTz0nnxgP05qL_besEMG3MOrXxkQPop2WG4GIeUC5zyBLwunIgUXvaGVwp92fGWCrWBjCZaaGQ83fLsNoJaB46Y23DsdQ902MZYCVXTiOQ1L-sEsHWvtP3udZRM/s1600/29+LUCKY+BUGGER.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8MKbvEqF3ueqvuFZOTz0nnxgP05qL_besEMG3MOrXxkQPop2WG4GIeUC5zyBLwunIgUXvaGVwp92fGWCrWBjCZaaGQ83fLsNoJaB46Y23DsdQ902MZYCVXTiOQ1L-sEsHWvtP3udZRM/s320/29+LUCKY+BUGGER.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Reinhardt Lane
stands dumbly beside, holding a box which he opens for Khan to take a
target pistol**. Loading it, he hands it to Margo. He has a mission
for her.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">*And actor John Lone, playing
Khan got <i>paid </i>for this!. </span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">**A .50 calibre Remington
Rolling block, for the record. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zc0xBUoxFXna66XYOMT6OSoN4varv-eukNWMogf2Xd-0iSbSteQsUPTKmdeIk0-ohPTmKZyuy5P4ncyhvuv0GjClEMdhbko5MrBaAFWUpHRWfnNJ1O9mgP-wnq8v2ocSSNxNV9gJKkI/s1600/vlcsnap-00394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zc0xBUoxFXna66XYOMT6OSoN4varv-eukNWMogf2Xd-0iSbSteQsUPTKmdeIk0-ohPTmKZyuy5P4ncyhvuv0GjClEMdhbko5MrBaAFWUpHRWfnNJ1O9mgP-wnq8v2ocSSNxNV9gJKkI/s320/vlcsnap-00394.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">At home, Lamont Cranston dabs
some alcohol on his wound from the crossbow bolt that pierced his
shoulder. The creak of a stair alerts him as Margo slowly ascends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuS2_tJ2RyNHSAY2vrAtgiWiu5SS-69MKQCLweVgEsIjeDcVIZINPeJDTbA2DXW_1kTiSxui1trkEnU-Q-elNXt7nU_gdJE1j_Sogac9OrO3qTHvEzhJg-LdWGixch3q2LEf4-EumrGE/s1600/4689901286228f6abbc148536682cf75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuS2_tJ2RyNHSAY2vrAtgiWiu5SS-69MKQCLweVgEsIjeDcVIZINPeJDTbA2DXW_1kTiSxui1trkEnU-Q-elNXt7nU_gdJE1j_Sogac9OrO3qTHvEzhJg-LdWGixch3q2LEf4-EumrGE/s320/4689901286228f6abbc148536682cf75.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">She opens his door, raises the pistol, taking careful aim at the
defenceless Lamont and shoots... the mirror he placed to dupe her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_TQicQQGLsQNJWQ9T5QBPKCwO8Iry6AtOasDlqQ4t0CGoprVbKhUjo6x2t1Ss-ExJ025X0BV9aBL-cSXEm3OhzdIcLcLfoL30VNpLMHnkp8WW57ntQIeGZ-ynDhEACtRqVv2J3zCVTg/s1600/30+SEVEN+YEARS+BAD+LUCK.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_TQicQQGLsQNJWQ9T5QBPKCwO8Iry6AtOasDlqQ4t0CGoprVbKhUjo6x2t1Ss-ExJ025X0BV9aBL-cSXEm3OhzdIcLcLfoL30VNpLMHnkp8WW57ntQIeGZ-ynDhEACtRqVv2J3zCVTg/s320/30+SEVEN+YEARS+BAD+LUCK.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">She enters the room, still holding the empty pistol. Coming around
behind her, he takes the pistol from her, her hand remaining
outstretched as if it still held the weapon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5FJFxuTINl0guCkWWe3jrMRH_IystcFpPR3ZHwo3E5JP3umCvL7VWkNXg4VIjVVfbXPRKVmqf4zy7y13-7UYLAy8-osG8PN0FTLdW-TGtd3q4_VQuNl59eWk8biSWIMzXdNHB2J1M4U/s1600/vlcsnap-00402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5FJFxuTINl0guCkWWe3jrMRH_IystcFpPR3ZHwo3E5JP3umCvL7VWkNXg4VIjVVfbXPRKVmqf4zy7y13-7UYLAy8-osG8PN0FTLdW-TGtd3q4_VQuNl59eWk8biSWIMzXdNHB2J1M4U/s320/vlcsnap-00402.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Using his power, he
breaks her out of her spell by saying her name. She is totally
unaware of her actions; when he demands to know who sent her, she can
only recall the voice in her head telling her she had to kill the
Shadow. Putting his shirt on, he wants her to leave, but she realises
who Lamont Cranston really is; she had to kill the Shadow and she
came – here. She wants to look into his eyes, when he turns she
sees they are the dark eyes of the Shadow. With the thrill of
recognition she knows know why she felt there was something unusual
about him. Look into my eyes – you won't like what you see, he
tells her, but she is tingling all over to know his secret identity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxQPlviVkKcFX4wp8ElTO0AfOdD79lIrjo9V7UbemkFRYb3GtKdV9Qejos_cBuheZpnMUQtihiDUNmstYsyH9CpQtiyvWq47cy6Cqrvmt-0cCB1r0zMUpm7aV2YTViq9xlbQsODwFhu8/s1600/3976979%252CowuFsbgVizWPcAoC2z1eoywF3ocxM0QaxM8dD1rTxD9GjloOH%252BT4rMz5VSWRYOGwLjvcjUu1YrRzqTUZsIYyBg%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxQPlviVkKcFX4wp8ElTO0AfOdD79lIrjo9V7UbemkFRYb3GtKdV9Qejos_cBuheZpnMUQtihiDUNmstYsyH9CpQtiyvWq47cy6Cqrvmt-0cCB1r0zMUpm7aV2YTViq9xlbQsODwFhu8/s320/3976979%252CowuFsbgVizWPcAoC2z1eoywF3ocxM0QaxM8dD1rTxD9GjloOH%252BT4rMz5VSWRYOGwLjvcjUu1YrRzqTUZsIYyBg%253D%253D.jpg" width="209" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">As his eyes return to their normal state, she tells him of her
father's disappearance; he is the only one who can help her. <i>Just
be gone when I get back, </i>he snarls, but, breathlessly she stops
him opening the door to leave. How does he know she won't tell
anyone?. But this is the Shadow – and he knows. He leaves. Ordering
Moe to go to the Sanctum, the cab pulling out of the gates. Neither
Moe nor his boss spots the cab following them, a Mongol warrior in
the back.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdzfShkIYZGpPZFjGDujYi9-mf1urnoKvzVO8z-TkFzcJMC1k6CfkAjURvslSledbMVxvPg5X-nbgn6imqbsZbbjK0tlne6v5Njj4tL3AnjVlfpVOKpTIdBYRqxkm6f1ooCv4tg_1eO4/s1600/vlcsnap-00422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdzfShkIYZGpPZFjGDujYi9-mf1urnoKvzVO8z-TkFzcJMC1k6CfkAjURvslSledbMVxvPg5X-nbgn6imqbsZbbjK0tlne6v5Njj4tL3AnjVlfpVOKpTIdBYRqxkm6f1ooCv4tg_1eO4/s320/vlcsnap-00422.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Walking the short distance to
the alleyway, Lamont pauses ostensibly to adjust his Homburg, but he
looks in a car mirror to see the Mongol following. Not the most
discrete of followers. Ducking into an alley, Lamont disappears into
shadow, the Mongol sees nothing and walks on, into Chinatown. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYuz1yPn94Phnp0CBN0HVIZhGLpSqdoFgglAysuqM5P8rx9boVvxbvEkP9eD1qXrXYkhdljj4w2_Z-mKvfjQ1QW_nD0LVFclH_KCzKzi5LpXdInj_Y-VLvPyldGsj59ndR8E-KO_RXTY/s1600/31+NO+SHADOW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYuz1yPn94Phnp0CBN0HVIZhGLpSqdoFgglAysuqM5P8rx9boVvxbvEkP9eD1qXrXYkhdljj4w2_Z-mKvfjQ1QW_nD0LVFclH_KCzKzi5LpXdInj_Y-VLvPyldGsj59ndR8E-KO_RXTY/s320/31+NO+SHADOW.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwla04It6C6CcOAnp1TuWnO25mB5d19ls0VNhHY8cK0tNK63q8SVDIDl8AzALRCEexiEXi-JH9Sd8giuL0k1nXYxgpEHt7B8ynIvLxHEkwEYWSbX-a6UJBzcQJRTpo6FGyhgoqyWDW6Y/s1600/vlcsnap-00430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwla04It6C6CcOAnp1TuWnO25mB5d19ls0VNhHY8cK0tNK63q8SVDIDl8AzALRCEexiEXi-JH9Sd8giuL0k1nXYxgpEHt7B8ynIvLxHEkwEYWSbX-a6UJBzcQJRTpo6FGyhgoqyWDW6Y/s320/vlcsnap-00430.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Now
Lamont is the follower, tracking the armoured figure as he makes his
way to a kitchen. Lamont follows
him upstairs to a run-down dump of a Chinese eaterie. There's only
one customer, busy filling his face. <i>Shiwan Khan. </i>Dressed in a
suit, he sports the same exact tie Lamont wore on their first
meeting, which Lamont complements him on. Cordially, Khan invites him
to share his table. </span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSb2E4_roXknxuGtBC5sAfI1BIdqNDk34WcWzGOofpiDxABb97-IgmpIwtbt6p2iJDHl6i04dFbX3XnWsfBn5RwN1UWJ72e5yJRjbb2dqbTxVtLlWsLUAUdsKQj55kZiNAR9MtEQOglp0/s1600/2181090%252Cyp%252BT7PMY5lKvdiJRNP2232rRcIxVh8A_S7N9IsWuz4QEwaEPZZrjpU%252BrJbihmueTTpJCTKIusJ0qmDEDRKo4WA%253D%253D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSb2E4_roXknxuGtBC5sAfI1BIdqNDk34WcWzGOofpiDxABb97-IgmpIwtbt6p2iJDHl6i04dFbX3XnWsfBn5RwN1UWJ72e5yJRjbb2dqbTxVtLlWsLUAUdsKQj55kZiNAR9MtEQOglp0/s320/2181090%252Cyp%252BT7PMY5lKvdiJRNP2232rRcIxVh8A_S7N9IsWuz4QEwaEPZZrjpU%252BrJbihmueTTpJCTKIusJ0qmDEDRKo4WA%253D%253D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Seated, Cranston accuses Khan
of sending Margo to kill him. Kill him?; if he wanted him dead, he'd
have his liver on a pole by now. He sent the girl to <i>be </i>killed
and he wants to know how Lamont killed her. He tells Khan she's alive
– Khan feels this is a danger to him, but Lamont tells him he's
onto him; he still doesn't have the beryllium sphere. <i> </i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IwHTknpdsAbepHq0bUJV7AMAU-_aMw8scQHE7mDhtv3xHvwhOVsg5IWIpkkDdvhy6zgs7yZplxk-k2xm7EK294RWufRmx8Mth6uWFn8qkX0HhjJMZen9Zdp6geoZRtpAUj1tNfnYF9s/s1600/vlcsnap-00440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IwHTknpdsAbepHq0bUJV7AMAU-_aMw8scQHE7mDhtv3xHvwhOVsg5IWIpkkDdvhy6zgs7yZplxk-k2xm7EK294RWufRmx8Mth6uWFn8qkX0HhjJMZen9Zdp6geoZRtpAUj1tNfnYF9s/s320/vlcsnap-00440.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>You
Americans are so arrogant, you think your meaningless, decadent
country is the new cradle of civilisation, </i><i>but let me tell you
something... </i>Hey, that's the U.S of A. you're talking about... <i>I
am talking about ruling the World!. </i>Lamont offers him the name of
a brilliant psychiatrist Leonard Levinsky; he'll talk and Leonard
will listen... but Khan explodes, shouting that Lamont is boring him.
He slams down a familiar knife with a thud, between the American's
fingers; the Phurba, snarling as ever. Oh, <i>that</i> knife... </span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Khan took the Phurba from the
Tulku. No, he corrects himself – he took it <i>out </i>of the Tulku
after he ran it through his heart. <i>When will you learn to listen
to your instincts?... </i>Instincts?; Lamont offers to show Khan his
instincts, grabbing the dagger and going for him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQcowr-u8rEF3KnMR-z7OgUp03REek_0retF9g8rEHAg4aKAQqMlnaNx0WK1ls05a_73sox1WLCLuldXtQNY7rZ9h32usgQTdSrJ1g3vIgJQRdWpu7J6OuhWgfZIqhBSObBqU9Dq8S0U/s1600/vlcsnap-00447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQcowr-u8rEF3KnMR-z7OgUp03REek_0retF9g8rEHAg4aKAQqMlnaNx0WK1ls05a_73sox1WLCLuldXtQNY7rZ9h32usgQTdSrJ1g3vIgJQRdWpu7J6OuhWgfZIqhBSObBqU9Dq8S0U/s320/vlcsnap-00447.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The dagger refuses
to budge towards its new master, snarling and causing Lamont great
pain. <i>Never did master the Phurba, did you?; still expect it to
respond to brute force. </i>Lamont sits back down in agony, the
Phurba slides across to its master's hand. A Mongol appears, clapping
a pistol to Cranston's head. Khan comments that what Mongol Warriors
lack in intellect they make up for in loyalty. <i>There is no light
without shadow, and you and I are that shadow... </i>again, he
appeals to Cranston to join him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwz2knV9Z1bvKPNHbzjcm8h7tL-xVV1VFYBJdcDgZyoFzFHFDv5P3lj6TzAYJQOc3GUM9tDghcPVzTkL5Z1Rc5rLC7NQdIP9NvxXOA4H78-vy3RErwP0ENABx6TjwVOvpEbksAB68nY4/s1600/vlcsnap-00449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwz2knV9Z1bvKPNHbzjcm8h7tL-xVV1VFYBJdcDgZyoFzFHFDv5P3lj6TzAYJQOc3GUM9tDghcPVzTkL5Z1Rc5rLC7NQdIP9NvxXOA4H78-vy3RErwP0ENABx6TjwVOvpEbksAB68nY4/s320/vlcsnap-00449.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Khan rambles on, giving Lamont
time to use his powers to invade the mind of the pistol-toting
Mongol. (Why Khan doesn't spot any of this is a mystery.) Just as
Khan is telling him his mind is like an open book, Lamont snarls back
he should learn to read, causing the Mongol to toss him the pistol.
Overturning the table, Khan rams the Phurba into the compromised
warrior's chest, taking the dying man's sword and running to the back
of the room to draw his own pistol even as Lamont takes aim. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0NKZSNZt9QxdXM85NBgnQPdvPb_8FHfkGO7JHy8B3AKIfy8-y2rrQjOA4HqmWgV-r2sDgFltQsUna1Q7tyidbBCR8S38HNL1iPHH7h4oYPdcPFiKlxW0jthQQfUWcsbbo1qbzcgAPRA/s1600/32+METAL+MEETS+METAL+LARGE+FILE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0NKZSNZt9QxdXM85NBgnQPdvPb_8FHfkGO7JHy8B3AKIfy8-y2rrQjOA4HqmWgV-r2sDgFltQsUna1Q7tyidbBCR8S38HNL1iPHH7h4oYPdcPFiKlxW0jthQQfUWcsbbo1qbzcgAPRA/s320/32+METAL+MEETS+METAL+LARGE+FILE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Both men
fire – two bullets hurtle through the air between them –
incredibly, the rounds strike each other in mid-air, falling to the
ground. Dashing to the window, Khan shatters it with a shout of
mystical power, diving through it and landing on his feet on the
ground below. (!) Lamont takes the stairs. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Outside, the crowd scatters as
a Mongol rides up on a motorcycle combination, tricked up with an
ornate Chinese-style sidecar. Khan jumps in, clutching his phurba and
the bike roars off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboRakLu1XMfzHhmNxX65C_6iIN-nWcbBfV1o2SROGJh-LYzr9rFglvZ_c4G20mRZ8brFVIorzNCXTiwM831QvVIErYSy4YwQN11dV_OXbFxn0CzrXYht_xeaH20cHl75kNO_uWqyuVbc/s1600/vlcsnap-00472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboRakLu1XMfzHhmNxX65C_6iIN-nWcbBfV1o2SROGJh-LYzr9rFglvZ_c4G20mRZ8brFVIorzNCXTiwM831QvVIErYSy4YwQN11dV_OXbFxn0CzrXYht_xeaH20cHl75kNO_uWqyuVbc/s320/vlcsnap-00472.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Leaping into his taxi, Lamont orders Moe to tail
them, the Cord screeching off in pursuit, but the motorcycle combo
has just vanished into thin air. Suddenly, Lamont senses something,
telling Moe to stop by the empty lot Khan was dropped at earlier. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmStfRsbqNBmMZ8bXLM9R8N04QPee4nyW80sW3M_oa7p0h0mJFahxrocByz3H5MmQwPMoD6bu7jfDwfmlAIq8AHZQCLmoIXuVkEl5Kw24Z8YlIYApaCmW2cWztLTTH1yW8ThyphenhyphenABfxjY-Q/s1600/vlcsnap-00481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmStfRsbqNBmMZ8bXLM9R8N04QPee4nyW80sW3M_oa7p0h0mJFahxrocByz3H5MmQwPMoD6bu7jfDwfmlAIq8AHZQCLmoIXuVkEl5Kw24Z8YlIYApaCmW2cWztLTTH1yW8ThyphenhyphenABfxjY-Q/s320/vlcsnap-00481.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Walking over to the lot, Lamont is joined by Moe, who observes the
obvious; it's just an empty lot. Forced to concede, Lamont walks back
to the cab, unable to shake the feeling he gets from the place. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Returning to his mansion,
Lamont finds Margo asleep in his chair before the fire. Waking, Margo
says that she can't help knowing what she knows about him. Standing,
she goes to him, irresistible. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Somehow, he manages toresist, telling her
it's late. He says she's welcome to one of the guest rooms, but in
the morning she should go. She tells him she's not afraid of him.
Placing a hand gently on her cheek, he replies <i>But I am...
</i>displaying more self-control than an entire monastery, he goes to
bed, alone. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Sleep does not come easily to
Lamont Cranston, sitting up in bed at the sound of a woman's voice
calling his name. It's not Margo; she's sound asleep in her bed.
Going to her room, he sees this and goes to the mirror, something's
wrong with his face. Reaching into his skin, he pulls at it, finding
it has become a mask. Tearing the mask away he reveals the face of
Shiwan Khan!. Margo has awoken, sitting up in bed to scream with
terror. Lamont himself now sits bolt upright in bed, the dream over. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Morning. Fully dressed, Lamont
walks into Margo's room to find her still sleeping, beautiful as ever
in a satin nightdress. She tells him she dreamed. So did he, asking
to hear her dream first. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">She was dreaming she was naked on the beach
in the South Seas (I'm having a similar dream right now) and the sun
was beating down – her skin felt hot and cool at the same time. She
rubs her hands over her body just so we get the idea... who else is wondering how much better this scene would have been with the late John Belushi?. How was his dream, she asks?;
he dreamed he tore all the skin off his face and was somebody else
beneath. She tells him he has problems. Gallantly he says he will
wait outside while she dresses, but she says he can stay. Her dress
is all rumpled; luckily he has some dresses in the wardrobe. He shows
her one, claiming it belonged to his 'Aunt Rose'. When she shoots him
a look, he adds she was very fashionable. And she kept her figure,
observes Margo wryly, ducking behind a screen to dress. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Lamont has to go; he has a
<i>Taxi waiting downstairs?, </i>Lamont is pulled up short as she
finishes his sentence. She sensed that's what he was going to say.
It's easier the more she's around him; he's like reading a book.
Thanking him, she says she won't need that taxi – he disagrees; he
has an important meeting, but she's happy to come. He recalls they
agreed she would leave – she doesn't recall any such thing. They
need each other, she says. No, they don't, says he. They have a
connection, she says. No, we don't, says he. Then how does he explain
her reading his thoughts?. His thoughts, he tells her are hard to
miss; psychically he's very well endowed. She'll bet. Okay; he
doesn't need her, but <i>she </i>needs him – and she is coming with
him. Somehow Aunt Rose wouldn't have looked as good in that number...
seeing Margo in it sways the day and Lamont agrees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The Empire State building. On
the viewing deck, Reinhardt Lane stands, hypnotised next to Shiwan
Khan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Pointing out a wide swathe of Manhatten, Reinhardt explains
that is the blast radius of the device. The destruction will be –
incalculable. Some sailors from the U.S.S. Texas on shore leave pass,
one making a joke about Khan's 'dress'. Eyeing the sailor intently,
Khan takes control of him, forcing the terrified man to climb the
safety rail, standing on the very edge. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">His shipmates and the other
sight-seers spot him and ask what he's doing; he has no idea, he
says, pleading with them to get him down. Khan forces him to jump, the poor wretch falling to a horrible death.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Down below, Lamont tells
Margo it's all falling into place (!), all Khan needs is the
beryllium sphere to complete the bomb. At the words 'Beryllium
sphere', Margo stops him; Farley Claymore, her father's assistant!.
He works on his own at Mari-Tech labs, down on the South side. Very
good, says Lamont; he tells her about losing Khan on the corner of
Second and Houston, by the abandoned lot. There's something odd about
the place and he wants her to check it out, find what used to be
there. Farley Claymore is going to get a visit. From the Shadow. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Across the river, the
Mari-Tech labs site, a massive water-pressure test chamber outside.
Entering the chamber, Farley Claymore locks the hatch behind him, to
be startled by a voice from nowhere. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The Shadow demands to know where
the beryllium sphere is. Lamely, Claymore tries to bluff, but the
Shadow tells him he's being manipulated by hypnosis. 'My mind?.'
Well, quite. Claymore tells him it's too late; he loaded the sphere
onto a truck. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The voice demands he take him to it, but instead he
throws a lever to send a torrent of water surging down from the pipes
around the chamber, removing the lever to prevent the valve being
shut-off (As there are identical levers right next to it, this might
be somewhat optimistic, but I digress...) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Pulling a revolver, Farley
looks around desperately as the ominous laughter echoes around the
steel chamber.<i><b> 'Who do you think you're gonna shoot with that,
Claymore?.' </b></i>But Claymore has spotted where the water has
parted slightly for the Shadow's boots. As the Shadow makes a run for
it, Claymore lets rip, hitting the invisible vigilante, blood pooling
in the cascading water that rises with every second. Going to the
hatch, Farley turns the wheel to unlock it, shouting out that no-one
controls his mind – there's a new World order coming – and he's
going to be a King. A King!. Exiting the chamber, he locks it,
jamming the lever into the mechanism, trapping the Shadow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Inside, The crime-fighter
re-emerges from shadow, clutching his wounded shoulder, his face a
mask of pain. Desperately, he tries the wheel, to no avail. Divesting
himself of his sodden cape and shoulder harness, he looks around for
something, anything to help his escape. Spotting the valve array, he
splashes over to try them; nothing doing, they won't even budge an
inch. Suddenly, it comes to him. <i>Margo</i>. Closing his eyes, he
projects his consciousness across town to the City Assessor's office
where even now, Margo sits with some blueprints and paperwork. <i><b>Margo.</b></i>
Her name comes to her out of the blue and she reels back in shock.
<i><b>Margo, I need you.</b></i> </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Things look bleak; Lamont
Cranston is running out of time. Already there's no more than a few
feet of precious air at the top of the chamber. Margo, however is
already barrelling across town in a car, as Lamont is finally
submerged. His fist bangs helplessly against the armoured glass
viewing port in the top of the chamber. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Diving down to the bullet
holes made by Claymore's pistol, he puts a finger through into the
air beyond and takes a breath of much needed air. Swimming across to
the door, he tries it again, but it is stuck fast. Just then, Margo
arrives, rushing up the steps to the chamber to find water streaming
from the bullet holes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JTA1UseXaOuogU1MPKPbZfb_jlC2AJGWairfuA7Y_Ov8xZsCqhpHqhQeyjjaJeWt6RHHpTGSZ65NrNjbyFbx0NW9erb9qEktYfQfZ0hGCGzxia4CYaXRPOAzTuYbQ9wJI-XtXFXi45U/s1600/33+OPEN+THE+DOOR.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JTA1UseXaOuogU1MPKPbZfb_jlC2AJGWairfuA7Y_Ov8xZsCqhpHqhQeyjjaJeWt6RHHpTGSZ65NrNjbyFbx0NW9erb9qEktYfQfZ0hGCGzxia4CYaXRPOAzTuYbQ9wJI-XtXFXi45U/s320/33+OPEN+THE+DOOR.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Looking through the porthole in the hatch, she
finds herself looking at Lamont, who mouths 'Open the door' while
miming turning a wheel. Grabbing the lever, she hauls it free from
the wheel and turns the wheel, Lamont following suit from inside.
Suddenly, thousands of gallons of water find themselves with a new
opportunity to see New York and Margo is flung backwards by the
immense forces released. Lamont's limp body flops to the ground and
she turns him over so he can breathe. Casually, she says 'You
called?.' Weakly, Lamont cannot help but laugh. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Unsurprisingly, that night
Lamont's sleep is wracked by nightmares. Hearing this, Nurse Margo
brings him in a bowl of cool water, but he is in a feverish trance of
some kind. With a start, Margo finds herself in Lamont's nightmare,
clad in a sheer silken outfit that billows and ripples around her; a
fireplace billows flame in a vaulted chamber, Lamont in his Ying Ko
personality tells her she's not meant to be there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The fire erupts
from the grate, surrounding her with a ring of flames.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Turning, she
sees a vision of the armoured Ying Ko, roaring in the heat of battle,
his face splattered with blood. She sees his men cut down their
victims, merciless acts of murder and brutality, a village burning
amidst the slaughter. His blood-lust sated, Ying Ko wipes the warm
liquid from his face... </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Lamont slowly comes to to find
Margo gently dabbing his fevered brow with water. She tells him he
was dreaming, but he takes her arm; she saw. Do you have any idea, he
asks her, to have done things you can never forgive yourself for?.
Earnestly, she tells him whoever he was, whatever he did... it's in
the past. Not for him; never for him. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">In Khan's sanctum, his Mongol
warriors stand in flanking array, either side of the completed bomb
that is wheeled to their master. We are victorious! he exclaims, and
as victors they will collect the spoils of war. Next, he addresses
Farley Claymore, who takes his handkerchief to the bomb casing in a
gesture of proprietorial pride. Khan will remember each of them,
particularly, he says the only American with genius enough to join
him of his own free will... he claps a comradely hand on Farley's
shoulder before continuing, who saw himself a <i>king</i> in his
kingdom. Nervously, the treacherous Claymore stutters; 'King? Did I
say King?.' before Khan grabs him by the neck. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe not the best
choice of words... <i>No, it wasn't... </i>Because, Farley adds, he
was thinking Prince tops. As Khan manhandles him, he drops his sights
to Duke, then Baron. Before he can reach Esquire, Khan relinquishes
his grip, ordering him to fetch Doctor Lane to assemble the bomb.
With a little time to kill, Shiwan Khan indulges in a spot of posing
with his new toy, uttering pronouncements about the power of God on
Earth, the new Emperor of Mankind. Not one for a quiet night in with
the boys, then...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">A shot of the city next* and a
spinning newspaper, just so we know it's made the headlines; <i>CONTESTS
DELAY CHOICE OF NEW CITY CHAIRMAN... Thieves walk away with his
sawmill... </i>oh, and of course <i>Madman Threatens to Blow City
Sky-High, Demands Billions in Ransom!.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Paper boys shout the news
and radio newscasts carry the story and it even reaches the Cranston
mansion, Margo reading the paper in horror before trotting
downstairs, greeting Russell, the Butler in passing as he bears
breakfast. As it's <i>her </i>breakfast he smoothly alters course to
follow the intended recipient downstairs where Lamont stands by a
window in the vast living room. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">*Well, a model, but you get
the drift.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Hurrying up to Lamont, she
informs him Khan has demanded works of art, famous jewels and even
gold. Find Khan and they'll find the bomb, he's sure of it – what
did she find out about the vacant lot?. It was, she tells him, the
site of the former Hotel Monolith. It was finished nearly ten years
ago, but never opened. <i>The Monolith... </i>he vaguely remembers
it. Apparently, that's the only way <i>anyone </i>remembers it.
Before it was completed, Margo adds, the developer went bankrupt and
committed suicide. The last record shows a sale to a Far-Eastern
buyer. So when was it torn down?; she doesn't know. Nobody does. She
made calls to some of the newspapers, but all anyone remembers of it
was the events leading to the sale. Everybody seems to remember it
was torn down, but no-one can remember when, or by whom. Smiling,
Lamont adds 'Or <i>IF</i>...'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The Sunshine Cab pulls up
opposite the derelict lot and Lamont takes another look at the site,
Margo at his side. He can't believe Khan did it. Did what?, she asks,
but Lamont is entranced by the sight that now greets him as he uses
his power to see what others cannot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXT0bgijbNt55Jft8EsKyZYJY77tSTjuuhxyhWR4ztsiDbvLNpjbsm0EkzKO9_i92v-ts5f8VGiQeL5oHMgoxp__SbEPtgE2-rWUTC2-7XuRwh5bRGn3Zl8lSsgpqMmSB-SmHVLfBzAk/s1600/36+MONOLITHIC.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="355" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXT0bgijbNt55Jft8EsKyZYJY77tSTjuuhxyhWR4ztsiDbvLNpjbsm0EkzKO9_i92v-ts5f8VGiQeL5oHMgoxp__SbEPtgE2-rWUTC2-7XuRwh5bRGn3Zl8lSsgpqMmSB-SmHVLfBzAk/s320/36+MONOLITHIC.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Bit by bit, floor by floor, the
<i>illusion </i>of empty space is stripped away to his eyes alone; a
majestic, magnificent Deco hotel building rising before him. It's
beautiful. Margo sees nothing and, to prove a point, Lamont grabs a
passer-by, asking him the name of the building that's right there.
Shaking himself free, the man calls Lamont a lunatic and stalks off.
Khan has hypnotized an entire city!. They don't see it!; none of them
see it. But Lamont sees it. Turning to the bemused Margo, he tells
her she and Shrevnitz will receive instructions and are to follow
them exactly. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">That night and the rain pours
from the mouth of the gargoyle atop a high building. (Look close enough and you can see Batman left his sandwiches on it) In Khan's
sanctum atop the Monolith, Dr. lane opens the casing of the bomb as
Farley taunts him for not being nicer to him - until Khan orders him to
cease his tormenting and directs Lane to activate the bomb. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Doing
this, he closes the cover. The Warlord wants the timer set for two
hours and the handy Nixie tube counter begins the count-down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedhRMa16tKNkYjE80GXcoXDphTgP0b_wze630S8Dcc86JGXNOlB3MBCOT8XL6XLL3bY4jA9g-YPuITCdCPvKQ3RPZ78GD0d598ilNDGEP2fJzdRwTygOxNXjcVX6p3nYVEgrebpafUdM/s1600/vlcsnap-00649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedhRMa16tKNkYjE80GXcoXDphTgP0b_wze630S8Dcc86JGXNOlB3MBCOT8XL6XLL3bY4jA9g-YPuITCdCPvKQ3RPZ78GD0d598ilNDGEP2fJzdRwTygOxNXjcVX6p3nYVEgrebpafUdM/s320/vlcsnap-00649.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The
bomb is hoisted aloft to hang menacingly like an unpleasant ceiling
decoration. To Claymore, Khan asks if he is certain of his ability to
duplicate the bomb. <i>Absolutely no problem. </i>That makes Dr. lane
obsolete, says Khan, directing his guards to secure the Doctor in a
room; he will die at the hands of his own invention. Obsequiously,
the oily Claymore sidles up to his master and suggests they get out
of there. Khan replies there's an aeroplane waiting to take them all
to safety. In one hour. The countdown continues, inexorably, second
after second.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">At the Shadow's control room,
the operative writes a message in invisible ink on a card, stamping
it with an invisible seal. Outside in the pouring rain, the message
is handed to a cyclist as he passes, another message is then smoothly
passed to one cycling in the other direction. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">A message slides under
the door of the Shrevnitz home as Moe sits reading the paper with his
wife. Opening the envelope he finds a blank card, which suddenly
reveals its message to him, the ink swirling into view. He's to go to
Houston and Second Avenue immediately. Mrs. Shrevnitz asks if it's
another one of those things from the bowling league. He answers with
a 'Hmm-Hmm.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Margo Lane has received the other message, the
instructions identical. She rushes out to find a cab. No sooner has
she left when the message on her card swirls and vanishes. The two
guards outside the Hotel Monolith stand there un-noticed by
passers-by. Invisible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGs8m7IHnODcOsH0W0XHQ4scGXUwlmohrV7ew_oNpRwDcJJomxT7MaC6gYsUXVXTN3ZikMqLB-VZ6vUoQnnTvVACr2kh4wEYXz6J821PyEMEkNo7sld-1g3a1LD1etsmeLHdmqeO-6qA/s1600/37+SPLISH+SPLASH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGs8m7IHnODcOsH0W0XHQ4scGXUwlmohrV7ew_oNpRwDcJJomxT7MaC6gYsUXVXTN3ZikMqLB-VZ6vUoQnnTvVACr2kh4wEYXz6J821PyEMEkNo7sld-1g3a1LD1etsmeLHdmqeO-6qA/s320/37+SPLISH+SPLASH.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The splashes of unseen feet rushing towards
them causes them to draw swords, but the Shadow leaps from the night
to drop them both with his fists. You cannot fight what you didn't
see. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">With lightning throwing his
shadow across the sumptuous lobby, the Shadow moves swiftly through
it and up the wide velvet stairs, throwing his cape out like an
avenging angel to stand atop them in full view now, cape billowing as
if it had a life of its own. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70zMpNcXTAisH4o7-xc7mMpLWkw4VOCxPhrTHjJqj71C7w3ZVrIlivzSRxj3cBBoSwqb5qr9Iu3kNhHn0KmFmWg0nJB3xcwQYqfZRSXlLAz5IzkOHhfjPIWhRTdFCQar1lb1NA4BUoOg/s1600/38+THE+SHADOW+EMERGES.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70zMpNcXTAisH4o7-xc7mMpLWkw4VOCxPhrTHjJqj71C7w3ZVrIlivzSRxj3cBBoSwqb5qr9Iu3kNhHn0KmFmWg0nJB3xcwQYqfZRSXlLAz5IzkOHhfjPIWhRTdFCQar1lb1NA4BUoOg/s320/38+THE+SHADOW+EMERGES.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">To the flashing of the lightning and the
thunder outside, he strides through the abandoned hotel, laughter
resonant through the hallways. Above, Shiwan Khan senses the presence
of Ying Ko. Panicked, Farley exclaims 'The Shadow!, where?.' <i>Not
here, you idiot – in the building. </i>As ever concerned with his
own skin, Claymore asks if Khan can detect the Shadow's mood; is he
still mad after their little, <i>misunderstanding </i>yesterday?.
Tossing the traitor a Tommy gun, Khan orders him to find and kill
him. <i><span style="text-decoration: none;">'Kill him?; me?.'
</span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Amending the order,
Khan now includes everyone. Farley asks if he couldn't just stay and
help Khan. He couldn't. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Drawing
his sword, the large Mongol leads the group sent to find the Shadow,
a highly doubtful Farley Claymore in the rear. They reach the stairs
overlooking the ornate lobby and the Shadow's ringing laugh checks
them. Farley takes the torch from one and directs them to go that
way, while he sneaks off into a darkened and vaulted ballroom. The
doors slam shut behind him and he realises he is not alone. </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>'</b></span></i><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>Did</b></span></i><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>
ya think you'd never see me again, Claymore?.' </b></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Shining
the torch around, Claymore's torch throws the Shadow's shadow against
a wall. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_4dszZvVlZ4k0E1DPTE2hA4K8Xcba9QaJtNKAw_RALzMiT_Me5K_mBL7Nxc9vSJV9ySX-nzRLj4BReHI6TvzAg7sxl6rETQeHf6GMmtVZUP7pmanq2-VVkJtw_QcEzEpOYYa7p2irT4/s1600/39+SHOOTING+SHADOWS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_4dszZvVlZ4k0E1DPTE2hA4K8Xcba9QaJtNKAw_RALzMiT_Me5K_mBL7Nxc9vSJV9ySX-nzRLj4BReHI6TvzAg7sxl6rETQeHf6GMmtVZUP7pmanq2-VVkJtw_QcEzEpOYYa7p2irT4/s320/39+SHOOTING+SHADOWS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">'</span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>Im right
here!'</b></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Farley
blasts away with the Thompson. We've been here before. </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>'Alll
around you...' </b></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">again,
the stooge unloads on an empty wall... again, the Shadow pops up;
</span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>'Everywhere around
you.' </b></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">A manic
Farley ends up pirouetting, blazing away while laughing hysterically. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nR4Lb5DknLLF4uT4mfu9GjZqJV3GqJ19xm357V54usIcyFGFJerT91YcitzakHj6Vgy6yugdmc-TdETBAlqrcqWZU7262bs3IhuPU11Vv74uAcRfdmi3-IIKxHCo9IKhuseOq-p4AVA/s1600/40+PIROUETTE+OF+DEATH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nR4Lb5DknLLF4uT4mfu9GjZqJV3GqJ19xm357V54usIcyFGFJerT91YcitzakHj6Vgy6yugdmc-TdETBAlqrcqWZU7262bs3IhuPU11Vv74uAcRfdmi3-IIKxHCo9IKhuseOq-p4AVA/s320/40+PIROUETTE+OF+DEATH.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Inevitably, he runs out of bullets. He resorts to name-calling;
coward, chicken, sissy... he's lost it totally as he challenges the
Shadow to come out and fight like a man. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">A dark, miasmic cloud of
shadow then begins to obscure the ceiling, Farley sinking to his
knees in gibbering fear. Turning, he sees the Shadow standing behind
him and is hauled up into the air, gurgling with infantile laughter
and frothing at the mouth. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">The Shadow is repelled by this creature,
throwing him down and telling him to get out of his sight. Out in the
corridor, Claymore looks for a way out; a red 'EXIT' sign
materialises on a glass panel in front of him </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>'There's
your exit, Claymore...' </b></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Farley
rushes towards it, crashing through the glass and falling down into
the lobby, smashing through a coffee table </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">to
the reverberating laughter of the Shadow.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">O</span><span style="text-decoration: none;">utside,
Moe and Margo stand under umbrellas in the rain. Ironically, he says;
'You know what I like about this job?; the excitement.' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">The
Shadow marches into Shiwan Khan's sanctum, the bomb hanging
menacingly above. Mockingly, Khan holds his hands out as if fitting
them for handcuffs, but the Shadow is not in the mood for levity,
telling his adversary he is finished before drawing his automatics.
Khan presses a button, sending the floor tipping crazily, the Shadow
thrown off-balance.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Next, Khan sends the Phurba slicing into the
attack, the Shadow skewered by his old nemesis. In a paroxym* of
agony, he struggles to remove the dagger from his shoulder. Khan
calls the Phurba and it drags the Shadow across the opulent gilded
floor against some steps where it does its best to bore itself into
his brain. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt33MMbb2TuuIanM412kWN_h457OnG6YjxU6IBnWgLmPe5jn68WqBP3DVljPpclzSQRlH8dUUc3BOOVHHjiHrOH5B5zU3iZ02Nr3nyykzCYabrqAnJraUYn2VtsruoeFosN9lTeppVtOQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt33MMbb2TuuIanM412kWN_h457OnG6YjxU6IBnWgLmPe5jn68WqBP3DVljPpclzSQRlH8dUUc3BOOVHHjiHrOH5B5zU3iZ02Nr3nyykzCYabrqAnJraUYn2VtsruoeFosN9lTeppVtOQ/s320/vlcsnap-00721.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">It takes all his strength to hold it, but the Phurba
throws it – and him – high into the air, slamming him against a
pillar, to the delight of Khan, who is enjoying the show. </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">The
dagger throws the Shadow onto the now-rotating floor, where he lies,
dazed, weakened. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">*Hey,
it's Expensive Word Week; </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">that'll
be $10. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Khan
voices the obvious; he is losing his concentration. He speaks even
as the Shadow's face melts away into that of Lamont Cranston. The
war-lord tells him his mind is too weak and the Phurba sprouts arms
and legs, crouching there like a metal scorpion. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Lamont tries to gain
control of the dagger, but ends up on his back again, body rigid with
the effort of restraining the deadly magical blade. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKSYAbTobUX8SxK_aTPgcn46W-h7S19gGXFjPXPpM8QsbqclS4uqbbpIfP5jIZmQaSS4ZtqcNJYgYGhcuNmr4_ma8cx75PkQ898pmz9eq4WJYdwx7SFwTEuasX2v87kD214vrxKid7nU/s1600/vlcsnap-00731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKSYAbTobUX8SxK_aTPgcn46W-h7S19gGXFjPXPpM8QsbqclS4uqbbpIfP5jIZmQaSS4ZtqcNJYgYGhcuNmr4_ma8cx75PkQ898pmz9eq4WJYdwx7SFwTEuasX2v87kD214vrxKid7nU/s320/vlcsnap-00731.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4A2DSZG59pmDkO3Z7BH17_wtjGlsG5hBM9huhFQVH-cdhzRpULtgPDOiL1rtNO1efNj46M27KWAGP8UM1yM4dey_rLdBNfqwS4S5KCT-MraMKMKfr-Hi50__tKea51IYoGMe0vtnJkAg/s1600/vlcsnap-00732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4A2DSZG59pmDkO3Z7BH17_wtjGlsG5hBM9huhFQVH-cdhzRpULtgPDOiL1rtNO1efNj46M27KWAGP8UM1yM4dey_rLdBNfqwS4S5KCT-MraMKMKfr-Hi50__tKea51IYoGMe0vtnJkAg/s320/vlcsnap-00732.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Exulting in his
predicament, Khan walks over to gloat. </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Look
at you!... can't even control yourself – how can you hope to
control the Phurba?. </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">The
point of the dagger draws blood across Lamont's throat, but then he
closes his eyes – and releases it. To Khan's bewilderment, the
Phurba stays in mid-air. Cranston has mastered it!. It turns to face
Khan – Lamont's eyes snap open, now an eerie silver – and the
Phurba flashes across to bury itself deep in Khan's gut. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">With
Khan mortally wounded, his control over the city goes; the Monolith
is suddenly visible; Moe and Margo staggered to see the building
seeming to suddenly spring from nowhere. In his room, Reinhardt Lane
is freed from his trance, with no idea where he is. </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">Above,
Lamont springs to his feet as Khan wrenches the Phurba from his body,
his scream sending shockwaves that shatter the windows around the
chamber. Stumbling, he recovers enough strength to make a dash for
it, darting behind some curtains. Lamont charges after him, to find
he has entered Temujin's silver coffin once more. Forcing it open, he
finds it empty!. He enters, looking around to see a tasseled rope. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCGs4jSKgxmXc5CWIFxeJRaVUdNVVdp3YGyKJObkxa63gtYKUPg__rmBPLHkE3S5IYdDlUrC6z2eIozecoDcFEoTw4EahPx37SnW6HOCAQbYrlAu1ufRStcDgdBEnZ4lYEALbN1tYWwmI/s1600/44+LAUNDRY+SERVICE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCGs4jSKgxmXc5CWIFxeJRaVUdNVVdp3YGyKJObkxa63gtYKUPg__rmBPLHkE3S5IYdDlUrC6z2eIozecoDcFEoTw4EahPx37SnW6HOCAQbYrlAu1ufRStcDgdBEnZ4lYEALbN1tYWwmI/s320/44+LAUNDRY+SERVICE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Pulling this sends him through the trap-door Khan used for his
escape, down through a chute to find himself in the laundry. He draws
his guns, ready for a fight. Ahead, he sees Khan crouching in a
storeroom and gives chase while in another part of the hotel, Margo
is re-united with her father, bumping into him on the stairs. He
wants to know what's going on, but she decides to save it for later,
sending Moe for the Police. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">In
a mirror storage area, Lamont bumps into Bruce Lee coming the other
wa... sorry, I mean Lamont spots Khan and fires, but in a twist on his own,
earlier trick the bullet shatters a mirror. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1x8f9FbfU5YrTur1HjKlyj7yR6NBukCgjMtt9pIFuQiBkukcnwMWpiKw_jx3EyZV4Ip-dzFiXZ5Exxej6S0RgVGuLHn0sAydRRHalkw_nfLqAkTXAiutAfhwpoN-Sn3saZE_9lM4BqKU/s1600/vlcsnap-00753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1x8f9FbfU5YrTur1HjKlyj7yR6NBukCgjMtt9pIFuQiBkukcnwMWpiKw_jx3EyZV4Ip-dzFiXZ5Exxej6S0RgVGuLHn0sAydRRHalkw_nfLqAkTXAiutAfhwpoN-Sn3saZE_9lM4BqKU/s320/vlcsnap-00753.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Up in Khan's sanctum,
Margo leads her dad to the bomb, </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">an
hour left on the timer</span><span style="text-decoration: none;">.
He's impressed by the workmanship, asking who did it. She tells him;
</span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">he </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">did.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_QItvHse327WsErA99g-zzIT5dKdTOTR8Zw8Hmd69D_vRyjtAWwdDB4LbpCT952xiu858fFgQPIqv-dJfpkbWHSBuz9fP-pwwjRfvYJmypFMq-Enh7fLp_8DKqGQXNwKH3G3rCZKkdI/s1600/45+ROOMFUL+OF+MIRRORS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_QItvHse327WsErA99g-zzIT5dKdTOTR8Zw8Hmd69D_vRyjtAWwdDB4LbpCT952xiu858fFgQPIqv-dJfpkbWHSBuz9fP-pwwjRfvYJmypFMq-Enh7fLp_8DKqGQXNwKH3G3rCZKkdI/s320/45+ROOMFUL+OF+MIRRORS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Lamont moves further through the mirrors, his pistols questing for
their target as, upstairs, Dr. Lane cuts through a wire. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2x2_Qe5U3R5Qk2Ir6xtlbnBkSmOphIFZ4bBF1dTmq-6AbsRduUgUdSmWY4wYJQsTeF2v9rqiVgoml3hqklxKvZz5wLlbpf2sZ71Hbn5BR1lRh7Sg8cVESV9MaId9okmG76LZvJbbI0k/s1600/46+TIMER+TROUBLE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="725" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2x2_Qe5U3R5Qk2Ir6xtlbnBkSmOphIFZ4bBF1dTmq-6AbsRduUgUdSmWY4wYJQsTeF2v9rqiVgoml3hqklxKvZz5wLlbpf2sZ71Hbn5BR1lRh7Sg8cVESV9MaId9okmG76LZvJbbI0k/s320/46+TIMER+TROUBLE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Oops; it
sends the timer spinning crazily, instead of the hour they had, there
are just two minutes. </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">Twisting
the ends of the wire back together stops it at two minutes, the
countdown continuing from there, but the bomb drops suddenly -
rolling off across the floor to disappear down the hall. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">With Margo and Dr. Lane in
pursuit, the bomb rolls down the corridor like a massive pinball,
Margo leading Reinhardt down some steps. They find themselves below
the bomb and go up some curved stairs to try to reach it again, only
to end up diving for it as the heavy device rolls down the same
stairs.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Dr. Lane goes over the rail and Margo falls down some stairs,
narrowly missing being crushed as the bomb continues inexorably,
crashing through the elevator grille and sending it crashing down
across the shaft, coming to rest there, perilously suspended above
the dizzying drop. (Actually a pretty poor example of fake
perspective, the drop below the bomb seemingly at an angle; the
elevator would have to change direction to actually use the shaft.)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Bravely,
Dr. Lane crawls out on the uncertain platform – stupidly, Margo
follows him, nearly sending the whole lot crashing down with her
extra weight. There are less than twenty seconds left. Thankfully,
the grille holds, just!. Looking over the sphere, a panicky Margo
asks her Father which wire to cut. He can't remember!; pick one!, she
shouts. </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Oh what the
hell; it's usually green... </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">he's
on the verge of cutting the red wire – colour-blind, remember? -
when she quickly grabs the actual green wire, yanking it free qith
one second to spare. Phew!. She shows him the difference and he
promises to try to remember. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Lamont's
search for Khan amidst the bewildering maze of mirrors continues. The
Mongol Warlord appears, asking what Lamont is doing as the mirrors
begin to fracture and break. Shaking violently with the effort, the
vigilante uses his psychic powers to shatter the mirrors and expose
Khan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Khan is flung
around, helpless in the storm of fragmented glass. Standing in the
eye of that storm is Lamont Cranston, transformed now into an
otherworldly and grim avenger. A shard of glass rises from the floor
at his beckoning, floating in the air before slashing across to come
to rest in Khan's forehead.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">By now, the sudden appearance
of a long-forgotten building has galvanised the town, a crowd
gathering, press reporters snapping photos of the uncanny event. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Even
the Commissioner, Barth Wainwright has turned out at the spectacle.
He does the only thing he can do; take a slug from his hip-flask. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Shiwan
Khan awakes to find himself in a strait-jacket in a padded cell. The
door opens and a doctor enters. Khan bids him to approach, which he
does, </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">then to look at him.
He does this also. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Look
into my eyes... yes... release me at once. </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Instead
of complying in a hypnotic state, the doctor laughs; No,we won;t have
any of that Mister Khan – let's have a look at those stitches,
shall we?. Stitches?. Turning Khan's head, we see a massive operation
scar. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">To save his life, they removed a section of the frontal lobe;
he'll never miss it – it's a part nobody ever uses. Unless you
believe in telepathy!. He leaves Khan in his cell, an orderly locking
behind him. Frantic, powerless, Khan yells at him to come back,
insisting he is the last descendant of Ghengis Khan. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">As the Doctor
signs the committal form, we see he is wearing an all-too familiar
ring... he walks away, the other patients insisting they are Houdini,
Theodore Roosevelt, Napoleon, Josephine... Babe Ruth... Henry VIII...
Shakespeare...</span></span></div>
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</span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At long last, Lamont Cranston kisses Margo Lane passionately before </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">walking away. She calls out to him, how will he know where she is?. He turns </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">around with a smile; 'I'll know.' Lamont walks around the corner of the alley </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">towards his Sanctum and we see the Shadow's face turned towards us for one </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">last time, a sparkle of mischief in them.</span></span> </pre>
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<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> </pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> </pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Shadow was originally a radio serial, first hitting the airwaves of </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">America in 1931. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></pre>
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<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The character narrated mystery stories on the Street & Smith's Detective </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Story Hour. Fantastically successful, fans soon wrote in asking for adventures </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">featuring the Shadow himself. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizsG6BHnUUYncm1KNBFjpojKA_bCE1z8cYshshscGjdjeF51o5uHGcLxj8ocefSmTazt1ZGru5V76WYTIUCV4_AmlRYyoKFZqxbjtf_nLMQtNy7VsfzSTcMaOExr8z2q6VcsBVFugj6qY/s1600/il_fullxfull.496317988_dvkh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1168" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizsG6BHnUUYncm1KNBFjpojKA_bCE1z8cYshshscGjdjeF51o5uHGcLxj8ocefSmTazt1ZGru5V76WYTIUCV4_AmlRYyoKFZqxbjtf_nLMQtNy7VsfzSTcMaOExr8z2q6VcsBVFugj6qY/s320/il_fullxfull.496317988_dvkh.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>"THE INVINCIBLE SHIWAN KHAN" A SHADOW NOVEL FROM 1940</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Walter Gibson, a magician and former ghost writer for Houdini wrote a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">monthly series of pulp novels, which ran until 1949. It was the best-selling </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">pulp magazine of all time. From 1937, Orson Welles and, later other actors </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">portrayed the Shadow in a new radio show focused on the character. The </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">show ran until 1955.</span></span></pre>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></pre>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHygndT0mrGVnbOY-85U7b10lLTO2WmM3se2Rz4ml2HQQIIqq-_glq2S5IGYuRREqXT8ct_RGT1G8UJzTrdRZVs6G_o7kzAWFh7yl1Z3NxRSsL8f0laT5ANRaLGgwh1DSSzJ8GM8pusTY/s1600/tumblr_on7tpn5LEH1va4adro1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHygndT0mrGVnbOY-85U7b10lLTO2WmM3se2Rz4ml2HQQIIqq-_glq2S5IGYuRREqXT8ct_RGT1G8UJzTrdRZVs6G_o7kzAWFh7yl1Z3NxRSsL8f0laT5ANRaLGgwh1DSSzJ8GM8pusTY/s320/tumblr_on7tpn5LEH1va4adro1_1280.jpg" width="130" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>(ABOVE, BELOW) ORIGINAL MOVIE POSTERS</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<pre class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"></pre>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QZQPV4OZ252wog6RKnHjmtWX9lTqdhBj5fzaPbKxTIFve2jmEwLqUROSG1T_CU49n-7BZrKNwEsoXkJLtkYxTZ61OF4jV9eauuq7lmtk5yjIrnDOj57_fbLjnxtsEfnUqFBPj5Z4q4I/s1600/tumblr_ojvtalLj6w1va4adro1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="863" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QZQPV4OZ252wog6RKnHjmtWX9lTqdhBj5fzaPbKxTIFve2jmEwLqUROSG1T_CU49n-7BZrKNwEsoXkJLtkYxTZ61OF4jV9eauuq7lmtk5yjIrnDOj57_fbLjnxtsEfnUqFBPj5Z4q4I/s320/tumblr_ojvtalLj6w1va4adro1_1280.jpg" width="172" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There
were several movie adaptations made in the 1940's and '50's, but the
1994 Universal production was given a $40,000,000 budget and state of
the art special effects and production to match. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHKiowX1sZfbHWYhEs-oiLpbdzdRm4U1gyIcyYX9AXGPSv6Nn6kp5F4sEZSwORazn72-vAotg0D3R7wayZYiwTWCxDapsD_C2Oy_B6WxgNuZzRfih94fnA5vQHNOxPF9594vN3MPjrGo/s1600/RUSSEL+MULCAHY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="677" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHKiowX1sZfbHWYhEs-oiLpbdzdRm4U1gyIcyYX9AXGPSv6Nn6kp5F4sEZSwORazn72-vAotg0D3R7wayZYiwTWCxDapsD_C2Oy_B6WxgNuZzRfih94fnA5vQHNOxPF9594vN3MPjrGo/s320/RUSSEL+MULCAHY.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>DIRECTOR RUSSELL MULCAHY ON SET</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was seen as a
flop, grossing just $48,000,000 worldwide. The planned franchise was
abandoned. The reasons for this are usually given as lacklustre plot
and screenplay, but this film is a favourite of mine and has been for
decades. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEGAFQ4J-vTcOAB4iB7zGkMfAG1qS2P5aEsFac-mi3T-eEaRvCvjGz2AQIijciU_FqVPW2TCiG10S_tns63Yv-Fuvh1-w8NAyhKjAjDqkyEsOy5vQXhFlHGCvtK_DEHNXnEXwk5Ui4VM/s1600/poster11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1092" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEGAFQ4J-vTcOAB4iB7zGkMfAG1qS2P5aEsFac-mi3T-eEaRvCvjGz2AQIijciU_FqVPW2TCiG10S_tns63Yv-Fuvh1-w8NAyhKjAjDqkyEsOy5vQXhFlHGCvtK_DEHNXnEXwk5Ui4VM/s320/poster11.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>THE TEASER POSTER</b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinda82QP_WYM538ZnNjL2rZHBs0BZ7k7FZphzVFo7mk8AD8JWB81jwZ1dts3NQQM-xynCZ1Gj_4lpckWmabJ7-sJmhXHIpneoggNpqlbaaKxtIZ58mQPE8PFg0JTeBhZp9UyozXtsfVG8/s1600/alec-baldwin-in-the-shadow-1994-large-picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1049" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinda82QP_WYM538ZnNjL2rZHBs0BZ7k7FZphzVFo7mk8AD8JWB81jwZ1dts3NQQM-xynCZ1Gj_4lpckWmabJ7-sJmhXHIpneoggNpqlbaaKxtIZ58mQPE8PFg0JTeBhZp9UyozXtsfVG8/s320/alec-baldwin-in-the-shadow-1994-large-picture.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>ALEC BALDWIN PUBLICITY SHOT AS LAMONT CRANSTON/THE SHADOW</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alec Baldwin is superb as Lamont Cranston/The Shadow,
playing it light, with a sense of humour throughout. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2umrVsnIU6H1YufGkO6q-dFW74LJBxhLFRH0CPhPZ9HztwzlzXz7jPLmpIJBs5SrxS0AntdiFZTITjJUXH45B1P1jheoSVIw0p33FPkBhshiOK29GrH6aCJWHFSFr3av9H91AEfyS_V0/s1600/john_lone1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1500" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2umrVsnIU6H1YufGkO6q-dFW74LJBxhLFRH0CPhPZ9HztwzlzXz7jPLmpIJBs5SrxS0AntdiFZTITjJUXH45B1P1jheoSVIw0p33FPkBhshiOK29GrH6aCJWHFSFr3av9H91AEfyS_V0/s320/john_lone1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>JOHN LONE IS SHIWAN KHAN</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">John Lone's
Shiwan Khan – a character resurrected from the pulps – is by
turns affable and menacing and plays the over-the-top part
wonderfully.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt_kQZ3et8VansP8tvhWI1Wribe_wo13w7nJRoS7EfMSpYn8pLilZfeCyBIOc3gwe3CdiBND-6jfpWqIYQju7ke_1BJ1FHxQVmCwNtvYoGPV9ae99gjkwcYpMQeyI2c4RjAQDV99Ni60/s1600/MV5BOTY0NDM5MzI2Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODYxNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C653%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="653" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt_kQZ3et8VansP8tvhWI1Wribe_wo13w7nJRoS7EfMSpYn8pLilZfeCyBIOc3gwe3CdiBND-6jfpWqIYQju7ke_1BJ1FHxQVmCwNtvYoGPV9ae99gjkwcYpMQeyI2c4RjAQDV99Ni60/s320/MV5BOTY0NDM5MzI2Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODYxNjgwMw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C653%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>PENELOPE ANN MILLER PLAYS MARGO LANE</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Penelope Ann Miller scintillates as Margo Lane; sexy and
desirable in every scene, but genuinely useful to the Shadow as
required. The rest of the cast do their jobs well too; Peter Boyle as
Moe Shrevnitz makes a decent sidekick.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodcF9FCtLtDBA3MSGNRVU1hFN538vn2BO1FuVIrdgsFpmOzKOXIuw6PyiLAIu7_3W41gVay_1pyVJa1dIWv8SS0W0QDvCOJ7s8WcTa4-sV83K31TFthOGfAb6vYbaULs4cgYE1zX44SQ/s1600/NOT+USED+C+CUT+SCENE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="1024" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodcF9FCtLtDBA3MSGNRVU1hFN538vn2BO1FuVIrdgsFpmOzKOXIuw6PyiLAIu7_3W41gVay_1pyVJa1dIWv8SS0W0QDvCOJ7s8WcTa4-sV83K31TFthOGfAb6vYbaULs4cgYE1zX44SQ/s320/NOT+USED+C+CUT+SCENE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>IAN McKELLEN (CENTRE) AS DR. REINHARDT LANE</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ian McKellen – now Sir. Ian
makes a good muddle-headed scientist and Tim Curry's Farley Claymore
is riotously campy and delightfully rotten; a proper baddie. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8PNVt3CxlGn3Y6UzyfOCPbUNaOs-GR1Cio7gtI1kSF8CRoTapOfFeYQh45ts0pKgt_zMv-ZUDKIdfAgEwP0Sbv3eNGQfYBcwbcUfnd3Osu4ZpQTTIoi0K62V79dPh4J047rv3UWONJg/s1600/The-Shadow-08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="497" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8PNVt3CxlGn3Y6UzyfOCPbUNaOs-GR1Cio7gtI1kSF8CRoTapOfFeYQh45ts0pKgt_zMv-ZUDKIdfAgEwP0Sbv3eNGQfYBcwbcUfnd3Osu4ZpQTTIoi0K62V79dPh4J047rv3UWONJg/s320/The-Shadow-08.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>TIM CURRY AS FARLEY CLAYMORE</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv11evkUOyfEvEPTsuwZZaOVB948egwub3mcqfSlNs_OjOEd04VMGPxoPTF-lhGEk4hxSH-C0wThv1qLIi0uJywsEvDXYBPZ4BdNHh1lcRvURqxSm_9GYIYn3ZYCN_6mRwxqeExUa1BQ/s1600/4555550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1121" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv11evkUOyfEvEPTsuwZZaOVB948egwub3mcqfSlNs_OjOEd04VMGPxoPTF-lhGEk4hxSH-C0wThv1qLIi0uJywsEvDXYBPZ4BdNHh1lcRvURqxSm_9GYIYn3ZYCN_6mRwxqeExUa1BQ/s320/4555550.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>SPANISH POSTER VERSION</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinebjiieyMoKmSOo74cW_M17ZLJrxa5DJgpeRACZUV9_8LRvvK1GgYZhC5ivdqE_I6kyJZn2CjHO1TpaInAYVgQH4QhTJR59Z7Fw7N9WOnAF0jrGhbCth6rDNf8JkT71kY0z7aws4vZVQ/s1600/The_Shadow-557954781-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="807" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinebjiieyMoKmSOo74cW_M17ZLJrxa5DJgpeRACZUV9_8LRvvK1GgYZhC5ivdqE_I6kyJZn2CjHO1TpaInAYVgQH4QhTJR59Z7Fw7N9WOnAF0jrGhbCth6rDNf8JkT71kY0z7aws4vZVQ/s320/The_Shadow-557954781-large.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>US THEATRICAL RELEASE POSTER</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That
this film failed to do better is partly due to strong competition
that year; <i>The Lion King </i>and <i>The Mask </i>both hit our
screens in 1994 and made more than a dent in <i>The Shadow</i>'s
profits. The Shadow was the inspiration for Batman and it shows; one
to watch back to back with the 1989 outing for the Caped Crusader...
highly recommended; a treasure. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuGi3bZ8XnfboonGyctkmiLNU016F0vnYi7_N88I5LGPijcd3wIp2JZ9I5Tl9hQdtvsiP_9Jq567rZBoq9tXQE1ozMIffgAiTjVUJmSmywaYtgG1AyQJq2hdxMq_ltAYtdSKRA-nGx58/s1600/SHADOW+MISTAKES.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuGi3bZ8XnfboonGyctkmiLNU016F0vnYi7_N88I5LGPijcd3wIp2JZ9I5Tl9hQdtvsiP_9Jq567rZBoq9tXQE1ozMIffgAiTjVUJmSmywaYtgG1AyQJq2hdxMq_ltAYtdSKRA-nGx58/s320/SHADOW+MISTAKES.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Moe's Taxi races along, watch for the skid marks from previous takes.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During
the scene where the Mongol Warriors attack Dr.Lane's lab, several
fires break out; these are clearly just pyrotechnic fire pots placed
around the workbenches, no attempt is made to conceal this.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During
the Chinese kitchen scene a studio prop number is visible chalked on
the underside of an overturned chair.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuwHFB09zecuar4Y3mbkVaFTtUG0S-6KHn2l5fh2SVA9IGg832ov4BmDWBC0PMHCDmV6Z1PPsRsFqtYqKv9thNLR8JB4ww-7PuZfqPScn470mC60ybOqhZkw1E38sa0T8yFLt01-NYyA/s1600/NEEDS+CROP+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="798" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuwHFB09zecuar4Y3mbkVaFTtUG0S-6KHn2l5fh2SVA9IGg832ov4BmDWBC0PMHCDmV6Z1PPsRsFqtYqKv9thNLR8JB4ww-7PuZfqPScn470mC60ybOqhZkw1E38sa0T8yFLt01-NYyA/s320/NEEDS+CROP+A.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>STUDIO STILL FROM THE PRESS PACK</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some
of the cars in The Shadow are anachronistic; it's set in the late
1930's, yet – for example, a 1946 De Soto Custom and a 1946 Dodge
make fleeting appearances.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Shiwan Khan hypnotizes the sailor into jumping from the Empire State,
we see the sailor on the edge of a dizzying, sheer and vertical drop
to ground level. The Empire state has a protruding deck some way
below the observation deck, on which spotlights are mounted. It is an
effect, probably a matte painting. Later on, the actual Empire State
is seen and is noticeably different. Also, the security fence wasn't
added until the 1940's.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
bullet holes in the water chamber change sides magically between
shots; first Lamont is shown breathing air from one then swimming
<i>across </i> to the hatch. When Margo arrives shortly afterwards,
the bullet holes are streaming water, <i>beside </i>the hatch.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfspzxltNhQ-aakUTivAqJg6i9-EFpymYl1pzH-czOIUsOWSMRl8YIRYezlI0sUkEgiXA6TF71-F1AIaTwNhYDPETcGHP9HGGMBlxoFvoqs4vlUDB4PqVtpPx73Rl2TwRc8Njr7RNRGk/s1600/NEEDS+CROP+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1258" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfspzxltNhQ-aakUTivAqJg6i9-EFpymYl1pzH-czOIUsOWSMRl8YIRYezlI0sUkEgiXA6TF71-F1AIaTwNhYDPETcGHP9HGGMBlxoFvoqs4vlUDB4PqVtpPx73Rl2TwRc8Njr7RNRGk/s320/NEEDS+CROP+B.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>STUDIO STILLS FROM THE PRESS PACK</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
typography on the newspaper is a bit rushed on close inspection;
also, the text of the story beneath the Khan headline to the right
bears no relation to the actual story. This is probably because the
film was made before the Blu-Ray era; nobody thought anyone would
ever notice. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During
the scene in Khan's sanctum where the Shadow confronts him, Khan
presses a button to set the floor in motion; during this sequence, a
stand-in is clearly visible for Khan.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
the Beryllium Sphere crashes into the lift shaft, the shaft itself
below the sphere is a bad example of false perspective; for the shaft
to work, the elevator would have to travel at differing angles.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At
the very end, the Shadow turns to face us; his eyebrows are clearly
stuck on to a webbing material.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Claymore shoots the invisible Shadow, we see a pool of blood; seconds
later its gone, with none on the now-visible lamont or any sign of
injury.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Sergeant who delivers the report from the crime scene at the museum
is a Shadow agent; but his ring switches between right and left hand
in different shots. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLreF1R0mWtGwKKp3b25EadV_lf0fIyac7hiv7mHFfJI3hPFbOFWWmh3UOxqUhEE-l0SRXbkf6jjLSzikOWF8Nf-sjdf7W6QgA01B7a9aY60l1YTbD34HgITaK-ArSgPdtd2AjrJ4LxwU/s1600/RING+GOOF.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="1600" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLreF1R0mWtGwKKp3b25EadV_lf0fIyac7hiv7mHFfJI3hPFbOFWWmh3UOxqUhEE-l0SRXbkf6jjLSzikOWF8Nf-sjdf7W6QgA01B7a9aY60l1YTbD34HgITaK-ArSgPdtd2AjrJ4LxwU/s320/RING+GOOF.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As
all that is visible of the Shadow when invisible <i>is </i>his
shadow... where does it go when he ducks into the alleyway to hide
from the Mongol Warrior?; it should remain on the pavement, yet it
disappears – and then re-appears with him. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
the waiter brings Miss Lane the '1928 Rothschild' not only is it
already uncorked, but the label is wrong. No-one with any education
would ever accept an already-opened bottle. A genuine Rothschild
carried a different label entirely. The film-makers may have been
aware of the deficiency as the label is never shown facing the
camera. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTIPuuJarsICJqjd02Z80ALoYlzKhKRj6dincu3gTIMF50o0UexR74WDCBTBHy1ke_xTe-0dpPxjP57I_A_puDSVRxDnLuPUZbsNaMvgMJVLzjWh7Occtf8l1FeFvkUlidLZwBYJZl6Y/s1600/SHADOW+TRIVIA.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTIPuuJarsICJqjd02Z80ALoYlzKhKRj6dincu3gTIMF50o0UexR74WDCBTBHy1ke_xTe-0dpPxjP57I_A_puDSVRxDnLuPUZbsNaMvgMJVLzjWh7Occtf8l1FeFvkUlidLZwBYJZl6Y/s320/SHADOW+TRIVIA.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLAw4YM93hwEySE2gHXBa4EUOKzPtPgslNoEDUdany3tmL2jxLOYjp91WHDBALjv9MzAikH3Yxi4G3FqUqlwstkpSMvjIP_HO3KoV20B6WsXKcz9AlmFaMlvO4FvfwxtTiHQUvrA15L8/s1600/Ring.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLAw4YM93hwEySE2gHXBa4EUOKzPtPgslNoEDUdany3tmL2jxLOYjp91WHDBALjv9MzAikH3Yxi4G3FqUqlwstkpSMvjIP_HO3KoV20B6WsXKcz9AlmFaMlvO4FvfwxtTiHQUvrA15L8/s1600/Ring.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>ALEC BALDWIN'S 'HERO' RING FROM THE SHADOW</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
has been said that the Shadow’s automatics, nicknamed ‘Silver
Heat’ are anachronistic in that they are customised .45 Win Mag LAR
Grizzly pistols. Although strictly accurate, we feel this does the
armourers a dis-service; LAR gave the pistols a vintage look by
extending the frames and slides, then nickel plated the weapons to
give them their distinctive look. Two sets were made, plus rubber
stunt pistols. The end result are striking pistols that have the look
of 1911’s with a fearsome look that enhances the character of the
Shadow. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNw7xxQcxKi003CTKDD0bPe5qwTsZvzhItoKbpBdICI_M-9C-XnmWPARx4Wd9XYySSf5KbSIsm7OYlrXbvZAmkF32SElFOkIifUV7eudcDOmt1E4VhuzwEr4h13AwKuUVSMFWK4_zFKM/s1600/8787740_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNw7xxQcxKi003CTKDD0bPe5qwTsZvzhItoKbpBdICI_M-9C-XnmWPARx4Wd9XYySSf5KbSIsm7OYlrXbvZAmkF32SElFOkIifUV7eudcDOmt1E4VhuzwEr4h13AwKuUVSMFWK4_zFKM/s320/8787740_1.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
'hall of mirrors scene' was intended to be a longer sequence, with
Khan showing Cranston images of his own violent past to weaken his
resolve. An earthquake destroyed the set and the scene was cut
accordingly due to the time and expense of re-dressing. The scene may
have been inspired by the Shadow novel <i>'Room of Doom'</i> from
1942.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLKrBAHedxsuqTryjFIzas9q4Wx5tNMjYkSw53SNaeB_kf3CQ0U2Xnfvf-IxAIl3BGLh-iMh-gPX2kkoL1rzJtai48rn2WeiuVVjB4HB3U1BkJd4bFRE4nGt4aysh0xLXNoa997Z8OL4/s1600/db5de7a8aecbb95328d88e58a05e1b9b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1321" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLKrBAHedxsuqTryjFIzas9q4Wx5tNMjYkSw53SNaeB_kf3CQ0U2Xnfvf-IxAIl3BGLh-iMh-gPX2kkoL1rzJtai48rn2WeiuVVjB4HB3U1BkJd4bFRE4nGt4aysh0xLXNoa997Z8OL4/s320/db5de7a8aecbb95328d88e58a05e1b9b.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>COVER ART FOR 'ROOM OF DOOM'.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohtppdGGrRWJkmlrfREujZTdaqVwrveSLfnE5ynIsWplmyIheCP7ZFDFk9xXfJc6PzWaF_j4hfiXtVd9QEasi1YwkbAViVD-5sZ0EFu_rPESPY6G4di4hRnfWTk4HwtCeSJ3b0EGe1zU/s1600/d25153577dba87693568f8cd30c306b69039f68a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1093" data-original-width="846" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohtppdGGrRWJkmlrfREujZTdaqVwrveSLfnE5ynIsWplmyIheCP7ZFDFk9xXfJc6PzWaF_j4hfiXtVd9QEasi1YwkbAViVD-5sZ0EFu_rPESPY6G4di4hRnfWTk4HwtCeSJ3b0EGe1zU/s320/d25153577dba87693568f8cd30c306b69039f68a.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>THE SHADOW PINBALL MACHINE, RELEASED AS A TIE-IN.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
line "The weed of crime bears bitter fruit" is taken from
the original radio series. At the end of every episode, after the
credits, The Shadow would say<i> "The weed of crime bears bitter
fruit. Crime does not pay! The Shadow knows,"</i> and then
laughs his trademark laugh.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitPFGJedrLJcINmAfTUomEz2qeV9165t_MzqVexV7m8sucJv2J-p-EG6r9akV_Cbps7ACn5IvRYzdT-bk6ZvgCVwxFugwLC1oJscBjlEmpnmAI34bYS_yrjzWoezLjyFUiZFvi3i66ShI/s1600/RINGS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="786" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitPFGJedrLJcINmAfTUomEz2qeV9165t_MzqVexV7m8sucJv2J-p-EG6r9akV_Cbps7ACn5IvRYzdT-bk6ZvgCVwxFugwLC1oJscBjlEmpnmAI34bYS_yrjzWoezLjyFUiZFvi3i66ShI/s320/RINGS.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A SET OF SHADOW RINGS ON THEIR BACKING CARD</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Llama
cigarettes are themselves a parody of Camel cigarettes; the slogan
'I'd walk a mile for a Camel!.' was altered to 'I'd climb a mountain
for a Llama!.'</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4YaFE0jl9d1-eF5w4rQwrfDQfUDnHaI4vKzthjRuDL9juSo9ZDQBque3e3dNtJBzISY4ghnSnQxMwYd12DdFWIMXbXRG97hKq2GZtOXNLvlKqmLd7XzDNftA1kVdIdNKAVoVZYNa79s/s1600/The-Shadow-original-screen-used-prop-Llama-cigarettes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4YaFE0jl9d1-eF5w4rQwrfDQfUDnHaI4vKzthjRuDL9juSo9ZDQBque3e3dNtJBzISY4ghnSnQxMwYd12DdFWIMXbXRG97hKq2GZtOXNLvlKqmLd7XzDNftA1kVdIdNKAVoVZYNa79s/s320/The-Shadow-original-screen-used-prop-Llama-cigarettes.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>PROP CIGARETTES FROM THE SHADOW</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvF8nJB3pvreitM9gVwnCXZ28wH8yvZZtQyfuOrZ1bS5IxapZqNbbaPo_uZr1UAHbiO8K1NX2BAPIpzY7a-XLbjzZrUJt3OTWtpKHQga9S9pqV7S17S_KIuhqjlFzhT4PiJv1cOQlsxs/s1600/The-Shadow-1994-Board-Game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1600" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvF8nJB3pvreitM9gVwnCXZ28wH8yvZZtQyfuOrZ1bS5IxapZqNbbaPo_uZr1UAHbiO8K1NX2BAPIpzY7a-XLbjzZrUJt3OTWtpKHQga9S9pqV7S17S_KIuhqjlFzhT4PiJv1cOQlsxs/s320/The-Shadow-1994-Board-Game.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>SHADOW BOARD GAME TIE-IN</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Phurba is the exact same dagger used in <i>The Golden Child</i>
(1986).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "liberation" serif , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As
Lamont and Margo finally kiss, look behind her at the truck across
the road; it bears the name of Russell Mulcahy, the film's director.
A sign with 'Baldwin' on it is also clearly visible in the Times
Square scene.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrLKtZE75GUZiFIr-K09DSu4O8DfGa1nMlAzSek5ZOKV6voY4m1a8aE-VPQN7oniKnGRvyDvHDGsJeVPH0uy5pGxYbzc-_Euxs5bjv1dUPU3wNMaIU1gcTjjGwngRU9Lb5NX5qUiHl2w/s1600/SHADOW+HEADER+IMAGINED.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrLKtZE75GUZiFIr-K09DSu4O8DfGa1nMlAzSek5ZOKV6voY4m1a8aE-VPQN7oniKnGRvyDvHDGsJeVPH0uy5pGxYbzc-_Euxs5bjv1dUPU3wNMaIU1gcTjjGwngRU9Lb5NX5qUiHl2w/s320/SHADOW+HEADER+IMAGINED.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>CONCEPT ART FOR THE SHADOW</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-252350642193556062017-07-05T17:22:00.000+00:002017-07-05T17:22:18.292+00:00The Hills are alive... with The Music of Sound<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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" 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<span style="font-size: medium;">Bernard
Quist is a Consulting Detective from the ancient city of York and he
returns in the second supernatural mystery thriller from Ian Jarvis
<i>The Music of Sound...</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESFm5feZk1ZWkP2jIlzdENg-OTv9ohR0yz2QnTtZxWlcIxx8Z-T6CNsBPmNiusaGVWo3csEYtiDgIWCTQqUFUuVPJBWRYpegIdLqLf4sCLUkgvTzy0RJlXoqli7UI7njC-PdaHy6Jj9o/s1600/4386be_e41d7a28270440b587ca3f00c6fb6463%257Emv2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="295" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESFm5feZk1ZWkP2jIlzdENg-OTv9ohR0yz2QnTtZxWlcIxx8Z-T6CNsBPmNiusaGVWo3csEYtiDgIWCTQqUFUuVPJBWRYpegIdLqLf4sCLUkgvTzy0RJlXoqli7UI7njC-PdaHy6Jj9o/s320/4386be_e41d7a28270440b587ca3f00c6fb6463%257Emv2.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The
prologue has our man Quist aboard an exclusive liner in 1912, in the
mixed company of a Glaswegian music promoter on the make and an
English Lord. The Glaswegian's 'niece' Sarah is rescued by Quist
after an unfortunate incident involving ice and whilst he gets her
aboard a lifeboat, there is no room for him. After all, hat-boxes and
luxury luggage aren't cheap...</span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
action then moves to the present day with the escape of Sebastian
Moran, <i>en-route </i>to Broadmoor for multiple murders, to say
nothing of his dubious taste in recreation. Sprung by a mysterious
outfit, Moran is free to kill again...</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And
we're off on another Bernie Quist adventure; once again the city of
York makes an enchanting cameo appearance, with Quist's sidekick John
Watson returning </span><span style="font-size: medium;">to
join the fun. Quist is – and you have, I take it already read </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Cat
Flap</i></span><span style="font-size: medium;">,
(<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Cat-Flap-Ian-Jarvis/dp/1787050416">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Cat-Flap-Ian-Jarvis/dp/1787050416</a>
or <a href="http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/product/9781787050419/">http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/product/9781787050419/</a>
) haven't you? - a werewolf, albeit one with scruples. And he's a
vegan. Also back, thankfully, is Rex Grant, the rich playboy and now
fellow werewolf, as amusing as ever.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Ian
Jarvis fans take note; he hasn't lost the sense of humour – every
page drips with gags and one-liners ranging from the funny to the
laugh-out-loud hilarious. As with <i>Cat-Flap,</i> this lifts the
story and takes the edge off the tension and terror. I should point
out this is definitely a book for grown ups, the language is R-rated
at times, though it's not out of place or in your face in this
reviewer's opinion. Back to the plot...</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Rex
is in Edinburgh with a girl from the McNulty Caledonian construction
firm, he's there to seal a deal for Grant Homes, his father's firm
and by chance they bump into music star Ligeia and her entourage.
After a quick dance the singer makes Rex the sort of offer I'd slap a
puppy for, but her behaviour is odd, to say the least – and when a
gruesome murder is committed in his hotel room, Rex vanishes.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But
who is Colonel Irana Adler?, Ligeia's Chief of Security – or
something far more sinister?.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVLVTp8gZw135-4yV-H8qnejFDorzsA9Ivl7_vkDjtyrTaLQ-UVfqY8j9wNJLTKDCNOkD2-aqC_uniebKD96gi-n-OFG3xlHDhvRMqToUFhBY1deOUFO3OVfC7jgzaXGszRVTTsgYyr0/s1600/LYCANTHROPY+A.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1100" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVLVTp8gZw135-4yV-H8qnejFDorzsA9Ivl7_vkDjtyrTaLQ-UVfqY8j9wNJLTKDCNOkD2-aqC_uniebKD96gi-n-OFG3xlHDhvRMqToUFhBY1deOUFO3OVfC7jgzaXGszRVTTsgYyr0/s320/LYCANTHROPY+A.BMP" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Investigating
both murder and disappearance make for a welcome break from divorce
work and investigating benefit cheats, being an occasional wolf has
its benefits, not least the ability to analyse crime scenes and
Bernie is soon on the scent – literally. Look out for the usual
nods and winks to Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle – the author peppers
these books with amusing Holmesian references and <i>The Music of
Sound </i>is no exception. Speaking of which – where does a serial
killer names Alistair Ramson fit in to all this?...</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">What
lies behind the inexplicable spell Ligeia casts over people?.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">What
is the secret of her success?.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">What
is 'Tromboning'?.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
mystery thickens and the plot deepens with Red Globe, the management
company behind the singing superstar. Run by the mysterious Colonel
Adler and the truly warped Sergeant Gruner, they provide a wall of
steel around Ligeia, who lives in an oddly-childlike dreamworld with
only a mute Irish girl named Elva for company.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Rex
Grant is a guest of Ligeia – albeit unwillingly – his lycanthrope's
magnetism making him both irresistible to the singer while rendering
him immune to her uncanny charm. Only a Haitain <i>Houngan </i>named
Lafont can discover Rex's secret and control his power. But why are
Laurel and Hardy going around killing people?; in one of many clever
twists, Jarvis has re-imagined not only the world of the World's most
famous Consulting Detective, but also two of Hollywood's most beloved
comedy stars.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Events
take a turn for the worse when Quist and his erstwhile assistant
gatecrash a PR even at Ligeia's palatial Thameside mansion and are
captured. While in their makeshift cell, Quist makes an incredible
discovery that sheds new light on the captivating singer, one that
places her in a completely different light... but to say any more
about the latest Bernard Quist mystery risks giving too much away –
to learn more you'll just have to pay your </span><span style="font-size: medium;">£11.99
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1787051382">https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1787051382</a>
(Or £6.99 for the Kindle edition <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Music-Sound-Ian-Jarvis-ebook/dp/B071HPPL9G/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Music-Sound-Ian-Jarvis-ebook/dp/B071HPPL9G/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=</a> )
- suffice to say, Colonel Adler is harbouring dark family secrets of
her own and although normally playful as a kitten, Ligeia herself may
pose a terrible risk.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
action takes us from Scotland to York and then London, with a
climactic encounter at – and above the O2 Arena. And that, folks,
is really all I'm saying...</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">So,
should you, with bold certainty, reach for your credit card and
splash out the cost of a few beers or a rather limp hamburger and
fries for this book?. Yes; I've been waiting for a Bernie Quist
sequel for a while now and Ian Jarvis doesn't disappoint with this
outing. A must for fans of both Sherlock Holmes and decent
horror-thrillers everywhere, but with the comic touch to take the
edge off. Highly recommended. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For
more about Ian Jarvis, visit his website at;
<a href="https://www.ianjarviswriter.com/">https://www.ianjarviswriter.com/</a></span></span></div>
</div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-88082472671674870972017-06-07T22:58:00.004+00:002017-06-07T22:58:23.822+00:00Remembering Sir. Roger Moore - Live and Let Die, a retrospective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbc59qHU_XlqAFSSMyAxdjmHWPmva8bXOl8npgiq_wEAD5_LXQ3ycahyphenhypheny3CkX8Q9Sv6gcV1MD3q17dnUk65LFFnIhvv4fRKgtMO9yaXBMgo51zswK4TfgXkNXbGZ99woUKI2KHZ-gLUxA/s1600/%2527Live%252Band%252BLet%252BDie%2527.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbc59qHU_XlqAFSSMyAxdjmHWPmva8bXOl8npgiq_wEAD5_LXQ3ycahyphenhypheny3CkX8Q9Sv6gcV1MD3q17dnUk65LFFnIhvv4fRKgtMO9yaXBMgo51zswK4TfgXkNXbGZ99woUKI2KHZ-gLUxA/s320/%2527Live%252Band%252BLet%252BDie%2527.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jane Seymour poses with Roger Moore</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidRJvxLH2SsqTWq08d009C_li6vkaiQjFjbJ9RlUvfSwuNoULHHRBZHArrRDoDZiLE-7RvBu1pVj_3OsSJ1FQOCNd5YM8NN_8l_wsQX-Z9y0LwlWjOvkqpiD_n2xReztC0hriS7nydvc/s1600/3_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1113" data-original-width="1500" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidRJvxLH2SsqTWq08d009C_li6vkaiQjFjbJ9RlUvfSwuNoULHHRBZHArrRDoDZiLE-7RvBu1pVj_3OsSJ1FQOCNd5YM8NN_8l_wsQX-Z9y0LwlWjOvkqpiD_n2xReztC0hriS7nydvc/s320/3_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Roger Moore posing with drink while, in the background the fx crew detonate explosives for the end of the boat chase sequence</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxps3OGVMn958kxmoNXM1X6uzt3usks4J3FlScjuolSu3qEiVmHItS-zdSA6cCMZJFljf9JBUhE8RDkTLZhP-uOjW6B26qDbSlpLWnuHeNxxzttNaiuPOjrlmPCHb3PnCRO4LV8bzVnmA/s1600/5_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="1500" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxps3OGVMn958kxmoNXM1X6uzt3usks4J3FlScjuolSu3qEiVmHItS-zdSA6cCMZJFljf9JBUhE8RDkTLZhP-uOjW6B26qDbSlpLWnuHeNxxzttNaiuPOjrlmPCHb3PnCRO4LV8bzVnmA/s320/5_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">An unfriendly reception at the airport</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNxFTO4RSP98FlfnFbgOW-OnL3P8OPl2sY99SEhp-u4GlDcQ0EAUs_WOL8VEYHglBKqRVmk4sYs-6LwuhIYDo_KYWyobSorJ1pXmbtCqtfl8uawajqBeqGB0gU42OnWfei3g-4ajzhJw/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1301" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNxFTO4RSP98FlfnFbgOW-OnL3P8OPl2sY99SEhp-u4GlDcQ0EAUs_WOL8VEYHglBKqRVmk4sYs-6LwuhIYDo_KYWyobSorJ1pXmbtCqtfl8uawajqBeqGB0gU42OnWfei3g-4ajzhJw/s320/12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Gliding into action</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X08QgPbKKd4oS902oNDHUOgmdiqtUMmL4zPYjIRGly7kBPvjof3QgquuEsWmbdX1kUyGtyo0e_mlTa8Kz5yiRKGOKNHbD7dqccxLrYqVsQowXoFhLedWYqx4O6MkDxD8PfCg0nPHWak/s1600/040-roger-moore-theredlist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X08QgPbKKd4oS902oNDHUOgmdiqtUMmL4zPYjIRGly7kBPvjof3QgquuEsWmbdX1kUyGtyo0e_mlTa8Kz5yiRKGOKNHbD7dqccxLrYqVsQowXoFhLedWYqx4O6MkDxD8PfCg0nPHWak/s320/040-roger-moore-theredlist.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">With Rosie on Quarrel Jnr's boat</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQQxjasG7II3ETaU74yqKBspZ6zsZsacHPGv2wJ0wBep8JaHldz282QgHD1KN56Ydwi5gEtf8Us9TOVfn2EXSZ_UqGgRHShAGGt2a_AwCWGwsmXNrLCSZpaPS1t9yIU7cmM7lBu7Z3RE/s1600/046-roger-moore-theredlist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1212" data-original-width="1600" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQQxjasG7II3ETaU74yqKBspZ6zsZsacHPGv2wJ0wBep8JaHldz282QgHD1KN56Ydwi5gEtf8Us9TOVfn2EXSZ_UqGgRHShAGGt2a_AwCWGwsmXNrLCSZpaPS1t9yIU7cmM7lBu7Z3RE/s320/046-roger-moore-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Speedboat chase; during day one of filming, Moore's boat lost power and crashed, damaging his teeth</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFn6A1R96F26mtMnQrceBjkr2tfVBtLs1DYlKd1Wcy-rw3nnqRQlrA8FRHps8FVXxSEw82WpLw56eC1nMmdfSroYucF82k3sQhZjcoivrb1V952BdsEXJl0Wq2CHabyj3xOjKqOaunKw/s1600/1000x1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="794" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFn6A1R96F26mtMnQrceBjkr2tfVBtLs1DYlKd1Wcy-rw3nnqRQlrA8FRHps8FVXxSEw82WpLw56eC1nMmdfSroYucF82k3sQhZjcoivrb1V952BdsEXJl0Wq2CHabyj3xOjKqOaunKw/s320/1000x1000.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A publicity still with Jane Seymour, born </span><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">Joyce Penelope Wilhelmina Frankenberg no less...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhJmo-uTCyo25hdXwNd97MaPr5S7FRQ7-PHT3o61NhQUITLDUHiS3__8l_pDGwJwIr98bOrIHcs_uKxPovNSnC-RULGiX0uvV-1GVAIHm0NARs7Lefl-NLjMzl5alB4pKUX-Oilgf5E0/s1600/2010-09-06_224441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="878" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhJmo-uTCyo25hdXwNd97MaPr5S7FRQ7-PHT3o61NhQUITLDUHiS3__8l_pDGwJwIr98bOrIHcs_uKxPovNSnC-RULGiX0uvV-1GVAIHm0NARs7Lefl-NLjMzl5alB4pKUX-Oilgf5E0/s320/2010-09-06_224441.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Meeting Mr. Big, played by Yaphet Kotto</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Above and Below; photos Copyright Terry O'Niell</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The new Bond on location</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwIv80mBaxRpoK7mu4jyAqZ3vXqox54vLV3W55k79mI3BfS04r1-4XDngugdPV5y5hOQja6KSNwVbZM4QMb4v1G9QvapQPRYaLdE1Rpxw41_PRmk3NYsSkvysA7DHbDTQ_yKLjmlLw00/s1600/NEW+BOND+WITH+ROSS+KANANGA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1062" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwIv80mBaxRpoK7mu4jyAqZ3vXqox54vLV3W55k79mI3BfS04r1-4XDngugdPV5y5hOQja6KSNwVbZM4QMb4v1G9QvapQPRYaLdE1Rpxw41_PRmk3NYsSkvysA7DHbDTQ_yKLjmlLw00/s320/NEW+BOND+WITH+ROSS+KANANGA.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">With Ross Kananga, the owner of the crocodile farm. Mr. Big's alter-ego was named after him</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Above and Below; Moore with Cubby Broccoli (left) and Harry Saltzman (Centre in red)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Director Guy Hamilton with star and Saltzman on location</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Madeline Smith as Miss Caruso; Moore chose her personally for the part, in which she was outstanding...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">During filming at Pinewood</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Photo Copyright Terry O'Niell</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUsl1y84cIAUIjZGZjFRFDJjCuozbVT1iug9esUJI21ID0ws_uSiQubdeuotmZtz7hp8k382rZjnfcoI6nYT_hk0WaZ-GwPpVukEpGbni6JOUNDNV8FMHYuz3PBb3Wh0u2womCgNv4EQ/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="1494" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUsl1y84cIAUIjZGZjFRFDJjCuozbVT1iug9esUJI21ID0ws_uSiQubdeuotmZtz7hp8k382rZjnfcoI6nYT_hk0WaZ-GwPpVukEpGbni6JOUNDNV8FMHYuz3PBb3Wh0u2womCgNv4EQ/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">David Hedison (left) plays Felix Leiter. Clifton James plays Sheriff J.W. Pepper, a role he resumed for The Man with The Golden Gun</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Julius Harris is Tee-Hee, Mr. Big's side-kick</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Rosie Carver of the C.I.A. as portrayed by Gloria Hendry</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVbfGFBYbG0JsZ5vECgDqpy6YcU2Vp3-tY_pwS2j9rtWnI4OFK-rFz7rlyE81aMQymK7DKWzwQ8CkYD-5J5R3nj1Is_OeEvkDzkn_Jr2yJ7ZLgRw7m8_3WbnzZwMleFZIdQbv4Wi7izw/s1600/tumblr_o840tmGEsL1rf1jvro1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1074" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVbfGFBYbG0JsZ5vECgDqpy6YcU2Vp3-tY_pwS2j9rtWnI4OFK-rFz7rlyE81aMQymK7DKWzwQ8CkYD-5J5R3nj1Is_OeEvkDzkn_Jr2yJ7ZLgRw7m8_3WbnzZwMleFZIdQbv4Wi7izw/s320/tumblr_o840tmGEsL1rf1jvro1_1280.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Roger Moore, later Sir. Roger went on to play Bond in a total of seven films. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-59906687532043723802017-05-23T15:32:00.003+00:002017-05-23T15:32:58.164+00:00A sad announcement.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some very sad news in what was already a terrible day. Following the terrorist attack in Manchester it has been announced that Sir. Roger Moore has passed away at the venerable age of 89 after a short, but courageous fight against cancer. As you will all know, Sir. Roger starred in television's <i>The Saint </i>before going on to portray James Bond 007 in seven films. From <i>Live and Let Die </i>to <i>A View to a Kill</i>, Roger Moore-as he was then-<i>was </i>James Bond. To this day he remains my favourite and it was only this Sunday I watched <i>The Man with the Golden Gun</i>, my personal favourite Bond film with my favourite Bond actor. Our thoughts here at Volcano Cat go out to his wife Kristina and the family at what must be a terribly difficult time. Rest in Peace and Thank You for making a little boy feel like he could be 007 too.<br />
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-2751026616952952352017-04-15T18:43:00.002+00:002017-04-16T19:22:24.257+00:00Doctor Strange-Magical Worlds, Marvelous Future<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kathmandu,
Nepal. The hidden compound known as Kamar-Taj. An ancient place of
serenity and wisdom. Three acolytes approach the library as the
librarian replaces a sacred tome in its iron rack and chains. The
knowledge of the ages is stored here. As the three approach they
become many, magically producing bonds of fire to hold the librarian
aloft, his screams of agony ringing out. An iron vessel is placed
below his head. Removing his hood, the man that crouches before him
is revealed as Kaecilius, the Sorcerer. Removing the two curved
knives from their sheaths behind his back, he sweeps them up to
behead the helpless keeper of books, his head falling into the urn
with a hollow ring. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kaecilius
takes a book down from the rack, selects a ritual and tears the pages
from the book, leaving it to fall onto the flags. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">He goes to leave,
but a voice stops him; female, yet oddly resonant. 'Master
Kaecilius-that ritual will bring you only sorrow.' For a moment, the
thief considers attacking The Ancient One, his hands on the hilts of
his knives. There are better places to fight. At a run, he and his
band leave through a portal that takes them instantaneously to
Central London!. Passers-by look on in surprise at the oddly-clad
group rushing through the streets. Suddenly, they come to a halt as a
strange construct of mirrored qualities appears before them. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Ancient One steps out behind them, now trapped in the Mirror
Dimension. With a gesture, She sets the buildings themselves into
motion, arches revolving and columns spinning. Reality itself is
skewed in this space. With a shout of 'Hypocrite!', the trapped
Sorcerer shows his anger, but the Ancient One merely throws her arms
into a symmetrical shape and turns everything within the Dimension on
it's side, leaping effortlessly onto a wall and striding towards her
quarry, who are sent sliding onto the new ground. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-Xx7451KpaI-2qe2rJKvjep_s4a3IL_CS67MVn7KNY9SHH5HxLTzraJ8DD98xdXZlezyMb_gNT0XAOeaU1OgPUFpk8SHhZTHZnpGuO-fQY2MA1Vl4zxng4bItkfS4sDsahxLGxmkDeA/s1600/vlcsnap-00098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-Xx7451KpaI-2qe2rJKvjep_s4a3IL_CS67MVn7KNY9SHH5HxLTzraJ8DD98xdXZlezyMb_gNT0XAOeaU1OgPUFpk8SHhZTHZnpGuO-fQY2MA1Vl4zxng4bItkfS4sDsahxLGxmkDeA/s320/vlcsnap-00098.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">She stands on the
one unmoving piece now as the whole facade of the building ripples
and undulates as if part of an insane machine, easily resisting
attempts to lasso her and generating magical shields with which to
resist the onslaught of Kaecilius's disciples. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CdLi5eJ59EDoMijE061W4A879u4FSYZaD7y6l2LHv0MVhQ2-U_S84-a3t114RUAPyy2aqT3ZU1ZjwymQjVv6KdzOl0kGGH7EXcY5AoNYAhZnuracRJkgrmE1pQn40Dveqq1lbk2QMDU/s1600/vlcsnap-00100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CdLi5eJ59EDoMijE061W4A879u4FSYZaD7y6l2LHv0MVhQ2-U_S84-a3t114RUAPyy2aqT3ZU1ZjwymQjVv6KdzOl0kGGH7EXcY5AoNYAhZnuracRJkgrmE1pQn40Dveqq1lbk2QMDU/s320/vlcsnap-00100.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The fight is energetic
as it is vicious, the building rolling up ominously, threatening to
envelop the combatants. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Apparently
trapped, Kaecilius drops to a ledge to generate a portal below and
his devotees fall through to the next dimension, going from falling
to running without any apparent ill-effects. He follows, leaving The
Ancient One to turn away in triumph-for the time being. With a wave
of her hand, she restores the buildings to our normality and
generates her own portal through the Mirror Dimension, to the
astonishment of onlookers in the 'Real World' beyond.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkuHGDvjOZEdur5iBK5qv5xmmT78nOkY6qZ7rT4KipPWqjce9rqoKzroRWBrwCDveMdqme3WLnhu4b8iHBbe5_5QSilYhDNaYJKvyw9WAhyLru0XpnR66oH7_xUJRHHr9et2DIDuoaGg/s1600/040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkuHGDvjOZEdur5iBK5qv5xmmT78nOkY6qZ7rT4KipPWqjce9rqoKzroRWBrwCDveMdqme3WLnhu4b8iHBbe5_5QSilYhDNaYJKvyw9WAhyLru0XpnR66oH7_xUJRHHr9et2DIDuoaGg/s320/040.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Benedict Cumberbatch is Dr. Stephen Strange.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Doctor
Stephen Strange scrubs in, ready to dazzle. A youthful forty, the
hints of grey at each temple only serve to accentuate his relatively
unlined face. In front of an audience of starstruck interns, the
famous surgeon operates, the theatre filled with the sound of Earth
Wind and Fire's 'Shining Star', until, mischievously, he challenges
Billy, one of the theatre staff to test him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Billy plays another
tune, but almost instantly he gets it; Chuck Mangione's Feels so
Good, 1977. Billy tries to say '78, but Strange is right as Wikipedia
confirms to him. His fellow surgeon Christine Palmer-his former <i>lover</i>
Christine Palmer catches his eye through the doors; he's needed
elsewhere. Leaving a colleague to close up, Strange exits the
theatre. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christine
hands Stephen a tablet; not good, gun shot wound, round lodged next
to the <i>medulla. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Nick West</span><i>'s
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">already called brain death, but
it doesn't feel right. A quick dash finds Doctor West </span><span style="font-style: normal;">preparing
to take the 'corpse' for organ harvest. Dr. Strange wants the patient
prepped for an immediate suboccipital craniotomy. Which is worth
about seventeen points at Scrabble. The composition of the round
suggests lead antimony-a hardened round that hasn't deformed in the
skull. The contents are so toxic the central nervous system has shut
down, giving the </span><i>appearance</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
of brain death. Soon, he's operating, with Dr. Palmer assisting. She
calls for image guidance, but there's no time. He goes in </span><i>freehand</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
with the assertiveness and confidence bordering on arrogance of a
Master Surgeon. Sure enough, as soon as the bullet is retrieved, the
patient's heart bursts into spontaneous rhythm. The patient's anxious
family embrace both doctors, Strange allowing a brief hug (Suggesting
he hasn't entirely slipped out of his </span><i>Sherlock</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
character.) Afterwards, Christine tries to seduce Strange to become
her on-call Neuro-Surgeon. He prefers cutting-edge neuro to her
'butcher's shop' in ER. She declines his invite to hear him speak at
a Neurological Society dinner. </span></span></span>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Series"></a>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">That
evening, he dresses in tuxedo and tie</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. his trophy cabinet filled with
his awards. From a drawer filled with automatic-watch winders, he
selects a Jaeger le Coultre </span>Master Ultra Thin Perpetual. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">He
roars off in his Lamborghini Huracán LP 610-4 Spyder (I had to
Google it, it's gone so fast...) and is soon sweeping along the
coastal road (It's actually Northfleet in Kent, England.) Billy calls
with various cases he feels Strange might care to take as he
overtakes in the rain, driving fast. A female patient with a brain
implant to control schizophrenia has been struck by lightning; <i>that
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">sounds interesting. Strange
hasn't even finished asking for the images when Billy's sent them. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Taking his eye off the road to look at the pictures on his phone, the
inevitable; </span><span style="font-style: normal;">he clips a car
he's overtaking. The Lamborghini spins off the road and bounces
through a wall, flipping over a bank </span><span style="font-style: normal;">to
turn end over end into the mud at the edge of a lake. Stephen
Strange hangs upside down, his battered face already unrecognisable. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">H</span><span style="font-style: normal;">azily,
Strange watches as he's wheeled into the Operating Theatre, as if in
a pain-wracked dream. Much later, he awakes in a hospital bed,
Christine assuring him it's going to be okay. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDv59J8Sjb-P4obBCisxY-fHjmCab5HWpsLvb0v3bFQzVcfywtvxt9MAXPOOxZhEbgqsUl7tnoOSj65WQUd-rasg96ES-L36YwcK7mDcfV0IjmyfO3BRIDeVC8naB9nunpGXV8Ls5CuR0/s1600/vlcsnap-00107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDv59J8Sjb-P4obBCisxY-fHjmCab5HWpsLvb0v3bFQzVcfywtvxt9MAXPOOxZhEbgqsUl7tnoOSj65WQUd-rasg96ES-L36YwcK7mDcfV0IjmyfO3BRIDeVC8naB9nunpGXV8Ls5CuR0/s320/vlcsnap-00107.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Christine Palmer as portrayed by Rachel McAdams.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">His arms hang from
supports, a patchwork of steel rods through his hands. Every word an
effort, he asks what they did. They took a while to find him, flew
him in, but they missed the 'Golden Hour' for nerve damage. He's a
Doctor-he knows what that means. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">She
lists the injuries to his hands and it's clear his career is over.
Anguished, he cries; 'Look at these fixators.' She assures him no-one
could have done better. </span><i>He</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
could have done better. Oh! Bitter irony...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Slowly,
time does it's work and Stephen's facial injuries heal. His hands,
however, do not. The pins and fixators finally gone, Dr. Palmer
unwraps the bandages to reveal the terrible scarring, Dr. West
looking on awkwardly. His work to save his colleague has been
remarkable, nonetheless, but the palsy in Strange's hands tells
another story. Gently, Dr. West tells his patient to give his body
time to heal. Ungraciously, Strange rebuffs him; 'You've... ruined
me.' </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">From
bad things can sometimes only go to worse. At a case conference,
Strange appeals for radical technique to steady his hands and save
his career. He goes in for surgery and then rehabilitation, his
therapist patiently working with him to strengthen his ruined hands.
Despite the man's perseverance and kindness, the arrogant Strange
insults him, asking if he knows anyone to have come back from this
kind of nerve damage. Oddly, he has, telling his lofty patient of a
man who was paralysed following a factory accident. Against all the
odds, this man recovered, walked past him on the street. Bullshit,
calls Strange. It'll take time to pull the file, but if it proves his
arrogant ass wrong? Worth it. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At
home the hands that once saved lives struggle with washing themselves
and everyday tasks such as shaving </span><span style="font-style: normal;">are
beyond the former Surgeon. Former?; the last person on earth to
realise this is the man concerned. He cannot even hold his pen
properly as he tries to write something. Over his laptop he Skypes a
leading surgeon, who informs him his suggestions will not work. In
bitter frustration, he hurls the laptop and his papers off the table.
Breezily, Christine Palmer lets herself into his apartment. The sight
of Stephen and the strewn papers tells her of the latest setback.
Clinging to straws, Strange tells her of a procedure in Tokyo... she
tries to talk him down; he's always spent money as fast as he made
it. Maybe it's time to stop. No, he argues; He's not getting better!.
It's not medicine any more, she tells him; it's mania. This isn't the
end, there are other things that can give his life meaning.</span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">His voice
coming as a slap in the face, the words harsh, he answers her. 'Like
what? Like you?.' Hurt, Christine says 'This is the part where you
apologise.' All he says is; 'This is the part where you leave.' She
does, it breaks her heart and that's not enough, he spits all of his
venom and pent-up frustration at her. She leaves her key, saying
'Goodbye Stephen.' As she walks out, we see what he was writing
earlier; </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1LG2aKRGIoUrauIRVeTj3evlTqRzRGyTfCNUr_qVdmTX9hOHyinKpKDljkW6878fPv-LmBnDhGc-QH8PUes1U1aG4Oahl4JMN4uke3U0NeQzcGs1Ol-uHIJy7QA17EAbyEzkS5chACA/s1600/vlcsnap-00092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1LG2aKRGIoUrauIRVeTj3evlTqRzRGyTfCNUr_qVdmTX9hOHyinKpKDljkW6878fPv-LmBnDhGc-QH8PUes1U1aG4Oahl4JMN4uke3U0NeQzcGs1Ol-uHIJy7QA17EAbyEzkS5chACA/s320/vlcsnap-00092.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Expensive
apartments cost money. His place full of cardboard boxes and less
full of piano, Strange opens a package from his therapist, a post-it
attached. 'Told you so!.' The x-rays tell the story of the
miraculous-a man who was indeed paralysed and who walked again. The
name on the X-rays is Pangborn, J. </span></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj704q6aglHUahpyyP1yBhUqOc6LdQsPkf57u0URsH9rnQy7CpLY7BXiLCVRaKXIpOnE9IsqqDBSOcF0rhTnYuVO4qGn14Hf290RYvMVWXW2qeuD3ysZUpMXQYieOb4-3bFLUD5Chm-SeQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj704q6aglHUahpyyP1yBhUqOc6LdQsPkf57u0URsH9rnQy7CpLY7BXiLCVRaKXIpOnE9IsqqDBSOcF0rhTnYuVO4qGn14Hf290RYvMVWXW2qeuD3ysZUpMXQYieOb4-3bFLUD5Chm-SeQ/s320/vlcsnap-00110.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Ever
seen a paralysed man play basketball?. You have now... and so has
Stephen Strange, watching through the chain-link as </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Jonathan
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Pangborn shoots hoops with
his buddies. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Strange calls
him over by listing his spinal injuries. His attention piqued,
Pangborn comes over, recognising the famous Neuro-Surgeon. </span><i>Former</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Neuro-Surgeon. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Strange
refused to see him when he came to his office, couldn't get past his
assistant. Strange states he was untreatable. 'No glory for you in
that, right?.' Strange wants to know, </span><i>needs</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
to know; 'You came back from a place there's no way back from.'
Holding up his smashed hands, Strange wants to find his own way back.
Taking pity on the wretched figure, Pangborn tells him. He'd given up
on his own body. All he had was his mind, so he thought he should
elevate it. He sat with Gurus and sacred women. Strangers carried him
to mountain tops to see holy men. Finally, he found his teacher. His
mind was elevated. His spirit deepened. Somehow, his body healed.
There were deeper secrets to be learned there, but he lacked the
strength to receive. He settled for his miracle, came back home. The
place Stephen seeks is called </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Kamar-Taj.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">The cost is high. </span><i>How
much?. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">He's not talking about
</span><i>money. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Wishing strange
luck, he returns to his game. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Kathmandu,
Nepal. Just outside Nokandu. Sorry.* Multitudinous, polyglot, the
streets teem with life amongst the ancient buildings, the vibrant
thrum of the Asian way of life. Strange goes from person to person,
asking after Kamar-Taj. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSrtJ9x-06iRpUXoFP5X3XcYEH14DQe89KdnYDbBSb7-rUKz2sz9iYr9wLzQDADrVlK2OJPkIpfJToMu00sSLdgM1eNf2Xj_HIIVtAI6frxO7XxCVbLIl692GC37N_bu2ZUG7DmJzqYA/s1600/019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSrtJ9x-06iRpUXoFP5X3XcYEH14DQe89KdnYDbBSb7-rUKz2sz9iYr9wLzQDADrVlK2OJPkIpfJToMu00sSLdgM1eNf2Xj_HIIVtAI6frxO7XxCVbLIl692GC37N_bu2ZUG7DmJzqYA/s320/019.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpBC1qCNOWbmk6djlVHkVlipGtV3bj4lxpwflD1P7vvovuW4QdnLBNwuoTUKUnsD3_3iGSasHw4oBr1MJHgYqe7aX29MNIJNwPu7zrS09sFN5g5t0_EeTEAdpLsmzHCnbxRG23eUNDP4/s1600/Benedict_Cumberbatch_on_the_set_of_Doctor_Strange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpBC1qCNOWbmk6djlVHkVlipGtV3bj4lxpwflD1P7vvovuW4QdnLBNwuoTUKUnsD3_3iGSasHw4oBr1MJHgYqe7aX29MNIJNwPu7zrS09sFN5g5t0_EeTEAdpLsmzHCnbxRG23eUNDP4/s320/Benedict_Cumberbatch_on_the_set_of_Doctor_Strange.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He turns prayer wheels at the temple with the
tourists, asks passing monks. </span><i>Kamar-Taj?</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
Perhaps it was all a dream... but one man has noticed his interest, a
hooded figure follows him as he goes on from Holy place to another. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPayWNXWPKO7GfuugckcobxEu3Z31TLrvWmuvBgDtfAjC7IDHL_cU0B8iRjES_YWrg6nc-FGHW-sp8eoCGRFHTBU5t0J5F_7bBq6sCOnhHr6iv4HrVQdAAG1-0Tkx_D8vBeizFsA0Y0Y/s1600/vlcsnap-00111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPayWNXWPKO7GfuugckcobxEu3Z31TLrvWmuvBgDtfAjC7IDHL_cU0B8iRjES_YWrg6nc-FGHW-sp8eoCGRFHTBU5t0J5F_7bBq6sCOnhHr6iv4HrVQdAAG1-0Tkx_D8vBeizFsA0Y0Y/s320/vlcsnap-00111.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7YpYGZBuW_WjY7y0I91odOzr5xDzKMyzVZ4Q2UOV60uikarjN9A2l6e1pKhdaxWN88yHA1uqa1Hx81anqzIDPT3vpIbLPRmAgdjYUHGjdtjnu3C2wnRLUChWp-r-tVTJO3Zt0r43lps/s1600/DVoiGCH-1024x682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7YpYGZBuW_WjY7y0I91odOzr5xDzKMyzVZ4Q2UOV60uikarjN9A2l6e1pKhdaxWN88yHA1uqa1Hx81anqzIDPT3vpIbLPRmAgdjYUHGjdtjnu3C2wnRLUChWp-r-tVTJO3Zt0r43lps/s320/DVoiGCH-1024x682.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Finally, as is inevitable when wandering aimlessly in any city, he
finds himself in the Wrong place </span><span style="font-style: normal;">with
three Wrong people</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. The
muggers want his Jaeger, but it's all he has left. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
throws the first punch and instantly, white-hot pain shoots up his
wrist from the damaged hand. The muggers beat him up, savagely, but
the appearance of the man in the hood changes that. Two are on the
floor in the time it takes to read the words and the third flees with
Stephen's pack. </span></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJ4-aiAnXcOkjNua-OM5dmqZEoQ08_ebjM7RtCPvGew1LJ-U5nDVo96D9HRs3_GCeC_uOQ1biNx2HGqsoiXnU46jRIHdK9xElcXflGrfau0CCm41QzE-H1jR518N4TBXfArAOhcScx6I/s1600/vlcsnap-00112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJ4-aiAnXcOkjNua-OM5dmqZEoQ08_ebjM7RtCPvGew1LJ-U5nDVo96D9HRs3_GCeC_uOQ1biNx2HGqsoiXnU46jRIHdK9xElcXflGrfau0CCm41QzE-H1jR518N4TBXfArAOhcScx6I/s320/vlcsnap-00112.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">His saviour hands him his watch, shattered and
reveals his scarred face. He's looking for Kamar-Taj?. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*I'm
really not.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
two walk through the crowds to Kamar-Taj, which turns out not to be
the Great Temple, nor the shrine of the Holy Swami, but a nondescript
double door set in an ordinary wall. Is he sure he's got the right
place?, the others look more, Kamar-Tajey. Earnestly, Stephen's new
friend tells him; </span><i>'I once stood in your place and I too
was-disrespectful. So might I offer you some advice?. Forget
everything that you think you know.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Opening
the door, the man admits strange to the Sanctuary of the Teacher, The
Ancient One. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxqPXDwvCcpQ8P4XncFJg4Grh522Ugvjeu6bqxEhgU9YJAilpipKwsQtJcEIv8vG_Z5uTs4T9p71axDvaYA7OKuhq0D4UatvcXPuZIS5uAZ3IViVPZQoxkipPbw_fcEfToNpZ6LflFtk/s1600/030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxqPXDwvCcpQ8P4XncFJg4Grh522Ugvjeu6bqxEhgU9YJAilpipKwsQtJcEIv8vG_Z5uTs4T9p71axDvaYA7OKuhq0D4UatvcXPuZIS5uAZ3IViVPZQoxkipPbw_fcEfToNpZ6LflFtk/s320/030.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Still cynical, Stephen is drawn to the old man sitting
reading. Two disciples appear to remove his coat and another gives
him a cup into which a youngish-looking bald woman pours him tea. The
'Ancient One' leaves the room to Stephen's profession of thanks, to
which the bald woman responds. </span><i>This</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
is the Ancient One!. Thanking Master's Mordo and Hamir as they
leave-Mordo being, as we learn the name of Strange's saviour*-the
Ancient One welcomes him as Mister Strange. </span><i>Doctor</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
he insists. Not any more-she notes his seven procedures, citing them
as proof. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZjwXkIUi8ynJWoYVFjTsJgk2O4sLyi2bEoUuN_29ENagEFbBBaZYjXYcFps6M11_NqoRHYc7QZEt4es81t_CUfluYJrH8e04Rh2ujtZOB3SzDLcLK4lSo2T-BDlkeRwvwlscMEEgjkY/s1600/vlcsnap-00113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZjwXkIUi8ynJWoYVFjTsJgk2O4sLyi2bEoUuN_29ENagEFbBBaZYjXYcFps6M11_NqoRHYc7QZEt4es81t_CUfluYJrH8e04Rh2ujtZOB3SzDLcLK4lSo2T-BDlkeRwvwlscMEEgjkY/s320/vlcsnap-00113.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxMDx_2MyVhFnFaNRFoohU6BkkOqm947yGGirElUUpfZ4kGdL8vDsSn9g2mB7t5IZbaApqhllB_RazwO3Sps1Q4WnQAlS9hnvuRtu9R7CswDCh9mcI6XwMMNFk5MB4wlyOFLO0276j2E/s1600/vlcsnap-00114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxMDx_2MyVhFnFaNRFoohU6BkkOqm947yGGirElUUpfZ4kGdL8vDsSn9g2mB7t5IZbaApqhllB_RazwO3Sps1Q4WnQAlS9hnvuRtu9R7CswDCh9mcI6XwMMNFk5MB4wlyOFLO0276j2E/s320/vlcsnap-00114.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tilda Swinton as 'The Ancient One.'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He asks if she healed Pangborn. 'In a way.' How?. </span><i>He
couldn't walk and she convinced him that he could. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Her
radiant calmness un-touched by his radiating cynicism, she explains
when he attached severed nerves, it was the body that healed them.
The cells. What if she told him his own body could be convinced to
put back together cells in all sorts of ways?. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*And
the name of an enemy from the comic-books, hinty-hint-hint.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Clearly
mis-understanding what is taking place here, the selfish
former-surgeon talks of cellular regeneration in medical terms. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">She
talks of re-orienting the spirit to better heal the body. Fighting
back his doubts, he asks where to start?. In response, she picks up a
book, open at the familiar Buddhist illustration of </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
Qigong. He's seen this... in </span><i>gift shops. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Ignoring
the bile, the serene woman opens the book at an acupuncture diagram.
Then an MRI scan. He can't believe it, turning away in despair and
frustrated anger. Each of those maps was drawn by someone who only
saw in part, not the whole. Strange isn't listening; he spent his
last dollar getting here, one-way ticket and she's talking to him
about healing through belief. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Unphased, she informs him he's a man
who's spent his whole life looking at the World through a keyhole,
trying to expand that keyhole. Now, when he hears that it can be
widened, he rejects the possibility. Anger bubbling over, he paces
towards her, telling her he doesn't believe in chakras or energy or
the power of belief, there is no such thing as spirit. True to type,
he insults her; 'You're just another tiny, momentary speck within an
indifferent Universe.' She thinks she sees through him, well she
doesn't, he says, 'But I-see-through-you!.' He accentuates this by
jabbing his finger into her chest. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Instantly,
her hand sweeps across to grasp his wrist, turning it to lock it and
planting her other palm on his chest. With a burst of some arcane
energy, Strange's spirit itself is blasted from his body to float,
bewildered and helpless, behind </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
body that now hangs unconscious in Mordo's arms. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">In
spirit form, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Strange</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
turns his hands over to find them steady and whole. Admittedly
transparent-but steady and whole nonetheless. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">With
a gesture, The Ancient One returns his spirit to his body. Awestruck,
he demands to know what she did. She pushed his Astral Form out of
his Physical Form. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Amusing</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ly,
he wonders what </span><span style="font-style: normal;">was</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
in that tea?. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">It's just
tea-with a little honey. For a moment, he entered the Astral
Dimension. A place where the soul exists apart from the body. Angered
and frightened, he asks why she is doing this to him. To show him
just how much he doesn't know. Telling him to open his eye, she
places a thumb on his forehead and in a flash, his consciousness is
altered.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">His
body seems to soar upwards, bursting through the roof and into the
sky, higher. Impossibly higher!. Spinning helplessly, Strange screams
in terror as he hurtles from our atmosphere and into space itself.
Freaked out of his mind, he jabbers out this isn't real, as if the
words can somehow anchor him to reality. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A butterfly appears and he
reaches out to it, at which point he is projected into space,
falling-flying through a multicoloured tunnel to a different
dimension. The words 'His heart rate is getting dangerously high'
sound from nowhere. Mordo's voice. As suddenly as he left, he's back,
hurtling into a chair. Examining him with amused detachment, The
Ancient One thinks Strange looks alright to her, but the room-and her
pull away from him with something approaching elasticity, snapping
back to blast him into another freefall through a neon nightmare of
kaleidoscoping colours and sensations. Her voice comes to him as if
close by. </span><i>You think you know how the World works?. You
think that this material Universe is all there is?. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Strange's
astral form is suspended over a throbbing vibration of black matter,
an illuminated shaft at its centre. As he falls through, his form
fragments and re-coalesces, The Ancient One asking </span><i>'What is
real?.'</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> He falls up into another
land of smoke and fire, from what is revealed to be but one of many
portals. </span><i>'What Mysteries lie beyond the reach of your
senses?.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Falling on through
this madness, Strange hears her voice, calmness itself. </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'At
the root of existence-mind and matter meet.' </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
enters a place where dark matter is coiled around him, hands
sprouting from each branch to grasp the terrified man. His hand
before him seems to sprout tiny hands from each digit, each digit of
those hands the host for yet smaller hands of their own, a fractal
nightmare that challenges and dazzles his senses. The hands multiply,
enveloping him even as they become transparent and at once he is a
miniature of himself, falling into his own wide eye, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">powerless
to prevent himself as he flies down yet another tunnel of light.
Puzzled, he finds himself journeying through a dimension of mirrored
crystals, </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Worlds
without end-some benevolent and life-giving...' </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
dimension changes abruptly to a darker reality, another plane of
consciousness and existence. </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'...others
filled with malice and hunger.'</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
As he plummets towards an ominously dark planetoid, The Ancient One
continues. </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Dark
places, where powers older than time lie.' </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
planetoid opens, revealing a bizarre nightmare, a giant face in the
maelstrom, lined and folded, with a bright malevolence for eyes.
</span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Ravenous-and
waiting.' </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange's
scream folds back on itself and his being seems to multiply, as if in
an insane loop of timeless fear. Then... floating. Only floating.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Stephen
Strange's Astral Form floats through an impossible nebula of colour.
</span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Who are you, in
this vast Multiverse... Mister Strange?.' </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Multiverse blurs into rods of light and Strange's ethereal form is
sent babbling </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">incoherently
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">from
one aspect to the next, </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">dropping
like a stone through the vortex to come down to earth with a jarring
crash, sprawled on the floor of the Sanctuary of the Teacher, at her
feet. Quietly, with just a trace of pique, she asks the shattered
human before her; 'Have you seen that before, in a </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">gift
shop</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">?.'
Hands shaking for more than one reason, he looks up and asks her
'Teach me!.' As if she were looking through him rather than at him,
her answer comes. 'No.' </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Strange
is thrown bodily out onto the street in a heap. Scrambling to his
feet, he bangs at the door, pleading with them to let him in. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">With
her disciples </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">standing
around the pedestal</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
The Ancient One turns </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">a
weird device on its top, two bronze discs rotating opposite each
other at the touch of her hands, occult symbols etched deep into
their surface. Above this sits a strange device, a stylised bronze
eye and above them all hangs a dark globe representing Planet Earth,
continents ablaze with light. Dismissed with her thanks, the
assembled Masters each leave through one of three different doors. At
Master Mordo's approach, without looking down from the fascinating
sphere above, she states he thinks her wrong to cast Strange out.
Five hours later and he's still on the doorstep, replies Mordo.
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">There's
a strength to him. Stubbornness, ambition and arrogance-she's seen it
all before. Astutely, Mordo senses her reluctance comes from her
failure with Kaecilius. 'I cannot lead another gifted student to
power, only to lose him to the darkness.' Staunchly, he reminds her
she didn't lose </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">him.
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He
sought the power to defeat his enemies-she gave him the power to
defeat his demons. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Intensely,
with the wisdom (And foresight?) of her years she informs him we
never lose our demons, we only learn to live above them. Conciliatory
before his Teacher, Mordo reminds her Kaecilius still has the stolen
pages. If he can decipher them he could bring ruin upon us all. This
seems to shake the Ancient One, the first sign her serene state can
be interrupted. Master Mordo argues perhaps Kamar-Taj could use a man
like Strange. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Even
now, Stephen Strange pounds helplessly on the door, desperate for
admission to what lies beyond. Exhausted, he slumps down. No-where
else to go. Abruptly, the door opens and he falls back inside.
Showing him to his chamber, Mordo instructs him to bathe and rest,
meditate-if he can. The Ancient One will send for him. The master
leaves, handing him a piece of paper with a single word inscribed;
Shamballa. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Clearly the first lesson-a mantra!. No-just the wi-fi
password.* Alone in his monk's cell, Strange takes out his broken
watch, reading the inscription on the back </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">before
placing it on the window-sill. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*The
first of a few humorous moments that add a playful touch to the film.</span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">So
beginneth the lesson; 'The language of the mystic arts is as old as
civilisation. The sorcerers of antiquity called the use of this
language 'Spells', but if the word offends the morals and modern
sensibilities he can substitute 'Program.' The source code that
shapes reality. Kneeling before The Ancient One, clad in the sky-blue
garb of the novice, Strange watches as she forms a magical sigil
formed of purest energy right there in the air between them. They
harness the energy from the Multiverse to cast spells-(the form
enlarges, changes to become more intricate-spinning orbs of
incandescent filigree)-to make shields, weapons... to make-magic. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2qm7Nz7oR6LUvEEhT3jI7dJx_Kvufu-RpP29nlT4Zji6EdfQlwx7yKUDeNSyAUun9AA7_P9XhLR8L8wNPhEdA9IX3P1k6b3YAMYCgMBI7Vq7ZAhQ63YNrqyb0CM_e54zb0-ZXCNi2EI/s1600/13+MAGIC.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2qm7Nz7oR6LUvEEhT3jI7dJx_Kvufu-RpP29nlT4Zji6EdfQlwx7yKUDeNSyAUun9AA7_P9XhLR8L8wNPhEdA9IX3P1k6b3YAMYCgMBI7Vq7ZAhQ63YNrqyb0CM_e54zb0-ZXCNi2EI/s320/13+MAGIC.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V1Oj-vp8rfjj_D2UmVnh49eQjUDXAsdlOMkyr0TGDGG7lnMEWyhaWfANikFy2kQofio-bSG_ghbdoLzAMKEr06DWFV5gapXqfMXQjxfRPO4SqbKeQiihtcJ6fnIbM1yVjB-AUX0XgMc/s1600/023-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V1Oj-vp8rfjj_D2UmVnh49eQjUDXAsdlOMkyr0TGDGG7lnMEWyhaWfANikFy2kQofio-bSG_ghbdoLzAMKEr06DWFV5gapXqfMXQjxfRPO4SqbKeQiihtcJ6fnIbM1yVjB-AUX0XgMc/s320/023-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
sends the eerie construct floating and pulsating towards him, to
vanish in a shower of sparks. Entranced, Strange doubts himself. Even
if his fingers could do such things, his hands would just be waving
in the air. Indicating his Teacher, he asks how does he get from here
to there?. Question is answered with question; how did he get to
re-attach severed nerves?. Study and practice. Years of it. Smiling,
she nods. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Out
in the courtyard other students are practicing the martial arts or
discussing the arcane. Strange walks into the library. There, Wong,
the new Librarian greets him. Just Wong?, like Adele?. Wong's face
may as well be cast from stone; the joke hasn't reached him. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCLZekJX1sRGqaEUcjaA_bnTbS0d4dSI8so0c-f95kr3_2sNyv2UPxNZvm-aCPrDgDMTNTA_qdfHozpOLVwiJ1N5vPaz6i3oa0KXo42VW2zoc1AcvYoenrdEHETTyTEweyf_jSjxE1RY/s1600/ZZ00A48C5E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCLZekJX1sRGqaEUcjaA_bnTbS0d4dSI8so0c-f95kr3_2sNyv2UPxNZvm-aCPrDgDMTNTA_qdfHozpOLVwiJ1N5vPaz6i3oa0KXo42VW2zoc1AcvYoenrdEHETTyTEweyf_jSjxE1RY/s320/ZZ00A48C5E.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Benedict Wong plays, well,<i> Wong...</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
impassive curator checks in the Book of the Invisible Sun,
Astronomia-Nova, Codex Imperium, the Key of Solomon... </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">he
finished all these books?. Yep. Wong takes Strange through to another
section of the Library, one for Masters only. At his discretion,
others may use it. Here the books of knowledge hang in their familiar
iron racks and Wong unchains one tome for Strange. This is Maxim's
Primer-how's his sanskrit?. Strange has Google Translate... Wong
hands him a book on Classical Sanskrit. Strange pauses, noticing a
separate rack of bejewelled books. This is the Ancient One's private
collection; off-limits. Wong tells him those books are too advanced
for anyone, but the Sorcerer Supreme. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBleLbauZ3kWcWTxS68MF6qddve-SPyZw47dJt-sVX0A8qrnLtxeYccZpOeQS2EEzbuox6NDqa6_gsipRv0oR6crim860c-2s0eUgakl7uaJaFqVo9VxUDvAGG7JB8X1VU5Qscn2N5TE/s1600/020-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBleLbauZ3kWcWTxS68MF6qddve-SPyZw47dJt-sVX0A8qrnLtxeYccZpOeQS2EEzbuox6NDqa6_gsipRv0oR6crim860c-2s0eUgakl7uaJaFqVo9VxUDvAGG7JB8X1VU5Qscn2N5TE/s320/020-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Taking down one such book,
Strange un-locks the clasp and opens it. It has pages missing. That's
the Book of Cagliostro. The study of Time. One of the rituals was
stolen by a former Master, the zealot Kaecilius. Just before he
strung up the former Librarian and decapitated him. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhot2eVa-VfIXQDuvhPh5m8VMQL_U5MG4-xewZqDg-giEUiuD3TwloqKkoH6B3jUtx7s7Nj8ACAIdHyPXuJGPvkMzfKgykWL8j0XtQlf7Qo4VQqt3W-mg_RHFdZj62r-hDUQP_zMBHIJkI/s1600/021-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhot2eVa-VfIXQDuvhPh5m8VMQL_U5MG4-xewZqDg-giEUiuD3TwloqKkoH6B3jUtx7s7Nj8ACAIdHyPXuJGPvkMzfKgykWL8j0XtQlf7Qo4VQqt3W-mg_RHFdZj62r-hDUQP_zMBHIJkI/s320/021-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Earnestly, Wong
faces Strange and informs him as he is the new guardian of these
books, should any volume be stolen again, he'd know it-and Strange
would be dead before he ever left the compound. He takes the Book of
Cagliostro back. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">What
if it's just overdue?, the apprentice jokes. Any late fees, maiming
he should know about?. Impassive, Wong hands him his books. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
thanks the Librarian </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">for
the horrifying story, the books and the threat on his life. He leaves
Wong to replace the Book of Cagliostro. </span></span></span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNC_wrQxsQEVGQlUMryB5InayJfZLrnzxKXw2i8dDq6SdxgEdd56V_AahDS5eoozbY4LQmwg-X5LWqpvxZ_IsmrOn1hyt2-e8WSz1Xrwc0RRqSHYR_D0I-ot5R5WCYIEd_mfCy-mhEIM/s1600/EMPIRE+DONT+USE+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNC_wrQxsQEVGQlUMryB5InayJfZLrnzxKXw2i8dDq6SdxgEdd56V_AahDS5eoozbY4LQmwg-X5LWqpvxZ_IsmrOn1hyt2-e8WSz1Xrwc0RRqSHYR_D0I-ot5R5WCYIEd_mfCy-mhEIM/s320/EMPIRE+DONT+USE+B.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0252230/?ref_=tt_cl_t2" itemprop="url"><span class="itemprop" itemprop="name"></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Mads Mikkelsen is Kaecilius. Photo Copyright Empire Magazine.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
a cathedral of some sort* Kaecilius and his devotees perform a ritual
using the stolen pages of the Book of Cagliostro. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
sigil branded into their foreheads is soon matched by an onimous
counterpart. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Forming
a sigil matching that in the book </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">(And
his head)</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
the rogue Sorcerer tells his followers soon they will receive the
power to destroy 'the one who betrayed us.'</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvcIfhUTMxaZxgiby3s-rvM45aspDE9PfPMfzDN9CulD4W4-fhpqk3ITGVQ-sQcv2PFUlf_aKJH8BhFOfcb4nQJpyjxmRd2AHOKLgb9BpGMl4ETVAU8HrhXFXea9LFQINxnaQ3gzDdQI/s1600/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvcIfhUTMxaZxgiby3s-rvM45aspDE9PfPMfzDN9CulD4W4-fhpqk3ITGVQ-sQcv2PFUlf_aKJH8BhFOfcb4nQJpyjxmRd2AHOKLgb9BpGMl4ETVAU8HrhXFXea9LFQINxnaQ3gzDdQI/s320/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Hissing as if burning the
very air, the sigil rotates between them as they begin an arcane
chant, their eyes surrounded by a shimmer of purple, the skin beyond
parched and cracked as if dried by some ancient and terrible sun. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
sigil on his head glowing, he has the power to change reality,
projecting it down into the floor to send the tiles sliding away into
a new shape, that of an unholy mandala. The link with the Dark
Dimension is opened and Dormammu** is awakened, the source of
Kaecilius' uncanny powers. The Sorcerer sets the very fabric of the
cathedral rippling, rotating and sliding with his new-found powers.
Nature itself has been transcended.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">*Actually
the </span></span>Exeter College Chapel of Oxford University. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">**The
ungodly face that Strange experienced in his Astral Awakening.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFd0efeP8DpNJjKIDJTXxHNwboTHQ_cer9lThTJpWNXwk3OnVhhoqJGVpevn51k0CSxGVYPvHV9v0Jc5-XEiOuRyUq5ONZOx_om_Zkr3ru4EvPH2jaJ4ewmhqQob0olxpvI0z3ie5FgY/s1600/doctorstrange0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFd0efeP8DpNJjKIDJTXxHNwboTHQ_cer9lThTJpWNXwk3OnVhhoqJGVpevn51k0CSxGVYPvHV9v0Jc5-XEiOuRyUq5ONZOx_om_Zkr3ru4EvPH2jaJ4ewmhqQob0olxpvI0z3ie5FgY/s320/doctorstrange0006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Master Mordo as portrayed by</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"> Chiwetel Ejiofor.</span></span> </span></span> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0252230/?ref_=tt_cl_t2" itemprop="url"></a> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAaHbSH8BULezs3jIUO69pXHPQFDy1rjYWagDQPoTPKzJbNkI_7uqfdPBHyCtdWa5XjA3rzw_6TN2_KWfPmxiQrcD8yNbf2_IjMRdFGCEncOb4fK-Hm-pbkNF4NrKLJDhBnlfRPZDir4/s1600/doctorstrange0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAaHbSH8BULezs3jIUO69pXHPQFDy1rjYWagDQPoTPKzJbNkI_7uqfdPBHyCtdWa5XjA3rzw_6TN2_KWfPmxiQrcD8yNbf2_IjMRdFGCEncOb4fK-Hm-pbkNF4NrKLJDhBnlfRPZDir4/s320/doctorstrange0007.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wong
calls out the moves in the courtyard as the students, Strange among
them, go through their moves in the manner of the Japanese </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">kata</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
or the </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">taolu </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">of
China. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Every
student produces a sigil on command. Every student except one.
</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
fails to produce anything. Next comes the sling ring; mastery of
these allows sorcerers to travel throughout the Multiverse. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">All
a student need to is focus, visualise, see the destination in their
mind. With the rings on their left hand, the students hold the palm
facing the direction they wish to generate a </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">gateway</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
and swirl the fingers of the other hand widdershins-fashion. The
sparking, catherine-wheel-esque portals appear before each student.
His hands shaking, unable to concentrate the energy properly, Strange
can do more than muster a few sparks in the air.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa_eB9DsPK92iJK_5DlqpRV9VwB8_8d_OuB0y3qj3s7JsbAOaFqImXoylvR5oqCpRO_i1sWuzpljHTPnA20yjxny9eXADWzrQu3JJdt_lj2C_DQqi_Uet_bGGVkj6tWu2wsjLANrBsxE/s1600/doctorstrange0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZa_eB9DsPK92iJK_5DlqpRV9VwB8_8d_OuB0y3qj3s7JsbAOaFqImXoylvR5oqCpRO_i1sWuzpljHTPnA20yjxny9eXADWzrQu3JJdt_lj2C_DQqi_Uet_bGGVkj6tWu2wsjLANrBsxE/s320/doctorstrange0008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2zkILLSBIs0Pz29UFjjXy11MhpizPVOB4Uemhm1a0H1gzZzlxHlJK-XMY-uY4LpHrmXrVRdhOiK2pbQuBrReRwgpR25hJDQTnpcxHvbJPf600hMMAttdpSYIVIuWRyvpGp4QM0ZP12c/s1600/032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz2zkILLSBIs0Pz29UFjjXy11MhpizPVOB4Uemhm1a0H1gzZzlxHlJK-XMY-uY4LpHrmXrVRdhOiK2pbQuBrReRwgpR25hJDQTnpcxHvbJPf600hMMAttdpSYIVIuWRyvpGp4QM0ZP12c/s320/032.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Patiently, Mordo
strolls among his pupils as they begin to master the technique,
pausing in amusement at Strange's effort. As if she had been watching
somehow, The Ancient One enters the yard and asks for a word with
Strange, who holds his hands up in frustrated defeat. It's not about
his hands, she tells him, asking Master Hamir to demonstrate. This is
the man Strange originally mistook for the Ancient One and when he
reveals the loss of his left hand, Strange is humbled by the Master's
perfect production of a mandala sigil. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Thanking
Master Hamir, the Ancient One tells Strange he cannot beat a river
into submission-you have to surrender to it's current, use it's power
as your own. Control by surrendering control?-that makes no sense to
him, but not everything does, she admits. His intellect has taken him
far, but no further-he must </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">surrender.
Silence his ego to allow his power to rise. Opening a portal, she
bids him to follow. Once through the scintillating opening, he finds
himself on the upper slopes of an instantly familiar mountain.
Everest. Beautiful, but freezing. The intense cold isn't moderated by
the flurries of hard snow whipping into them. Only Strange, however,
seems to notice the temperature. The Ancient One informs him at this
temperature a human can survive thirteen minutes before suffering
loss of function... but he'll likely go into shock before the first
two. So saying, she walks back through the portal, which closes
behind her leaving Strange stranded. Actually, he's halfway up
Everest, so let's make that </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><u><b>STRANDED</b></u></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
Picture a fifty-foot high neon sign reading 'STRANDED' and blinking
on and off. You get it.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">B</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ack
in the courtyard, The Ancient One stands motionless. Master Mordo
walks up to her to ask how is the new recruit?. With more than a hint
of anxiety, she replies 'We shall see. Any second now...' Saying 'Oh
no, not again', Mordo reaches for his sling ring, but she stops him
intervening. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">On
</span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Sagarmāthā</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">'s
exposed flank, a desperate Strange tries to form a portal, but all
that forms are a few, desultory sparks. Aware that he will shortly
die on this magnificent tomb, he lets himself go, surrenders himself
to the forces around him and tried to attenuate mind and body to
them. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Back in the courtyard,
the two Sorcerers wait in tense silence-The Ancient One's hands
playing nervously with a fan behind her back. The portal opens and
Strange, half-dead with exposure, drops to the tiles.</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">That
night Strange shaves the beard he has grown, his shaking hands doing
their best to control the clippers. He goes for a sparse goatee. The
next morning sees him clad in the burgundy of the intermediate
apprentice. Wong greets him in the library, asking what he wants.
Books on Astral projection. When Wong states he's not ready for that,
Strange replies 'Try me, Beyonce.' Wong's face remains stone. Surely
he's heard of <i>Beyonce?</i>. (Perhaps fame is related to talent in
Nepal). His attempt at humour flopping dismally, Strange asks if Wong
ever laughs, then asks for the book again, getting an emphatic 'No.'
as answer.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">That
evening, the sun is setting across Kathmandu. Wong sits immersed in
an ancient text, listening to Beyonce on his headphones. A
mini-portal opens behind him, a hand reaching out to pluck a book
from the shelf. Wong turns to see nothing amiss. A brief pause, then
the same from the opposite shelf, again the custodian turns too late. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The payoff is, while his back's turned, hands appear from another
portal and steal the book he was reading. That night, Strange sleeps
the peace of the innocent, whilst his Astral self sits reading and
absorbing knowledge...</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some
time has passed. The Ancient One addresses Strange in the room where
he first begged her for knowledge. Now he questions every lesson,
preferring to teach himself. Clad in the blue garb that shows his
progression, the rebellious student tells her she told him to open
his eye, now he should blindly accept rules that make no sense.
Unphased, she replies; 'Like the rule against conjuring a gateway in
the library?.' Taken aback Wong informed on him, Strange listens as
The Ancient One informs him he's progressing with his sorcery skills;
he needs a safe place to practice his spells. With this, she creates
such a space, a coruscading wall of mirrors that Strange follows her
through to stand inside the Mirror Dimension. Ever present, yet
undetected, the real world is not affected by what happens here. They
use the Mirror Dimension to train, to surveil-sometimes to contain
threats. Best not to get stuck in there without his sling ring.
Irked, strange asks what she means by 'threats' at which she sets the
structure of the building into motion, much as she did in the Mirror
Dimension in London. Strange is amazed, his mouth open in awe as she
explains learning of an infinite Multiverse includes learning of
infinite dangers, if she told him everything else he has yet to learn
he'd run from here in terror. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later
The Ancient One supervises a pair of students in their martial arts,
giving Strange the opportunity to ask Mordo just how ancient is the
Ancient One?. No-one knows the age of the Sorcerer Supreme-only that
she is Celtic and never talks of her past. Strange is taken aback; he
follows her, but doesn't know?. <i>Only that she is steadfast, but
unpredictable. Merciless yet kind. She made me what I am. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">As
Mordo drops into an attack form, Strange assumes the defensive. As
they circle each other, Mordo instructs him to trust his teacher-and
not to lose his way. Like Kaecilius?. They spar, Strange wanting to
more more of this renegade. Holding his pupil in a headlock, Mordo
explains when Kaecilius came to them, he'd lost everyone he'd loved.
A grieving, broken man. A brilliant student, but </span><i>he</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
was proud, headstrong-rejected the Ancient One and her teaching.
Strange breaks the hold with a sharp elbow and appreciative of the
move, Mordo continues. Kaecilius left Kamar-Taj. His disciples
followed like sheep, seduced by false doctrines. Strange asks what
the stolen forbidden ritual does, but Mordo picks up a stick and
explains it is a relic. Some magic being too powerful to sustain,
objects are sometimes imbued with it. This is the Staff of the Living
Tribunal. At a pull, the stick lengthens, segments now glowing with
magical energy. Swiping the floor with it makes Strange jump back
from the power it contains, the sacred stick flexing as it sweeps
around. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Mordo
explains there are many relics; the Wand of Watoomb, The Vaulting
Boots of </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Valtorr-which he
happens to be wearing... so when, asks Strange, does he get one?.
He's ready, when the relic decides so, says the Master. For
now-conjure a weapon. Strange does as he is bid, producing a rope of pure energy. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAg4ZOQ3w-VuwrvhzQsziCBu9HJ6URgpmu3vdQ0_qM1Lqvvw97Cs__zsAjGnO6LrRHxW3-aLhEGUZ4FCzIAqXFXSfMCcHMTDcyYGL95TVb7-VX5e5QYtjd_futlVwCmXjiqv0sGodTLmQ/s1600/18+VAULTING+BOOTS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAg4ZOQ3w-VuwrvhzQsziCBu9HJ6URgpmu3vdQ0_qM1Lqvvw97Cs__zsAjGnO6LrRHxW3-aLhEGUZ4FCzIAqXFXSfMCcHMTDcyYGL95TVb7-VX5e5QYtjd_futlVwCmXjiqv0sGodTLmQ/s320/18+VAULTING+BOOTS.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">At once, Mordo attacks with the Staff, shouting at him to fight
like his life depended on it. Effortlessly, the Master knocks away
the puny rod, jumping into the air as if on invisible steps to jump
around his student and punch him to the ground. Because-says
Mordo-one day, it may...</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">That
night, alone in his chamber, Strange takes the broken Jaeger and his
notepad to the table, wondering if he can find the strength to e-mail
Christine. Some things are beyond him still. Through the pouring
rain, he runs to the library, taking down the incomplete Book of
Cagliostro again. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhx1D9Ik-uRlrg9gvJYx8szmhTpfeBX9_gqoGyB9g2c6xeNFYEm0kZPrnFN7MOmfdqxWLFHg9A3Mfv2qFYi7u4V-JotfG3WIY-yQpA7bLDui9kkLIjKxfbfkLY0t016bIQzszGXQSeySU/s1600/vlcsnap-00006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhx1D9Ik-uRlrg9gvJYx8szmhTpfeBX9_gqoGyB9g2c6xeNFYEm0kZPrnFN7MOmfdqxWLFHg9A3Mfv2qFYi7u4V-JotfG3WIY-yQpA7bLDui9kkLIjKxfbfkLY0t016bIQzszGXQSeySU/s320/vlcsnap-00006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Book of Cagliostro. $9.99 from all good bookshops.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Absent-mindedly, he takes a bite from Wong's apple
which the Librarian had left uneaten. His attention focuses on a
drawing of an eye. Looking up, he sees that eye in its place on the
pedestal. As there's no sign of Wong, he takes the eye, hanging it
around his neck. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">This is the Eye of Agamotto and by the correct
gestures, Strange causes it to open, a brilliant green light issuing
forth from the Eye. Now Strange is able to open an energy disc of
unique powers, mystic bracelets of emerald brilliance appearing on
his right wrist and forearm.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">By turning the disc clockwise, he makes
the apple disappear bite by bite, manipulating the effect of time
itself on the fruit. By turning it widdershins, he can reverse time
and produces a whole apple. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
does it a second time, realising this might work... for the Book.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Opening
the Book of Cagliostro at the missing pages, Strange successfully
restores the book and learns of Dormammu and the Dark Dimension.
</span><i>Eternal life. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">As a
series of mirrorred shafts appears before him, a voice calls out for
him to stop. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Enraged, Master Mordo tells him tampering with continuum
probabilities is forbidden!. Defensively, Strange says he was just
doing what it said in the book. An angry Wong asks him what the book
said of the dangers of performing that ritual. Awkwardly, Strange
doesn't know-he hadn't got to that part yet. Temporal manipulations
can create branches in time, reveals Mordo. Unstable dimensional
openings. Spatial paradoxes!. Time-Loops!. Does he want to re-live
the same moment over and over-or never have existed at all?. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Embarrassed, Strange mumbles they really should put the warnings
before the spells... but Wong is insistent; his curiosity could have
had lethal effect. He wasn't manipulating the space-time continuum,
he was </span><i>breaking</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> it.
Taking the book, the Librarian turns to tell him they do not tamper
with natural law. They defend it. Mordo is curious; how did Strange
do it?. Where did he acquire the litany of spells to even understand
it?. Strange reveals he has a photographic memory-that's how he got
his M.D. and P.H.D. at the same time. What he did takes more than a
good memory, the Master insists; he was</span><i> born</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
for the Mystic arts. Yet my hands still shake, replies Strange. For
now, yes says Wong. They aren't prophets, adds Mordo-they cannot
foresee if he will recover. Irritably, Stephen asks when will they
start telling him what they </span><i>are </i><span style="font-style: normal;">then?.
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Exchanging glances, Wong and
Mordo take strange to the pedestal.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Librarian explains while the Avengers safeguard the World from
physical harm, they safeguard it from Mystical threats. So saying, he
turns the rings to animate the globe above. The Ancient One is but
the latest in a long line of Sorcerer Supremes. This lineage goes
back to the founder of the Mystic Arts, Agamotto himself. Agamotto
built three Sanctums in places of power where great cities now stand.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Wong indicates the doorways leading to these Sanctums; Hong Kong, New
York and London. The representations of three magical shields appears
on the globe as it spins, each combines to protect the planet; the
Sorcerers protect the Sanctums. From what? Asks Strange, doubtfully.
</span><i>Other dimensional beings that threaten our universe</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
Like Dormammu?. Mordo demands to know where he learned the name. From
the Book of Cagliostro, why?. Turning the discs to extinguish the
symbols above, Wong explains Dormammu dwells in the Dark Dimension,
beyond time. He is the Cosmic Conqueror, Destroyer of Worlds. The
globe ripples and a view of the Dark Dimension appears across its
surface. Dormammu is a being of infinite power and endless hunger, on
a quest to invade every universe. He hungers for Earth most of all.
This news, unsurprisingly, takes Strange aback. He realises the
missing pages contain are vital-they contain the ritual to summon
Dormammu and draw infinite power from the Dark Dimension. Thats it;
Strange is out. He came here to heal his hands, not fight in some
mystical war. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Suddenly,
a bell tolls insistently. </span><i>London... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">the
doorway opens and</span><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">a
sorcerer runs through, falling dead, a shard of </span><span style="font-style: normal;">what
could almost be a nebulous glass protruding from the dead man's back.
From the London Sanctum, Kaecilius </span><span style="font-style: normal;">emerges
to send a fiery blast of occult power through the open portal,
blasting Strange clear across the space where he finds himself in the
New York Sanctum, the portal closed behind him. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Dazed,
he stumbles into the hall of an early-twentieth Century house-a large
one, all marble and wood inlaid floors and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">expensive
lighting. Staggering outside, he is stunned to find himself indeed in
New York. 177A Bleecker Street to be exact. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking up, the
four-storeyed facade is elegant and imposing, with more than a touch
of the Baroque. The symbol set into the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">oculus</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
leaves no doubt this is a Sorcerer's Sanctum. Returning inside,
Strange calls out, but no-one else is at home. He finds a strange
trio of glazed doors, each leading-impossibly to different places; </span><span style="font-style: normal;">a
forest, a rocky coast and a desolate wilderness, snow falling. An
illuminated dial sits next to each door. Opening the middle, the
fresh sea air rushes in. Turning the dial, however, changes the land
beyond to desert in an instant. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Wandering
through an upper floor, Strange comes across a large chamber filled
with glass display cases of ancient artifacts. He pauses before one
particular case, the oddness of the object within immediately
apparent. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">This is a cloak, with a high wizard's collar, of unique
properties. Known as the Cloak of Levitation, the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">maroon
garment is indeed floating gracefully inside its glass prison. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">It
almost seems as if the cloak was... waiting for Strange somehow. A
familiar sound from below; Strange ducks aside and watches from cover
as a single </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Haitian </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Sorcerer
from Kamar-Taj stands bravely before an opening portal downstairs in
the lobby, the architecture of the Sanctum itself rotating ominously.
</span><i>Dark Magic. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Abruptly,
Kaecilius and two of his followers step inside. Addressing the
Sanctum Guardian as Daniel, Kaecilius stretches out his hands to form
a shard of opaque energy such as the one he used to kill the Guardian
of the London Sanctum. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">One of
his disciples attacks and Daniel fights for his life as Strange
watches helplessly from his vantage point. When Daniel is wounded to
the leg, Strange leaps into the fray-his selfish concerns unequal to
the impulse to protect a brave man. His intervention comes too late,
as Kaecilius rams the shard through the Guardian's body. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking
up at the Sorcerer on the top of the stairs, the renegade asks him
how long he has been at Kamar-Taj and there's an unexpected moment of
levity when Kaecilius mistakes his name for 'Doctor' and Stephen
replies 'It's Strange.' 'Maybe' concedes the apostate. Adding 'Who am
I to judge?.' he again stabs the wounded Daniel. Angered, Strange
conjures a weapon as Kaecilius' devotees run along the walls up to
him and attack. He beats them off with his weapon and vaults over a
railing to snare a vase with it, slinging it into one of them. Stop
sniggering about the 'beats them off bit' and catch up!...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Taking
aim, Kaecilius hefts his shard and hurls it at Strange, who just
manages to deflect the deadly spear. Out of his depth, Strange makes
a run for the mystical doorways, but the traitorous Sorcerer casts a
spell to make the hall elongate away as in a child's nightmare, the
floor tiles sliding and slipping beneath his feet-Strange is going
nowhere. Turning, he generates two shields, only for one to falter
and fade away. </span></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Twisting reality further, Kaecilius is now striding
towards his intended victim along the ceiling, while his two cohorts
take a wall each. Grappling with them, Strange is blasted backwards
through midair when his next shield meets the full force of a
practitioner of the Dark Arts, the blow sending him reeling to the
floor. The female attacks next, but Strange knocks her back with a
powerful swing of his </span><span style="font-style: normal;">weapon.
Oh behave!; his lasso then... Now Kaecilius bends the fabric of
reality once more, twisting the hallway along its axis to send
Strange crashing and tumbling to the floor and walls as they change
places. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Desperate, Strange's
attempt to flee gets nowwhere as the floor tilts sharply upwards,
leaving him dangling precariously from what is now a vertical shaft.
Taking aim, he drops to send the female proselyte tumbling into the
Desert beyond the doorway, clinging to the doorframe to prevent
himself following. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He reaches for the switch to change the portal and
leave her stranded in another continent, but her male counterpart
attacks, preventing Strange from turning the switch with a display of
acrobatic brute force. The girl runs up the sand dune for the doorway
suspended in mid-air, but Strange gets a hand to the dial and turns
it, banishing her to the dunes. One down... throwing the male over
his shoulder into a rainforest, Strange repeats the trick to banish
him. One to go... </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Savagely,
Kaecilius attacks with shard daggers, but Strange breaks free and
again runs for it, deflecting deadly blows with another lasso before
picking up a metal vessel, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
</span>Brazier of Bom'Galiath <span style="font-style: normal;">glowing
with the weird fire inside. His triumphant 'Ha!' is premature, as
Kaecilius realises he doesn't know how to use the relic. The fight
goes on, lasso against shards and the superior power of a Master of
the Dark Dimension. Again and again, Doctor Strange is kicked through
display cabinets, ending with the one containing the maroon cloak.
Going in for the kill, the Dark Master is foiled when the Cloak of
Levitation blocks his blow!. This happens again, but the murderous
assault continues unabated until with a final mighty dropkick Strange
is sent toppling over the railings to break his neck.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjr-uiNf6aVu7mJL1-VzYfNvKXYMZ0aBQyk7WX-oF_HaUEhM3olHpUqyhnqcM0hRehPXZbquK_E36wR4AHJCzxCMk3KLvBLJdZQk9bIx_z9DhH108Kc9L5VwwnfmrnpdKKAhsbpgJA5i4/s1600/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjr-uiNf6aVu7mJL1-VzYfNvKXYMZ0aBQyk7WX-oF_HaUEhM3olHpUqyhnqcM0hRehPXZbquK_E36wR4AHJCzxCMk3KLvBLJdZQk9bIx_z9DhH108Kc9L5VwwnfmrnpdKKAhsbpgJA5i4/s320/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Except, the
Cloak of Levitation saves him, flashing over the railings to fasten
itself about his neck in a heartbeat. Rising in thin air, Strange
makes the forms to produce </span><span style="font-style: normal;">a
lasso to snare his attacker's occult blade, the ensuing tug of war
being won by Kaecilius, who collects a Sorcerer in the face by way of
reward. Now the weird cape drags Strange back, when he spies an axe
mounted on the wall, it stops him from going to it. Repeated attempts
to gain the axe are met with frustration as the cape pulls him back,
finally seeming to point at an unusual contraption on the wall behind
him. Taking the watsit down from the wall, Strange hurls it at his
pursuer, at which it wraps itself around him to form a magical
hog-tie arrangement that leaves the Sorcerer powerless. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">(Apparently,
this device is known as the </span>Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, though
bears no resemblance to the comic book version.)</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEYhlOJ8A6kXBJeZNQ70ovbIhwYm7Q5U3FgTGVzLsAB6hZMDrnW_qBtbxJLNmScGXzxlDrsV9LfYe-_LLqm8YXbaHs8BH-h1kebrnyYl2BY1Kd0MJV8phDEi8ueg_1P-iKJ8TwQUJG4w/s1600/027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEYhlOJ8A6kXBJeZNQ70ovbIhwYm7Q5U3FgTGVzLsAB6hZMDrnW_qBtbxJLNmScGXzxlDrsV9LfYe-_LLqm8YXbaHs8BH-h1kebrnyYl2BY1Kd0MJV8phDEi8ueg_1P-iKJ8TwQUJG4w/s320/027.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Kaecilius
is mumbling something, some form of arcane incantation. Strange
removes the mask element to be told he cannot stop what is coming,
the Many becoming the Few becoming the One. Strange clears up the
'Mister Doctor' misapprehension then his prisoner explains as a
scientist he knows the nature of decay; all things age, all things
die. In the end our sun burns out, the Universe grows cold and
perishes.* </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The Dark
Dimension, however, is a place beyond time. Patience; expired.
Strange goes to put the gag back on, but the Dark Master explains
this world doesn't have to die-it could take its place among so many
others as part of the One, the great and beautiful One. We can all
live forever.** What is there to gain?. </span><i>Life, eternal
life-people think in terms of good and evil when Time is the enemy of
us all. </i><i>Time kills everything. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">And
the people he killed?. </span><i>Tiny, momentary specks within an
indifferent Universe. </i><i>(</i><span style="font-style: normal;">This
really isn't a 'people' person.</span><span style="font-style: normal;">)
Hearing his own words used back at him comes as a shock to Strange.
Time enslaves us, he continues, death an insult. Earnestly, he
addresses Strange directly; </span><i>'Doctor. We don't seek to rule
this World, we seek to save it, to hand it over to the Dormammu who
is the intent of all evolution-the 'Why?' of all existence.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Shaken,
Strange asserts the Sorcerer Supreme defends all existence, but his
captive has insight, asking what brought him to Kamar-Taj?. We see
Stephen's hand shaking, reminder of his original true motive. Was it
enlightenment or power?; no, he came to be healed, as did they all.
Kamar-Taj, Kaecilius explains, is a place that collects broken
things, they all go there with the promise of healing, the Ancient
One gives parlour tricks instead. The real magic she keeps for
herself. Has he ever wondered about her longevity?. Stephen Strange
recalls the rituals from the Book of Cagliostro. Kaecilius discloses
it gives the power to overthrow her, to tear her Sanctums down and
allow Dormammu to enter. What she hoards, he claims, Dormammu gives
freely; life everlasting. He's not the destroyer of Worlds, but the
saviour of Worlds. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*</span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">For
an explanation of Heat Death of the Universe, I can heartily
recommend this Youtube video... Depressed me no end;
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LX0Pj2emnlQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LX0Pj2emnlQ</a>
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">**</span><span style="font-style: normal;">I'm
in. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Strange
shakes his head, doubts wracking him and the seeds of confusion
sprouting bitter fruit within his mind. No, look at your face, he
tells the renegade; Dormammu made him a murderer... just how good can
his kingdom be?. Kaecilius gives a sneering laugh. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Angered,
Strange asks if he finds that funny. No, he was laughing because he'd
noticed Strange has lost his sling ring. Turning, Strange finds he
has indeed lost it, the shard slamming into his chest with
devastating force. The disciple who he had dispatched to the rain
forest has returned through a portal and now throws the mortally
wounded Sorcerer down the stairs. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Bleeding
profusely, Strange crawls along the floor as the thuggish henchman
forms another shard and strikes-only to be </span><span style="font-style: normal;">checked</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
by the cape at the last second. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
weird garment wraps itself around his head and proceeds to knock him
down, smashing him against the floor. His sling ring slides across
the parquet towards Strange who, with his last vestige of strength
just manages to open a portal into a janitor's cupboard on the ICU
floor at his old hospital. Staggering into the hallway, he yells out
for Dr. Palmer. Handily, Christine is at the nearby Nurses' Station.
On the verge of collapse, Strange tells her he needs a Theatre now,
just her. </span></span></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">On
the table, Stephen crashes and Christine shocks him. The charge
blasts his Astral form clear from his body and he watches as she
prepares a chest drain. She's going in a tad low, so helpfully, he
projects into the room to advise her, scaring the shit out of the
poor woman. Petrified, she asks what she's seeing. He explains; his
Astral body. </span><i>'Are you dead?.'</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
'No, Christine, but I am dying...' Inserting his ethereal fingers
into his own corporeal chest, he illuminates the right spot for the
drain and she uses it. Unfamiliar with such a wound, she asks what he
was stabbed with, but he doesn't know. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Meanwhile
back at the Sanctum, dopey has worked out he can't escape the cloak,
so enters his Astral body and goes looking for Doctor Strange,
through the portal...</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking
up Strange's Astral spots the apostle's and he warns Christine he'll
have to vanish now. Just keep him alive, is all he asks. Launching
into the thug, Strange's Astral delivers a mighty roundhouse kick,
but this is a strong adversary and he soon has Strange on the back
foot with powerful blows. Grabbing Strange's Astral by the throat, he
hurls it across the Theatre, causing the lamp to wobble.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Now on the
table occupied by Strange's comatose body, the two struggle, the
henchman punching Stephen's Astral violently, the kidney dish on the
table shaking with the energy generated. Rolling off the table, the
pair almost take Christine with them, the Doctor just retaining her
grasp on the vital drain. The spiritual combatants hurtle down
through the floor and out of a vending machine, just after Dr.Nick
West has bought some crisps (Potato Chips for you American types) and
the supernal shockwave knocks several more packs loose, Dr.West
getting a free pack into the bargain. Back into the theatre now, the
assailant delivers a stunning blow with his ghost-like fist and then
finishes it off with a jumping spinning kick to the face. Knocked out
in both states, Strange's heart gives up the ghost and his body
flatlines. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Grabbing the crash trolley, Christine charges the paddles
and as the electricity courses through his body, Strange's Astral
awakens and the disciple is blasted from him in an explosion of
cosmic energy. She calls to Stephen, jumps again as his Astral
re-appears to tell her to hit him again, this time </span><span style="font-style: normal;">up
the voltage. </span><i>'But your heart's beating...' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Just
do it!. Despite the absurdity of all this, Dr. Palmer does just that
and this time the resultant shockwave sends a shower of sparks around
the room, destroys the adherent's Astral form and his body dies back
on the Sanctum floor. She gets yet another shock when Stephen gasps
back into life. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s
she sutures his wound, she asks Stephen, after all this time, he just
shows up, flying out of his body?. He missed her too... he wrote
e-mails, but she never responded. Sincere as never before, he tells
her he is sorry for being a complete asshole. He treated her so
horribly and she deserved so much more. She mistakes this honesty for
shock, but he laughs this off, telling her of his adventures in
Kathmandu. </span><i>Kathmandu?, like the Bob Seger song?. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Yeah,
1975, Beautiful Loser Side A... he tells her of Kamar-Taj and The
Ancient One and The Tin Man and all the others... She thinks this all
sounds like a cult, but he insists otherwise. Also, he insists on
walking; he's late for a cult meeting. She wants the truth, so he
tells her a powerful sorcerer gave himself over to an ancient entity,
able to bend the very laws of physics, he tried very hard to kill him
and he left him chained up in the Village and the quickest way back
is through a dimensional portal in the mop closet. Oddly, she has
some trouble with this. </span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">When he opens the closet door and she sees
him step through she probably has more trouble with it, but at least
knows he's telling the truth. Or, she's insane. Closing the portal
behind him, he leaves her alone in the closet. A mop falls and her
nerves take another bashing.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Back
in the Sanctum, Doctor Strange takes a moment to check the disciple
is indeed dead. This is the first time he has taken life and a sombre
moment. </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYg_FOTX8eoRIXgRLr5CcRwxqOBxHa1RiZ3tQqy33_ikJ047l3H3oFLFacABa_PZWzMBGhEMkuR1kDu4RF-erx5iVZRVx6Zip4zsENLAfu5nZks3pgYPi8kbsvVk62ooRxLpKFLZ-tiPM/s1600/StrangeI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYg_FOTX8eoRIXgRLr5CcRwxqOBxHa1RiZ3tQqy33_ikJ047l3H3oFLFacABa_PZWzMBGhEMkuR1kDu4RF-erx5iVZRVx6Zip4zsENLAfu5nZks3pgYPi8kbsvVk62ooRxLpKFLZ-tiPM/s320/StrangeI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Donning his Cloak of Levitation, he ascends the stairs to
find the restraints unoccupied and Kaecilius gone. A voice shouts his
name and he whirls to find, with relief, Master Mordo. The Master is
also relieved to find his pupil okay; a relative term, given the
circumstances. He is amazed to see the cloak of Levitation has chosen
him. Nor is Mordo the only visitor, as The Ancient One has
accompanied Master Mordo to New Yoik. </span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She comments the Cape being
fickle, it is no minor thing for him to be clad in it. Stephen tells
her of Kaecilius' ability to fold matter outside of the mirror
dimension and she is appalled. He informs her of the casualties and
in turn, she tells him the London Sanctuary has fallen, leaving only
New York and Hong Kong to guard Earth. She offers to make Strange the
Guardian of the New York Sanctum, raising him to Master, a decision
that causes Mordo some consternation.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">'No. It is </span><i>Doctor</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Strange not Master Strange.' Stephen tells her of his oath to do no
harm-and a man lies dead. He became a Doctor to save lives, not take
them. As ever, The Ancient One has insight above all others,
enlightening Strange that he became a doctor to save one life above
all others; his own. Still seeing through him is she?. </span><i>'I
see what I've always seen; your over-inflated ego.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">further,
she tells him he wants to return to a delusion that he can control
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">everything, even death, which
no-one can. 'Not even Dormammu?' Counters Strange. It's our fear of
death that gives him life, she responds. Confronting her directly, he
accuses her of manipulating death herself using the spells he saw in
the Book of Cagliostro. With eyes as cold as the tomb, The Ancient
One advises him to measure his next words very carefully. 'Because
you may not like them?.' </span><i>'Because you may not know of what
you speak...' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Mordo wants to
know what Strange is talking about. </span><i>Her long life-the
source of her immortality. She uses the power of the Dark Dimension
to achieve it.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Clinging to his
faith, Mordo says it isn't true, but Stephen has seen the missing
rituals, worked them out. Rather than defend this charge, The Ancient
One states the zealots will return. He will need re-inforcements.
With this, she departs, leaving Mordo to defend her from Strange's
accusations. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Now
Mordo confronts Strange, accuses him of cowardice, of refusing to
fight unless to save his own life. Strange has no idea of the things
he's done, he tells him. Also, he would have snuffed out his enemies
in an instant. Even if there's another way... </span><i>There is no
other way... '</i><span style="font-style: normal;">You lack
imagination' charges Strange. </span><i>'No, you Stephen lack the
spine.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Before Strange can rebut
this, </span><i>if </i><span style="font-style: normal;">he even
could, their ears tell them Kaecilius is back, with more followers.
Master Mordo says 'We have to end this-now!.' and vaults the railing,
followed by Doctor Strange. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Leaping
down on the Vaulting Boots, Mordor enters the fray, shouting at
Strange to descend from mid-air to join him. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Too late, it would seem
as Kaecilius slams a palm down on the floor setting a spell of
incredible power into the air. The effects of the blast suddenly hit
the Mirror Dimension that Strange has conjured. Exulting in his
power, Strange reminds the invader he can't affect the real World in
there. 'Who's laughing now?-asshole...' Stoically, Kaecilius replies;
'I am.' at which he sets matter folding and reality-at last in the
mirrored realm-into the grotesque. Seeing this, Mordo breaks free
from the two thugs holding him as Strange floats down to swipe
Kaecilius' sling ring and run out of the door into the street,
followed by his fellow Master. Once outside, they can see the whole
facade of the building in occult motion inside the dimension. Telling
Mordo he's got the rogue's sling ring he says 'They can't escape,
right?.' The answer is not encouraging; Mordo shouts 'Run!.' They do
just that.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">By
invoking the Mirror Dimension, Doctor Strange has made a terrible
mistake. Kaecilius is able to follow him and Master Mordo within it,
altering the fabric of the city within. At a road junction, the
strange effects of the Mirror Dimension become mind-bendingly
apparent, like one of those 'Impossible Patio' illusions come to
life, or a photo by Eric Johansson*. As Strange watches, bewildered,
Mordo catches up, explains that their connection to the Dark
Dimension makes them more powerful in the Mirror Dimension. They
still can't affect reality, but they can certainly kill <i>them</i>.
This wasn't clever, this was suicide!. Mordo leads the pair in
renewed flight as Kaecilius chases and his two followers, well...
<i>follow. </i>As if to underline Mordo's statement, the murderous
Sorcerer moves two cars aside with a wave of his hand. (As this is
the Mirror Dimension, this gives his trio space to run between,
however, in the Real World the cars merely went on their way,
noticing nothing and experiencing nothing unusual. As Mordo said, the
Mirror Dimension is merely Kaecilius' murderous playground.) </span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*Go-Ogle
them.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3xxWDWZibI_2z-vrgu0r4NTqEFJa9tIFm-5PHX_EoCEsmdT3MSWnvwZuzIj-TJfkcpwT6vgfRQ2EYKhg6l42_joCubyePrb_4goEDQ5Xh_8Fd6mIApJJpenm4H9nxxQLhu9GRWIS6Ss/s1600/003x-676x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3xxWDWZibI_2z-vrgu0r4NTqEFJa9tIFm-5PHX_EoCEsmdT3MSWnvwZuzIj-TJfkcpwT6vgfRQ2EYKhg6l42_joCubyePrb_4goEDQ5Xh_8Fd6mIApJJpenm4H9nxxQLhu9GRWIS6Ss/s320/003x-676x1024.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Benedict Cumberbatch and Co. on location.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charging
along the pavement, Strange opens a portal ahead to escape this
bizarre death-trap, but his deadly pursuer merely reaches out a hand
and sets the city twisting, buildings falling one by one until the
whole is on its side and the fugitive pair are sent crashing into a
Crosstown bus. </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElLO2dw4zPlBacr4xayHqO3DARXf6DbK-pMtGaf3b_m1YwBNSe-MzdjoiL-mINI2UUZS97p5YrFtRJI-skzNs3zce71HcdGKZ_3G9pudt2ozxEMaAysU3vXe5WHCkKSUzrobaTicu_ac/s1600/vlcsnap-00033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElLO2dw4zPlBacr4xayHqO3DARXf6DbK-pMtGaf3b_m1YwBNSe-MzdjoiL-mINI2UUZS97p5YrFtRJI-skzNs3zce71HcdGKZ_3G9pudt2ozxEMaAysU3vXe5WHCkKSUzrobaTicu_ac/s320/vlcsnap-00033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Milords, Ladies and Gentlemen... I give you Sir. Stan Lee...</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Inside, we see a rather familiar elderly gent laughing
his way through Huxley's <i>The Doors of Perception. </i>Ladies,
Gentlemen, lets take a moment to savour True Genius before we delve
back into the action. (All together; Excelsior!; now, let's go!.)
Using his Cloak, Strange lifts off to run along a skyscraper, Mordo
using the Vaulting Boots to achieve the same effect, the boots
cushioning the fall that would otherwise prove injurious. Again,
Strange conjures a portal ahead, but Kaecilius is in his element,
setting the fabric of the building into a waving sea of motion that
flips the two and makes concentration impossible; the portal
dissolves. Now the building is split and impossibly twisted to make
the fleeing Sorcerers fall into mid-air, as one by one the buildings
of Manhattan fold in on themselves. </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
is only now that the full madness of the Mirror Dimension is
released; multiple versions of the city hang above and aside each
other in a surrealist's nightmare. Still in free-fall, Strange and
Mordo land on the side of a building, their relics saving them from
certain death. At the edge of the skyscraper Breathlessly, Strange
says 'This was a mistake'. Mordo's look is priceless, but then the
building tilts and they are sent dropping into a dizzying abyss of
kaleidoscopic insanity, to crash down onto a catwalk. Even there,
there is no purchase to be found, as it merely slides apart to
swallow Stephen and separate him from his companion for Kaecilius to
attack. The zealots split up, the adherents chasing after Strange. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhHMRSavS7KgQ-T-gGdxr6cWfYXxkfTjM_qrkp8EodRQTDrD-ZTwxdHvbS3LgxiZjh3N8d8jhM72TwmRoPeyHfkQ1kEMFL1s8QkuQGEDtXehKKu7beIxHfZvkT9cvBuNc1l4jySrofMQ/s1600/31+THE+CHASE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhHMRSavS7KgQ-T-gGdxr6cWfYXxkfTjM_qrkp8EodRQTDrD-ZTwxdHvbS3LgxiZjh3N8d8jhM72TwmRoPeyHfkQ1kEMFL1s8QkuQGEDtXehKKu7beIxHfZvkT9cvBuNc1l4jySrofMQ/s320/31+THE+CHASE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The female leaps, grabbing at his cloak, but some cloaks don't want
to be grabbed and she is thrown off. The chase goes on, along
impossibly shifting and twisting walkways; a landscape MC Escher
might have dreamed of. One moment Strange is stumbling along outside,
the next he's falling through a subway car only to emerge into
mid-air high above a street, suddenly landing on the street as half a
taxi cab drives past. Now Kaecilius pursues Strange, each on one side
of a walkway, the two clashing at the end. Grabbing Stranges throat
and his sling ring back, Kaecilius produces another of his shards and
stabs down towards his victim.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
walkway splits, sliding Strange back out of immediate danger.
Kaecilius looks back to see, amongst other things, a disciple
struggling with Mordo... and everything expanding at once. In a
moment, everyone is isolated on their own little piece of floating
reality. And then The Ancient One makes her appearance. A tiled floor
forms beneath the group of combatants, one of those marvellous old
subway mozaics. At the sight of the sigil formed on her forehead,
Master Mordo has to finally accept the truth; The Ancient One does,
indeed draw her power from the Dark Dimension. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_B5FaL-HcZGmdObP0UCFFvRlvTfCKT7GaX0AfUYsEvJAxWYST2kRi91UAXyi-ETtTLq7H2Hn_SZevqCBCSGYrS5dWJzDDwFdgroaMqbOBl87XdmjJpLdraf2-IVIiMXjLmTxcQpnfZc8/s1600/32+THE+TRUTH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_B5FaL-HcZGmdObP0UCFFvRlvTfCKT7GaX0AfUYsEvJAxWYST2kRi91UAXyi-ETtTLq7H2Hn_SZevqCBCSGYrS5dWJzDDwFdgroaMqbOBl87XdmjJpLdraf2-IVIiMXjLmTxcQpnfZc8/s320/32+THE+TRUTH.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hearing his words, her
face shows sorrow and pain, but this is not the time for either;
returning her attention to Kaecilius the two circle each other around
the perimeter of the new space she has created. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">He came to her lost,
broken, trusting her to be his teacher and she fed him lies. 'I tried
to protect you.' <i>'From the Truth?.' </i>'From yourself.' She tells
him Dormammu deceives him-his new protege has no idea of what the
creature truly is. His eternal life is not paradise, she adds, but
torment. Her former pupil calls her a liar and, with his acolytes,
attacks. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Ancient One spins away from the initial blow, followed by a joint
attack which she fends off with energy shields. Audaciously, the
zealot slams the floor, setting it rippling around her, but The
Ancient One's response is instant and forceful as she shows him how.
Kaecilius watches from the edge of the circle as his minions attack.
Grabbing his sling ring, he sees his followers struggling to defeat
the Sorcerer Supreme, her energy and vital magic the stronger.</span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Generating shards, Kaecilius stabs through the back of his own
disciple to spear the Ancient One then kick her through the portal
he's opened behind her, sending her from the Mirror Dimension to the
Real World. Instantly, Strange and Mordo leap/fly through to follow
just before the portal disintegrates. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Ancient One is falling, a long and terrible fall down the side of an
office building that ends when she smashes through a canopy and hits
the pavement in a spray of granular glass, New Yorkers screaming and
shouting in shock at the terrible sight. Strange dashes to his
stricken teacher, Mordo looking on in horror. They rush her into
hospital, where poor Christine is needed once more. She has a stunned
myocardia, neurogenic. Rolling her into theatre, everyone scrubs in
and preps for surgery. Picking up a scalpel, Strange realises his
days of surgery are indeed past and he calls Dr. Nick. Handing him
the scalpel, he tells him to relieve pressure on the brain. The
Ancient One crashes and Christine calls for the crash cart. Seeing
the heart monitor flicker, Strange's guess is proved right as he
throws himself from his corporeal body and, in Astral Form sees The
Ancient One has indeed done the same, her spirit flying from the
theatre as Time itself slows to a crawl, virtually at a standstill.
Strange's Astral finds hers standing on the balcony overlooking the
river, a helicopter seemingly frozen, hangs in mid-air between beats
of its blades. Strange tells The Ancient One to return to her body,
she's dying; Time, she replies, is relative; his body hasn't even hit
the floor yet. </span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Beautiful;
that's the only way to describe a lightning strike in extreme slow
motion. The one that blossoms in the sky over the river, a fall of
snow caught in mid-air. The Ancient One tells Strange she's spent so
many years peering through time to this exact moment-but she can
never see past it. She has prevented countless terrible futures,
after each one there's always another. All leading here-but never
further. So she thinks this is where she dies?. Rather than answer,
she asks if he wonders what she sees in his future. He tries to say
no, but her smile instantly washes that away. <i>Yes</i>. She never
saw his future, only its possibilities. <i>'You have such a capacity
for goodness-you always excelled, but not because you craved
success-but because of your fear of failure.' </i>'It's what made me
a great doctor.' <i>'It's precisely what kept you </i>from<i>
greatness...' </i>The Sorcerer Supreme offers an enlightenment;
arrogance and fear prevent him learning the simplest and greatest
lesson of all.<i> </i>Stephen wants to know more, at which her Astral
turns to his and tells him emphatically; <i>'It's not about you....' </i></span></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcX86OfgCXyxszHOegEmgfdRG7E_5qC6yF9BBnlOQ0bNk0lK7KZ35yWor4BubVuLhEXa3UzMnzjmnJEjVSZewrdY6S-OEk_HAPnPUs8Qg12InV5ah12gJY8mBahUoet2pq0brEj-aeCnA/s1600/vlcsnap-00043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcX86OfgCXyxszHOegEmgfdRG7E_5qC6yF9BBnlOQ0bNk0lK7KZ35yWor4BubVuLhEXa3UzMnzjmnJEjVSZewrdY6S-OEk_HAPnPUs8Qg12InV5ah12gJY8mBahUoet2pq0brEj-aeCnA/s320/vlcsnap-00043.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
reminds him of Jonathan Pangborn, stating she did not heal him, but
that he channels dimensional energy directly into his body. He uses
magic to walk. He had a choice-to return to his own life, or to serve
something greater than himself. Like the delayed crack of thunder
that accompanied this revelation, Strange realises in a flash that he
could have his hands back. <i>He could-and the World would be all the
lesser for it. </i>She hated drawing power from the Dark Dimension,
but as he himself knows sometimes rules must be broken. Strange
doubts Mordo will see it that way. She says Mordo's soul is rigid and
immovable-forged by the fires of his youth. He needs Strange's
flexibility as Strange needs his strength. Only together can they
hope to stop Dormammu. 'I'm not ready.' <i>'No-one ever is... we
don't get to choose our time.' </i>With that, she takes Strange's
hand-in the Astral sense. <i>'Death is what gives life meaning-to
know your days are numbered. Your time is short... you'd think after
all this time I'd be ready...' </i>Another ripple of lightning
scintillates across the sky. She has stretched this moment out into
thousands-and all to watch the snow. As she tells him this, Strange
realises The Ancient One has gone. On the table in theatre, her body
lies, lifeless and dead. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Strange
washes his hands and, ignoring the oddness of a floating cape behind
him, Christine joins him. Placing his hand on hers, he stands silent.
She asks if he is okay, tells him she doesn't understand what is
happening. He knows, but has to go away now. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHpiQQVVUeGyxt3YBxPUqH91jfOXF0pBUVuqv8vqWHjPkof7cDQQrbBx9i0aAfsvB46gBLQM8RJCSkbTwzFCAAc5QyXDzRH6YCUaO8hudCJrvB491CC07rpuFalmDBmld-dwjROVe0P8/s1600/vlcsnap-00047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHpiQQVVUeGyxt3YBxPUqH91jfOXF0pBUVuqv8vqWHjPkof7cDQQrbBx9i0aAfsvB46gBLQM8RJCSkbTwzFCAAc5QyXDzRH6YCUaO8hudCJrvB491CC07rpuFalmDBmld-dwjROVe0P8/s320/vlcsnap-00047.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Taking her head in his
hands, he reminds her of her words, that she told him losing his
hands didn't have to be the end, but could be a beginning...
<i>'Yeah-because there are other ways of saving lives.' </i>'A harder
way.'<i> 'A weirder way.' </i>The perfect moment for either a kiss or
the Tannoy to call her. Yep; the latter. He doesn't want her to go,
but she kisses him on the cheek and does just that, his eyes closed
against the pain and so she can't see the tears. Turning to the
mirror, the cape wraps itself around his shoulders and he straightens
the collar. Amusingly, the cape then tries to wipe away with
tears-much to his annoyance. </span></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mJ07rqXTqpSN9A8ywztK-dYF3NoLmCq7ZWhFj4-UEolb7S8dJ-D73twpO4CIC1kweM5OT1EvJJiBT7pFxrxJNaQqxPPH0KQqQVcpYMTDTAE-MeVln_58z-ibScB-Ie7-EgBLqecLCwA/s1600/34+HONG+KONG.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mJ07rqXTqpSN9A8ywztK-dYF3NoLmCq7ZWhFj4-UEolb7S8dJ-D73twpO4CIC1kweM5OT1EvJJiBT7pFxrxJNaQqxPPH0KQqQVcpYMTDTAE-MeVln_58z-ibScB-Ie7-EgBLqecLCwA/s320/34+HONG+KONG.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Hong
Kong. A Nissan 'Z' drives along and, impossibly, a sparking vortex
opens up; Kaecilius and two of his fellow zealots march out of a
desert into the neon-busy street and towards an impressive building
with a familiar oculus; the Hong Kong Sanctum is under siege. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_T04kJTFJxUW-rompehc6JfJfTIu8zAlJBRIVZi2WNMsik4UOwhyldIqKIZyrGYu_g_ftQFeImk79lvxERbfes0F-0gpLwHo5rXOxKEFL0UIMl8Msk2dqEsZ-2b5i-_yC6huGev2raeU/s1600/35+HK+SANCTUARY.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_T04kJTFJxUW-rompehc6JfJfTIu8zAlJBRIVZi2WNMsik4UOwhyldIqKIZyrGYu_g_ftQFeImk79lvxERbfes0F-0gpLwHo5rXOxKEFL0UIMl8Msk2dqEsZ-2b5i-_yC6huGev2raeU/s320/35+HK+SANCTUARY.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Inside,
at the head of a cohort of Kamar-Taj students of varying degree, Wong
instructs them to choose their weapons wisely. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYO_7M4RhKS1QfUKiygyq7hBOxsRZNJa3re4tnJwbGgcQcYWz1j0iBZ3AJTy30kTf4lpltuC06T-VvTLs6IQnKyaxi_UWHM2akhsd3UJW93x38uAipSlFbuG_bBIf9QbO-qU_05nX3G8/s1600/vlcsnap-00051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYO_7M4RhKS1QfUKiygyq7hBOxsRZNJa3re4tnJwbGgcQcYWz1j0iBZ3AJTy30kTf4lpltuC06T-VvTLs6IQnKyaxi_UWHM2akhsd3UJW93x38uAipSlFbuG_bBIf9QbO-qU_05nX3G8/s320/vlcsnap-00051.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He
selects for himself the Wand of Watoomb and prepares to defend the
Sanctum. Boldly, he tells the students 'No-one sets foot in this
Sanctum. No-one.' </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k6-F1TlshhaTturjszPeYEzH_PBx9ygyQFWZJgpIKWBv0wyQVGn7o9kt7S8b_uv-8eZxMRe1nEQYfZFpAvm3GbaxdawKZU8xuNWKNzwwUYSQCgqUAsfkWTg1_LC2n15_Pz1xxa26TXE/s1600/vlcsnap-00052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k6-F1TlshhaTturjszPeYEzH_PBx9ygyQFWZJgpIKWBv0wyQVGn7o9kt7S8b_uv-8eZxMRe1nEQYfZFpAvm3GbaxdawKZU8xuNWKNzwwUYSQCgqUAsfkWTg1_LC2n15_Pz1xxa26TXE/s320/vlcsnap-00052.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Going
outside, Wong finds the street busy as ever, business as usual. The
throngs of people are going about their lives as on any other
day-except Kaecilius and his two female apostles. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKg4UwPZoYtwFvLw1NNaBitxIzbJCtnLtjHxASpOZ5xeKD2zebx7d7AC2RKRYzwUttQX5tfNeTjGr67gIqbo8D7tQn1peM3ngMSxjug8BF0roRRQJV0lU_ENNn0hJSLMM2o90lflSYNk/s1600/vlcsnap-00054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKg4UwPZoYtwFvLw1NNaBitxIzbJCtnLtjHxASpOZ5xeKD2zebx7d7AC2RKRYzwUttQX5tfNeTjGr67gIqbo8D7tQn1peM3ngMSxjug8BF0roRRQJV0lU_ENNn0hJSLMM2o90lflSYNk/s320/vlcsnap-00054.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Telling him he is
on the wrong side of history, the renegade Sorcerer and his
accomplices produce shards and Wong prepares to fight. And to die. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtJmVrD4cpdBrMMdbU6ZuUWQy8quYK1oSv3tLTKfi-BTBMLSOoJayrFKRJcrpKGizYYC5N4J7uqvematwAEvDoM31V2X-pU62dfDuHBUTrZsWwRWhdppeubMh8qzkZSlaBBQIjvz9VJw/s1600/StrangeM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtJmVrD4cpdBrMMdbU6ZuUWQy8quYK1oSv3tLTKfi-BTBMLSOoJayrFKRJcrpKGizYYC5N4J7uqvematwAEvDoM31V2X-pU62dfDuHBUTrZsWwRWhdppeubMh8qzkZSlaBBQIjvz9VJw/s320/StrangeM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
the ruins of Kamar-Taj, Mordo stands, disconsolate, disillusioned
amongst the rubble. Arriving by portal, Stephen Strange informs him
of the death of The Ancient One. <i>'You were right' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">says
Mordo, </span><i>'She wasn't who I thought she was.' </i><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnhE8KH2hQDeqcvIf_ehIeuaCy8IrwPTGZzXKu9DTZ9j-Dz2F4JAw3iYjOUXFn-bFBIyCtz4ftb6guh4MEeOWtckvpjOuuya4bxlhDcamaG-64dwgx146rFdCB98Hx9AO0mwA2PialHk/s1600/vlcsnap-00056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnhE8KH2hQDeqcvIf_ehIeuaCy8IrwPTGZzXKu9DTZ9j-Dz2F4JAw3iYjOUXFn-bFBIyCtz4ftb6guh4MEeOWtckvpjOuuya4bxlhDcamaG-64dwgx146rFdCB98Hx9AO0mwA2PialHk/s320/vlcsnap-00056.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Wearily,
Strange explains 'She was complicated.' </span><i>Complicated...
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Mordo despairs; the Dark
dimension is volatile, dangerous-what if it overtook her?. She told
them it was forbidden, while using it to steal centuries of life.
Strange insists she did what she thought was right, but Mordo asserts
her misuse of power led the zealots to Kamar-Taj. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Here they are in
the consequence of her deception. </span><i>A World on fire...
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">urgently, Stephen tries to
persuade Mordo to act; London has fallen-the New York Sanctum
attacked twice. They are going for Hong Kong next. He reminds the
crestfallen Master that he told him to fight like his life depended
on it because one day it might-today is that day. 'I cannot defeat
them alone.' When Strange opens a portal, Mordo jumps into it without
hesitation; the born warrior. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
scene they find on arrival in Hong Kong is apocalyptic; the Sanctum
has already fallen-a broiling mass of dark energy in its place. From
the epicentre of the Sanc</span><span style="font-style: normal;">tum
the Dark Dimension is spreading out, tendrils of dark matter looming
over the city, enveloping all before it. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking up, Mordo tells
Strange Dormammu is coming.</span><i> Nothing can stop him.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
'Not necessarily...' Opening the Eye of Agamotto, Stephen prepares to
alter time. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wr1j-nV1l42ZbumpXblPVtnI2Rv169jxBaVaHQ1arP9hcaUUMHg01hs8cj3qOwyVEq1YiWEGmCySrz6GPds6ULtMp6cm_bcJZzQsrUC1YzMPWgVFlpibL0k7mZsbV5yxpPZXhUxE264/s1600/vlcsnap-00064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wr1j-nV1l42ZbumpXblPVtnI2Rv169jxBaVaHQ1arP9hcaUUMHg01hs8cj3qOwyVEq1YiWEGmCySrz6GPds6ULtMp6cm_bcJZzQsrUC1YzMPWgVFlpibL0k7mZsbV5yxpPZXhUxE264/s320/vlcsnap-00064.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeWhME1fg7ORRV_RPec6dHVn7OOa-m8JZPpjc0U9Z4HxXoomvK8A76XHqJKYofGDJnT9bJZKqh0KFCshMpJb4B3HFRtzNNfI6lhQBD19hNvuLSgZKOolgT3B5-TWqME4yUltbA7MaVqw/s1600/vlcsnap-00065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeWhME1fg7ORRV_RPec6dHVn7OOa-m8JZPpjc0U9Z4HxXoomvK8A76XHqJKYofGDJnT9bJZKqh0KFCshMpJb4B3HFRtzNNfI6lhQBD19hNvuLSgZKOolgT3B5-TWqME4yUltbA7MaVqw/s320/vlcsnap-00065.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Seei</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ng</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
this, Kaecilius charges towards him, but too late. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Turning
the emerald disc, Strange stops time in its tracks and halting the
zealot's shard inches from his body. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Its a lot harder on this scale
than controlling the decay of an apple-turning time back with an
immense effort of will, he reverses events, sending everything
backwards-pausing briefly to release Master Mordo from its effects.
With Mordo and himself unaffected by the constantly reversing
chronology around them, they run to the Sanctum, but Kaecilius uses
his powers to free himself and his fellow dark sorcerers and attacks
again. </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cwizxiiU8YYSh4OxhpsszNSh32HsEhqRc_ePVlUT0Lcferdw0YsXI7vIC5M9se1cLi14qipFrQHqcbZFo3FXNUoqNHnOMhCvjnP95t1pm1PW8rRClDOORBvDyYrVi5r1SDs9Qu60pQE/s1600/vlcsnap-00068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cwizxiiU8YYSh4OxhpsszNSh32HsEhqRc_ePVlUT0Lcferdw0YsXI7vIC5M9se1cLi14qipFrQHqcbZFo3FXNUoqNHnOMhCvjnP95t1pm1PW8rRClDOORBvDyYrVi5r1SDs9Qu60pQE/s320/vlcsnap-00068.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxKczegDmGRIqsqPtYGcC2iLQ3KaMTR2WiiZ9DjtLG_mGPUjEd9t7sIWxf_J0TPaES-X4B9GqpL4I0Z7aYgvTzA61iCAQJR0Jvy_JmeO0ojgkqOLIMWpr_3hDDw8GFXukk5K_KKnImrg/s1600/029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxKczegDmGRIqsqPtYGcC2iLQ3KaMTR2WiiZ9DjtLG_mGPUjEd9t7sIWxf_J0TPaES-X4B9GqpL4I0Z7aYgvTzA61iCAQJR0Jvy_JmeO0ojgkqOLIMWpr_3hDDw8GFXukk5K_KKnImrg/s320/029.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Surrounded
by chaos in reverse, Strange and Kaecilius grapple, dodging cars
speeding in reverse and people fleeing away from an event that is now
in the future, objects flying </span><i>back</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
from the blast waves emanating from the Sanctum. Mordo fights with
the females, one taking a manhole cover to the head. She falls into
the water that has spilled from the fish-tanks in a restaurant
window, is pulled back with the water into the tanks and then trapped
as the glass restores itself. Mordo watches in fascinated horror as a
corpse slides back along the ground and flies into the windscreen of
a car just after it hits a post and drives off back in time. All
along the street, fallen masonry restores itself to complete the
buildings it fell from. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Using
his Staff of the Living Tribunal, Mordo hitches a ride on some </span><i>rising
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">bamboo scaffolding, to continue
the fray with one of the female apostles. Leaping out, she grabs
bamboo and is pulled high above, Mordo using the Staff to lasso her
ankle and send her round to slam into a wall. The building's
reforming glass seals her inside a room that forms around her. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQSAQq9hDRBtrm9z6k7vEjwdtIDIEYIKZj9sPO8bZgRYeRzowS8KLKitazsMbwfbyH_GJsQaEMjcMzNvgZfl5H3MLTmpAJjIboMogftEsM7N11IrEi5iYmIih2XNusvbAUPzuL0PAOok/s1600/38+DESTRUCTION+REVERSED.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQSAQq9hDRBtrm9z6k7vEjwdtIDIEYIKZj9sPO8bZgRYeRzowS8KLKitazsMbwfbyH_GJsQaEMjcMzNvgZfl5H3MLTmpAJjIboMogftEsM7N11IrEi5iYmIih2XNusvbAUPzuL0PAOok/s320/38+DESTRUCTION+REVERSED.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">All
around, the Dark Dimension is receding, but the fight is far from
won. Seeing Strange grappling with Kaecilius, Master Mordo drops down
to street level.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Kaecilius
has the strength of the fanatic and the power to overcome the
strongest of opponents. In a whirl of billowing dust and debris,
Stephen is blind to the attack that comes from the murk. His Cape,
however, is not and blocks the shard's lethal blows. Knocking him
back with a mighty blow, Strange emerges from the diminishing dust
cloud and they trade blows, ending when Mordo arrives and uses the
Staff to throw Kaecilius hard against a wall just as the tiles that
adorned it re-affix themselves, trapping the Dark Sorcerer behind
them, only his hand remaining free. More debris rises and they spot
Wong lying dead, impaled on a jagged spike of steel. Strange rushes
to him and as the Librarian comes back to life, quickly uses the Eye
of Agamotto to free him from the time reversal spell. Seeing</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
Wong's astonished look, Strange can't resist a jibe about breaking
the laws of nature. To his credit, Wong urges him not to stop now...
the Sanctum is nearly restored-Strange knows when it's complete
they'll attack again. Running towards the Sanctum, the trio are
stopped by Kaecilius, re-emerged from his temporary confinement to
slam his palm down on the road and send it rippling. Strange is
knocked cold, the spell of the Eye of Agamotto fading away. At once,
time slows away to infinity, stopped in the moment the spell lost
effect. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoYR_p0jtbpXxGkEJ73PEWNsVTApW9dKMFKjkYxtOBrM_jooOWZGzqBtA2NYKHAby6FqtAiddIehDU59-8sJSu2hmKYapfYzha3KHVNw5y1TeDWiwc9Wn1WqXMOv6ciVlPoNvJwxQ0_U/s1600/39+TIME+FROZEN.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoYR_p0jtbpXxGkEJ73PEWNsVTApW9dKMFKjkYxtOBrM_jooOWZGzqBtA2NYKHAby6FqtAiddIehDU59-8sJSu2hmKYapfYzha3KHVNw5y1TeDWiwc9Wn1WqXMOv6ciVlPoNvJwxQ0_U/s320/39+TIME+FROZEN.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The only ones unaffected are the combatants and Mordo
struggles to his feet urging Strange to </span><span style="font-style: normal;">get
up-get up and fight</span><span style="font-style: normal;">. Wong
stands ready for the inevitable. Again. Transfixed by the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">ichorous</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
iridescence of the Dark Dimension, Kaecilius and his followers
advance towards it, spellbound. </span><i>'Isn't it beautiful? A
World beyond time... beyond Death...' </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Something
in his words sparks a memory and Strange has a flash of inspiration.</span><i>
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">'Beyond time...' He flies up
into the Dark Dimension, ignoring Mordo's shout </span><span style="font-style: normal;">for
him to stay. Strange has something more in mind than mere combat.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Dark Dimension is like nothing Strange has ever known or even
imagined. Polyp-like structures hang suspended in space, connected by
roots like some malignantly radiant seaweed on an insane scale.
Everywhere, colour; electric purples, splashes of blues and
vermilion, a Dali landscape in heliotrope, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">a
placeless place of constant motion and no place for living creatures.
Such as the insignificant one floating through it all in his cloak.
Back in Hong Kong, Mordo watches in defeat; Kaecilius commenting that
Strange has gone-surrendered to the power of Dormammu. Surrender,
however, is not on Strange's mind as he lands on an eerily glowing
spheroid and opens the Eye of Agamotto.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">All at once, the gigantic
form of Dormammu is looming in front of him. This is the face he
glimpsed all those centuries ago at Kamar-Taj when The Ancient One
freed his consciousness from Earthly bounds for the very first time.
If Hell had a face, this is it; eyes of neon violet fire glare down
on him, the lined, rippling and cragged face split in a malevolent
sneer of triumph and hate. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">His
voice quaking ever-so-slightly, Strange jumps to the nearest sphere
and tells Dormammu he has come to bargain. The face thrusts itself
towards the tiny figure standing before it. </span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'YOU'VE
COME TO DIE. YOUR WORLD IS NOW MY WORLD. I EAT ALL WORLDS.'</b></i></span><span style="color: #cc00cc;"><i><b>
</b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">With
this greeting, Dormammu sends bolts of energy flashing down on
Strange, who generates two Mandala Shields to deflect the attack,
then Dormammu's mouth opens and a shaft of pure energy blasts
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange.
Cowering behind his shield, Strange holds on as long as he can,
before his atoms are scattered and he disintegrates into nothingness.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
End?.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">With
Strange dead Dormammu is free to continue his conque... what the?...
time reverses over the last minute or so and Strange again jumps down
to the nearest sphere and tells Dormammu he has come to bargain...
Dormammu starts with the </span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'YOU'VE
COME TO DIE. YOUR WORLD IS NOW MY WORLD'</b></i></span><span style="color: #cc00cc;"><i><b>
</b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">bit
again, then gets a serious attack of Deja-Vu* '</span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>WHAT
IS THIS? ILLUSION?' </b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
assures him it's no illusion.</span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'GOOD'
</b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Says
the Spiteful One and impales Strange on two rods of carbon. Down
comes Strange and what do you know?-he wants to bargain. Dormammu is,
by now, beginning to freak out. It's all relative, I suppose... </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">*</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
went into a restaurant called 'Deja-Vu' once. The Head Waiter said
'Don't I know you?'. I'm here all week-try the rib-steak...</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
explains; 'Just as you gave Kaecilius powers from your dimension I've
brought a little power from mine.' Holding up his arm, Strange
informs the malevolent presence 'This is Time. Endless-looped Time.'
</span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'YOU-DARE!' </b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Enraged,
Dormammu raises a colossal fist and prepares to smash it down on
Strange, who mutters 'Oh f...' and is squished. 'Dormammu, I've come
to bargain...' </span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'YOU
CANNOT DO THIS FOREVER.' </b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Actually
I can. This is how things are now; you and me, trapped in this
moment-endlessly.' Dormammu tells Strange he will spend eternity
dying. 'Yes, but everyone on Earth will live.' </span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'BUT
YOU WILL SUFFER.' </b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Considering
this, Strange responds 'Pain's an old friend.' Zap. 'Dormammu, I've
come to bargain...' Impaled. 'Dormammu...' crushed by a spheroid.
'Dormammu...' Impaled. Smothered. Blasted. </span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>
</b></i></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'</b></i></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>YOU
WIL</b></i></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>L NEVER WIN...'
</b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wearily,
Stephen looks up from the ground. 'No, but I can lose... again-and
again-and again... and again, for ever. And that makes you my
prisoner.' Impaled. </span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>'NO!
MAKE-THIS-STOP!. SET ME FREE!' </b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">'No.
I've come to bargain.'</span></span></span><span style="color: #330099;"><i><b>
'WHAT DO YOU WANT?'</b></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Floating in front of the leviathan, Strange lays it out. 'Take your
zealots from the Earth. End your assault on my World-never come back.
Do it-and I'll break the loop.' </span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Hong
Kong, frozen in Time. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mordo
struggles to his feet urging Strange to </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">get
up-get up and fight</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
Wong stands ready for the inevitable. Again. Transfixed by the
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">ichorous</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
iridescence of the Dark Dimension, Kaecilius and his followers
advance towards it, spellbound. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Isn't
it beautiful? A World beyond time... beyond Death...' </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange
floats down to land behind him</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Superman
style. Mordo and Wong gape at the impossibility of this and Kaecilius
turns to face his foe. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'What
have you done?.'</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
'I made a bargain.' Suddenly, the zealots notice their skins turning
to ash. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'What
is this?.' </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
nonchalant and oddly carefree Strange tells him; 'Well, it's what
you've always wanted. Eternal life as part of The One.' As Mordo and
Wong join him, he smiles, shakes his head. 'You're not gonna like
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">it.' </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaG9RfCrVFC0wzQ6wmNU68P9CFncvFgPWZLHYq6Bvu5MGBqlVc7deh-p8vQ5QB1v8sYBmfxcZ8i0uewcR6lox5e1WAlG3WqUZR2FlNW7dTgnJJAK7uj8W6OyLQJVDeiQs6vp5Z0KwlJ8/s1600/43+ETERNAL+LIFE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaG9RfCrVFC0wzQ6wmNU68P9CFncvFgPWZLHYq6Bvu5MGBqlVc7deh-p8vQ5QB1v8sYBmfxcZ8i0uewcR6lox5e1WAlG3WqUZR2FlNW7dTgnJJAK7uj8W6OyLQJVDeiQs6vp5Z0KwlJ8/s320/43+ETERNAL+LIFE.gif" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The zealot's bodies change, beginning to disintegrate, pieces flying
off towards the Dark Dimension overhead, their heads glowing with a
hideous un-natural intensity. Turned into charred remnants, their
bodies soar towards their terrible destiny. Looking on, Strange can't
resist a final comment on their fate. 'You know, you really shoulda
stolen the whole book because the warnings... the warnings come </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">after
</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
spells.' A shock awaits him, though, when Wong starts laughing
uncontrollably. Finally, he finds one of Stephen's jokes funny!. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Strange forms a time disc and finishes restoring the Sanctum and
banishing the Dark Dimension from Earth. Forever. Spontaneously, life
returns to the streets around them as if it had never happened. It
never had. Wong comments 'We did it.' But Mordo is far from content;
'Yes, we did it. By also violating the Natural Law.' Strange takes a
different view. 'Look around you; it's over.' But his former Teacher
is appalled. 'You still think there will be no consequences,
Strange?. No price to pay?.' Some might call dying multiple times
paying a price, but not Mordo; 'We broke our rules, just like </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">her.</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
The bill comes due-always. A reckoning.' As Strange realises he has
come to the end of the road with Mordo, the latter states he will
follow this path no longer... and turns his back on his friends,
walking away.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Kathmandu.
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
sanctuary of Kamar-Taj restored. Doctor Stephen Strange walks to the
plinth to return the Eye, but pauses, his palsied hands a reminder of
the life he could yet regain. Every man stands at life's crossroads
sometimes, but the Cloak of Levitation is perhaps a better judge of
it's new Master than he realises-removing itself to hang behind
him-</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">with
the merest hint of a shove-</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">as
gentle reminder of why he came. He returns the Eye of Agamotto to its
rightful place atop the pedestal. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
wise choice, comments Wong, walking in to the chamber. 'You'll wear
the Eye of Agamotto-once you've mastered its powers...' Walking
around to the pedestal, the curator adds a chilling postscript;
'Until then, best not to walk the streets wearing an Infinity Stone.'
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
what?.</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
'You might have a gift for the mystic arts, but you still have much
to learn.' </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7R-VzxVJn852lJ3q-YqS_oaq_a_WItMosk4lr6ehjzPs7VtKU1j42C6XTMNUhGpFBfPyL-ZI8ZpJc_TadeiKnCH9rj_ZGbaKT5uVNoZg6wB-R0y33QkXJzRSsSjydEtzjGuU0V8Nzxo/s1600/vlcsnap-00077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7R-VzxVJn852lJ3q-YqS_oaq_a_WItMosk4lr6ehjzPs7VtKU1j42C6XTMNUhGpFBfPyL-ZI8ZpJc_TadeiKnCH9rj_ZGbaKT5uVNoZg6wB-R0y33QkXJzRSsSjydEtzjGuU0V8Nzxo/s320/vlcsnap-00077.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Shaking
his massive head, Wong turns his gaze upwards to the revolving globe,
adding that news of The Ancient One's death will spread rapidly
throughout the Multiverse-that there's no Sorcerer Supreme to defend
it. We'll be ready.' he asserts. With a firm nod, Strange agrees;
'We'll be ready.' </span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wong
opens the doorway to the New York Sanctum and Strange, be-cloaked
again, follows. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabfDY1M4iLjK3bnYqKYUqduPTg4BVul43C3ednewbzgb4mFqAh5F60BmxpnfIMSkgHJ2llNla3pyeQvjqGQpKOxEPNUxbA12xIjy98YIe3SGnSjvkdFabXITa2DN1FxMpCDULqlqdS34/s1600/001-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabfDY1M4iLjK3bnYqKYUqduPTg4BVul43C3ednewbzgb4mFqAh5F60BmxpnfIMSkgHJ2llNla3pyeQvjqGQpKOxEPNUxbA12xIjy98YIe3SGnSjvkdFabXITa2DN1FxMpCDULqlqdS34/s320/001-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Walking</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
up to stand by the oculus, Strange takes his broken Jaeger le Coultre
and straps it on his wrist. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBI0UR0BkRKUoyrybZxIPFA4cRY71FB3MQG5GjxvaMV7sgPnm0gPf1CTRMJ_5nwTHT9SecewcyV0V_3cCQcXBFsSFXTiQVrn94AWxZyQsmh1F3pBxR3uX-L7Pt8K6V1Tfg8SLLmJQSH7E/s1600/vlcsnap-00078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBI0UR0BkRKUoyrybZxIPFA4cRY71FB3MQG5GjxvaMV7sgPnm0gPf1CTRMJ_5nwTHT9SecewcyV0V_3cCQcXBFsSFXTiQVrn94AWxZyQsmh1F3pBxR3uX-L7Pt8K6V1Tfg8SLLmJQSH7E/s320/vlcsnap-00078.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwTl45WD7PzJr0ytKFu_hlg4w3v7OygXi7g9Z7QVz4CmdNnZiB5thN4RpR-3eHNvYSIyQFQpgIc-eCjsxuTRHIHvDr9zbslRwJcCCltHEP0A0JVFAA7xsB9UAaFABAIcQI1yifymEqsE/s1600/doctorstrange0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwTl45WD7PzJr0ytKFu_hlg4w3v7OygXi7g9Z7QVz4CmdNnZiB5thN4RpR-3eHNvYSIyQFQpgIc-eCjsxuTRHIHvDr9zbslRwJcCCltHEP0A0JVFAA7xsB9UAaFABAIcQI1yifymEqsE/s320/doctorstrange0004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filming the final scene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A broken watch for a broken hand. His
choice is made. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Doctor
Stephen Strange the Surgeon is no more, but Doctor Strange will be
keeping watch over the Sanctum and the Earth. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8s6bqSW09A38eIuN3K99Sa5VtK8Vc8ce3Ba1m1SFOUp0nrw563Qxg1TouN6jIfAeUDGRU4rtEJw3aF09VmonDTWjANkvs2pcMlrvDrR_Euj6Ug-E0WiiWC3YC5PDTIvfUxvCSxrsq2c/s1600/44+DOCTOR+STRANGE+END+TITLE.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8s6bqSW09A38eIuN3K99Sa5VtK8Vc8ce3Ba1m1SFOUp0nrw563Qxg1TouN6jIfAeUDGRU4rtEJw3aF09VmonDTWjANkvs2pcMlrvDrR_Euj6Ug-E0WiiWC3YC5PDTIvfUxvCSxrsq2c/s320/44+DOCTOR+STRANGE+END+TITLE.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
end credits roll, but as you must have heard, the treats don't end
there... after we sit through a series of shifting mandalas and names
of varying familiarity, we see another scene;</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUAiPYQMzdPqYhe8o2nq_dAPvZjjtMfEiMOBZNPq3UryF9F8WE_PCTh5qv2opPUzjJKwQ6mGCvMYzN6euNK3abgUxbCRgsa6aKSyOL75ggyVttduK3mQoBB_3JAgRNnSX5UThip3qyUQ/s1600/vlcsnap-00084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUAiPYQMzdPqYhe8o2nq_dAPvZjjtMfEiMOBZNPq3UryF9F8WE_PCTh5qv2opPUzjJKwQ6mGCvMYzN6euNK3abgUxbCRgsa6aKSyOL75ggyVttduK3mQoBB_3JAgRNnSX5UThip3qyUQ/s320/vlcsnap-00084.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
the Sanctum, Doctor Strange has a guest; Thor. 'So Earth has wizards
now?.' 'Tea?.' Thor doesn't drink tea. 'So what do you drink?.' The
Norse God smiles, shaking his head; 'Not tea.' The smile fades
somewhat when Strange turns his cup into a large stein of beer.
Strange informs Thor of his watch-list, a list of beings from other
realms and worlds that might pose a threat to Earth; his brother Loki
has made the list.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFv7UnKAMJxM0Z9wdstR3fmMy_8fxrX98OIXymdxI2ZhVVNJw0R5khP7Fuqqr28R_f0O8jbt7M4zUEKvZDO3Os1zOO98wmLTb7LkQqjUiFtiPKckYMDu4NsfYpqQhf2iqiYx6r95vnw4/s1600/vlcsnap-00082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFv7UnKAMJxM0Z9wdstR3fmMy_8fxrX98OIXymdxI2ZhVVNJw0R5khP7Fuqqr28R_f0O8jbt7M4zUEKvZDO3Os1zOO98wmLTb7LkQqjUiFtiPKckYMDu4NsfYpqQhf2iqiYx6r95vnw4/s320/vlcsnap-00082.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris Hemsworth as Thor; object of my Wife's desire and general beefcake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Draining his glass, Thor thinks this a worthy
inclusion, doing something of a double take as the glass refills
itself. 'So, why bring him here to New York?.' </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'It's
a bit of a long story-family drama, that kind of thing, but we're
looking for my father.' </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That's
cool with Strange-so if they are re-united they'll all just return
to Asgard together?. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Oh
yes, promptly.'</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
'Great-allow me to help you...' </span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
mouth-watering hint well and truly dropped, the credits continue, but
there's even more!; this movie keeps on giving, doesn't it?.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
a FINAL final end scene, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">after
a stupendous amount of names have risen and rolled away, </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Master
Mordo visits Jonathan Pangborn </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">in
his workshop. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'They
carried you into Kamar-Taj on a stretcher. Look at you now,
Pangborn.'</span></i></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7MDKOpKpmmYmm2FV6v1yCHHPNrQjXWXdjDxTd5k0krAUhIEiiYoEqDjSnEfVtXx9GK5QPfVXJsOimiWf3HlYh6sQe8i0gj5Xp-ygUrhuCG_19k1PNX5nW_uN83c27HIUEKQ50Mpk8m4/s1600/vlcsnap-00085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7MDKOpKpmmYmm2FV6v1yCHHPNrQjXWXdjDxTd5k0krAUhIEiiYoEqDjSnEfVtXx9GK5QPfVXJsOimiWf3HlYh6sQe8i0gj5Xp-ygUrhuCG_19k1PNX5nW_uN83c27HIUEKQ50Mpk8m4/s320/vlcsnap-00085.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6J7I87ZLZBwOvAIc38Oxv1xCJq86V6aNS3Q_3zSndP4miEuVyFufexAuse8T1xKBodObkxaFzGQQvcGiaBiMT4cTNFu262_mmFJhQFoZJ0R-AT5mG2Ha5xVnzo0OL3Zaf5tBc51rsAlo/s1600/vlcsnap-00086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6J7I87ZLZBwOvAIc38Oxv1xCJq86V6aNS3Q_3zSndP4miEuVyFufexAuse8T1xKBodObkxaFzGQQvcGiaBiMT4cTNFu262_mmFJhQFoZJ0R-AT5mG2Ha5xVnzo0OL3Zaf5tBc51rsAlo/s320/vlcsnap-00086.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></i></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Nervously, Pangborn responds; 'Mordo. So what can I do for you,
man?.'</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">
'I've been away for many months now and I've had a revelation. The
true purpose of a sorcerer is to twist things out of their proper
shape...'</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Pangborn grasps a crow-bar, a forlorn hope. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'...Stealing
power, perverting nature.'</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
The two men face each other. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Like
you.' </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pangborn
tells his old teacher he's stolen nothing; this is his power.
</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Power-has
a purpose'</span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
replies Mordo, easily dodging Jonathan's blows to reach towards his
body and pull out the magical power sustaining it. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvxawInN9108KXtJRa5IHoPFaLQg6oL4lFVG3L_DIaG0AytFRA9XOCFftgs18CvFPdxZeKIHyzlDe8wEnoq2hPi3_19MJcMoBgNegMt5K4tJgECSv3H-Q2IkvtBEsGQWsdfpcxoKL5Nk/s1600/vlcsnap-00088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvxawInN9108KXtJRa5IHoPFaLQg6oL4lFVG3L_DIaG0AytFRA9XOCFftgs18CvFPdxZeKIHyzlDe8wEnoq2hPi3_19MJcMoBgNegMt5K4tJgECSv3H-Q2IkvtBEsGQWsdfpcxoKL5Nk/s320/vlcsnap-00088.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtbKrRZFXkWo-x36AHCJ60BB-l7heSlwJ4cMhmoYmyhtExUSk1iiSb8rSup-ln15DgjXuJ7sCPV37z_vUFWuS3epPIHG6iE4HqMyPxTv7mvwc006tosx8DEnMj_eFB1yyBnqWQSVTGPI/s1600/vlcsnap-00089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtbKrRZFXkWo-x36AHCJ60BB-l7heSlwJ4cMhmoYmyhtExUSk1iiSb8rSup-ln15DgjXuJ7sCPV37z_vUFWuS3epPIHG6iE4HqMyPxTv7mvwc006tosx8DEnMj_eFB1yyBnqWQSVTGPI/s320/vlcsnap-00089.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">At once, Pangborn
is a paraplegic again, helpless on the floor. Why is Mordo doing
this?. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'Because
I see at last what's wrong with the World...' </span></i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Squatting
down to face the crippled man, the light of fanaticism in his eyes,
Mordo concludes; </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">'...Too
many Sorcerers.' </span></i></span></span></span>
</div>
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<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Doctor
Strange Will Return.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Cast.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benedict
Cumberbatch's Stephen Strange is, by and large, flawless. His
American accent wavers somewhat, but it's a creditable attempt
nonetheless. He plays the part with humour, energy and real presence;
his casting is, in short near perfect. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">An unlikable, selfish man,
Strange cares more for his reputation than his patient's lives and
only changes after a fairly mind-bendingly psychadelic series of
experiences to realise that he is not the centre of the Universe. The
character progresses and develops wonderfully for a Marvel production
and the whole thing was clearly done with care for the franchise and
the character. Clearly, the Cumberbatch character was developed with an eye for longevity as it is more than the usual 2D Marvel comic book translation-this feels more like a FILM character than something from the pens of Lee and Ditko (And, let's be clear; I WORSHIP these men as Gods above all men-however, film requires more developed characterisation.)</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mads
Mikkelsen was always going to be a safe bet as Kaecilius. Apparently
originally considered for the titular role and then that of Master
Mordo, Mikkelsen's character is not the standard 'baddie' you might
expect. His character sees the way forward in a very different way
and only his ruthlessness and fanaticism set him apart from the
protagonist. A stand-out role. Chiwetel Ejiofor's character Master
Mordo bears more than an echo of his role in the wonderful <i>Serenity</i>
(2005), an intense, focused and driven man who sees only black and
white, never shades of grey. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMf_512V1j9BLbcijSmBKsOQZGZEysl8VlKPq9Gpip9ORXjNS02IVhV5mdWLvwbV78FKu9XD_tQrg_z8tHwyX8MRfcsD_kCRjX1kX399hIyLHlF29N8cMso28eAs8diY_lj3AWq5m_x0/s1600/rachel-mcadams7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMf_512V1j9BLbcijSmBKsOQZGZEysl8VlKPq9Gpip9ORXjNS02IVhV5mdWLvwbV78FKu9XD_tQrg_z8tHwyX8MRfcsD_kCRjX1kX399hIyLHlF29N8cMso28eAs8diY_lj3AWq5m_x0/s320/rachel-mcadams7.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rachel McAdams stunned in a daring and clever dress; Clever?; the design is reminiscent of an Escher print, Escher being the inspiration for the crazy Mirror Dimension scenes.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rachel McAdams is good as Dr. Christine
Palmer, but is pretty much the standard love interest with a twist,
the twist being she and Strange aren't lovers anymore. Tilda Swinton
makes an effective Ancient One, dispensing wisdom and magical
teachings with a stillness and inner grace suggestive of the pebble
radiating ripples in a pond. Benedict Wong plays Wong with a quiet
stoicism and immovability that gives the role a memorable aspect;
nicely cast, Wong's stone face lends itself well to the humour in the
film. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">For
the Obsessives among you, here's a link to the Easter Eggs seen in
Doctor Strange...</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0gPvhGU1zA"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0gPvhGU1zA</span></span></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Both
the Key of Solomon and the Astronomia-Nova mentioned by Wong are real
books; respectively a 14<sup>th</sup> Century Grimoire and Johannes
Kepler's Astronomical work on the motion of planetary bodies. The
Book of cagliostro is named for <span style="font-weight: normal;">Count
Alessandro di Cagliostro, </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">an
Italian Alchemist. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
scene where The Ancient One crashes to the pavement in New York was
actually filmed in London.</span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">177a
Bleecker Street is the apartment building where Marvel writer Roy
Thomas lived at the time he wrote Doctor Strange (No.182). More than
one other Bullpen <i>Alumni</i> shared the address.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Strange crashes his Lamborghini, the track you hear is Pink Floyd's
<i>Interstellar Overdrive. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">After
his accident, Strange sits at his desk trying to write; look
closely-that's a Syd Barrett t-shirt, from his debut solo album </span><i>The
Madcaps Laugh</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> (1968), </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Not
only does the comic book Doctor Strange appear on the cover of
Floyd's 1968 album </span><i>A Saucerful of Secrets, </i><span style="font-style: normal;">but
Benedict Cumberbatch sang 'Comfortably Numb' on stage with David
Gilmour in 2016 at the Albert Hall, London. A Floyd track on the
soundtrack of </span><i>More</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
(1969) mentions Doctor Strange by name. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eagle-Eyed
viewers among you will spot the Avengers Building in Manhattan among
the skycrapers. This is only one of the hints dropped in the film, so
don't be surprised if Doctor Strange ends up joining the team in a
future release. </span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Want
to know more about how they made the jaw-dropping FX?; your every
wish is my command...
<a href="http://www.artofvfx.com/doctor-strange-mark-wilson-vfx-supervisor-jonathan-fawkner-vfx-supervisor-and-alexis-wajsbrot-cg-supervisor-framestore/">http://www.artofvfx.com/doctor-strange-mark-wilson-vfx-supervisor-jonathan-fawkner-vfx-supervisor-and-alexis-wajsbrot-cg-supervisor-framestore/</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scott
Derrickson, Writer of such films as the brilliant <i>Deliver us from
Evil</i> (2014) <i>Sinister</i> (2012) and <i>The Exorcism of Emily
Rose</i> (2005) used his own money to make a video to pitch his bid
to direct <i>Doctor Strange</i> to Marvel Studios. </span></span>
</div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzpYnQzWVf895VNAi9XMc-iJ7BWtxDc-oYVBBUUSh0TIKqRZNIaAyvY3pOs0yuAGsFS0GR_veuEyluRxcCDmS_jefApAkaBY6Cd_Ss_cS82MgXZzf-aJBsE5R9iKFMH1OxNE0du086ro/s1600/doctorstrange0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzpYnQzWVf895VNAi9XMc-iJ7BWtxDc-oYVBBUUSh0TIKqRZNIaAyvY3pOs0yuAGsFS0GR_veuEyluRxcCDmS_jefApAkaBY6Cd_Ss_cS82MgXZzf-aJBsE5R9iKFMH1OxNE0du086ro/s320/doctorstrange0005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Scott Derrickson in discussion with star Cumberbatch.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
case you were wondering why a Caucasian woman played a part written
for a Male Tibetan monk, it was, partly our old friend Political
Correctness. Derrickson felt casting an Asian in an Asian role would
be perceived as exploitation. Go figure. </span></span>
</div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Derrickson
is apparently considering using the Dream Demon 'Nightmare' and his
world the Dream Dimension in the sequel.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
scene where the Cloak of Levitation seems to try to wipe Strange's
tears away was originally thought up by Benedict Cumberbatch. The
part where he pulls the collar up is a direct reference to the same
action in <i>Sherlock </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(2010-)
where he does this as a symbol that the Game is On. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Among
the elements taken directly from Doctor Strange comics are; Stephen
Strange writing his name repeatedly with his damaged hands, Strange's
attempt to use an Axe as a weapon, the Operating Theatre spirit
fight, Strange wearing yellow gloves in the end-title Thor sequence,
Mordo's insistence 'The bill comes due' and the Cloak of Levitation
displaying intelligence. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0KNK8vpvwnhi2rwMRUk4phQVeKz9zbE5RKbYPxc40ZANVXK08jDD2G-UhKxLGXWScdYidAQXYTYklxuif3N7x4XAoGo5HQBzJQnoc13RlKgOxoetKljpWMYM232U-JA3CarZBP97g4s/s1600/DrStrange2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0KNK8vpvwnhi2rwMRUk4phQVeKz9zbE5RKbYPxc40ZANVXK08jDD2G-UhKxLGXWScdYidAQXYTYklxuif3N7x4XAoGo5HQBzJQnoc13RlKgOxoetKljpWMYM232U-JA3CarZBP97g4s/s320/DrStrange2.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">The comic that started it all.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rachel
McAdams played Irene Adler in the Robert Downey Jnr <i>Sherlock
Holmes</i> movies (2009, 2011), Benedict Cumberbatch, of course is
famous for his role in <i>Sherlock </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(2010-)
Mads Mikkelsen's brother Lars played a villain in </span><i>Sherlock
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">and also voiced the Stephen
Strange character in the Danish version of the animated movie (2007).
Other Marvel/Sherlock Holmes convergences include Jeremy Brett
(Granada TV's Holmes from 1984-1994) in a TV movie </span><i>The
Incredible Hulk: Of Guilt, Models and Murder</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
(1978) Magneto himself, Sir. Ian McKellen played Holmes in </span><i>Mr.
Holmes </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(2015) and Martin
Freeman, Watson in </span><i>Sherlock </i><span style="font-style: normal;">who
made an appearance in </span><i>Captain America: Civil War</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
(2016)</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dormammu
is played by... Benedict Cumberbatch. </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Strange
refers to Pangborn's spinal injury as 'Between C7 and C8'. There is
no C8 vertebrae in humans. Perhaps the reference is to the nerve 'C8'
instead though.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGgZ6Gvq99tiwbXAHPUtpCwuH_Wf6aIItXzCAnOxeb53DoI8OecDURM4enDRGuj3nV1M1z2sH7Gwi2NicihUNHvMrKh9ps8CNE1cOrGKFYEcDO9kgpvcQLsJbztfzp86y1yJ7DoatS7c/s1600/TRIPLE+POSTER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGgZ6Gvq99tiwbXAHPUtpCwuH_Wf6aIItXzCAnOxeb53DoI8OecDURM4enDRGuj3nV1M1z2sH7Gwi2NicihUNHvMrKh9ps8CNE1cOrGKFYEcDO9kgpvcQLsJbztfzp86y1yJ7DoatS7c/s320/TRIPLE+POSTER.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some wonderful artwork used as Promotional posters for the film.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Strange steals the books from Wong in the library, neither hand has a
sling ring on. How did he generate the portals?.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
Strange has his hands immobilised with the fixators, they are removed
at one point and then re-attached before surgery. This is an error as
they would only be in place until the bones healed, not then
re-attached. Also, Dr. Palmer wears nail polish; surgeons have to
have short, natural nails due to cross-contamination issues. Aseptic
protocols are repeatedly breached in the film, such as when Strange
scrubs in then attaches his own mask. Further, when Strange is
shocked with the defibrilator, it wouldn't have done anything for him
as he's in what's known as asystole cardiac arrest. Asystolic rhythm
is non-shockable. Apparently, the shock numbers on the de-fibrilator
are also out of sequence. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjSLd0nGtCm9hk03ncUprhHDttpF3iElX1XFDUxF1NY3Js77QqOfHiuOIJHlE9JrvgV-WbCRrpmQ4MeZEGM9sLn2Iej7x3VWvn5T5vT-kS_cjm65zWiS8YFpjetBB8B9ms-UZQGmhDio/s1600/quad+posters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjSLd0nGtCm9hk03ncUprhHDttpF3iElX1XFDUxF1NY3Js77QqOfHiuOIJHlE9JrvgV-WbCRrpmQ4MeZEGM9sLn2Iej7x3VWvn5T5vT-kS_cjm65zWiS8YFpjetBB8B9ms-UZQGmhDio/s320/quad+posters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Rumours Benedict Cumberbatch walked into a comic book shop, in costume to buy a Doctor Strange comic are true; </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
round Strange extracts from the patient's brain is clearly a rifle
round and would be unlikely to lodge in the skull. Also, a
copper-jacketed round isn't cast, such as one containing antimony,
which he mentions. </span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVwtFA1T-xdeJeB507TxBDJXUsRQGNwAV_J_qzsXOfTCpMpv7l4In88UNhYzHI2IpdH1gLpADA4bdrznCEaIMtcvGqPVC38ojw7IzUiWSjwGr9RGLpAYuJHjtiDzVN4fdub7PEo00YIQ/s1600/5810dd61154d7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVwtFA1T-xdeJeB507TxBDJXUsRQGNwAV_J_qzsXOfTCpMpv7l4In88UNhYzHI2IpdH1gLpADA4bdrznCEaIMtcvGqPVC38ojw7IzUiWSjwGr9RGLpAYuJHjtiDzVN4fdub7PEo00YIQ/s320/5810dd61154d7.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Cumberbatch, McAdams and Swinton at a premiere.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some
continuity errors are evident in the laptop-hurling scene in
Strange's apartment, plus the blood on Strange's later facial
injuries comes and goes a few times; most of the continuity errors
are, however, fairly minor so let's not bother ourselves with
insignificant specks in an indifferent internet...</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLZYrRb2ZXO2_Yea4IhHYFgjveK-oQOBXYixsjAW3_nLTphOtFCCCz8nGmDGjf1aXn1TvHisC86EG_BnZrkqyRVagpR5MyslpkaLXlPtNuJsEGmWbIYwZ1lJtI14YtN8Fw4PKQPYHKJk/s1600/Doctor-Strange-Dormammu-1-600x881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLZYrRb2ZXO2_Yea4IhHYFgjveK-oQOBXYixsjAW3_nLTphOtFCCCz8nGmDGjf1aXn1TvHisC86EG_BnZrkqyRVagpR5MyslpkaLXlPtNuJsEGmWbIYwZ1lJtI14YtN8Fw4PKQPYHKJk/s320/Doctor-Strange-Dormammu-1-600x881.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Concept Art for Dormammu.</span></span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvnSmB4qB70kxgrpgf-m333OloEJUxD2VCMhyphenhyphen9R7D9utE2IJhyphenhyphenlISjplhFxJQ79_XVZAr-PlKjw7zI5NuOGws_obW3KTsenByw863ysP49NEd3LaFU5t5b0sAbHwjIJu4j4MD4zegLX0/s1600/Doctor-Strange-Dormammu-5-600x752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvnSmB4qB70kxgrpgf-m333OloEJUxD2VCMhyphenhyphen9R7D9utE2IJhyphenhyphenlISjplhFxJQ79_XVZAr-PlKjw7zI5NuOGws_obW3KTsenByw863ysP49NEd3LaFU5t5b0sAbHwjIJu4j4MD4zegLX0/s320/Doctor-Strange-Dormammu-5-600x752.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKsbwqsz8iOkopuysVGEOagcv_JuALBV9aGw0GWi_4HvNqhqwdIsME1fY6rYCjnfBp9185RPZ8hkXfw8vpVUNAgBnCvnM1uTDOPG5_OExudG3M0VXTttM3oDfkFci5SVz27tCGM5FHQ8/s1600/DormammuConcepts.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKsbwqsz8iOkopuysVGEOagcv_JuALBV9aGw0GWi_4HvNqhqwdIsME1fY6rYCjnfBp9185RPZ8hkXfw8vpVUNAgBnCvnM1uTDOPG5_OExudG3M0VXTttM3oDfkFci5SVz27tCGM5FHQ8/s320/DormammuConcepts.GIF" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Animation showing two differing approaches; A group of Dormmamu (Dormammi?) VS a Single Entity.</span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLNpgQCIydAFnjdqG9EAenuWvbFGYOrsqplBJ7j4_tp7FRu_UFMc5gjVG4kUpFmm3zV21QqHO6YRzGTqatqfySEj6ZhV2jEECOSY9_vk7pCTLfEySl0yOQP3-V-C1fXOY9vvQNKp3xh4/s1600/doctor-strange3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLNpgQCIydAFnjdqG9EAenuWvbFGYOrsqplBJ7j4_tp7FRu_UFMc5gjVG4kUpFmm3zV21QqHO6YRzGTqatqfySEj6ZhV2jEECOSY9_vk7pCTLfEySl0yOQP3-V-C1fXOY9vvQNKp3xh4/s320/doctor-strange3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Above, below; the range of Concept Art produced for <i>Doctor Strange </i>shows the sheer quality of the production. Marvel wanted to make sure they got this one right...</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">All of which brings us to the usual; you know, the bit where I award the film a rating; well, I'm going to break a habit of a Blog-time and let YOU, the reader rate the film. That's right; either you've seen it at the flicks or I-max or wherever or you need to buy a Blu-ray/DVD or whichever-then tell ME what you thought of the film. Ratings out of ten please and a short message informing me why you awarded it your rating. I look forward to your thoughts... Excelsior!. </span></span><br />
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-5456892085683265072017-02-28T23:18:00.001+00:002017-02-28T23:18:20.313+00:00Sherlock Holmes and the Whitechapel Murders-Promo Video<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/llNs8zn16yg?vq=highres" width="480"></iframe>Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-12595216424763507162017-02-20T22:23:00.000+00:002017-02-20T22:23:20.603+00:00Fifteen Reasons why Connery was the best Bond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-44704912341746345652017-01-31T16:55:00.000+00:002017-01-31T16:55:00.226+00:00GETTING INTO A CAT FLAP-REVIEW AND EXCLUSIVE AUTHOR INTERVIEW <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hitting
the doormat at the Volcano recently, <i>Cat Flap </i><span style="font-style: normal;">is
the latest novel from Yorkshire-based author Ian Jarvis. Available
from MX publishing, Amazon, Foyles and probably a seedy gent in the
local pub, the book is attractively priced at £11.99, or 13.99 if
you live in 'Euros.' Me neither; never heard of the place. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">There's
a Kindle version for you trendy young things at £5.99 and I would
suspect, an Audio Book is probably in the works as MX do a nice line
in Audio Books. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Weighing in
at 344 pages (the book </span><i>actually </i><span style="font-style: normal;">weighs
907 grams...), with an evocative cover featuring the Shambles, an
ancient and distinctive part of the City of York. It's in and around
this medieval city that the action takes place. Bernard Quist is a
Consulting Detective, very much </span><span style="font-style: normal;">in
the Sherlock Holmes tradition, but with his own unique personality;
Jarvis isn't into cloning here-the character is solitary,
exceptionally gifted and smart... but there the similarity ends.
Apart from the Calabash pipe he keeps in his desk...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Quist's
employee and p</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">rotégé</span>
<span style="font-style: normal;">is one John Watson, a street-smart
black kid who seems to have taken the job for a laugh and provides
much of the subsequent laughter along the way. This is a lucky thing
as the going gets very dark, very gory and extremely sinister.
Purists be warned; don't moan, the author hasn't 'made Watson
black'-this isn't Idris Elba and James Bond, this is an entirely new
character who happens to have that name and happens to be the
protagonist's companion. This isn't splitting hairs as the character
really is a fresh, lively addition to the proceedings. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
story revolves around a conspiracy to murder women, a mysterious and
secretive pharmaceutical company and a nebulous and shadowy
organization known as 'The Elite'. Along with Watson and a hilarious
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">playboy</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
named Rex Grant, Quist must solve the murders, unveil the secrets of
the pharma company and penetrate to the heart of the Elite. As if
this wasn't enough for any novel, there's an ancient and evil aspect
to the organization that lifts the whole story from the realms of
detective fiction into </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
supernatural. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">N</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ow,
the book does contain the efficacious word and a few others, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">some
of the humour is dark and not always politically correct (Which is
why we love it here!) </span><span style="font-style: normal;">so be
warned, it's not Enid Blyton, but the humour turns what would
otherwise be a </span><span style="font-style: normal;">quality
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">horror-slash murder-mystery
into a genuinely fun and enjoyable tale. The jokes are fairly
relentless at times, very apt, dry and funny. Readers from foreign
climes might be taken aback at some of the humour here, but it's
typical British </span><i>'I may be about to die horribly, but I'm
damned if I'm going out without a quick gag'</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
stuff and it keeps you smiling throughout. Holmes fans will </span><span style="font-style: normal;">also
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">appreciate the 'Easter Eggs'
sprinkled through the narrative; for examples, the </span><i>Grimpen</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
Housing Estate and a character named </span><i>Atwill</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
are just two of the many. This isn't a Sherlock Holmes story </span><i>per
se, </i><span style="font-style: normal;">but a bold and clever move
away from the traditional, with unique characters and settings that
bring the idea of Sleuth and Sidekick right into 2017. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Refreshingly,
the Police aren't all wooden-headed dunces gaping in admiration as
the Hero shows them up for fools; they simply don't know how to deal
with the nature of the crimes they face and are shown as flesh and
blood humans. Sometimes a little </span><span style="font-style: normal;">less</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
flesh and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">more </span><span style="font-style: normal;">blood
than they'd like...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Should
you buy </span><i>Cat Flap</i><span style="font-style: normal;">?;
well, for £11.99 you could buy </span><span style="font-style: normal;">an
impressive pile of elastic bands, to say naught of the paper-clip
possibilities. Where's the fun in that?; buy the book, have some
laughs, see if you can solve the mystery with Bernie Quist!. Our
rating is 4.</span><span style="font-style: normal;">9</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
out of 5 here, but we might be jealous, so see what you think...</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/search?ssv=cat+flap"><span style="font-style: normal;">http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/search?ssv=cat+flap</span></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Cat-Flap-Ian-Jarvis/dp/1787050416">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Cat-Flap-Ian-Jarvis/dp/1787050416</a></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR IAN JARVIS</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></span>
</div>
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<pre class="western"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How did you get from fighting fires to becoming an author?</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I spent three decades with West Yorkshire Fire and Rescue, attending </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">countless blazes and traffic accidents, many involving fatalities, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">along with chemical incidents and water rescues. I retired in 2014 and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I wasn’t sorry; I miss the camaraderie and constant humour, but </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">certainly not the incidents. You’d probably need to question the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">mental health of anyone who actually missed fires and car smashes. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One job that’s difficult to forget involved walking out of a house fire </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">seconds before the whole building exploded. Fire engines are fitted </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with cameras and you can see the footage on YouTube if you type in </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">‘Castleford gas explosion’. I’ve been writing stories and magazine </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">articles since 97, although it’s only recently that I’ve become serious </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">about this and swapped the fire hose for a laptop. This was mostly </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">due to my retirement, and the fact that a laptop is useless for </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">extinguishing blazes.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Who are your favourite authors?</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I started reading at a very young age, but weirdly I’ve never had an </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">all-time favourite. After watching Thunderball when I was about </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">eight, I got my mother to buy me the novel followed by the others </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in the James Bond series. I loved Ian Fleming, although the books </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">were very different to the films and I remember wondering what </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">some of the words meant; words like bastard and buttocks. Many kids </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">at my school detested reading the set works in English Lit’ – they saw </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">it as a chore – but I couldn’t see the problem and read them twice over </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">before the exams. At thirteen I was into the Dennis Wheatley occult </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">novels, and later I discovered all the horror writers including Stephen </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">King. I visited his house in Maine last year to take pictures, including </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">the obligatory one of his spider-web gates. I’m available for stalking </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">duties most weekends.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Where did the character of Bernie Quist come from? Is he based on </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">real-life people for instance?</span></span>
</span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Quist is a contemporary Sherlock Holmes and I was originally going </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">to base him on Basil Rathbone. Before I read Conan Doyle’s books, I </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">grew up with the old films starring Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Jeremy </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Brett was the best and most accurate portrayal of Holmes, but my </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">heart will always belong to this earlier pair, although why the genius </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">detective would have Bruce’s character assisting him is a bigger </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">mystery than any of his cases. Bumbling and dafter than a brush, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bruce’s Watson would make a wonderful friend, but he wouldn’t be </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">your first choice as an ally when facing Moriarty. In making Quist </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">modern, he lost the Rathbone similarities and, don’t ask me why, but </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I often had Hugh Grant in mind when visualising his looks and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">eloquent voice. I have to admit, there’s quite a bit of me in there too.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Are you writing the next Quist mystery and, if so, can you drop any </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">hints as to the direction it’s taking him?</span></span>
</span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next mystery, the Music of Sound, is finished and will be out soon. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There are some hints in the rear cover blurb…</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A contemporary Sherlock Holmes, Bernie Quist operates as a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">consultant detective from Baker Avenue in the city of York. His </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">personality and deductive methods resemble the celebrated sleuth </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and his assistant is named Watson, although this Watson is a youth </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">from the Grimpen housing estate and he's definitely no doctor. The </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">mismatched duo take on bizarre cases which invariably lead into the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">realms of the supernatural, a shadowy world Quist is all too familiar </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Their friend Rex Grant has disappeared from an Edinburgh hotel. He </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">vanished without paying the bill, but the police seem more concerned </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with the murdered girl in his room. Quist and Watson are intrigued by </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rex’s connection to the superstar singer Ligeia and the lethal </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">mercenary soldiers who act as her management team. Irana Adler </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">heads the squad – a female Colonel who doesn’t take kindly to being </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">investigated – and Quist is amazed to discover that Laurel and Hardy </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">are part of her team, which is not only surprising, but pretty much </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">impossible.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Something very peculiar is going on and Ligeia’s musical voice isn’t </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">quite as sweet as it sounds...</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m currently walking the York walls to dream up the third novel, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">involving the infamous massacre in Clifford’s Tower, the National </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Railway Museum, several nasty murders and a really nice fish and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">chip restaurant in Whitby.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Do you have any tips and warnings for aspiring writers?</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every home has a computer now, which makes it easy for anyone to </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">try their hand at a book. Many rackets exploit these writers and big </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">money can be made. They advertise as publishers, and accept every </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">manuscript they’re sent. They don’t read them, they just put them out </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">on Kindle and offer ‘print-on-demand’ paperbacks and then take a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">big cut from every sale. The paperbacks are priced ridiculously high, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">but it doesn’t matter because the author and their family always buy </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">some and, meanwhile, hundreds more manuscripts are pouring in. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Preditors & Editors is a good website. It lists these ‘author mills’ and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">also the reputable publishers and agents.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s always best to sign with an agent as most publishers won’t deal </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with new authors. Unfortunately it’s as hard to find an agent as it is </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">to find a publisher. Most will reply with a standard rejection email, </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">but you should keep trying. Publishers use agents as filters. They’re </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">business people who will only entertain money-spinners, so the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">publisher knows whatever the agent brings them has been vetted and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">it’s viable. Remember, publishers aren’t there to propagate art – they </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">want something that will sell. Your book doesn’t need to be good; it </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">just needs to sell. If a ‘celebrity’ such as Victoria Beckham writes a </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">novel, irrespective of how poor it is, it’ll be snapped up.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cat Flap has a lot of humour. Where do you get your sense of humour </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">from?</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve always been able to see the funny side of things – it definitely </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">helps keep you sane. Sometimes it’s best not to point out the funny </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">side, like when you’re at funerals. As I mentioned, my lasting </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">memories of the Fire Service centre more on the fun, the never-ending </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">practical jokes and the incredible black humour. What joy it is to open </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">a tin of soup at a barn fire in the freezing early hours, only to find </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">someone has switched the labels with a tin of dogfood. The fire service </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">humour is relentless, it colours your outlook on life, and I think much </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of it has rubbed off in my writing style.</span></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You’ve obviously done a lot of research into the supernatural – are you </span></span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">a skeptic or believer?</span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve been interested in these things since my late teens, and yes, I’ve </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">done more research over the years than you can imagine. I’ve known </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">countless occultists, psychics, magicians, parapsychologists and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">witches, including some that are quite famous, and only a very few </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">were convincing. I’ve even met someone who claimed to have </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">encountered a werewolf. Unfortunately, this is an area where money </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">can easily be made from the gullible, and the supernatural draws </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">charlatans, idiots and the deluded like moths to a (black) candle. </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">People really do want to believe, so fake psychics, healers and </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">wiccans don’t need to try too hard to get their cash, or to get them into </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">bed. When dealing with this world, you always need to exercise </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">caution, and before you accept what you’re hearing, or seeing, you </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">have to be sceptical and exhaust all the other possibilities (including </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">some fairly obvious ones) before you turn to paranormal </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">explanations.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After all that, I haven’t said whether I’m a sceptic or a believer, but I </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">see these two words as very black and white, so I’m going to sit on the </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">fence (around Borley Rectory) and say I’m neither.</span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre class="western"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></pre>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many thanks to Ian for this interview; for more on Ian Jarvis, visit his site; </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Paytone One;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
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<a href="https://www.ianjarviswriter.com/single-post/2016/10/27/Sherlock-in-a-Flap">https://www.ianjarviswriter.com/single-post/2016/10/27/Sherlock-in-a-Flap</a></div>
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Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-19970496593372027292017-01-16T17:25:00.000+00:002017-01-16T17:27:53.455+00:00UPDATE; NOW AVAILABLE FROM AMAZON...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yes, I'm back pumping my book again; you can now Pre-Order my Sherlock Holmes novel from Amazon-click the link below to be whisked away with effortless speed and precision should you care to blast a tenner on the book that took me two years to research and write. See Victorian London burst from the pages before your very eyes!. Gasp at the terror that was Jack the Ripper!. Cheer as Sherlock Holmes and Watson pursue the fiend through the murky labyrinth that was (and is) the East End!. Grind your teeth at my audacity in plugging this twice!. Watch this space for exciting freebies!. Realise I've been on those marketing blogs again!. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sherlock-Holmes-Whitechapel-Murders-account/dp/1787050599/ref=sr_1_cc_4?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1484502866&sr=1-4-catcorr&keywords=SHERLOCK+HOLMES+AND+THE+WHITECHAPEL+MURDERS">https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sherlock-Holmes-Whitechapel-Murders-account/dp/1787050599/ref=sr_1_cc_4?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1484502866&sr=1-4-catcorr&keywords=SHERLOCK+HOLMES+AND+THE+WHITECHAPEL+MURDERS</a></div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-81469408111363718452017-01-14T03:19:00.003+00:002017-01-14T03:19:58.130+00:00Sherlock Holmes and the Whitechapel Murders, an account of the matter by John Watson, M.D. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Fantastic news!; my first novel is, as you may have read, due out in
March. MX Publishing are taking Pre-Orders now, the link is below.
London is in the grip of the most notorious murderer of the Victorian
era. Only Sherlock Holmes can solve the mystery of the identity of 'Jack
the Ripper'... or can he?. Along with his staunch companion, John
Watson and his brother Mycroft, Holmes is plunged into a relentless
chase through the labyrinth of East London. The truth is revealed
through a series of clues only a genius could hope to unravel, but who
is the mysterious 'Professor'?. What devilry does his organization
plan?. What connection is there to the Ripper murders?. Everything will
be laid before you as it was to Holmes, every clue and lead. Can <i>you </i>solve the crimes alongside Sherlock Holmes?. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><a href="http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/product/9781787050594/Sherlock+Holmes+and+The+Whitechapel+Murders+-+An+account+of+the+matter+by+John+Watson+M.D.">http://www.mxpublishing.co.uk/product/9781787050594/Sherlock+Holmes+and+The+Whitechapel+Murders+-+An+account+of+the+matter+by+John+Watson+M.D.</a></b></div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-54894229814278414432017-01-07T14:06:00.001+00:002017-01-16T17:37:49.060+00:00 Key Largo-Huston's Brilliance, Bogart's Presence and Edward G.Robinson's triumphant return.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsTtAaYoP4yd5eZxhsUEIws4tRoDDl7_OqQJphnokT56qRsu2bDz9gZthL_qGjMgyQ4PKr2ufwDNNOL7tIUTVq-OvQ-vgKxQcRsS-FKPNmhWatueHMI5iAM5LRofaUJTfp2ceww8svaU/s1600/vlcsnap-00001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsTtAaYoP4yd5eZxhsUEIws4tRoDDl7_OqQJphnokT56qRsu2bDz9gZthL_qGjMgyQ4PKr2ufwDNNOL7tIUTVq-OvQ-vgKxQcRsS-FKPNmhWatueHMI5iAM5LRofaUJTfp2ceww8svaU/s320/vlcsnap-00001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZR2FOUuxyAyZCBuEpdUpHoMmaAy71G4ZorqkPePyt5IskNoWfHdrpt5jrDE4prZJ8GaR_n-EacUI2G3OwxpoXhgIcFq3ovXhKQlN91MHIFjD0jCDR4jel1JB4akTDifxuu3BY8t2CEg/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+poster+8.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZR2FOUuxyAyZCBuEpdUpHoMmaAy71G4ZorqkPePyt5IskNoWfHdrpt5jrDE4prZJ8GaR_n-EacUI2G3OwxpoXhgIcFq3ovXhKQlN91MHIFjD0jCDR4jel1JB4akTDifxuu3BY8t2CEg/s320/Key+Largo+1948+poster+8.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Poster for <i>Key Largo.</i></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Police car chases the Key West bus down on the Seven Mile Bridge,
Sheriff Ben Wade talks to the driver as his Deputy goes aboard. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">They're after two Indians-young bucks in fancy shirts. The bus is
full of Indians. The snappy dressers aren't aboard. Turning to the
passenger on the seat behind his, the driver tells him these boys
must be locals; they always head for home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>'Home being Key Largo'
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">the man replies. The bus goes on
its way, the palms bent with the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">hot,
dry wind of the late season. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Pulling up outside the Largo Hotel, the
man alights and enters the hotel. </span></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As he enters the lobby, a
flashily-dressed man in white hat, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">suspenders</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">spectators looks up from
his magazine. The passenger rings the service bell and fans himself
with his hat, unused to the autumn heat. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcW9MpR39i123EcbZw_pU48379sGmc6a4dHWz-iml0E8RU8UJRVjXOnBBlBQJZwjiW0HWTDQbErJFvH8bvYfqPuRNh3iiO_fq6dyXb4bbLxl_XKXadPsce5KrUVK3tFHJD4EVx8r00ZE/s1600/vlcsnap-00007.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcW9MpR39i123EcbZw_pU48379sGmc6a4dHWz-iml0E8RU8UJRVjXOnBBlBQJZwjiW0HWTDQbErJFvH8bvYfqPuRNh3iiO_fq6dyXb4bbLxl_XKXadPsce5KrUVK3tFHJD4EVx8r00ZE/s320/vlcsnap-00007.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The other wants to know his
business. Is Mister Temple around?. </span><i>He ain't here. Hotel's
closed. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">When will he be back?. </span><i>I
don't know. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">The passenger
follows the sound of a horse race through to the bar where a
well-shaped woman sits on a stool, two well-fed fellows lounging
either side of the bar of a type with the sharp dresser. The
passenger wants a beer, but they tell him the bar's closed and Mr.
Swank reminds him the hotel's closed. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zH1CXRDw8DNlRAKVXm_jHRcqwcPbr8NGZbdGcr8rqEeQF4Ld2POIotNfnp1Ls_SGKSVi6p8yRVLcTEVSDcdDSaUbnO8lSc6AzmJL-YzNqfMUh8bYfuyAaNy8cRqFf1piNi35rP2TsMs/s1600/023-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zH1CXRDw8DNlRAKVXm_jHRcqwcPbr8NGZbdGcr8rqEeQF4Ld2POIotNfnp1Ls_SGKSVi6p8yRVLcTEVSDcdDSaUbnO8lSc6AzmJL-YzNqfMUh8bYfuyAaNy8cRqFf1piNi35rP2TsMs/s320/023-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Toots (Right) as played by Harry Lewis.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Chin on hand, the woman orders
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Angel, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
man behind the bar to give him a drink. Her voice is harsh, brassy...
and soused. The 'bartender' produces a bottle and the passenger seats
himself next to his new champion, her interest focusing on Lady
Bountiful, who is chasing Bargain Lass to the post. The passenger
watches, amused as the woman slaps the bar and shouts for Lady
Bountiful, who lives up to her name and comes home first. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCEG6HwVRcEtX0ERirLBD6wuEAPEEuXJqa91n9QgcW-FO_DY9Pa9Ofab5cgnDZ-DfLcA3JFEuH_d_aENw8vzBX7S24be6xEKReJkqmpvzYMVKstmB0CVN3N4W7qm2tGthaZzZcYGsZwA/s1600/2017-01-01_130349.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCEG6HwVRcEtX0ERirLBD6wuEAPEEuXJqa91n9QgcW-FO_DY9Pa9Ofab5cgnDZ-DfLcA3JFEuH_d_aENw8vzBX7S24be6xEKReJkqmpvzYMVKstmB0CVN3N4W7qm2tGthaZzZcYGsZwA/s320/2017-01-01_130349.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Claire Trevor won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role as Gaye Dawn.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
buzzer-board sounds, room eleven and the mood changes; </span><i>it's
him.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> A drink is prepared, the
racing fan offers to deliver it, but White-Hat reaches over her to
take it. </span><i>If he wants her, he'll send for her. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Trying
to retain some dignity, she goes back to her seat and her paper. She
likes Fancy Free, but he's carrying a lot of weight. What's his
opinion?. Fancy Free. Does he play the ponies?. No-he hasn't the
money. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHQY8uuL_pbD-CyX1upHq_6vc5LfhL29XTAQATloUc3gr-sXncxnbq5opBydMp3933CjXauzEBZPE77OV0EYQbD9_rdd99alNjgVvV51Kc3-59HG1w9wx2cCLvgD6l1UtslgZ7HA7a6U/s1600/KeyLargo-1948-WB-half.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHQY8uuL_pbD-CyX1upHq_6vc5LfhL29XTAQATloUc3gr-sXncxnbq5opBydMp3933CjXauzEBZPE77OV0EYQbD9_rdd99alNjgVvV51Kc3-59HG1w9wx2cCLvgD6l1UtslgZ7HA7a6U/s320/KeyLargo-1948-WB-half.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alternative Poster.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She orders another
beer from Angel, explaining she always plays the long shots, that way
when she wins the horse pays big. Take Fancy Free; Morning Line at 12
to 1-that's ridiculous, he should be at least 4-1!. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
passenger lights a smoke as she continues explaining her system. Look
at the breeding-by Chance Play out of Misconstrue by Omaha, but
hasn't won in eleven races. Today he's in a $3,000 claiming race, it
oughta be a cinch. What's his name?. McCloud, Frank-by John out of
Helen. She's Dawn-Miss Gaye Dawn. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">'Toots',
t</span><span style="font-style: normal;">he fancy kid is back. 'He'
wants her. Excusing herself, Gaye goes to 'him', fixing her face as
she totters unsteadily away. The hoodlum leaning on the bar asks who
the new arrival is. The kid doesn't know. What does he want?; Old man
Temple. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Turning from his
glass, the hoodlum tells McCloud the hotel's closed for another
month. So what are they doing here?. </span><i>We're guests. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">By
special arrangement. McCloud doesn't want to stay, he's just looking
for Mr. Temple. Jerking a thumb, the hood says he's out by the
boathouse. </span></span></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVw5_Xhum-aHdbVkrkEFT14Qen1VFazh76k7hkBR2uwBenbJ2cb4NbpsVxkGbF67r1BXaRcKuJ9zmrX1D1lMB1uvK9XriJ0gMgNJy2JAK0u2-gJAdnUcn6PLDecEyv7i_qlgzq4NMpME/s1600/032-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVw5_Xhum-aHdbVkrkEFT14Qen1VFazh76k7hkBR2uwBenbJ2cb4NbpsVxkGbF67r1BXaRcKuJ9zmrX1D1lMB1uvK9XriJ0gMgNJy2JAK0u2-gJAdnUcn6PLDecEyv7i_qlgzq4NMpME/s320/032-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">S</span><span style="font-style: normal;">tepping
outside, Frank sees </span><span style="font-style: normal;">James
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Temple sitting in his
wheelchair, watching a beautiful blonde girl working on the jetty, a
motor-yacht tied up alongside. Going up to the old man, Frank
introduces himself. The name rings a bell; not Major McCloud?. The
same. Suddenly animated, the elderly man calls the girl over; Nora.
When did he arrive?-Frank says a few minutes ago, on his way to Key
West. Running up, the girl takes Frank's hand as Mr. Temple explains
she's George's widow. McCloud explains he was in the same outfit as
Temple, Jnr overseas. She knows; she wrote him at St. Louis, but the
letter travelled to Portland, St. Paul and Memphis before it was sent
back. Frank's never been this far South before; everything's
different, hotter too. Well, don't expect it to get any cooler before
November, says the old man. The thermometer will get down to about a
hundred, the sand-flies and mosquitoes will disappear and it'll be
right livable for about three months, except for the tourists.
Indicating a lump of stone out to sea, Frank asks if it's Black
Caesar's Rock. Nora wonders how he knows, but for a man who's never
been to the Keys, he learned a lot from George. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">James</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
recalls George hunting for Blackbeard's treasure over there. He must
have dug ten thousand holes, finding nothing, but salt water every
time. </span></span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD2DKre2U0HxwiChYX4luYMcmGhCuoKhHqSEcCXCxjwTk-lBm0Cd8QRlGoV24X0vJzjXaI7YpPZ97H8YjIS2WW-0skDsJeGP66Cx7VJT2aNwpVExRNcgMDOun11ekm6X2g9IIfkyTgUM/s1600/5467.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD2DKre2U0HxwiChYX4luYMcmGhCuoKhHqSEcCXCxjwTk-lBm0Cd8QRlGoV24X0vJzjXaI7YpPZ97H8YjIS2WW-0skDsJeGP66Cx7VJT2aNwpVExRNcgMDOun11ekm6X2g9IIfkyTgUM/s320/5467.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">A French poster for the film.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Mr.
Temple asks Frank how long he intends to stay; an hour or so. The old
man isn't having any of it, surely he can stay longer-they have a lot
to talk about. McCloud agrees to talk for as long as he wants.
Turning to Nora, the old man says to give Frank George's room. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">As
she goes to fix it up, Sherrif Wade and his Deputy arrive. Any news
of the Osceola Brothers?. There isn't, but Old man Temple introduces
Frank to Ben </span><span style="font-style: normal;">and Deputy Clyde
Sawyer. The lawmen want to take a look around, but propelling himself
along in his chair, Temple says they won't find them here. Maybe
they're out in the mangrove swamps, but doubtless they'll hand
themselves in before morning. Ben says the longer they stay out the
tougher it'll be on them. Fool Indians; thirty days to go and they
bust out. Wisely, James explains thirty days is like thirty years to
an Indian. The Deputy still wants to look around, but Temple's word
is good for Ben Wade. Alone again, the old man tells Frank the
brothers grew up with George-there's no harm in them. All they did
was go to Palm Grove and get a s</span><span style="font-style: normal;">nootful</span><span style="font-style: normal;">,
started to take Florida back for the Indians. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Came
close to succeeding. </span></span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PMc26OaNcNIU2qqJCwxoq7irg8UWU_NQVWuKS5bTEUc0_OApXvaJw_o9h53LiPyS5h8HbaIW1jy-0uo-5VjCg9xwXOezHoH1oulfRoW2A-iiO0r0Sfs3T39v2mOgu_22u9EK9HPnFJg/s1600/2447468%252Cj8lRRzimVq0aW57pvmyVDqVmzOSWbpC9rjF0BAr1M6cCpzdB7gSn3YZw%252BbRYHkEGwyQHkgDu163xeErIJvHxhA%253D%253D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PMc26OaNcNIU2qqJCwxoq7irg8UWU_NQVWuKS5bTEUc0_OApXvaJw_o9h53LiPyS5h8HbaIW1jy-0uo-5VjCg9xwXOezHoH1oulfRoW2A-iiO0r0Sfs3T39v2mOgu_22u9EK9HPnFJg/s320/2447468%252Cj8lRRzimVq0aW57pvmyVDqVmzOSWbpC9rjF0BAr1M6cCpzdB7gSn3YZw%252BbRYHkEGwyQHkgDu163xeErIJvHxhA%253D%253D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During a break in filming the scene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Inside again, James introduces Frank to his
guests, but they've already met. Proudly, the old man informs them
Major McCloud was his son's c.o., fighting together from Salerno to
Cassino. Frank looks coldly at Bass-the sharp kid-as Frank says his
boy fell at Cassino. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Suddenly,
a shout of pain sounds from upstairs and Frank starts forward.
Upstairs, Nora watches as </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Hoff</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
marches </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the woman through to
number thirteen, throws her inside and locks the door after her.
Frank rushes up the stairs as old man Temple yells to know what's
going on. '</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Curly'</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
calls down nothing, but Temple calls for Nora. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Curly</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
appears at the stairs and says she's had one too many. Nora and Frank
confront </span><span style="font-style: normal;">him</span><span style="font-style: normal;">,
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">but he </span><span style="font-style: normal;">tells
them she's a lush, when she bends the elbow she starts seeing things.
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">A sock in the kisser is the
cure. Exchanging meaningful looks, Nora and Frank go through to his
room. He asks how long they have been there. </span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Curly, the fat one and
the woman showed up first. Mr. Temple told them the hotel was closed,
but they offered to rent the whole hotel for a week. It was so much
he couldn't refuse. Mr. Brown and the others turned up in the boat
four days back. Brown never leaves his room, except at night. The
others jump when he lifts a finger. Leaning back, Frank puzzles it
out. Out of season, in this heat-why would they sit down on Key
Largo?. Nora says they plan to leave tonight or tomorrow, then pauses
to ask if he was with George when he died. </span><i>Yes</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.
Was he in pain?. </span><i>He never knew what hit him.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
She asks him down to Dad's room when he's ready. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Leaving
to go downstairs, Nora is leered at by the gum-chewing Curly.
Crossing the hall, he leans against the door jamb in Frank's room and
introduces himself; Curly Hoff. He heard how Frank was with Temple's
son in Italy. The kid got it, huh?. Too bad... he hopes Frank didn't
take offence at the way they handled him downstairs. He caught them
at a bad time, he explains-they were ready to bite anybody's head
off-especially a certain blond's. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s
Frank gets ready to go downstairs, Curly tells him five of them are
down for the deep-sea fishing, all the way from Milwaukee. He follows
Frank downstairs, keeping up his patter as he goes. Planned it over a
year. So what happens?; one guy brings a dame after they all swore
'No Dames.' Well, if she isn't drunk and crying she's got a hangover
and arguin'. Everything's spoiled, all this dough for the world's
worst time. In a friendly way, he asks if Frank can blame them for
getting rude. He can't. Nora goes to answer the telephone as Curly
offers Frank a drink to make up for it. Hanging up, she says the
storm signals are up. Hurricane on its way. She shows Frank through
to the sitting room where the old man sits. A photo of his son sits
on the table, his </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Silver Star</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
sits next to a bundle of letters. Temple invites the Major to sit
down, but he reminds him the war's over; he's a civilian now. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeQVVa7vmhZjfGbdvtMY9iSpLEynOpKC2bM-e9r0xF5EiRxfJpnxp0ltlY-kQBtxFv1utCmurHJa_lkjDWVqOFKJgfbw9tGhSYCRlD7Goefc57QVcNM1wZvZz0N06cbML6IBouKH9PAk/s1600/vlcsnap-00010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeQVVa7vmhZjfGbdvtMY9iSpLEynOpKC2bM-e9r0xF5EiRxfJpnxp0ltlY-kQBtxFv1utCmurHJa_lkjDWVqOFKJgfbw9tGhSYCRlD7Goefc57QVcNM1wZvZz0N06cbML6IBouKH9PAk/s320/vlcsnap-00010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The old
man knows men who went over don't like to discuss it, but all he
knows came from a War Department letter and it's left him in the
dark. Leaning forward earnestly, Frank promises to tell him
everything he knows. Well, he was a good soldier-he'd have been
proud, just as every man in the Regiment was proud of George. He
didn't just do his duty, he was a born hero. He didn't fear death,
only dishonour. It was a wonder he made it to Cassino. Her eyes on
somewhere else, Nora says when you believe like he did, dying isn't
very important. </span></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1k2K4xW8dTpa62bWJqZYvj2nP3YEklYjv6OHBM4_DZCo8iL6JH-VTvZIU1yXkY9vTq37L2-3Q-2jvQA-QMMqCo7UB0LjhxAXVncS5ywuPZZiR-98489nfKdMzwP8E3Myq1sDoMfTZMU/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+poster+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1k2K4xW8dTpa62bWJqZYvj2nP3YEklYjv6OHBM4_DZCo8iL6JH-VTvZIU1yXkY9vTq37L2-3Q-2jvQA-QMMqCo7UB0LjhxAXVncS5ywuPZZiR-98489nfKdMzwP8E3Myq1sDoMfTZMU/s320/Key+Largo+1948+poster+2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank
reflects on this and recalls a time outside San Pietro, where
George's observation post took a direct hit. The sole survivor,
George stayed awake three days and nights to direct artillery fire.
Frank was on the other end of the line for much of it and to stay
awake, George talked. And talked. About James and Nora. They'd be
surprised to learn how much he knows about them; for instance, her
wedding ring bears the inscription 'Evermore' inside. And does the
old man recall what he told young George what the hollow above the
upper lip was?. He told him a story that before his birth he knew all
the secrets of life and death. At his birth an angel came, placed his
finger there to seal his lips. Temple remembers; George can't have
been more than seven years old when he told him that tale. He asks
what it's like where his son lies buried. <i>Just crosses on a slope.
High up, there's the remains of a church... You can see a river from
where George is. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Resolutely, the
old man says he'd like to pay a visit to that place. Maybe they'll
both go; him and Nora. After all, it belongs to them, that plot of
ground. Offering Frank his hand in thanks, the younger man clasps it
in both of his and thanks him, as the storm shutter bangs, announcing
the first breath of the storm.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s
she goes to fix the window, Nora tells Temple that there was a storm
warning. He tells her to see to the boat. His duty to his friend's
father done, Frank leaves the old man with his memories. And his
grief. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNq9ylhVW4kjaIei28Tnwlk07WgHI5nUD7fqWideaz2liyhv0ALDzf4fDUwkhxR8esPsiIYyHKMH0_NeMDqDVeVZC6GwqnS8w8Ch98CmTq1rQ-W6u5WNn6KawLz5Bp47cZS-gfARaJK4A/s1600/vlcsnap-00012.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNq9ylhVW4kjaIei28Tnwlk07WgHI5nUD7fqWideaz2liyhv0ALDzf4fDUwkhxR8esPsiIYyHKMH0_NeMDqDVeVZC6GwqnS8w8Ch98CmTq1rQ-W6u5WNn6KawLz5Bp47cZS-gfARaJK4A/s320/vlcsnap-00012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As they walk, Nora asks what brought Frank down here. He likes
the sea and thought he might make his living on it. Doing what?.
Doesn't matter, he says, hand on a fishing boat maybe. Life's become
too complicated. What did he do before the war?-circulation manager
for a newspaper. He went back, but couldn't stick it. He's tried
various jobs, diriving taxis, waiting table, anything to make a
living. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXE1KhToFnq_PU29L5raCTGVcsJpK28ozLFPh7OZAFoOHU8ht6ejQQpdJF1qm6KTCKn5rcU4-2MXloN8OmgBS9v8ffyyysdJbWJ1MdxGwe5CVdUckyppVaGvmJbBq9fid_eUR0mdWItM/s1600/Humphrey+Bogart+Lauren+Bacall+Key+Largo+Movie+1948.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXE1KhToFnq_PU29L5raCTGVcsJpK28ozLFPh7OZAFoOHU8ht6ejQQpdJF1qm6KTCKn5rcU4-2MXloN8OmgBS9v8ffyyysdJbWJ1MdxGwe5CVdUckyppVaGvmJbBq9fid_eUR0mdWItM/s320/Humphrey+Bogart+Lauren+Bacall+Key+Largo+Movie+1948.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HzmpG0kvawjKk3_5frqtIWuBh89hIORtjBg9BS7xWW_HraUM5B8mmzeJtjME7ZkAIKE9kBFtWzwcAr6xfpw-FE4LY5_kO9HuVGWUX23hY8QRFiQK4InMTbGGKKywGznTU8p9ael9FG0/s1600/004-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HzmpG0kvawjKk3_5frqtIWuBh89hIORtjBg9BS7xWW_HraUM5B8mmzeJtjME7ZkAIKE9kBFtWzwcAr6xfpw-FE4LY5_kO9HuVGWUX23hY8QRFiQK4InMTbGGKKywGznTU8p9ael9FG0/s320/004-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real-life Husband and Wife Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in their fourth and last film together.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijr7bAvoIhl8WzodNLlKbsnA5HFwlgk6cjQKP6YSKpgf7XhRKXLVxkxGaKNp5Vw5RWJTbNDyPdGG5Crc5Z9eAeD2tHA3D5_1S725S0i1HYzUbpIztWFtUPKnWfbC8Rb6kjtGYfrlvXPxc/s1600/annex-bogart-humphrey-key-largo_nrfpt_14.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijr7bAvoIhl8WzodNLlKbsnA5HFwlgk6cjQKP6YSKpgf7XhRKXLVxkxGaKNp5Vw5RWJTbNDyPdGG5Crc5Z9eAeD2tHA3D5_1S725S0i1HYzUbpIztWFtUPKnWfbC8Rb6kjtGYfrlvXPxc/s320/annex-bogart-humphrey-key-largo_nrfpt_14.jpg" width="320" /></a> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As they pass the boathouse they find Curly and another man,
Ralph Feeney waiting. Hauling the boat in, Frank asks how the ground
tackle is off the stern-Nora says it's very heavy-so he suggests
doubling up on the bowlines. He steps aboard, Nora asking where he
learned about boats. Frank tells her his first sweetheart was a boat.
Curly calls out to him; 'How do you like </span><i>that </i><span style="font-style: normal;">boat?.' </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzXaCRgQgYCzS96gAdpj7ev7Ne3JzLzF917HEv_MknajzyZ51K4pVxsi-px-4No2b7XZrPm1Fxdsrz1bOu3yCRojPbSiL9UMaEPjrVGCNBw1aNtJOKahYOLXHw4DZhVd7zxeu9xoKvCA/s1600/vlcsnap-00013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzXaCRgQgYCzS96gAdpj7ev7Ne3JzLzF917HEv_MknajzyZ51K4pVxsi-px-4No2b7XZrPm1Fxdsrz1bOu3yCRojPbSiL9UMaEPjrVGCNBw1aNtJOKahYOLXHw4DZhVd7zxeu9xoKvCA/s320/vlcsnap-00013.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqBFzVpiGFSsdQFWFixmSF_QOgr7W7kbjBzUxtPIAJ8-bxtphXhPkx1eBjzs6DtFmTua65MJUwbNaI1cH5g6m4Ccwfn7us_6-y59MpH2BwVIf45KPrk_GrkbZQxSs1WiTCysG5DHVKEk/s1600/1468915526-578ddf46de557-036-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqBFzVpiGFSsdQFWFixmSF_QOgr7W7kbjBzUxtPIAJ8-bxtphXhPkx1eBjzs6DtFmTua65MJUwbNaI1cH5g6m4Ccwfn7us_6-y59MpH2BwVIf45KPrk_GrkbZQxSs1WiTCysG5DHVKEk/s320/1468915526-578ddf46de557-036-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Director John Huston with his stars. Huston directs a taut, claustrophobic and memorable thriller. </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqZPRAp4W5xRtcO2VXGzu6LHBgO9cIDqcv0BqOeUFSlWGsoBgJdDr2kYt_VxRcW_iGVMWIFQIPKur9rpxhet0Gn_5y3M4x5WRdmObJY7PpkIvbhOCeNjdMUadYJSYfd7O7xVf28sH6bE/s1600/ef795b10664be495b670fdf11fc141c0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqZPRAp4W5xRtcO2VXGzu6LHBgO9cIDqcv0BqOeUFSlWGsoBgJdDr2kYt_VxRcW_iGVMWIFQIPKur9rpxhet0Gn_5y3M4x5WRdmObJY7PpkIvbhOCeNjdMUadYJSYfd7O7xVf28sH6bE/s320/ef795b10664be495b670fdf11fc141c0.jpg" width="255" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Looking over his shoulder at the sleek lines of the motor yacht,
Frank answers him; </span><i>Nice craft. She oughta be away from
those reefs with this blow coming up... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Expertly,
he coils the bowline and tosses it for Nora to catch and tie. The two
hoods walk off, leaving Nora to watch Frank, a smile of obvious
pleasure on her face at seeing a professional at work. Or is it
something else?. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uqo1GT6RBAi2Guo0lJD5w84goUfHcpv_53qNsKjckT4bMfyEXWbTyI8y3y26rrsy-dEYBY14ye5w1LhJ7ij9ky57gKBKVmQekdYpPZFOCBew4TBcJRy19mN6HiIA9GECawPRub2M-yU/s1600/vlcsnap-00014.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uqo1GT6RBAi2Guo0lJD5w84goUfHcpv_53qNsKjckT4bMfyEXWbTyI8y3y26rrsy-dEYBY14ye5w1LhJ7ij9ky57gKBKVmQekdYpPZFOCBew4TBcJRy19mN6HiIA9GECawPRub2M-yU/s320/vlcsnap-00014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Spotting
the approach of several canoes, Nora calls out; it's Charlie Wenoka
and family, from Crawfish island. Charlie's royalty, a real Seminole
Prince no less. It's a whole family, children to an ancient
grandmother, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">her face
carrying a line for every one of her years</span><span style="font-style: normal;">.
The Indians pull up and Frank helps the old lady onto the dock. As he
does, he misses the two young Indian men in flashy shirts arriving in
a motor canoe. Nora spots them, but the significance is lost on her.
The old lady is Mama Ochobee-all the Indians round here are her
descendants. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The old girl is
over a hundred, but gamely asks if Frank's her new husband, before
settling for a cigarette. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxm1nC93RNDuGATHtvMV7tjHKpm-OzCnjINllQ01cfzJn8MsGjWAO3nv2GeVFwej0Aupaocu7kLNqvVzW6wlsE5GqxKhIUH3tNoahO9nrxMrTXXeFE9aDvMqdEPc-iTRlvbCCWtubZjxo/s1600/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxm1nC93RNDuGATHtvMV7tjHKpm-OzCnjINllQ01cfzJn8MsGjWAO3nv2GeVFwej0Aupaocu7kLNqvVzW6wlsE5GqxKhIUH3tNoahO9nrxMrTXXeFE9aDvMqdEPc-iTRlvbCCWtubZjxo/s320/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">What we see on screen...</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdk3G7t493kFZJlRYqLfd_F-wBg6s5Rchcjw9obfuEaHs06xaTH1c_uar5crN7PVZ9ymoaqLedM71oxhxXsjTHLccwDMJWgVG4orhSLNfiFg0dMGAIJuYD5cHlNIdNnssVi6Tj-oXIe-0/s1600/020-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdk3G7t493kFZJlRYqLfd_F-wBg6s5Rchcjw9obfuEaHs06xaTH1c_uar5crN7PVZ9ymoaqLedM71oxhxXsjTHLccwDMJWgVG4orhSLNfiFg0dMGAIJuYD5cHlNIdNnssVi6Tj-oXIe-0/s320/020-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">...And the reality; the studio set-up at Warner Bros.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Nora asks Mama if there's a pretty big blow
coming, the old lady answering by walking off the dock in search of
shelter at the Hotel. The Indians always know when a storm is coming;
more will come later, from as far as Matacumbe Key. Her arms on the
shoulders of a pretty girl, Nora says she was born in the hotel lobby
during the last big blow. She introduces the two fancy shirts; Tom
and John, from the Osceola people. They shake Frank's hand warmly,
Tom telling Nora they got Mr. Temple's message, better to give
themselves up to the police. What Mr. Temple says, they do, he's a
good friend to the Indian. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Walking
back to the hotel, Nora tells Frank the Indians see old man Temple as
the United States of America. He</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
states she's very happy here-does she ever get lonely?. Shaking that
one away, she asks if George ever told him how they met. At a USO
dance; he was lonesome, she worked at a defense plant. She was lonely
too. Before George her life hadn't been good, she didn't have much in
the way of a home. George gave her roots; when he went overseas she
stayed here with his Father. She just took hold, like one of those
mangroves. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The wind is
getting up, the first lightning slashes at the sky and its time to
get indoors. At the hotel, they spot the Sheriff's car; they always
get their man. Nora asks Frank to close the shutters while she
fetches the oil lamps, watched with a leer by Garcia, who's smoking a
cigarette through a holder and playing with some cards. Feeney and
'Toots', the kid lounge around in the excessive heat. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODAUC4_cUYSJfl251KWXWVyZKVqXc-9DUdF9IU6E1srSAffi-MClpNCS8z40U0QgN9nRjwBu_Lk0CeIgbQCrWblwArpAFUVTukklDSBLLtsyFS2-aXLWS_p0d8nU6TsTYUaVDYIYwsY0/s1600/vlcsnap-00017.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODAUC4_cUYSJfl251KWXWVyZKVqXc-9DUdF9IU6E1srSAffi-MClpNCS8z40U0QgN9nRjwBu_Lk0CeIgbQCrWblwArpAFUVTukklDSBLLtsyFS2-aXLWS_p0d8nU6TsTYUaVDYIYwsY0/s320/vlcsnap-00017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
Frank steps inside, Curly asks 'What about that drink?'. Declining
politely, the ex-Major goes about his business. Nervous, Feeney asks
Curly what exactly goes on with one of these hurricanes. The wind
blows so hard the sea gets up on its hind legs, walks over the land.
</span><i>Rain Rain, go away... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">The
two Osceola brothers roll old man Temple into the lobby and he sends
them outside to turn themselves in. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">All
of a sudden, Toots starts laughing. Going over to him, hands in
pockets, Curly asks what's so funny. In his magazine there's a joke;
two cons inside, one sells the other a fountain pen. Guaranteed for
</span><i>life</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. For life,
geddit?. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sourly, Curly
replies he gets it all right. Temple calls over to where Frank's
fastening the shutters; has he seen Wade or Sawyer around?. He
hasn't. Curly offers Nora and her father in law a drink; coldly, she
refuses and James just waves the suggestion away-he's not supposed to
drink. What about Frank?; another time, he says. Curly's getting the
idea he doesn't much like him-does he have smallpox or something?.
Toots is laughing again; another joke. An elevator's busting through
the roof of a building and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">the
elevator boy tells the passengers; 'See, I told you there was no
eleventh floor.' This at least gets a laugh from Curly (I was chuckling too), but then he turns sour again, asks the kid
to explain it for them. </span><i>Wise guy...</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">By
now it's obvious to a fencepost these guys are gangsters, unwelcome
ones at that. Feeney asks Nora what the idea of the oil lamps is-can
anyone be this stupid?-and she tells him. Sweating with more than
just heat, he says he hears Hurricanes rip off roofs and send people
into the sky. Absolutely, says Temple; it's raining in on Ben's car,
he asks Nora to go close the windows. Chewing his eternal stick of
gum, Curly tells Ralph to do it, but Feeney's got the wind up and
refuses. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Taking a pull of his smoke, McCloud eyes these caricatures
with disdain. The telephone; Curly says he'll take it. It's the
Police station. When the caller asks for Mr. Temple he says he's not
here, neither Nora. Frank exchanges a confused glance with the girl
and Frank Temple rolls himself forward angrily. Curly says if Sawyer
shows up he'll get him to call them right back, Nora wrestling for
the phone. The fat gangster pushes her back and Frank's round the
counter in a flash, only to be held in check by the .38 special in
the hood's hand. Toots holds a colt automatic on him and the pretence
is dropped.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNDpL8fhiZLgwrt1jaZmT_PxaV6ReeYEHXFtZtkryQOywxtYfsgEeqyZWDyU-KhV8kPHuQMFzn5F-s9UdsnwdmDX4KW3XdPsTYYNr22rygX-9SjqOhzpyDWFQi2nURI5zixzTPbKwZDQ/s1600/028-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNDpL8fhiZLgwrt1jaZmT_PxaV6ReeYEHXFtZtkryQOywxtYfsgEeqyZWDyU-KhV8kPHuQMFzn5F-s9UdsnwdmDX4KW3XdPsTYYNr22rygX-9SjqOhzpyDWFQi2nURI5zixzTPbKwZDQ/s320/028-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Movie Gangster legend Edward G. Robinson is Johnny Rocco.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lounging
in his bath with a cigar and a paper, 'Mr. Brown'-once one of the
biggest names in crime, listens as the group bustles up to his room,
an electric fan cooling him, a cool drink helping it. He gets out of
the bath to towel himself as Curly walks nonchalantly in to tell him
what's happened, the luxury toiletries on the shelf below the mirror
testament to this man's lifestyle. Curly helps his boss into a silken
robe. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Walking through to the bedroom, 'Brown' comments you'd think
this rain would cool things off, but it don't. On the bed, Deputy
Sawyer, his head bleeding from a nasty gash. The gang boss slaps him
a few times, From the next room comes the voice of Temple, angry,
yelling for 'Brown.' He sees Frank first, standing, hands at his
sides and regards him with dark, glittering eyes. Eyes that have seen
a lot in their time. Old man Temple sits and Nora stands, guarded by
Toots and Angel. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The storm outside is gathering with intensity, as if
frustrated at these crooks holding up innocent people like this. The
gangster's gaze returns to Frank, who returns it with growing
recognition; even if he hasn't put a name to the face he knows this
man is a big wheel. Temple asks if they are thieves, if they want
money. Coolly, the kid replies they've come to steal all his towels.
The automatic in his hand doesn't impress Temple one bit. He's
willing to bet Toots spends hours in front of a mirror posing, trying
to look tough. <i>You scum... </i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Telling Temple to shut up, the kid
turns his gun towards the helpless old cripple* and Frank steps
coldly between them. 'Brown' calls him off and steps into the room,
clearly in charge of everything and everyone in it. Plainly, he
states he doesn't want any trouble-with anybody. Now how's about it,
gonna act sensible?. Temple's eyes bore through the crime lord with
cold anger. He demands to know why they are pointing guns. <i>Now
look, pop, don't ask questions-what you don't know won't hurt you.
</i>They'll be out of there in a couple of hours. *Don't go crying;
I'm not heartless-it's what disabled people were called back then and
I'm keeping this in character, see?. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">'Mr.
Brown' asks Nora what they've got to eat, Pompano, maybe?. She
doesn't answer, but Temple asks if they are his prisoners. Put it
this way, says the gangster, you're gonna be his guests for a little
while. Convivial, he turns to Frank and tells him back in the day
they'd pay $10 for an order of Pompano, had it flown in to Chicago.
Served in a brown paper bag... got any champagne?, he asks Nora. Her
silence prompts Angel Garcia to answer for her; <i>'No champagne.'
</i>Too bad... A muffled groan from next door; Sawyer is coming
round. He stumbles through to the others and stops, riveted to the
spot. Recognition in his eyes, he tells the gang boss 'You won't get
away with it, Rocco.' As he goes to step forward, Toots trips him,
sending him crashing to the floor. Out cold. Nora rushes to his aid.
Temple asks why they hurt him; because he's a cop. Then why are they
here?. Spitefully, Rocco tells him to stop hollering and Frank
finally has the name he's been searching for. <i>Johnny </i><i>Rocco...
</i>of course!. At the sound of his name, the crime boss looks as if
someone's created a bad smell. Nora calls for hot water and Rocco
tells Toots to provide it. Going over to Frank, he confirms his
identity. Temple has heard the name and Frank explains he's the
notorious gangster. The one and only. <i> </i></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Rocco?... Rocco... </i>the
old man turns the name over on his tongue and Rocco bends forward,
hand cocked to his ear. <i>What's that pop?, I'm kind of deaf.
</i>Rocco!; Temple bellows the name in a roar. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Playing to his
audience, the gangster mugs; 'He said Rocco!.' The stooges all get a
laugh from this, then the old man recalls they threw Rocco out of the
country. Rocco remembers; after over thirty years living in the
U.S.A. they called him a undesirable alien. <i>Me, Johnny rocco-like
I was a dirty Red or something. </i>Then how can he be here?. <i>Maybe
he's not, it's all a dream...</i> 'Wake up pop, you're snoring' adds
Toots. Uncowed, the old man agrees with the gangster; he shouldn't
have been deported, he should have been exterminated. The look that
crosses Rocco's face bodes ill, seeing this, Frank steps in between
and excuses the old man; he doesn't know what he's talking about-or
who to.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Frank
McCloud-Sir, Johnny Rocco was more than a King. He was an
Emperor.<br />His rule extended over beer, slot machines, the numbers
racket<br />and a dozen other forbidden enterprises.<br />He was a master
of the fix;<br />whom he couldn't corrupt, he terrified, whom he
couldn't terrify he murdered.<br />James Temple-You filth! You city
filth!<br />McCloud-Oh, Mr. Temple, you're hopelessly old-fashioned,
your ideas date back years, </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>you're
still living in the time when America thought it could get
along<br />without the Johnny Roccos.<br />(To Rocco) Welcome back,
Rocco-it was all a mistake.<br />America's sorry for what it did to
you. </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Impressed
by the speech, the kid asks Rocco, on the level, was he that big?.
Sarcastic, Curly asks, on the level, is the kid that dumb?. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Its
been a long time since anyone thought of Johnny Rocco as anything but
a has-been, a washed-out gangster. Frank's derisive eulogy brings it
all back. </span><i>Yeah, that's me-sure, I was all of those things.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">When Rocco spoke, everyone
listened. What he said, went!. Nobody was as big as Rocco. He'll be
that big again... bigger!. Leaning forward in his chair, the old man
berates the big man; if the time ever comes when his kind can walk
the streets in daylight, with nothing to fear... but Frank tells him
the time </span><i>has </i><span style="font-style: normal;">come;
Rocco's here. Okay... so Frank knows about Rocco, so what's with
</span><i>him</i><span style="font-style: normal;">?. Well give!; in
the war, wasn't he?. </span><i>Yes. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Get
any medals?. </span><i>A couple. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Brave?</span><i>.
Not very. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Why'd he stick his
neck out?</span><i>. No good reason. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">This
is too much for Temple to take and he says as much. Turning towards
the old man, Frank's eyes flash a signal; </span><i>keep out of this.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">In answer to Rocco, he says he
believed in some words. His eyes cold and dark on Rocco, he recites;
</span>"But we aren't making all this sacrifice of human effort
and lives, to return to the kind of a world we had after the last
World War. We're fighting to cleanse the world of ancient evils.
Ancient ills." The gang boss has no idea what Frank's talking
about, but Temple remembers those words and Frank tells him 'That
makes two of us.' Determined, the old man points at Rocco; 'We rid
ourselves of your kind once and for all, you ain't comin' back.'
Turning on the helpless Temple, Rocco's question comes quietly; 'And
who's gonna stop me, old man?.' 'If I wasn't a cripple...' 'You
wouldn't be talking this way.' Enraged, Temple drags himself out of
the chair and goes for the gangster, who steps back, laughing in his
face. They all laugh, except Frank and Nora, mocking the futile, yet
heroic effort. It ends with James taking a swing and ending up on the
floor. Frank goes to his aid and, incensed, Nora goes at Rocco,
battering with her fists and clawing at his face. Grabbing her by the
wrists , he pulls her in to plant a kiss. A little wildcat... smell
blood, huh?. </span></span>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBe9TLQYY9AX0QpSPZKdBHE4Gb-wZeX3_Bsro3Kb0I1IzLNRiytJckssbGPuc9Y2r0khFsBBWV1zlrQf40ttJASUgaiU77Hw2TP2VL3M2dmazD5ds2RbkZzwun8RE1LaH5xBPcCZaqBU/s1600/key_largo_ver2_xlg.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBe9TLQYY9AX0QpSPZKdBHE4Gb-wZeX3_Bsro3Kb0I1IzLNRiytJckssbGPuc9Y2r0khFsBBWV1zlrQf40ttJASUgaiU77Hw2TP2VL3M2dmazD5ds2RbkZzwun8RE1LaH5xBPcCZaqBU/s320/key_largo_ver2_xlg.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">A beautifully designed Spanish Poster.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">A
knock at the door ends the party. Feeney comes in, waving the
oppressive heat away with his hat. A phone call; Miami for the boss.
Rocco relinquishes his grip on Nora and goes to take it, leaving the
others to watch as she goes to help Frank with the old man. As they
walk down into the lobby, Feeney tells Rocco there's a bunch of
people on the porch, Indians. They want in from the Hurricane.
Callously, Rocco says to keep them out. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSDyw2VjExPTknmHOx3Etpg28veb8Ud9wrP556kI7t-aHgvrn1Huvqwu8TY1l1Q87em8MeYLSmeW5hf2lN_FhMpI4w730ycEpq4Oqz8OzzCPNRqmPQRDpjfgC5mcHIOwSVOI_x2dR610/s1600/vlcsnap-00030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSDyw2VjExPTknmHOx3Etpg28veb8Ud9wrP556kI7t-aHgvrn1Huvqwu8TY1l1Q87em8MeYLSmeW5hf2lN_FhMpI4w730ycEpq4Oqz8OzzCPNRqmPQRDpjfgC5mcHIOwSVOI_x2dR610/s320/vlcsnap-00030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Answering as Mr. Brown, Rocco
recognises the caller as an old pal, Ziggy. A bang at the
shutters-maybe the law. Feeney goes to check. Meanwhile, the boss
wants to know when the Miami end are coming down, but hasn't he
heard?; there's a hurricane going. Feeney opens the shutters to find
the yacht Skipper there to warn him of the Big Blow on the way. So
what?. The coral reef isn't safe-they have to make for deep water,
and right away. Coldly, Rocco determines the boat will stay where it
is, but the Skipper persists; it'll break up on the reef. Rocco grabs
the man by the sou'wester (ouch!) and lays it down; he paid him. The
man insists, so, borrowing Feeney's rod, he holds it under the man's
face. That's settles, then. The boat stays...</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoRqVpALGnAPqRer49J_zsOu-AqqNqmhGbX1VgYkgn5f2Z57c4RfESB1wRG2pTE12MKdlKrfiAiIxqEXpqSqyWI5QvBk2_0bWso7XIDQGnIWZjUjUI5qunRS95QxWFlcBskLQbXYCbW8/s1600/vlcsnap-00032.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoRqVpALGnAPqRer49J_zsOu-AqqNqmhGbX1VgYkgn5f2Z57c4RfESB1wRG2pTE12MKdlKrfiAiIxqEXpqSqyWI5QvBk2_0bWso7XIDQGnIWZjUjUI5qunRS95QxWFlcBskLQbXYCbW8/s320/vlcsnap-00032.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back
upstairs, Deputy Tom Sawyer has regained consciousness. Sitting on a
couch he tells Frank <i>et al </i><span style="font-style: normal;">he
came to look for the Osceola boys. He knew they were someplace
around. In the lobby he ran into Toots and Curly. They didn't look
right, so he asked some questions. Realising what they were, he put
in a call to Ben Wade, but before he could get through the lights
went out. Next</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> thing, Rocco
was standing over him; he recognised him straight away. He made a
break for the door and the lights went out again. Toots smiles
quietly at the mention of his handiwork, then tells him he's the
electrician... </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sourly,
Rocco walks back in, switches on the light, wants a shave. Angel goes
to get the razor. Smoking one of his eternal cigars, he says Miami
are leaving right away. In</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> an
expansive mood, Rocco asks the Deputy how he's feeling. He'll say
this; he can take it. By the way Toots poured it on he's surprised he
ever woke up. Angel rubs the soap on as his boss tells Sawyer he's
lost count of how many times coppers told him he wouldn't get away
with it. His face granite, Tom says; </span><i>I still say it. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco
sees how much Tom wants to nail him, tells him his picture would be
in all the papers. As the razor starts to shave, Rocco leans forward
carelessly and states he was too much for any big city force to
handle. It took the United States government to pin a rap on him-and
</span><i>they</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> won't make it
stick, he brags. Calling Tom a hick, he boats he'll be back pulling
the strings before he gets a ten buck raise. How many of those guys
in office owe everything to Rocco?. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dqHW2E4BvcaFXqdLBsUeC4tAhg52fAaCDTcNGqAfGMRr9C-8saOFqNAirZ7M1ZdxM4VEjeK6Gkhik938UOxbj1aHjaBzCMRBHefqm3mnAgKxd8P9CRUvVSQdfWC3h_A9oWujRtJW-3k/s1600/027-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dqHW2E4BvcaFXqdLBsUeC4tAhg52fAaCDTcNGqAfGMRr9C-8saOFqNAirZ7M1ZdxM4VEjeK6Gkhik938UOxbj1aHjaBzCMRBHefqm3mnAgKxd8P9CRUvVSQdfWC3h_A9oWujRtJW-3k/s320/027-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On screen together for the fifth time; Bogart and Edward G. Robinson.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He made 'em, yeah, just like a
tailor makes a suit of clothes. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
takes a nobody, grooms him, tells him what to say, pays his expenses,
gets his boys to bring the voters out. The sneer on Frank's face
speaks volumes. The crime lord continues; then he gets the count
fixed and his man is elected. Then what happened?, did they remember
him when the heat was on and the going got tough?, no, they didn't.
Irritated, he waves Angel and the razor away, calls for a towel.
</span><i>'Public Enemy', he calls me!. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Stung
by the betrayal,</span><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco
wants his clothes laid out. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Dabbing
the soap away with the towel, Rocco looks at the assemblage in the
mirror, fixes on Nora. </span><i>Dam' little wildcat... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">He
knew one like her a long time ago. She scratched, kicked, bit-a
regular hellion. She even stuck a blade in him once. Irish kid.
Little, scrawny, but a real fireball-name of Maggie Mooney. Her stage
name was Gaye Dawn. Curly joins the reminisce; she was a knockout in
those days. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Walking up to
Nora, he leans close, whispers something obscene in her ear. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Her face
is frozen, serene even, but the anger is there close below the
surface all the same. The expression on Frank's face is somewhere
between disgust, horror and hate. Without a word, Nora walks away, to
stand, shoulders hunched in shame and outrage. Rocco won't leave it
even now; the animal follows her for more whispered filth. It works;
she turns on him and he grabs her wrists as she goes for him again.
Temple is up in an instant, but Toots merely pulls him back into his
chair. Nora spits in Rocco's face and he flares in an instant, his
eyes bulging with spiteful rage. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A monster is standing in this room.
Frank cannot stand it any more, he goes to her, leading her away with
an arm round her shoulder, a look of disgust for Rocco. Toots says
for Rocco to smack her, get it out of his system and the old man
rides the gang boss, the great Johnny Rocco, standing there with
spittle hanging off his face. He says the name like it's a bad joke
and Rocco snaps at him to shut up. </span><i>Come over here, I'd like
to spit on you... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Temple's words
hit the crook like a slap and all he can say is 'Gimme-Gimme.' for
Curly to hand him his piece. Nothing to stop him from wiping them all
out. Except Fra</span><span style="font-style: normal;">n</span><span style="font-style: normal;">k
McCloud, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">standing in front of
Nora-that and Curly who talks his boss down from his fury. Enjoying
this tremendously, Toots says smack her and let it go at that. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4je54BR_nm8UDAGrkVaC3lJmQHByVU540AsRnlRMCOwqYqVNcHz0i0PJ_NEic9TpPEz8Y0j_0ScM8Gte4PvaLF9CLQHss2vOz5gjyfJvrMInBJxioKlzo1pnnERGH7Qpfymm_blb8mI/s1600/vlcsnap-00035.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4je54BR_nm8UDAGrkVaC3lJmQHByVU540AsRnlRMCOwqYqVNcHz0i0PJ_NEic9TpPEz8Y0j_0ScM8Gte4PvaLF9CLQHss2vOz5gjyfJvrMInBJxioKlzo1pnnERGH7Qpfymm_blb8mI/s320/vlcsnap-00035.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Thinking fast, Frank tells him that'd be alright for Toots, not for
Rocco. The man himself doesn't want any advice and Frank says the
Rocco's don't, or they wouldn't </span><i>be </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco's.
No, smacking her isn't enough for such an insult; he'd have to kill
her. Then the rest of them because they witnessed it. Not just Mr.
Temple and himself, </span><i>all </i><span style="font-style: normal;">the
witnesses-all or nothing. Rocco frowns as Frank continues his
psychological warfare. He's trying to divide the gang. He adds he
needs Toots, Curly and Angel, so it would be nothing. Despite not
wanting any opinions, Rocco knows good advice when he hears it, but
all he can find to say is to call Frank a wise guy. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
scene is broken up by Gaye hollering out for the door to be unlocked.
Turning to hand Curly back his revolver, a defeated Rocco quietly
orders Angel to let her out, walking from the room dabbing the defeat
off his freshly-shaved face.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s
the door shuts behind the great man, Curly admires Frank's quick
thinking. It's good thing he said what he did when he did or Rocco
would have started shooting. Frank looks sick, but Curly smiles; they
got a closer shave than the one he got from Angel. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9U-VozlPG9ZK9_J1Hj62wakJbnxwZaCfZBhXZR3B-iIT0yPhq7IUyDLNAZQffWKs-8m-U1qMYG2gvJFFWYWa66I2HSe_f7S_c99feiJPR1ocJW00J00o3avetm-s1u-_wNCjYvLu1ok/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+poster+4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9U-VozlPG9ZK9_J1Hj62wakJbnxwZaCfZBhXZR3B-iIT0yPhq7IUyDLNAZQffWKs-8m-U1qMYG2gvJFFWYWa66I2HSe_f7S_c99feiJPR1ocJW00J00o3avetm-s1u-_wNCjYvLu1ok/s320/Key+Largo+1948+poster+4.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Lobby Card featuring publicity shot taken during filming of this scene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">McCloud sits down
on the corner table, sick with fear at coming so close to death once
more in his life. Breezily-and not a little loaded, Gaye Dawn enters
the room, Angel behind her. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Brightly,
she plumps her her and says hello to everyone. She asks after Johnny;
with his usual amused look, Curly tells her he's in the next room,
dressing. Gamely, with the self-delusion of a drunk she says she
needs a drink, asking what's everybody doing upstairs. Spotting Nora,
her face darkens-has she been crying?. Who's been mean to
her?-turning to Frank she says if its him he should be ashamed.
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Petting Nora, she suggests a
little drink to chase the blues away. If that worked, hers would be
on Saturn. Nora doesn't want one. Well, Gaye will have one. Angel
reminds her what the boss said, but she doesn't care-she needs a
drink. Frank takes care of his nerves with a cigarette and, seeing
this, Gaye asks for one. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBJ4hf-rgT-cNvcC00Sp21-T_zfusK5oafe1fM2vOYGI3p5l7_KIfdgXNyTTmC5HkkKt6UpJx_dHqccG7b-2SllEgZxhkzh1VzHaV4FqSfafc4gJJ7Cn4Me5dylDCt42g_v1zUdMvky0/s1600/030-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBJ4hf-rgT-cNvcC00Sp21-T_zfusK5oafe1fM2vOYGI3p5l7_KIfdgXNyTTmC5HkkKt6UpJx_dHqccG7b-2SllEgZxhkzh1VzHaV4FqSfafc4gJJ7Cn4Me5dylDCt42g_v1zUdMvky0/s320/030-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Claire Trevor won the Oscar for her role as singer Gaye Dawn.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As he lights her, she asks if his horse won.
His horse?, why no, he's afraid he ran out on the money. As if waking
from a dream, Gaye finally notices the state Tom Sawyer's in, Toots
polishing his gun. (He does this a lot, I think it's a metaphor.
Either that or he's a wanker...) </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Shaking
in sudden fear, Gaye tries to live up to the name </span><span style="font-style: normal;">and
thinks she'll go to her room. She doesn't make the door, sitting in a
chair she repeats her need for a drink. Nerves aren't only shot away
on a battlefield. Angel reminds her what the boss said; no more
drink. Well, this is a free country, if she wants one she can have
one. She unzips her purse and tosses a note at him. </span><i>Sorry,
the boss, he say... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">The boss,
the boss!-he can go to... but of course the man himself walks in at
that moment. Quickly, she trots out 'Oh hello, Darling.' Doing up his
tie, Rocco ignores the false greeting, asking instead how come it's
hotter than in the day. When it's raining than when it ain't.
Glancing over at Frank, he directs the question to him. Blowing
smoke, Frank doesn't know. Rocco thought he knew all the answers.
Thought he was a Wise Guy from way back. Clearly the gangster is
still smarting from Nora' humiliation, wants to find someone to take
it out on. Spotting the scratches on her meal-ticket's face, Nora
tries to baby him, but he bats her away. Toots finds this funny and
his imbecile child's laugh bursts out. Rocco demands to know what's
funny and the kid's face freezes; nothing. Then why'd he laugh.
Suddenly, he doesn't know. What's worse, Rocco asks Curly-a dumbbell
or a wise guy?. A wise guy is his guess. Arms behind his back, Rocco
strolls over to Frank, eager to vent. </span><i>Got a million
dollars?. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">No. </span><i>How
much?. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Nothing. </span><i>But
you're a wise guy. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Well, you
see, I was educated only in impractical things, says Frank. With
Rocco it's the opposite. Before Frank can explain this...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">A
sudden surge and the windows burst open, rain and wind blasting in,
making the goons and Gaye nervous. Nora fixes the window and a
jittery Rocco goes to Temple to ask what's happening. The beginning,
the old man replies. Can cars get through this?. Maybe, says the old
man, maybe not. Gaye steps in and tries to get a drink, but Rocco
hasn't changed his mind. Going back to Frank he says what he said was
the truth, but what he really thinks is 'I'm better than Rocco.' He's
filth, right?. Temple agrees with this enthusiatically, but Frank
stays silent. The gangster tells him he's thinking 'Rocco has a gun'
and he hasn't. He figures it's the gun. Well listen, thousands of
guys got guns, but there's only one Johnny Rocco. He stabs at himself
with his thumb to emphasise the point. The old man asks how he
accounts for it and coolly, Frank replies Rocco knows what he wants
and to tell the old man what that is. For once, Rocco fumbles for the
words and Frank is there to help out; he wants <i>more.</i>
Delighted, Rocco jabs a finger-that's it!. <i>More!. '</i>Will you
ever get enough?.' Temple's question prompts Frank to add 'Will you,
Rocco?.' Well, he never has... no, he guesses he won't. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pointing
at Frank, Rocco asks if he knows what he wants. Yes, and he had hopes
once, but gave them up. Hopes for what?. A World in which there's no
place for Johnny Rocco. With a gesture of salutation, Rocco draws and
cocks a .32 Colt automatic. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0dYqZ-6AkPOZmImfHf9wTCguSeOms3n2VUCQa3YarJCxQcWGB2wxDOaezPZdit1KDd5dd_57t_uSqTc00No47tpcTbAZJ8_Qpk1xQKWox4a2dPESSrByWe1F9eMTnkQEmIMPXm6XH94/s1600/NEEDS+FIX+D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0dYqZ-6AkPOZmImfHf9wTCguSeOms3n2VUCQa3YarJCxQcWGB2wxDOaezPZdit1KDd5dd_57t_uSqTc00No47tpcTbAZJ8_Qpk1xQKWox4a2dPESSrByWe1F9eMTnkQEmIMPXm6XH94/s320/NEEDS+FIX+D.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevs0Zd57F-ZVLRQght2ctW3fZLxzoiqfK87CipANFQwhHNEBpwBsDSXvyIbJpIhS2yquN0Ybt185-IXQk9mawMGAA-sxe3unsaBWgNMtcHmbHgdDqhp8YdmxW3eNvFRk5gFYv_7DqddM/s1600/EDC.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevs0Zd57F-ZVLRQght2ctW3fZLxzoiqfK87CipANFQwhHNEBpwBsDSXvyIbJpIhS2yquN0Ybt185-IXQk9mawMGAA-sxe3unsaBWgNMtcHmbHgdDqhp8YdmxW3eNvFRk5gFYv_7DqddM/s320/EDC.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An image from the scene on a Lobby card.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now's Frank's chance... taking Curly's
rod the mob boss tosses the Colt to Frank. 'Okay, soldier you can
make your hopes come true. But you gotta die for it.' Rocco is aiming
right at McCloud's belly.<i><span style="text-decoration: none;"> 'Go
ahead, shoot.' </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Preparing to shoot the scene; Bogart gets a touch-up from a makeup artist.</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Nora
comes over to Frank and Rocco warns her to get clear. With a tired,
drawn expression Frank tells her to get away</span><span style="text-decoration: none;">
</span><span style="text-decoration: none;">and Sawyer yells at Frank
to shoot. </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">Stepping back
with death in his eyes, Frank hefts the gun in his hand, the old man
urging him to kill Rocco. The hoodlum faces Frank and eggs him on; </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Go
on Major, show them how you're not afraid to die... </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">everyone
in the room</span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">sees
the hesitation and Rocco comments it looks like he doesn't want it
enough. The kid laughs that infantile laugh at Frank. Tossing the
Colt, McCloud's statement that one less Rocco in the World isn't
worth dying for leaves a bad taste in his mouth even as he speaks the
words. Nora's disappointment is plain to see, but old man Temple
wants that gun. No, says Rocco; he's afraid he'd use it... one old
man more or less isn't worth dying for. </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">Spotting
the look on Nora's face, Rocco steps over to her; what's the matter?,
she looks like she's lost someone near and dear. Sneering over at
Frank, Rocco goads him;</span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">
'A live war hero... now I know how you did it.' </span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Turning
away, the gangster calls his retinue, asking if they want a hero,
here's one going cheap!. </span></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jS_GpEquVejxBAbV8zAcT7mxE3MJREbuCHQ7g69Ndnz8_Halsy5x45OMvebSpk944VzHqW25bFPnutfyMGv2HJCg8jL1XGp6dmdbR4rClukYMxm-pbexwFIZeacVSDV-oVdw475rnmg/s1600/2017-01-01_130532.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jS_GpEquVejxBAbV8zAcT7mxE3MJREbuCHQ7g69Ndnz8_Halsy5x45OMvebSpk944VzHqW25bFPnutfyMGv2HJCg8jL1XGp6dmdbR4rClukYMxm-pbexwFIZeacVSDV-oVdw475rnmg/s320/2017-01-01_130532.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Edward G.Robinson and Lauren Bacall on set.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Spotting
his moment, Sawyer goes for the discarded Colt, edging toward the
door. All right, he tells Rocco, lets play that game, see if he can
stop him going through that door. But Rocco has to die first.
Signalling at Toots with a sideways tilt of the head, Sawyer says
even if the kid shoots him, Rocco gets it. Snarling at Toots to get
out of the way, the Deputy moves to the door, barks at Angel to get
away from it. As he edges backwards through the door, Rocco fires
once. Fatally wounded, the dying man can only click the trigger on
the empty Colt. Desperately racking the slide, he tries to make the
automatic work, but Rocco shoots a second time. Gaye screams in
horror as the deputy's body disappears over the balustrade, Angel
Garcia clapping a hand to her mouth to stifle her scream. Frank
McCloud stands, guilt and grief etched into his face. Nora realises
the gun wasn't loaded, sitting down she comments Tom never had a
chance. Temple speaks one word; </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Murderer.
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Matter
of factly, Rocco states he had to do it to stop him leaving, adding
the gun wasn't loaded-but 'our hero' didn't know that. Struggling to
rekindle his faith in his Son's Commanding Officer, the old man says
Frank knew the gun was empty, could tell by the weight. Uneasily, he
replies; 'No, Sir, I didn't know.' </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghtgThlwDF2whKBrQMMmP9_DEqlKdb14V0z43pxbbsfC_w12VaBe9Krr3Skjj0_Q_GsAv2IKPCbG72G4diKUPJvERZ4ieTdrymZwRQ1O4L4LJXyXHwBKkQKlz7xrxEnuHKa_GvsOB9b4/s1600/FRENCH+PRESS+BOOK+COVER.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghtgThlwDF2whKBrQMMmP9_DEqlKdb14V0z43pxbbsfC_w12VaBe9Krr3Skjj0_Q_GsAv2IKPCbG72G4diKUPJvERZ4ieTdrymZwRQ1O4L4LJXyXHwBKkQKlz7xrxEnuHKa_GvsOB9b4/s320/FRENCH+PRESS+BOOK+COVER.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">The cover of the French Press Book.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Toots
tells the old man Frank didn't have the nerve. With an assumed
casualness, Gaye steps out from behind the thug and says Frank was
smart; what happened to Tom would have happened to him. Dropping into
a chair she adds better to be a live coward... then realises what
she's said and excuses herself. Trying to spare Frank's feelings,
Temple says they all knew he wasn't afraid. Forcefully, Frank
corrects him, he </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">was</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">
afraid</span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">, </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">but
the reason he didn't shoot wasn't that. What does he care for Rocco's
life?. He only cares about his own, about 'me and mine.' Nora looks
at the floor, disillusioned that the man she thought of as a hero
turned out to be flesh and blood. Frank carries on; if Rocco wants to
come back to America, let him be President-he fights nobody's battles
but his own. Temple listens to all this in silence, but he can't see
it Frank's way, neither did Sawyer. 'He was a fool', Frank asserts.
</span></span><i>Me, die to rid the world of a Johnny Rocco?! No,
thanks! </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Angered, Nora rises to
her feet; if she believed McCloud's way, she'd want to be dead too.
Going to stand behind the old man she says Frank is a coward. What
he's saying now is only to save his coward's face. The words cut
through Frank as surely as any knife. Slumped, Temple is beginning to
think maybe Frank's right. Nora refuses to meet Frank's gaze and the
only sounds are those of the worsening storm. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">T</span><span style="font-style: normal;">he
dark sea is a maelstrom of shifting waves, the wind threatening to
overturn the small dinghy carrying Curly, Angel and Tom Sawyer's
body. With Curly at the oars, the boat makes slow progress into the
biting wind, all three soaked to the skin, but only two alive to feel
it. Angel rolls the body over the side, a heavy block tied to the
ankles. </span></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8G9KcLsGClADKPahi5JR3Q3HFtMZOd4wfgIdkKaKyu88kVSECBS08N-oM-BHTJeKynGSpD8zgb1Ao_SATPmT6sJn6LgybgVWQJ931leGRYbuWpQyzMDl7SO_5PJt4-3K_x4YuJV8HFk/s1600/GTT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8G9KcLsGClADKPahi5JR3Q3HFtMZOd4wfgIdkKaKyu88kVSECBS08N-oM-BHTJeKynGSpD8zgb1Ao_SATPmT6sJn6LgybgVWQJ931leGRYbuWpQyzMDl7SO_5PJt4-3K_x4YuJV8HFk/s320/GTT.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Italian release poster.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Back
in the hotel, Feeney mops up Tom's blood as an anxious Rocco paces up
and down the foyer. Finally, the phone rings and the crime lord goes
to answer. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OyPLjQKM2Mv4TQewOovcqCxCJGbpp-3PyNvPI7IHmJd_wq58kbLEUQ561rQ1qHdDU4INX30rtvr1FMjWk5tLAfwHNftPC-FoArEcHgYrIwIzMhmP-atyLiAmgGGBMYd5XQ3ye-lhYpk/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+poster+5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OyPLjQKM2Mv4TQewOovcqCxCJGbpp-3PyNvPI7IHmJd_wq58kbLEUQ561rQ1qHdDU4INX30rtvr1FMjWk5tLAfwHNftPC-FoArEcHgYrIwIzMhmP-atyLiAmgGGBMYd5XQ3ye-lhYpk/s320/Key+Largo+1948+poster+5.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Lobby Card featuring Edward G. Robinson. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">It's Miami-and Rocco's not happy Ziggy hasn't started out
yet. </span><i>It's risky, the storm... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">So
what?, didn't he take chances?. He made the run from Cuba, risking
his neck, his boat and the shipment, and they won't come out in the
rain?. Rocco lays down an ultimatum; they show tonight or the deal is
off. He knows a dozen guy's that would break their neck to get hold
of this shipment. His watch shows eight o'clock-if they're not here
by ten the deal's off. The line goes dead as the hotel lights flicker
ominously. Gaye</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> jumps up with
a start, frightened and the window crashes open again. Frank
struggles to close the shutters. Gun in hand, Toots orders everyone
downstairs, Frank and Nora helping the old man. Rocco stands, arms
behind his back, watching with contempt as Gaye stumbles down the
stairs and tries to appear nonchalant about it. Going to the bar, she
fumbles a glass of whiskey as Rocco watches. She is about to take the
drink when he warns her; no drinking. She pleads for just one,
setting it down on the counter as Curly and Angel come in from the
storm, both bedraggled and dishevelled. Rocco orders Curly to bring
the shipment down. </span></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dv6ZVTsJbVJdpLWnXqL-RoDPFwgGN97_IiMwQf7h03o6yIwPY22DCAtueQW1XOajBUuzcq6sKaJml0bbslwicPxpOi71Gx797gTWXKebbhxVrEozMw1EZA8N26zdQbKL8JEqCb7hyphenhyphen60/s1600/002-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dv6ZVTsJbVJdpLWnXqL-RoDPFwgGN97_IiMwQf7h03o6yIwPY22DCAtueQW1XOajBUuzcq6sKaJml0bbslwicPxpOi71Gx797gTWXKebbhxVrEozMw1EZA8N26zdQbKL8JEqCb7hyphenhyphen60/s320/002-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Director John Huston coaches his cast on set.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Back
in his wheelchair, Temple hears a sound at the door-a whimper. Rocco
tells him about how he sent the Indians away and, appalled, Nora says
he had no right. With a dismissive grunt, Rocco shrugs it off. Toots
tells him the upstairs shutters have to be secured, or the roof might
go. Rocco tells him to see to it, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">then
goes back to the bar, picking up Gaye's drink. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">One
thing he can't stand is a dame who's drunk. They turn his stomach; no
good to themselves or anybody else. Viciously, he slings her drink
across the floor. As his captive audience watches pityingly, the
mobster points out she has the shakes. So she has a drink to get rid
of them, then she's stinko. Wringing her hands, she reminds him he
gave her her first drink. So?. Everybody has their first drink, don't
they?, but everybody ain't a lush...</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Gaye
Dawn-If I'd known you'd act this way,<br />I wouldn't have come
here.<br />Johnny Rocco-If I'd known what you're like,<br />you wouldn't
have been asked. </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rocco
tells the group it's been eight years since he saw Gaye. You wouldn't
know it's the same dame. Hurt, she walks over to a table, says he
hasn't changed one bit. <i>Meaning what?. </i>Subdued and miserable,
she replies 'Nothing.' Then; 'Gee honey, you're as mean as can be.'
<i>Mean as can be... now what does that remind me of?. </i>A case in
hand, Curly jogs his memory; the song she used to sing. Rocco recalls
how he took her from the chorus, made her a singer. Savagely Rocco
asks why she isn't a singing star instead of a lush. She could have
had a future. Nostalgically, Curly says she had everything; Rocco
adds she had voice, looks, plenty of class. Putting a hand to her
hair, she remembers. She was the rage. Going to her Rocco wants her
to sing her old song. Right now?. Yeah. She says she can't, but he
insists. She pleads with him not to make her-he won't make her do
anything, but there's a drink in it if she does. First the song, then
the drink. Without any accompaniment, she gathers herself together as
best as she can. Rocco sits on a bar stool to enjoy her suffering. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZG8Y7BnaVomKDJ_e1jqGhhxQ68EFiOQfB9tQb_lLyVJtkDzTWQ-sHVESti2CV6Id2PrLcQgyoMSMV-xJIy0WTZvQv_YKpN5UroxEJoebxOqKucP6VlRDD984OI7JhEZhP312vB4hDIY/s1600/Key+Largo+22a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZG8Y7BnaVomKDJ_e1jqGhhxQ68EFiOQfB9tQb_lLyVJtkDzTWQ-sHVESti2CV6Id2PrLcQgyoMSMV-xJIy0WTZvQv_YKpN5UroxEJoebxOqKucP6VlRDD984OI7JhEZhP312vB4hDIY/s320/Key+Largo+22a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Taken during preparation for the scene, this shot was used as a publicity still.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Bravely,
she </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">puts
her audience in the picture, so they can imagine how it was. She used
to have the best gowns, low cut, very </span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">décolleté.
</span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She
wore hardly any make-up, a little lipstick. No lights, save a baby
spot. She wouldn't have an entrance, they'd play the intro to a
darkened house and the spot would come on-and there she'd be. Right
on cue, Rocco and Curly clap, then the gangster waits expectantly.
It's been a long time since she sang, her nerves plain. Awkwardly,
she launches into her song, the one that always knocked 'em dead. </span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></i>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEc_p5khb3x55xPiwORvSDgty2mO8YW5bP1x-T1nbRsst9fAOKtJ-2sAPFRaS3vJ5mv-mPBoBuvDiIAmnWVMTgLZOJts2KPrN3kMfuLPb2OR1-uP4xaoQ8zs_0AGORazw6HuXI8rYYEY/s1600/CLAIRE+TREVOR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJEc_p5khb3x55xPiwORvSDgty2mO8YW5bP1x-T1nbRsst9fAOKtJ-2sAPFRaS3vJ5mv-mPBoBuvDiIAmnWVMTgLZOJts2KPrN3kMfuLPb2OR1-uP4xaoQ8zs_0AGORazw6HuXI8rYYEY/s320/CLAIRE+TREVOR.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Moaning
low<br />My sweet man, I love him so<br />Though he's mean as can be<br />He's
the kind of man<br />Needs the kind of woman<br />Like me<br />Gonna die<br />If
sweet man should pass me by<br />If I die, where will he be?<br />He's
the kind of man<br />Needs the kind of woman<br />Like me<br />Don't know
any reason<br />Why he treats me so poorly<br />What have I gone and
done?<br />Makes my trouble double<br />With his worries<br />When surely<br />I
ain't deserving of none<br />Moaning low<br />My sweet man is gonna
go<br />When he goes, oh, Lordy<br />He's the kind of man<br />Needs the
kind of woman<br />Like me </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IOl9UTDx-pKeROs3jnlja-6ytc1qyLSvKbJPWWJ-wVijKNSHYX14AAzb-LJWoBryyUKu3_R6qWchfXK34Kjtxk08uL-9x89IWb3Ta7seiZRCVo-kwFhtEDl_YrRckFzdga6UObP_p7c/s1600/NEEDS+FIX+B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IOl9UTDx-pKeROs3jnlja-6ytc1qyLSvKbJPWWJ-wVijKNSHYX14AAzb-LJWoBryyUKu3_R6qWchfXK34Kjtxk08uL-9x89IWb3Ta7seiZRCVo-kwFhtEDl_YrRckFzdga6UObP_p7c/s320/NEEDS+FIX+B.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout
this wretched performance, this embarrassing spectacle, Rocco watches
Temple and co. to see their reaction. During this uncomfortable
farce, their faces show pity and disgust. Pity for Gaye, disgust for
the creature that's putting her through this torment just for the
chance to feel better for a few minutes. A look at Curly confirmed
Rocco's suspicion; she hasn't got it anymore. Finishing the song,
Gaye throws herself onto the bar, asking for her drink. <i> </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg33GEHFPgbmiBt5XgLU0CytIoovBsFU9WkmmuKXY7VYFZJ-hRwTFxlC1l8aE-rE4c2ng-GXt_uaSQaUy4GskOAvIcnKWkuGpQwMubnkApi8NZl_JKwxsep6B5Y7GA8rNjGexFmw1uir2w/s1600/vlcsnap-00038.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg33GEHFPgbmiBt5XgLU0CytIoovBsFU9WkmmuKXY7VYFZJ-hRwTFxlC1l8aE-rE4c2ng-GXt_uaSQaUy4GskOAvIcnKWkuGpQwMubnkApi8NZl_JKwxsep6B5Y7GA8rNjGexFmw1uir2w/s320/vlcsnap-00038.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>No...</i><span style="font-style: normal;">but
he promised!-</span><i>So what? You were rotten...</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
it's too much for the poor woman, who goes, sobbing away to slump in
a chair. Frank cannot bear to see her suffering any more. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Going
behind the bar, he takes a bottle and pours a glass, pushes past
Angel and gives the forlorn Gaye the drink she earned. She gulps it
down and thanks him, but Rocco is there and slaps Frank across the
face. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH7b-aF5v27Pci8JJzUVU-yIVTPlSzeUMaexBgX67zr_mhthkUiFhKfVuA_kx-1vBf1SRhdu3jov_ZOZWIO-2Wb88qzKJO9lgRrBtyYAlb8u2ifH6NiGUd6AkRvbMHv4mzKrfMuqLiKg/s1600/1287620100.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH7b-aF5v27Pci8JJzUVU-yIVTPlSzeUMaexBgX67zr_mhthkUiFhKfVuA_kx-1vBf1SRhdu3jov_ZOZWIO-2Wb88qzKJO9lgRrBtyYAlb8u2ifH6NiGUd6AkRvbMHv4mzKrfMuqLiKg/s320/1287620100.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">An image from the scene used on a Lobby Card.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">With a look that could freeze fire, he ignores the insult to
tell her she's welcome, before walking away. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">When
Frank sits down, both Nora and Temple look on him with new respect.
Smiling around his gum as usual, Curly invites Toots to play a little
gin </span><span style="font-style: normal;">at the bar, but it's
clear the storm has them all spooked. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6CmzBGxLWVb9UIJTG5eOdFsMVkz7iQLzUjZ9Tdmj5UWySb6IKOW2s1LPj_U9EB97ZiOjiEXwIZLBeShRimeqg3-nWJ3hYoyWpT4gKh1NUZO3bSQG4GBxVCQqeuU7FcIpuJXGcxK0EIw/s1600/key-largo-1948-01-g.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6CmzBGxLWVb9UIJTG5eOdFsMVkz7iQLzUjZ9Tdmj5UWySb6IKOW2s1LPj_U9EB97ZiOjiEXwIZLBeShRimeqg3-nWJ3hYoyWpT4gKh1NUZO3bSQG4GBxVCQqeuU7FcIpuJXGcxK0EIw/s320/key-largo-1948-01-g.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
whole building is being shaken by its frame now, glasses falling from
their nook over the bar. The hired guns aren't the only ones shook up
by the storm; a nervous Rocco going to ask the old man how bad can it
get. Well, the worst storm they ever had was back in '35. The wind
sent a big wave right over Matecumbe key. Eight hundred people were
washed out to sea. Rocco wants to know how far away that is. </span><i>Oh,
few miles... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Turning away, the
gang boss finds himself helpless in the face of nature, a bolt of
lightning striking someplace close. Quietly, Nora apologises for the
things she said upstairs. She asks if Frank can forgive her; of
course he can. Rocco might have killed him for giving Gaye that
drink. His head said one way, but his whole life another. As for the
other things, maybe they're true, maybe it is a rotten world-but a
cause isn't lost as long as someone's willing to go on fighting. He
tells her he's not that someone, but she's convinced otherwise. He
might not want to be, but he is; his whole life's against him. As one
of the goons walks past, Frank asks what she knows about his life. </span><i>A
whole lot-from the way he looks, talks-and from George's letters.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Most of his last letter was
about Frank-only the way he had it Frank was the hero on the hill.
Gaye watches with some satisfaction as Rocco's nerve falters, his
relentless pacing not un-noticed by Frank either. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">More
glasses go, the light fixture starts swinging from the ceiling. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco
spots Gaye's gaze, pauses to ask what's the matter with her?. With
cold assurance, the answer; </span><i>Nothing.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
His confidence shaken, Rocco snaps; why aren't any of them talking?,
he wants to hear talking. Picking Curly, he wants some words.
Anything, just so long as it's talk. Curly has to dig deep; he's
scared too. Addressing Toots mainly, he reckons in two or three years
they'll get prohibition back. This time we make it stick. That's all
he has, so he repeats it. The trouble last time was too many guys
fighting to be top dog. One mob gets to massacring another, the
papers get ahold of it... the public gets the idea prohibition's no
good... suddenly, a furious Rocco rounds on the old man. He doesn't
believe eight hundred people died in '35, calls Temple a liar.
Nobody'd live here after a thing like that!. Rocco turns to his
lieutenant for support, but Curly recalls reading about it in the
papers. By now, Frank's openly smiling at this washed-up gangster.
Matter-of-fact, Temple gives the details; the barometer had dropped
to 26 inches when the relief train pulled in; the carriages were
blasted clear off the track. Two hundred miles an hour, that wind
blew. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">A tidal wave twelve
feet high went right across the key. Towns disappeared, mile after
mile of track ripped up. Over five hundred bodies were recovered. For
months afterwords they found corpses in the mangrove swamps. More
glass crashes; another bang.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">With
a wolf's leer, Frank goads the petrified Rocco; he doesn't like it,
does he?. Show it your gun, why don't you?-if it doesn't stop-shoot
it. Again Curly starts up with the prohibition spiel; next time it'll
be different. They learned their lessons all right. Next time, the
mobs will get together. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1l5yirh-2wNV8lO_nb76dKXQ_0dZoesj7gl0UGPGHL0LCogSKgBTJoEeOSivIeWGyVf0jj-4tl4paefn-9jjy36-PCdE6RDsawHjAdonkwnrNO4Sm9ISNfrZHuB8PNwzmCIxNFYUBY18/s1600/vlcsnap-00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1l5yirh-2wNV8lO_nb76dKXQ_0dZoesj7gl0UGPGHL0LCogSKgBTJoEeOSivIeWGyVf0jj-4tl4paefn-9jjy36-PCdE6RDsawHjAdonkwnrNO4Sm9ISNfrZHuB8PNwzmCIxNFYUBY18/s320/vlcsnap-00001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco is horrified when Temple clasps his
hands in prayer, beseeching the elements to send a big wave crashing
down on them all. Destroy us all if need be, but punish </span><i>him...
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">screeching at Temple to shut up,
Rocco whips out his automatic when the old man keeps up the routine.
Calling the gangster by name, Frank leaps up, to get the barrel
shoved in his gut. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOciG1JnNLpj5qq8t-ef5Qsb7vfwY8UhXNQmPpfhnlwYHUuLvFACCVHHANpmaPKwXrgI4Dwxa_HYhUpVHKTUM9lwXiITCaaMDK3ogOrQ0658q_BTUiBLQ2b3N7cKP0KG-BkOhykLDvu8/s1600/2017-01-01_130415.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOciG1JnNLpj5qq8t-ef5Qsb7vfwY8UhXNQmPpfhnlwYHUuLvFACCVHHANpmaPKwXrgI4Dwxa_HYhUpVHKTUM9lwXiITCaaMDK3ogOrQ0658q_BTUiBLQ2b3N7cKP0KG-BkOhykLDvu8/s320/2017-01-01_130415.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfdEONQoLFV2o0ZYYbVrpYW2a0YKIGK5VaxId9DPLdojQV4Yf9MsyFCBHXd7FJ9-Jgr92DoCKxrviLaRd-f9qipJBHyND1LvTQ1fMUIyDuHzybNkidJH_vqCUf4DHoe9dl2EyIdcqTj4/s1600/003-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfdEONQoLFV2o0ZYYbVrpYW2a0YKIGK5VaxId9DPLdojQV4Yf9MsyFCBHXd7FJ9-Jgr92DoCKxrviLaRd-f9qipJBHyND1LvTQ1fMUIyDuHzybNkidJH_vqCUf4DHoe9dl2EyIdcqTj4/s320/003-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div __gwt_cell="cell-gwt-uid-797" style="outline-style: none;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">John Huston directs the scene.</span></span></div>
<a class="OYKEW4D-e-i" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6555240865021461020#editor/target=post;postID=8063075601024842785;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=0;src=postname"><br /></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZtFGh5Pg4RC8Se9Iaz7M4Cn_a8nFaKYAmqMFzA_w_-vGs3b_MGrLiZt0BheE0yblHa-GP2z0NqZc6fYcOUY2_QmpmjImJgUVADclLjFkAQJ7rJAt6CUXobJ1OPWsVd0i5ubC7Sx7Zxg/s1600/2017-01-01_130441.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZtFGh5Pg4RC8Se9Iaz7M4Cn_a8nFaKYAmqMFzA_w_-vGs3b_MGrLiZt0BheE0yblHa-GP2z0NqZc6fYcOUY2_QmpmjImJgUVADclLjFkAQJ7rJAt6CUXobJ1OPWsVd0i5ubC7Sx7Zxg/s320/2017-01-01_130441.jpg" width="264" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> hollow</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
click</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
remind Rocco; it isn't loaded. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Fumbling
with the gun distractedly, Rocco walks away to look up at the ceiling
as the wind shrieks and howls around the hotel. A picture falls from
the wall-</span><i>KRASH!</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> A palm
tree topples through the window in a spray of glass and sudden rain,
the scene lit intermittently by the flashing lightning. Everybody
cowers against the wall. Outside, the sea </span><span style="font-style: normal;">hurls
itself at the beach, the palms bent by the force of the wind. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQE5B1UNywNIUUECAlmPEzrhk7a3M8bmFHDo44_yjuXtCJmp3_dD46xwWs3jWcxmKriFMdBGp_v10R-hqFViPdTJR-IYDbk9BsImL0UhLTiGpaSpOtb936E5Tx9-v79NHIDVAa7wa-tM/s1600/vlcsnap-00002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQE5B1UNywNIUUECAlmPEzrhk7a3M8bmFHDo44_yjuXtCJmp3_dD46xwWs3jWcxmKriFMdBGp_v10R-hqFViPdTJR-IYDbk9BsImL0UhLTiGpaSpOtb936E5Tx9-v79NHIDVAa7wa-tM/s320/vlcsnap-00002.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The
water floods up past the beach and into the hotel grounds, cascading
against the porch where, helpless, the Indians huddle together
desperately. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbVzC2ZNlrBB_CLBEmLqkWoqr4w5Smjugrqc_WmybDyY87jL32t55u_2qrWLO0Xt7RbbVQPzb6-6ViBHZYt68aOYfrPnZB4YgJTYT_JAVOXezuYxVX4WuT0S85tBNXFxWuEgh7nz2ZS8/s1600/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbVzC2ZNlrBB_CLBEmLqkWoqr4w5Smjugrqc_WmybDyY87jL32t55u_2qrWLO0Xt7RbbVQPzb6-6ViBHZYt68aOYfrPnZB4YgJTYT_JAVOXezuYxVX4WuT0S85tBNXFxWuEgh7nz2ZS8/s320/vlcsnap-00003.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Yelling out to Mr. Temple, their cries are ignored.
However brutal the forces of nature, however, the laws they adhere to
are immutable. Inevitably, storm turns to calm, fury turns to peace,
the hurricane subsides. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I</span><span style="font-style: normal;">nside,
Rocco paces the lobby, the others sitting exhausted. Nora sleeps,
head on her folded arms. Tenderly, Frank reaches out a hand and
strokes her hair. Waking, she looks up and gazes at him for a long
moment, before realising the storm's passing. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Frank
says a torn shutter or two, some trash on the beach-in a few hours
there'll be little to remind her what happened this night. Will they
ever see him again?. He holds her gaze as, in the background, Rocco
notes the storm's receding. She asks again and Temple turns round to
tell him he'd be welcome to stay. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTytD3UaHERJGdgxSBjbXgeskFoQOJRY5X8BlDd-yb8xlL8H64wozv35jVOULIzBuLlgm76J0JPqavtDgD8Ka5_Bq4H4ZgdqgmKaodtT5QxsWYtWbo2RBSqlO8mWTq8u5OQcgfY6ZY14/s1600/vlcsnap-00005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTytD3UaHERJGdgxSBjbXgeskFoQOJRY5X8BlDd-yb8xlL8H64wozv35jVOULIzBuLlgm76J0JPqavtDgD8Ka5_Bq4H4ZgdqgmKaodtT5QxsWYtWbo2RBSqlO8mWTq8u5OQcgfY6ZY14/s320/vlcsnap-00005.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Nora looks up at Frank with
something approaching adoration as Temple insists she convince Frank
they'd be happy to have him. She asks if he has any folks. He has
none. The old man says he'd be proud if Frank regarded them as his
family. Worried this might be too much, Nora tells Temple maybe
that's not what Frank wants. The old man says to think it over, don't
give an answer right away. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdTccmrf3pHC_g539xEiCO28FtzuJiKU9LDAGaj8nGbyJqOIovZ3Za2c8hGvWvHKXY6EcPVuLhTxhM9Z2UvVJhL46YLbCktBN5QGP5pFn7uD5RUv1bg6oXla8KLwfKFLhtYnq96O3Ovg/s1600/vlcsnap-00006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdTccmrf3pHC_g539xEiCO28FtzuJiKU9LDAGaj8nGbyJqOIovZ3Za2c8hGvWvHKXY6EcPVuLhTxhM9Z2UvVJhL46YLbCktBN5QGP5pFn7uD5RUv1bg6oXla8KLwfKFLhtYnq96O3Ovg/s320/vlcsnap-00006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A
sudden cry of alarm; it's Toots-the boat's gone!. Racing out look
over the dock, the gangsters see their escape route has, indeed,
gone. All there is the Hotel's fishing boat. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
skipper ignored Rocco's warning not to move the yacht, moved it just
the same. Curly wonders if he'll come back-no, says Rocco; he
believed him when he said he'd kill him. Well, what are they gonna
do?-they can't stay here. A peal of amused laughter from Gaye; she's
enjoying every moment. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoscLcbgl1TO1e9peSCZ9fhhuOEFnKpbYj0s_FVdp9ejQYPJ2LYVMu7XJhbbVFDyB-qSTTkBue7MpHmU3MczyPm9Ld-oj30PTzAZdd-K8GQher5JYLDdlxrCK-NxGSEcx4DAalkmjj1Y/s1600/vlcsnap-00007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoscLcbgl1TO1e9peSCZ9fhhuOEFnKpbYj0s_FVdp9ejQYPJ2LYVMu7XJhbbVFDyB-qSTTkBue7MpHmU3MczyPm9Ld-oj30PTzAZdd-K8GQher5JYLDdlxrCK-NxGSEcx4DAalkmjj1Y/s320/vlcsnap-00007.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">In
Spanish, Curly reminds his boss the Soldier knows about boats.
Casually defiant, Rocco denies they're in any trouble. There's
another boat out there, not much, but it'll get them to Cuba. Feeney
asks who'll run it and Rocco strides over to where Frank stands,
leaning against the wooden partition. </span><i>Him. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Frank's
eyebrows are up at this news, but then an angry shout from the
doorway; it's the Osceola brothers, furious at Temple for not letting
them shelter from the storm. Unaware of the facts, the angry young
men berate the old man for leaving women and babies outside in a
hurricane. Tom says Temple is a friend of the Indians no more, they
won't do as he advises any more. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Temple
pleads with them, but the group walks off into the rain. Hurt to his
core, the old man confronts Rocco-who told him he'd sent them away.
They were outside the whole storm. So what?, is Rocco's callous
reply. They might have died out there...</span><i>who cares?. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Temple
calls the gangster filth, the insult rolling off Rocco like water off
a duck. Toots wants to know if McCloud can handle a boat. Curly
recalls what Frank said to Nora on the dock; his first sweetheart was
a boat.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Planting
himself in front of McCloud, Rocco tells him plainly he's taking them
to Cuba. He knows what'll happen if he refuses. Flatly, Frank
refuses. Would he rather die?. Ah, he didn't say that...Rocco is
confused, but Frank explains he won't kill him because he's their
only chance of getting away from here. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Rocco
knows other ways of getting at a man, right, Toots?. </span><i>Right.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Maybe, Frank wonders, he'd be up
to them. Confident, Rocco tells him he wouldn't be; after a few
minutes of Toots he'd be frightened of coming out a cripple. All his
answers would be the right ones. Well, Frank isn't so sure. Rocco is.
If he's really anxious to find out, though, Toots will
oblige-although he's a bit rusty, might make the odd slip here and
there. That would be a pity as rocco admits Frank made real sense
upstairs when he said one Rocco more or less ain't worth dying for...
an urgent knocking at the door takes the attention off of Frank.
Ziggy, thinks Curly. The knocking continues, Ben Wade's voice calling
loudly for Mr. Temple. Hands still behind his back, Rocco states one
wrong word from anybody and Wade gets it the same way Sawyer did. He
tells Nora to let him in. </span></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSDGaSEYk3yuvmjWEGZGKnNnE_8BnMjLQ3njKZf9ZWUIg7mSub-gC35EWBE2LeQnF6HE0WVlDcGpeHgKydt1_7ZzVTWHMqTwJQW6-ZVN8X92PBPj6e-KFOFRKvCqqcdAAAikgzWVYloE/s1600/NEEDS+FIX+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSDGaSEYk3yuvmjWEGZGKnNnE_8BnMjLQ3njKZf9ZWUIg7mSub-gC35EWBE2LeQnF6HE0WVlDcGpeHgKydt1_7ZzVTWHMqTwJQW6-ZVN8X92PBPj6e-KFOFRKvCqqcdAAAikgzWVYloE/s320/NEEDS+FIX+C.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">In
rain-slick oilskin and hat, Ben Wade enters, carrying a flashlight.
Is Sawyer here?. Honestly, Nora answers 'No'. Walking in to the lobby
with it's odd party he finds it odd; Tom put in a call to him from
here at seven o'clock. In friendly manner, Ben notices the damage and
tells Rocco the power lines are out in some places. How's the road?,
asks the gangster cheekily. </span><i>Passable... </i><span style="font-style: normal;">he's
trying to locate Sawyer, has anybody seen him?. Frank looks warily at
Nora, lest she betray the goons and sign Ben's death warrant. Gaye,
too is nervy. Something's wrong with this bunch, Ben asking again.
Shaking his head slowly, Temple lets out a subdued denial. Ben wants
to know who answered when he called back earlier and Curly said he
came down, there was nobody around so he took the call. Probably, he
says the Deputy dropped in to make his call and is stalled along the
road right now, probably. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Eyeing
the hood suspiciously, Wade retorts he ain't between here and Palm
Grove. He wouldn't have called without it being something special.
Wade asks after the Osceola brothers. Again, Temple says no. Ben
explains to the guests the brothers busted out of jail. Deciding to
leave, Ben says he'll run down Matecumbe way, if Ben shows, he wants
him to wait. Outside, Ben chats to Rocco about the fishing and
returns to his car, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">clambering
in as the rain and lightning starts up again. Turning his lights on,
he suddenly spots Tom Sawyer' body, washed up onto the land by the
storm. Picking up the lifeless* Deputy, he lays his body down, anger
flashing in his eyes. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Angrily,
he yells at Rocco the body is Sawyer-murdered. Craftily, the gangster
says although he didn't want to get involved, the Osceola brothers
were here during the storm-they left a few minutes ago. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*Watch
closely; you can see him still breathing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Taking
out his flashlight, Ben Wade runs out to the dock where a large group
of Indians has gathered. Shining the light from face to face, the
lawman spots the brothers at the end of the hut and they run for it.
Drawing his revolver, he shouts to stop or he'll shoot. Two shots
ring out. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Not surprisingly,
this gives a start to those in the hotel, Toots warning them not to
get out of line. His face betraying his anger, Ben Wade walks back in
to stand in front of old man Temple. 'His' Indians murdered Sawyer.
Knowing he can say nothing without getting everyone killed, Temple
has to take it as Wade accuses him of lying. He knew the Osceolas
were here, that's why Sawyer called him. They thought they could hide
it by sinking his body, but the storm threw it up. Anger clouding
judgement, Ben even threatens Temple with being named as an
accessory. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdvP5Cz-TdAcUIrwT7duVvRkN3q3U85B079IBjE64cV6uNWduNQuug2I-TYohgo5RDNrLAYz_XjWr-38TsTmkIGlXCC9dJBXLXefqbz5z9CuuQwURxh4qQu1TyicUypwDWMQcqaGGlA8/s1600/2FF.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdvP5Cz-TdAcUIrwT7duVvRkN3q3U85B079IBjE64cV6uNWduNQuug2I-TYohgo5RDNrLAYz_XjWr-38TsTmkIGlXCC9dJBXLXefqbz5z9CuuQwURxh4qQu1TyicUypwDWMQcqaGGlA8/s320/2FF.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The old man asks
about the shooting and Ben tells him; he shot both brothers. Face
racked with grief, Temple sinks his face in his hand and Frank knows
two more deaths are on Rocco's long account. Something inside him
seems to give, as if his reason was deserting him. Deserting... or
returning?. Wade wants names; Rocco is Howard Brown, of Hotel
Central, Milwaukee. How long will he be here?. </span><i>A week... </i></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
if seeing him for the first time, Wade becomes suspicious. Hasn't he
seen him somewhere before?. Curly walks down the step chewing gum
with his customary insolent disregard for authority. He's Richard
Hoff, Central Hotel, Milwaukee. Rocco says they're all together. Next
Frank, who gives his name and no address with a fixed stare that
should have warned a tree-trunk with a badge on it. Toots is Edward
Bass, same hotel, same place. At this moment a large man in hat and
raincoat enters and asks how far to Key West. When no-one answers, he
repeats his question and Nora says about 100 miles. </span><i>Some
hurricane, </i><span style="font-style: normal;">he says, thought it
would blow them out into the ocean. Had to pull over until it was
past. Some hurricane... </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXu0kkCA3ZKVkr-F36Pj9Hx0f2K5rNq7prQWmmBe4VQde0xxfzTr3n07ow1Tl3Viy8ZypQMnLFLPXQ20hXXmrT4kociGn0P-gpWMLwYK6xUpmC65lcSc0ATm0C2K63QT_yu3e8IDYIbEw/s1600/key-largo-poster.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXu0kkCA3ZKVkr-F36Pj9Hx0f2K5rNq7prQWmmBe4VQde0xxfzTr3n07ow1Tl3Viy8ZypQMnLFLPXQ20hXXmrT4kociGn0P-gpWMLwYK6xUpmC65lcSc0ATm0C2K63QT_yu3e8IDYIbEw/s320/key-largo-poster.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish poster.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sheriff Wade leaves, promising to return in
the morning for more blinding detective work. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
big man wants something to eat and Rocco walks out onto the porch to
watch Sherlock Holmes departing. The car outside is occupied by men
who watch as Wade hauls Sawyer's body into his car. The stooges usher
everyone into the adjoining room to the lobby. As soon as Wade's
gone, Ziggy and his boys get out of the car and greet Rocco warmly.
The two old gangsters joke with each other about putting on weight
and losing hair, guffawing like they've heard the funniest joke ever.
Ziggy's men stand like statues either side of the door. Rocco has
Angel bring out Gaye and it's clear Ziggy's an admirer of old. She's
as pretty as ever. Where was she when Rocco was inside?. </span><i>Around.
</i><span style="font-style: normal;">Say, if he'd known that he'd
have tried to beat Johnny's time. Same old Ziggy, says Johnny.
Getting rid of Gaye, Rocco has Curly bring the shipment brought over.
</span></span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cgftTKmRYFQmSM6Us0cNI2_Ll1xXJcFgZEKyvHBK2X8vNqfZZD_Gu7_-Ti4awAoiZoBJvsoG4yqQwth4KZWkEr0B9O3TFI01oLe6VFCGVayAIrI77_FQM2kKh-WBeHhGlzZhpvU905o/s1600/016-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cgftTKmRYFQmSM6Us0cNI2_Ll1xXJcFgZEKyvHBK2X8vNqfZZD_Gu7_-Ti4awAoiZoBJvsoG4yqQwth4KZWkEr0B9O3TFI01oLe6VFCGVayAIrI77_FQM2kKh-WBeHhGlzZhpvU905o/s320/016-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Marc Lawrence (Center) as Ziggy.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Opening
the case reveals a stack of US bills. Holding one to the light of a
kerosene lamp, Ziggy admires the feel, but his expert steps forward
to make sure. Using a printer's loupe, the man scrutinises the note.
While Toots and the big man eye each other warily. Lathe work's okay,
portraits good-no breaks in the lines. Rocco assures Ziggy the serial
numbers check out. Snapping the note, the expert pronounces it to be
high-class merchandise. His job done, the technician steps back for
Ziggy to toss bundles of the real stuff down for Rocco to count.
Sitting in the living room examining George's Silver Star, Frank
turns as Gaye whispers to him asking what he's going to do. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDI32MfJXxnnMdsU18MG_C2DzfKM5kLp269mm9LB6qwxMQCQftXhLJYGojp6nkf6W-RUvo8VSla4GS9ZyR-O582M1eqpme-Y1mVplmjgATpxt48La91N9SNDE7l1dQ4tSajxYsZ-RVyOQ/s1600/006-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDI32MfJXxnnMdsU18MG_C2DzfKM5kLp269mm9LB6qwxMQCQftXhLJYGojp6nkf6W-RUvo8VSla4GS9ZyR-O582M1eqpme-Y1mVplmjgATpxt48La91N9SNDE7l1dQ4tSajxYsZ-RVyOQ/s320/006-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="258" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj2AHPJFx8VXH2qxRkzkfDy7B0tdilDQepIwGukpg96GowdMv85MGM-guKk261nm57x4fdd1NP-OPTQp_bfhV3-Uc2xOyGtQEmfsyDqPgshO7itDlDsPnDyL3KWTc-EGCMRL1fkxHSuo/s1600/19903.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj2AHPJFx8VXH2qxRkzkfDy7B0tdilDQepIwGukpg96GowdMv85MGM-guKk261nm57x4fdd1NP-OPTQp_bfhV3-Uc2xOyGtQEmfsyDqPgshO7itDlDsPnDyL3KWTc-EGCMRL1fkxHSuo/s320/19903.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">A lobby card showing the same image.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">She warns
him not to go with them; they'd kill him in Cuba. He'd never walk off
that boat. Leaning forward, Nora agrees with her, to tell them he'll
go with them, then to make a break for it once he's outside. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Gaye
thinks it his only chance. Nora asks for Frank's thoughts. He tells
her; she was right. Your head says one thing and your whole life
another. Your head always loses. Gaye still thinks he should make a
break in the dark. Run fella!. Yeah, he says-that's what his head
tells him. Quietly, Temple asks if he plans to make a fight of it;</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Frank
McCloud-I've got to.</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Not
that one Rocco more or less makes<br />any difference in this
world.<br />What I said upstairs still goes-<br />I haven't changed my
tune.<br />It's just that-<br />I've got to.<br />James Temple-Well, if
you're a fighter,<br />you can't walk away from a fight.<br />That's the
answer, I guess. </i></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Business
concluded, Ziggy asks his old pal Johnny when he's coming back. Won't
be long now. With him back, says Ziggy it'll be just like old times.
Walking along with their muscle behind them, the two crooks speculate
about the future. Ziggy bets inside of two years they'll have
prohibition back-only this time different, Rocco says. This time the
mobs will be together, no more blasting each other. With a slap on
the arm and a hearty handshake, Ziggy and his boys take their leave.
As soon as the car drives off, Rocco gives orders for everything to
be brought don, ready to go, the soldier's stuff included. He tells
Frank to give Feeney a hand and when McCloud steps out he demands to
know if he'll help them. When get gets no answer, Rocco gives Toots
the word and the kid starts winding a cloth round his gun barrel. Not
keen on a pistol-whipping, Frank gives in. Going in to Temple, Rocco
throws down a few hundred to cover the damage, then sidles up to
Nora, asking her if she wants to come along, whispering more filth
into her ear as she stands like a statue ignoring him. Laughing,
Rocco admits defeat there and walks off, leaving her air clearer. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjV3tzy2Nnzf0r7Niros6OzT11YKLwalZGkzS28cE9g6iAUUo1AovzKza8OQOpuqnu2p3T_ah-OL5XhVfW2VdYUaSzd6CFRPFeFdN9Ax6YsqjobY3adlRpjlPP36VwY3ol-hXgAesaXQ4/s1600/013-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjV3tzy2Nnzf0r7Niros6OzT11YKLwalZGkzS28cE9g6iAUUo1AovzKza8OQOpuqnu2p3T_ah-OL5XhVfW2VdYUaSzd6CFRPFeFdN9Ax6YsqjobY3adlRpjlPP36VwY3ol-hXgAesaXQ4/s320/013-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Bogart in character for a publicity still.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank
and Nora have a moment alone, staring into each other's eyes as if
for the last time. Whole volumes are exchanged in that look. Feeney
and Angel bring down the luggage and Rocco takes his hat and coat
from the former. Gaye watches as he pockets his automatic, with a
loaded clip this time, in his jacket pocket. Going up to her sugar
daddy, she asks where her things are. He forgot; she's not going,
pulling out some bills to pay her off. On that, she can stay drunk
for a month. Desperate, she throws herself at him, begging him to
take her along. <i>She'll stop drinking-she'll do anything, she loves
him!-she'll kill herself, she will... </i>pushing her away from him,
she turns and hands Frank the Colt she took from Rocco's jacket
during the scene. As Toots walks Frank out, Temple wishes him good
luck. With a look of honest admiration, so does Gaye. Nora watches
him go with an intense passion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
women rush to the door to watch the small group marching off to the
boat. Gaye wonders why Frank didn't run. In moments, they're all
aboard; Rocco, Curly, Angel, Toots, Feeney... and Frank. McCloud
switches on the light for the compass then the control panel.
Pressing the starter, the diesel kicks in with reluctance. Frank asks
for the bow and stern lines to be cast off and they're away. As
lightning flashes overhead, we see the name of the boat; <i>Santana.
</i> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadgRqRtuES5czUyI6BVGYQp5Q3Xuw2AfD5DsfNOFAjEl4Ftv-ZlALEwd75_KrTVAUQ2R_PSbuY3cFcWm_3j6-UFVuWAlcxL3EuqC-cUh9_fDUQk0hOKNxFc0lfRosEFGyksKIPWaUQbU/s1600/NEEDS+FIX+OR+TRIM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadgRqRtuES5czUyI6BVGYQp5Q3Xuw2AfD5DsfNOFAjEl4Ftv-ZlALEwd75_KrTVAUQ2R_PSbuY3cFcWm_3j6-UFVuWAlcxL3EuqC-cUh9_fDUQk0hOKNxFc0lfRosEFGyksKIPWaUQbU/s320/NEEDS+FIX+OR+TRIM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOD-7iYObiLhzR0btFEfJSZlguNAluhdK6N9uOeeNUtCPfiNy2axQX3y7XlYh6NRn2kruT4GDtCzHPA7AxHQjfnohRq7V7PodtA77-IK5_VZmYvNbZ7V_rgokNNvy_fkF6HJOG4vUZCXc/s1600/vlcsnap-00040.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOD-7iYObiLhzR0btFEfJSZlguNAluhdK6N9uOeeNUtCPfiNy2axQX3y7XlYh6NRn2kruT4GDtCzHPA7AxHQjfnohRq7V7PodtA77-IK5_VZmYvNbZ7V_rgokNNvy_fkF6HJOG4vUZCXc/s320/vlcsnap-00040.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Santana' was, of course the name of Bogart's own, beloved yacht.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nora and gaye watch the boat recede into the sea before walking,
disconsolately back inside. Temple is struggling with the phone as
Gaye says that was Frank's only chance. The lines are still down, to
the old man's disgust. In despair, Temple wheels himself to the
middle of the lobby, to sit in helpless rage and frustration. Nora
drops to her knees and puts her head in his lap. I'm thinking the
same as you-you dirty devils... </span></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
<i>Santana </i>makes good headway through the calmer seas now the
storm's passed. A heavy fog hangs over everything, reducing
visibility to almost nothing. You can't even see the side of the
studio tank. The hatch to the berths opens and up comes Curly,
chewing his gum. How we doin'?. They're right on course. <i>Well keep
it that way. </i>The hood walks back to the stern where Ralph Feeney
stands, unmoved as Toots is losing his lunch over the side. He feels
awful. Why not go downstairs?-it's too hot down there. The kid asks
the time and Curly consults his watch; a little after four. Not even
half-way yet. Feeney asks if the boss is sleeping, Curly says he is.
Sidling back into the cockpit, Curly glances at the compass as Frank
takes a pull on his cigarette, then goes back down, closing the hatch
after him. Looking backwards, Frank weighs up the odds. </span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ix7t93Rp5lokAYZmUsK8XgzJITNIqGOURFm5E3NO-PvuDr8U4uKvsiYMF8h1z9KkV04Ios9dc7PyPSztCtY-s8b7iSwzJjUJXzbcROFn-18MvZq7MgPpv4-ELHhCgl0aGCl8NfEUJyM/s1600/vlcsnap-00009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ix7t93Rp5lokAYZmUsK8XgzJITNIqGOURFm5E3NO-PvuDr8U4uKvsiYMF8h1z9KkV04Ios9dc7PyPSztCtY-s8b7iSwzJjUJXzbcROFn-18MvZq7MgPpv4-ELHhCgl0aGCl8NfEUJyM/s320/vlcsnap-00009.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">It's a Hallicrafters set... and I want one!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">'Downstairs'-as
Curly put it, the marine radio is spewing out a series of codes; <i>Dog
Unit Man Roger </i>and so forth. On the lower bunk, Rocco is
stretched out with a cigar, Angel on the bunk above. The radio
mentions the <i>Santana, </i>bound for Cuba, a search is underway.
Angel is worried, but a confident Rocco states in this fog they
couldn't find the <i>Queen Mary. </i>Seating himself on the opposite
bunk, Curly worries that leaving Gaye might not have been so bright.
She's pretty sore. Rocco couldn't care less, but Curly persists; she
might squeal out of spite. On Ziggy, he means. Coldly, Rocco regards
his lieutenant. <i>Well?... </i>his broad face creased with laughter,
Curly gets it. <i>Ah, there's only one Johnny. </i></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eyeing
the two hoods by the stern, McCloud tosses his cigarette overboard.
Feeney is watching him closely, but Toots is out of the game still
with seasickness. Making out he's working the controls, Frank draws
the Colt and cocks it quietly. Playing with the choke, he engineers a
stall and calls back to Feeney to take a look over the stern, to see
if they've picked up any kelp on the prop. As the gangster does this,
he has to lean right out and Frank guns it, spinning the wheel to
send the hoodlum head first into the water. Feeney's sharp cry for
help rouses Toots, who has his hand in his pocket in a heartbeat.
It's not fast enough. <i><b> </b></i></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>BAM! </b></i>Frank's Colt roars first.
Toots shoots back, hitting Frank in the ribs, the the kid slumps back
with a look of surprise, rolls over and dies. The three downstairs
are off their bunks in a flash, but Frank dives across to Toot's
body, grabs his piece and turns to shoot Curly as he comes through
the hatch. Soldiers prize the high ground and Frank McCloud's no
exception, hauling himself up onto the cowling to drag him self over
to the hatch, he opens the cover and waits, with a perfect view of
anyone stupid enough to come up from below. </span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxc0khpLG7GJMhWlj0jrQY1mQm-LxVgXcAA6hK-8MOmlXU3Z0DsFszfdRaUrVzL0FJ5qblnwiafFKRWyC326zSSF4_TOX2JaWj5ATaenRc0Yioihjew6VriU-bfc8qnNawe75E97tJms/s1600/vlcsnap-00043.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxc0khpLG7GJMhWlj0jrQY1mQm-LxVgXcAA6hK-8MOmlXU3Z0DsFszfdRaUrVzL0FJ5qblnwiafFKRWyC326zSSF4_TOX2JaWj5ATaenRc0Yioihjew6VriU-bfc8qnNawe75E97tJms/s320/vlcsnap-00043.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rocco
asks what's the matter as Curly staggers back down to sit on his
bunk. Checking his pockets, Rocco notices his gun is missing. Gaye!.
All of a sudden, it's just him and Angel. Taking the revolver from
Curly's dead hand, Rocco goes to the open hatchway, calling out for
Toots and Ralph. When he gets no answer, he calls out 'Soldier'.
Wisely, Frank stays silent. Turning to Angel, his last man, Rocco
orders him up. The other's were gangsters, but Angel Garcia is a
servant, a bar-tender. Despite the revolver in his hand, he's no
killer. Shaking his head, he refuses. Rocco tells him there's nothing
to be scared of, that Toots killed him anyway. <i>'Then you go,
Johnn...' </i>Rocco's shot finishes the sentence for him. Calling up,
Rocco tells Frank Angel and Curly are dead. It's just the two of
them. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKL9ihXfbZ1K1wSXlIWdl8R6YIExakEf9ii-RSXh9q31nyPryZ28DWSpTNrtzIMIljFEqTEKXD2NtzdX0PgstXGos6CNWdbWJujInud6utYB1WZ5GbjXUWIyquVu0wI5QAxIqExUe-O3o/s1600/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKL9ihXfbZ1K1wSXlIWdl8R6YIExakEf9ii-RSXh9q31nyPryZ28DWSpTNrtzIMIljFEqTEKXD2NtzdX0PgstXGos6CNWdbWJujInud6utYB1WZ5GbjXUWIyquVu0wI5QAxIqExUe-O3o/s320/vlcsnap-00015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">From now on, he proposes they become partners, 50-50, what does
he say?. When Frank remains silent, Rocco's voice becomes more
urgent. Rocco's fear turns to paranoia; he knows what Frank's
thinking-do away with him and keep it all for himself, is that it?.
Now Rocco's idea is to offer Frank all the money, tossing out the bag
for Frank to see. That wolfish grin on his face, Frank leers as Rocco
desperately promises him the world when they reach Cuba. Now worried
Frank intends to take him in, Rocco snarls he's not big enough to do
this to Rocco, he'll never bring him in, never!. Now Rocco figures
Frank doesn't trust him because he's armed. Okay... the gangster
grabs Angel's revolver and tosses it out as proof he's now unarmed. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgwKNGhA9A0xALlkFNAHizk0g5CUdB2Sep3hrzdMhbcaWuRXB2JG9fd-QlcZ7ryxEkitzIosz6WjpwNRA7PzIo7azbEpbNVVb0KHbUMZ0MuMX08s8a2n6GR36mPAwtCHVXpqnBqTVWHk/s1600/015-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgwKNGhA9A0xALlkFNAHizk0g5CUdB2Sep3hrzdMhbcaWuRXB2JG9fd-QlcZ7ryxEkitzIosz6WjpwNRA7PzIo7azbEpbNVVb0KHbUMZ0MuMX08s8a2n6GR36mPAwtCHVXpqnBqTVWHk/s320/015-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Finally,
Rocco calls he's coming out, he's got no gun and he's coming out...
Frank watches as the grinning hoodlum emerges, revolver ready at his
hip, calling out as he does. Johnny Rocco's last word is 'Soldier!'.
He never sees it coming, Frank firing down into him. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePLLpgzMzNAFcIqcR643aDnseGK0Bl6C4xtl09v7BUMmtE-CSdYOJDsisVhdf_Nwy7sMNq4-mpZYA6P9qMtH6YPTN_ddpQYX9xUNaQQOGMFTJjFMqFdapD8xxT8P68mhokRDMGdezvzU/s1600/vlcsnap-00016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePLLpgzMzNAFcIqcR643aDnseGK0Bl6C4xtl09v7BUMmtE-CSdYOJDsisVhdf_Nwy7sMNq4-mpZYA6P9qMtH6YPTN_ddpQYX9xUNaQQOGMFTJjFMqFdapD8xxT8P68mhokRDMGdezvzU/s320/vlcsnap-00016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqq8cCUu2QAA_bEYh2iO0zu30vlCQF7uH4TCrN0-hkONt96nDb1k8dlBP9xYZeqZQ_H1U5TDmlVrF7P2_FjqRgnNXz9vtRPWCboh7a_xo5poRFbkK6S_GV-HfQPeLTRslQqHoh0SoX6A/s1600/Poster+-+Key+Largo_12.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqq8cCUu2QAA_bEYh2iO0zu30vlCQF7uH4TCrN0-hkONt96nDb1k8dlBP9xYZeqZQ_H1U5TDmlVrF7P2_FjqRgnNXz9vtRPWCboh7a_xo5poRFbkK6S_GV-HfQPeLTRslQqHoh0SoX6A/s320/Poster+-+Key+Largo_12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian lobby card featuring image from the climactic scene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mortally
wounded, Rocco is still a dangerous animal, he realizes where the
shot came from and fires up at the hatchway. Frank fires again, Rocco
rises once more and a third shot from above finishes it. Finally,
Johnny Rocco lies dead. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbj_GBUBv5bT0H4_vtaFhyphenhyphen0WZ9MhXY2gjdBDA6l0nBb6wyLRbScGmAcsEVpzCpQqi2pGPhO2rodkDO3SfXkWNZbF9pkuqYVe3hDCAWK_EDoyccrt_uFdtVkgr6uLszNoX1ppObrHyyZCg/s1600/vlcsnap-00017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbj_GBUBv5bT0H4_vtaFhyphenhyphen0WZ9MhXY2gjdBDA6l0nBb6wyLRbScGmAcsEVpzCpQqi2pGPhO2rodkDO3SfXkWNZbF9pkuqYVe3hDCAWK_EDoyccrt_uFdtVkgr6uLszNoX1ppObrHyyZCg/s320/vlcsnap-00017.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Climbing down to the cockpit, Frank spins the
wheel, heading back to the Keys. On the right heading, he lashes the
wheel, a hand to his wound. Going below, he surveys the carnage for a
moment, then gets on the radio to send a Mayday. <i>Calling Nan Mike
Abel, this is Abel Sugar Abel Nan... </i>A voice snaps on over the
speaker; the US Coastguard. Frank gives them the boat's name and his,
states he needs medical attention and asks to be put through to the
Largo Hotel. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqoje-9ASZYKB71m7LS3W65B5VtE0LzKfrVSqSB6om0efAdJNxqRvXfJNDd2xlcaNoSNWX_YjVlC4PiGxYI3pjkI91frF9hqdrNvG1wD5Y_CMhRT4G5jqDB1XUQZeb9r6oaSuE_5dMbs/s1600/vlcsnap-00018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqoje-9ASZYKB71m7LS3W65B5VtE0LzKfrVSqSB6om0efAdJNxqRvXfJNDd2xlcaNoSNWX_YjVlC4PiGxYI3pjkI91frF9hqdrNvG1wD5Y_CMhRT4G5jqDB1XUQZeb9r6oaSuE_5dMbs/s320/vlcsnap-00018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
the Hotel, Ben Wade tells Nora the State Police picked Ziggy and his
boys crossing the border into Georgia*. He tells Gaye she'll have to
go and identify them. Earnestly, he thanks old man Temple for saving
his life, but he has the Osceola brother's on his conscience now...
he'd rather be dead than spill innocent blood. Generously, Temple
tells him he's the one to blame; if they hadn't trusted him they
wouldn't have turned up here and they'd still be alive. It seems they
can't do anything but harm to those people even when they try to help
them. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPX1EY-0EZRmGbe5B0yZmk5O-DHbMKmYXL8qOc4API8Jsu6u7-54m75y9gxquoNka25DIzIeZKeSS_0F1IxGoIAchosNblvfjCL1Gfwh6cpE17leSBMl_VLYFwU3NiTqU12aEPlbWbOHc/s1600/vlcsnap-00019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPX1EY-0EZRmGbe5B0yZmk5O-DHbMKmYXL8qOc4API8Jsu6u7-54m75y9gxquoNka25DIzIeZKeSS_0F1IxGoIAchosNblvfjCL1Gfwh6cpE17leSBMl_VLYFwU3NiTqU12aEPlbWbOHc/s320/vlcsnap-00019.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Forcefully, her voice breaking with emotion, Gaye tells Temple
it wasn't him, the law or anybody-it was only Johnny Rocco, nobody in
the whole world is safe as long as he's alive. Wade tells her it's
time to go.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">*Given
the time-frame, this is impossible.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQh9PchMGWgXBOWAPG5lWF4LfMORkr58fdA5ElEny58SQilQPFUDBcuO1yz7At2pIiQd_dO09xhdX6r9RlS876WSGQHyCqYxEobVoSuNwEInt1juj3E_z2qVvGFtX8FcdTuOJU2_Hil8/s1600/Poster+-+Key+Largo_05.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQh9PchMGWgXBOWAPG5lWF4LfMORkr58fdA5ElEny58SQilQPFUDBcuO1yz7At2pIiQd_dO09xhdX6r9RlS876WSGQHyCqYxEobVoSuNwEInt1juj3E_z2qVvGFtX8FcdTuOJU2_Hil8/s320/Poster+-+Key+Largo_05.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">German poster.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Temple
and Nora sit, slumped, despairing of any good news. The phone!. Nora
rushes to the phone to answer. It's Frank!. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqWtkAD8qhtkmtepa3tfgpRjS36pnuYBjJef2ngBv9xIgDTzT7kZg7jlA0TmEoFNIRbBCM3fY2nT_XokvHRQlraEbNA-uQfGfyZVXN_H8QHe-CwiTuZMQA9BfhS-3q2VIbomZvYQeboc/s1600/vlcsnap-00020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqWtkAD8qhtkmtepa3tfgpRjS36pnuYBjJef2ngBv9xIgDTzT7kZg7jlA0TmEoFNIRbBCM3fY2nT_XokvHRQlraEbNA-uQfGfyZVXN_H8QHe-CwiTuZMQA9BfhS-3q2VIbomZvYQeboc/s320/vlcsnap-00020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nearly overcome, she
thanks God and goes back to where the old man sits, expectantly.
'He's all right, Dad. He's coming back to us.' The old man smiles and
she goes to the window, throwing open the shutters to let in the
light of the new day. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiko7NvogEwRMSJTQu3w515waKKRLMxg01H3EgnkRcZnFn4DEwu1I4Eqm6U-TF_4YmfDqWDnMgxsOvo2kwBTdMu8gSQW-Z-aEyFWRRgkvydVP0GH165lbDmKKNoGa5aCDfznlful7vgWk/s1600/vlcsnap-00022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiko7NvogEwRMSJTQu3w515waKKRLMxg01H3EgnkRcZnFn4DEwu1I4Eqm6U-TF_4YmfDqWDnMgxsOvo2kwBTdMu8gSQW-Z-aEyFWRRgkvydVP0GH165lbDmKKNoGa5aCDfznlful7vgWk/s320/vlcsnap-00022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDWW-XsnSgc679h08T3r6AzbecV6uC6F9khkEpGItEH9wekQOPwm-V3ONXiscQs84n1dtxJadf28RBAEkSfwWrZeiqKfsEJcq534Xe1Z9YaofmEYWZMRaNigbRSEijX_oBwLUd310n6U/s1600/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDWW-XsnSgc679h08T3r6AzbecV6uC6F9khkEpGItEH9wekQOPwm-V3ONXiscQs84n1dtxJadf28RBAEkSfwWrZeiqKfsEJcq534Xe1Z9YaofmEYWZMRaNigbRSEijX_oBwLUd310n6U/s320/vlcsnap-00024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
<i>Santana </i>glides through the sea, Frank McCloud at the helm
smiling hopefully, a hero once more.</span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9DMspgiEjbGapmK7uVs5feldmeQzFl3fYFZxFBzprbyAyEKnYEmSvfCIKfdKiz-2dEm0n7Zy-xXUrux9iksl-mw893Kc0iIoLvaRdfGvjbEUCLi99y5P_wXXNWYT8BbYxljl8Bxzv_c/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+ad+1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9DMspgiEjbGapmK7uVs5feldmeQzFl3fYFZxFBzprbyAyEKnYEmSvfCIKfdKiz-2dEm0n7Zy-xXUrux9iksl-mw893Kc0iIoLvaRdfGvjbEUCLi99y5P_wXXNWYT8BbYxljl8Bxzv_c/s320/Key+Largo+1948+ad+1.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Trade advertisement for the film.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYYPd-bVpf1dsjLlguR9wvN4Eq5agwaYZITSMQCzevZ3u6Cn2z2iHoVBXvfVmDG46PzD6wYWSNFuMf1r307j3EIfOFHDIdd1xFU5C2fP6tokWGn2BH05EM6EZluSbXCgatv1b6ADJo7o/s1600/034-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYYPd-bVpf1dsjLlguR9wvN4Eq5agwaYZITSMQCzevZ3u6Cn2z2iHoVBXvfVmDG46PzD6wYWSNFuMf1r307j3EIfOFHDIdd1xFU5C2fP6tokWGn2BH05EM6EZluSbXCgatv1b6ADJo7o/s320/034-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">The cast at a script read-through on set.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">So ends John Huston's masterpiece; the man who brought us such treasures as <i>The Maltese Falcon </i>(1941) <i>The African Queen </i>(1951) and a childhood favourite, <i>The Man Who Would Be King </i>(1975)
delivers a tense, lean thriller despite the tight budget (Studio
constraints precluded location filming and even recycled hurricane
footage). Several scenes were cut by Warner Brothers, which infuriated
Huston, but the claustrophobic setting and the outstanding performances
ensured this became a classic. </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVXWtA_L1Yk4GTfnjvXyVAJwqJkvOqoUosiM0tfxABUQGkjcxNeYCAtdqN7QqHSf_20OdiKi0-g93FKRg9OmM8xk6Yr61M_5soHNZohiWP8Mxyyfz2kiXu5c48N-1_WHXEfIbhy1tOWU/s1600/1948_supporting_claire_trevor.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVXWtA_L1Yk4GTfnjvXyVAJwqJkvOqoUosiM0tfxABUQGkjcxNeYCAtdqN7QqHSf_20OdiKi0-g93FKRg9OmM8xk6Yr61M_5soHNZohiWP8Mxyyfz2kiXu5c48N-1_WHXEfIbhy1tOWU/s320/1948_supporting_claire_trevor.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claire Trevor accepts her Oscar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">
</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Claire
Trevor won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role as the
alcoholic Gaye Dawn; Huston tricked her by implying the scene where she
sings <i>'Moanin' Low' </i>would be both lip-synched and shot at a later
time after rehearsals. He hit her with it in front of the entire crew
and cast and her nervy, at times pathetic performance gave the scene
immortality. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4WbjGm5GBoeMCZAOBPRBCyvcQkop0I0cOJy1nAUJtwlJpxnR_ziVnk4dzWmpyYe_eLNsDVoSrSNXwWMQ5kqqwQUAASD4b3QNs5cZqdxfM_i1fzt8DbVVOgmuvJeBkdxh8VmQPlXGVGI/s1600/014-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4WbjGm5GBoeMCZAOBPRBCyvcQkop0I0cOJy1nAUJtwlJpxnR_ziVnk4dzWmpyYe_eLNsDVoSrSNXwWMQ5kqqwQUAASD4b3QNs5cZqdxfM_i1fzt8DbVVOgmuvJeBkdxh8VmQPlXGVGI/s320/014-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">John Houston and Bogart on set.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Bogart and Bacall made their fourth and final film with <i>Key Largo. </i>Bacall is, well, <i>Bacall; </i>vulnerable,
courageous and simply beautiful. Her un-sophisticated Nora Temple made
the perfect counterpart to the cynical war-hero played by Bogart. His
reluctance to be killed for a noble cause is far more believable than a
gung-ho killer unafraaid of death could ever be and a clever move on
Huston's part. </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfR9wxVaWyK0m8S_aj-5Z8sIuc7uNH35KjWE3MF_vkrny8DPrHlTpQ1GaiVGbOhWaE7tYFgRKnkaHSUfhaYJMsCXjlzyKKj8I6yWgYdYnvPk-UcNRea6r4W2iNPuDBhUSIKSAAOzt3B8/s1600/Original+Spanish+Herald+KEY+LARGO+Humphrey+Bogart+Lauren+Bacall.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfR9wxVaWyK0m8S_aj-5Z8sIuc7uNH35KjWE3MF_vkrny8DPrHlTpQ1GaiVGbOhWaE7tYFgRKnkaHSUfhaYJMsCXjlzyKKj8I6yWgYdYnvPk-UcNRea6r4W2iNPuDBhUSIKSAAOzt3B8/s320/Original+Spanish+Herald+KEY+LARGO+Humphrey+Bogart+Lauren+Bacall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish Poster insert.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqw8IXpFtuMzUjvShWgFupLO_Fh3eADj91xCpIj8zG8nrQazbcchEzM8Q_AAfs6SbjhpgJknmiujM3q7RloVFRw6JLTlNpO_9LmU-38mmoocMHM6lnLyGaDtBNtsPZrOIgHI-R7sTAs0/s1600/NEEDS+CLEAN.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqw8IXpFtuMzUjvShWgFupLO_Fh3eADj91xCpIj8zG8nrQazbcchEzM8Q_AAfs6SbjhpgJknmiujM3q7RloVFRw6JLTlNpO_9LmU-38mmoocMHM6lnLyGaDtBNtsPZrOIgHI-R7sTAs0/s320/NEEDS+CLEAN.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cast relax between takes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Bogart
is electrifying-just as well, because Edward G. Robinson nearly steals
the entire film. His mesmeric portrayal of the washed-up gangster Johnny
Rocco is iconic; you simply can't take your eyes off the screen when he
appears. His crime boss is ruthless, vain, cowardly and thoroughly
wicked. Although seen as a spent force by then, Bogart insisted Robinson
be given equal billing and Star treatment, even walking him from his
dressing room to the set every day. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2JteZi3nC86YfUhAE3qkbNJKvZLVmfGX8SW5KxP5GF8Z0Rhx2bFC8Y27gPYyv-yZe6CLk9fAIiCI3KY76PB42-qC6yFxbGJhyphenhyphenBWHU2AZqoJZnXw314oegq8amCsL9-rv2Nx22J45A3E/s1600/XXXX.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2JteZi3nC86YfUhAE3qkbNJKvZLVmfGX8SW5KxP5GF8Z0Rhx2bFC8Y27gPYyv-yZe6CLk9fAIiCI3KY76PB42-qC6yFxbGJhyphenhyphenBWHU2AZqoJZnXw314oegq8amCsL9-rv2Nx22J45A3E/s320/XXXX.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Alternative Spanish Poster.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHy6PYc083Ubhnucd4uwAtwnWPdnfb_bDj6F1HvKvdj0d9cP1j5En3vx_ONUAcJa1uhBL1V9Lghl2ly4PqaOLKL0no-4GSe2gd4uB1DqTYorHeYLwsAl1glHOk4DJDoNPq4YVQ-S91Zi0/s1600/012-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHy6PYc083Ubhnucd4uwAtwnWPdnfb_bDj6F1HvKvdj0d9cP1j5En3vx_ONUAcJa1uhBL1V9Lghl2ly4PqaOLKL0no-4GSe2gd4uB1DqTYorHeYLwsAl1glHOk4DJDoNPq4YVQ-S91Zi0/s320/012-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">10% action, 90% boredom; the reality behind movie making.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Llionel
Barrymore's James Temple is a fiesty, credible old man; in real-life
disabled with arthritis, his nothing-to-lose bravery contrasts nicely
with Bogart's character's refusal to stick his own neck out.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IvH8FTqVIAgMaJMJsYyUPMsDIwloSVXOxcy12AqB1kg2RB8FcMShGAnvsImKlOB_vOlIjUzG-wykkBKS2CjFUbm44s4gjjJeI_kogJbXxoFT31h0PAJBGGcXNESEXPCtFPJgO1Tp7D0/s1600/Key+Largo+1948+poster+6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IvH8FTqVIAgMaJMJsYyUPMsDIwloSVXOxcy12AqB1kg2RB8FcMShGAnvsImKlOB_vOlIjUzG-wykkBKS2CjFUbm44s4gjjJeI_kogJbXxoFT31h0PAJBGGcXNESEXPCtFPJgO1Tp7D0/s320/Key+Largo+1948+poster+6.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Llionel Barrymore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">
</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Thomas
Gomez plays Richard 'Curly' Hoff; the wise-guy gangster chewing gum,
his sardonic smile and manner are spot-on. I've met several modern-day
gangsters in my time-this man could have blended in un-noticed. <i>Noir </i>Stalwart
Dan Seymour's Angel Garcia is also memorable, as is 'Toots' Bass,
played by Harry Lewis. Lewis went on to own the 'Hamburger Hamlet'
chain. </span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtFJgRBNMVLVWb4rGb9fD6KeXkADKIlq7TocXwzsDWTJj5zzUdhJLU_9hbW7Ytsg9MqCN2BvGJcIcyI2-JLR_ZrVjJMKJT9FsG-PsbSDOdyKa-rQss_5SH1hWGPU2JR9Sy3H_59B10Wo/s1600/BASS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtFJgRBNMVLVWb4rGb9fD6KeXkADKIlq7TocXwzsDWTJj5zzUdhJLU_9hbW7Ytsg9MqCN2BvGJcIcyI2-JLR_ZrVjJMKJT9FsG-PsbSDOdyKa-rQss_5SH1hWGPU2JR9Sy3H_59B10Wo/s320/BASS.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Harry Lewis as 'Toots' Bass. Publicity Still.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGzyYbiI7Fb-7CTsHMPf0CqVzvV54r7cEkV0nlJQgs-_ZVmNYW3WirDpiOfDlItxjjFbhkOGJ5vGlv2PHHFDiBf5dNqO7X17dmylNS9gc2d46zyiWWOSf3PFFMus9LoK9aCv-y_IlLG2w/s1600/019-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGzyYbiI7Fb-7CTsHMPf0CqVzvV54r7cEkV0nlJQgs-_ZVmNYW3WirDpiOfDlItxjjFbhkOGJ5vGlv2PHHFDiBf5dNqO7X17dmylNS9gc2d46zyiWWOSf3PFFMus9LoK9aCv-y_IlLG2w/s320/019-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fatal habit; Bogart indulges in the habit that was to kill him. Cinematographer Karl Freund at left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">
</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Marc Lawrence is Ziggy, giving his standard, excellent gangster performance. Lawrence went on to play in two Bond films-<i>Diamonds are Forever </i>(1971) and <i>The Man With The Golden Gun </i>(1974). The Osceola Brothers are played by Jay Silverheels (famous as Tonto in <i>The Lone Ranger </i>tv
series) and Rodd Redwing, who claimed to be a Native American, but was
almost certainly born in India as Roderick Rajpurkali, Jnr. Monte Blue
portrays the gullible Sheriff Ben Wade and William Haade is Ralph
Feeney. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVWMnstrzY6myikkDV1jzyT6TLkqrPq5c9KWyEAnwFew6whxR5m-2l47X03k_tj6EnXNZyhqzM63jfRN2enlRPrH-H-WdKsSUM7-zXSqS9qQebI4fwDBAqqqDfgiSnzowCWVvietoLa4Y/s1600/009-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVWMnstrzY6myikkDV1jzyT6TLkqrPq5c9KWyEAnwFew6whxR5m-2l47X03k_tj6EnXNZyhqzM63jfRN2enlRPrH-H-WdKsSUM7-zXSqS9qQebI4fwDBAqqqDfgiSnzowCWVvietoLa4Y/s320/009-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Bogart and Barrymore; the frantic shooting schedule takes its toll.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Huston
adapted the film from an original play by Maxwell anderson, in which an
army deserter is held up by Mexican Bandits during the Spanish Civil
War. The protagonist dies at the end. </span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3HDm08SHL4dpt3BDA7SBvQtKCv2LFaYKXqYcSlUbfd1_QbuJ949vJ0Z1bBZ93pm8VThXwLBqffHz09pLNZ7UZJQiSh4XvzQpQIbMMp7jx07up9eo5cySIAVZGgwYP1Pt_qR1MXQYKP8/s1600/010-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3HDm08SHL4dpt3BDA7SBvQtKCv2LFaYKXqYcSlUbfd1_QbuJ949vJ0Z1bBZ93pm8VThXwLBqffHz09pLNZ7UZJQiSh4XvzQpQIbMMp7jx07up9eo5cySIAVZGgwYP1Pt_qR1MXQYKP8/s320/010-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Shave and a Haircut; A signed Barrymore photograph taken backstage.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DNjGtJImG9nOB0xR6QkSIICDqEQAHQSyML6SkuCVBi0Em2GjGWTm35bpV8jgGAiLgSl15xu8WD3OQRt7608O31p2IssdoCbW9aUTSKLn-IybWL1R9AeOI2kulsfBP0jivG4LS8cqMjM/s1600/GOOFERY.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DNjGtJImG9nOB0xR6QkSIICDqEQAHQSyML6SkuCVBi0Em2GjGWTm35bpV8jgGAiLgSl15xu8WD3OQRt7608O31p2IssdoCbW9aUTSKLn-IybWL1R9AeOI2kulsfBP0jivG4LS8cqMjM/s320/GOOFERY.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvGVJViX00NDWvT1KueZ2dyG464WBSbpj2X_hQZK7pGEv_mFfZOZGEkm64tqZ63VxP-1ODcUiEkaTrlL1_cOoAgS6dxxoNUU6TDXuKrSSncD52vd1GUsKqtDg3RUhFB9MHAV4R-czk-Y/s1600/key_largo_xlg.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvGVJViX00NDWvT1KueZ2dyG464WBSbpj2X_hQZK7pGEv_mFfZOZGEkm64tqZ63VxP-1ODcUiEkaTrlL1_cOoAgS6dxxoNUU6TDXuKrSSncD52vd1GUsKqtDg3RUhFB9MHAV4R-czk-Y/s320/key_largo_xlg.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">A rather lurid alternative poster.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hurricanes
don't pass that quickly and the reefs are far more remote than
depicted in the film.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's
<i>never</i> reached-let alone dropped to-100 degrees in Key Largo;
97 is the current record.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
storm surge should have flooded the ground floor of the hotel
completely.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-mU3IM8KgpM9rBjg1KNwzxn6e_DIrrc6oJqE0RTV5X7fbSjMSqBzK3QA3-CwHBYI4QG_qZKRMuS6isZNSgVmwDXlV-Pe_NSSmIki93GVCtTHEI05D4ee1Bbj2VHzk_G7CGzer7XRLD0/s1600/vlcsnap-00039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-mU3IM8KgpM9rBjg1KNwzxn6e_DIrrc6oJqE0RTV5X7fbSjMSqBzK3QA3-CwHBYI4QG_qZKRMuS6isZNSgVmwDXlV-Pe_NSSmIki93GVCtTHEI05D4ee1Bbj2VHzk_G7CGzer7XRLD0/s320/vlcsnap-00039.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Watch
the palm trees bend; you can see the strings used to bend the model
trees, also in the background some trees are unusually frozen; they
are part of the painted backdrop.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOVvBRJrETWfvR5r8J-_29WlRNbZbRUBbWIb75wX7r3mliq0Y06WjfX5mlWpqLHx64_9ufNMvMt6uzX3kfBMX-vy7oW6zKsiJud10P4rFhJVtT4NULwr-AZDkw36cysF5K_RzaACuce5c/s1600/TRIVIAL+PURSUITS.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOVvBRJrETWfvR5r8J-_29WlRNbZbRUBbWIb75wX7r3mliq0Y06WjfX5mlWpqLHx64_9ufNMvMt6uzX3kfBMX-vy7oW6zKsiJud10P4rFhJVtT4NULwr-AZDkw36cysF5K_RzaACuce5c/s320/TRIVIAL+PURSUITS.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;">One
of the Osceola brothers is played by the legendary Jay Silverheels,
famous as Tonto in </span><i>The Lone Ranger </i><span style="font-style: normal;">tv
show and movies. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV-ZI0kJvmwf1qWhTRj_nkRXt3rHVUJXOA5Khg53uih3NGPlln8gyUyzAfr02IjBNYJYiWR7ghFAjdyRX9VnXrwmMuQN9V4MjBfzdGs5I9gpgpxCe75ipMj06NaMoBmY6By5F6jhLiQ8/s1600/CCCV.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV-ZI0kJvmwf1qWhTRj_nkRXt3rHVUJXOA5Khg53uih3NGPlln8gyUyzAfr02IjBNYJYiWR7ghFAjdyRX9VnXrwmMuQN9V4MjBfzdGs5I9gpgpxCe75ipMj06NaMoBmY6By5F6jhLiQ8/s320/CCCV.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank
describes serving at San Pietro; Director John Huston was there,
shooting a documentary (<i>San Pietro</i>-1945) for the U.S. Army
motion picture unit.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pW4BcFd-ETAzgVw0p9zczNJnh6iw5-t-drvWr3XgcKzwHUVIx7zdxEHzK3tOu0AChvoVWzF54gjqB_s-SgG0HtBXCCZvAThObc4HIfS27pxaxEX8cixTXzYDyQwFUuKADy1gHJIG6Ks/s1600/001-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pW4BcFd-ETAzgVw0p9zczNJnh6iw5-t-drvWr3XgcKzwHUVIx7zdxEHzK3tOu0AChvoVWzF54gjqB_s-SgG0HtBXCCZvAThObc4HIfS27pxaxEX8cixTXzYDyQwFUuKADy1gHJIG6Ks/s320/001-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Llionel Barrymore shares a joke with his co-stars.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Santana
Productions is named for Bogart's beloved yacht.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_6QVF1dVjt9wduOiwFK7lE7c8UY58LSwVlTS6_A96WpMB4VrEw4cApRZEXrOtqt8-_aqvBSboOG_thNGdwp9Mx4BEmD5HlgVf4ct5o0_ScxYeORdGzVl3BVnjuG93ZeuLOZj0K9f9bw/s1600/005-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_6QVF1dVjt9wduOiwFK7lE7c8UY58LSwVlTS6_A96WpMB4VrEw4cApRZEXrOtqt8-_aqvBSboOG_thNGdwp9Mx4BEmD5HlgVf4ct5o0_ScxYeORdGzVl3BVnjuG93ZeuLOZj0K9f9bw/s320/005-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Bogie on a bike; behind the scenes.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Although
filmed almost entirely at Warner Brothers studios, the real life Key
Largo was hit by <i>two</i> hurricanes in 1948. </span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqB4ZvsTFaNrBESTT6hBpBRjGMzLuLU2iy0ySh2ikV2ETBSsfOUsKre5e6oDMI1jGSUp5tOZ6-RUNvyHLvS_eGlYRiRTPszLvs9TGjUsBWADVzX-M3iRFUkknNm3UxydcLH_weRauryRc/s1600/011-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqB4ZvsTFaNrBESTT6hBpBRjGMzLuLU2iy0ySh2ikV2ETBSsfOUsKre5e6oDMI1jGSUp5tOZ6-RUNvyHLvS_eGlYRiRTPszLvs9TGjUsBWADVzX-M3iRFUkknNm3UxydcLH_weRauryRc/s320/011-key-largo-theredlist.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall; soulmates.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
final confrontation on the boat is lifted wholesale from the
Hemingway novel <i>To Have and to Have Not. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Pub.
1937) </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNg15xepMp4xjl71wm-jGCkNRySmyF3XC3opzOZF0Y9wBHn8Cw4iHLoDM0Xym0iMnsfWGmYtJSkVcYhb-WEYYJ4N4pnXfe6JTsXAdUdTtJJ5V-EA1-3cZYQHM1vx9eDqa8vdS_0SAsLlk/s1600/97449700b48c8e3eee3fd21f4957f917.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNg15xepMp4xjl71wm-jGCkNRySmyF3XC3opzOZF0Y9wBHn8Cw4iHLoDM0Xym0iMnsfWGmYtJSkVcYhb-WEYYJ4N4pnXfe6JTsXAdUdTtJJ5V-EA1-3cZYQHM1vx9eDqa8vdS_0SAsLlk/s320/97449700b48c8e3eee3fd21f4957f917.jpg" width="159" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "paytone one";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "paytone one";">Finally,
an apple-ogy... regular readers of the blog will be used to seeing
animated gifs in just about every post. Due to technical issues
(Technically, Microsoft couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery, my
gif-making programs all decided to go haywire on me in a concerted, some
would say, evil and scheming attack that's left me bereft of the
ability to make gifs. This shortfall will be rectified at the soonest
possible moment and, rest assured, the relevant staff have been taken
out and shot... until they were bloody sorry about letting you, the
wonderful blog stalwarts down.)</span></span></div>
</div>
Volcano Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14372941500458681755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166463819695598938.post-73792514056044318132016-12-19T10:21:00.002+00:002016-12-25T17:46:38.387+00:00Merry Christmas from Volcano Cat!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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