A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby

A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby

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A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby
A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby
Stuff I've been watching and listening to

Stuff I've been watching and listening to

Maria Schneider, seven-goal Arsenal, Preston Sturges, The White Lotus

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Nick Hornby
Mar 07, 2025
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A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby
A Fan's Notes, by Nick Hornby
Stuff I've been watching and listening to
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In The Lady Eve, Barbara Stanwyck and her father, both con-artists, meet a shy and unworldly young rich man, played by Henry Fonda, on a ship, and set about taking him to the cleaners at the card table. Stanwyck, however, inconveniently falls in love with him, and tries to protect him from her father, but Fonda - so smitten that he trips over something every five minutes - discovers that she’s a wrong ‘un after he’s proposed to her, and misinterprets her attempts to shield him. That’s the first half of the movie, 45 mins approx.

In the second half (another 45 minutes) Stanwyck, who feels humiliated by Fonda’s rejection, puts on an accent, passes off as a visiting member of the English nobility, and wangles an invitation to Fonda’s mansion in an attempt to take her revenge. He falls in love with her all over again, and falls over some more. The Lady Eve is fast, funny, full of memorable minor characters, has a fantastic, sexy central performance by Stanwyck and is over by the ninety minute mark. I have seen it two or three times, and I always find something to learn about concision, risk, nerve and rhythm.

And then there’s The White Lotus. I have watched all three hours of the new season - and they are proper, temporal hours, not commercial hours - and there are another five to come, so eight in all. The first season was six episodes long, and the second was seven, so we can see the direction of travel. The cast is fantastic - Parker Posey! Carrie Coon! - but gosh, it could do with Henry Fonda and a couple of pratfalls. Preston Sturges , who received the first “written and directed by” credit in Hollywood history, died in 1959, twelve years after Chuck Yeager flew the first supersonic flight. He would surely have presumed that popular entertainment was heading towards the same velocity. Instead, have so far been asked to watch deeply unpleasant people sunbathing and eating their dinner over one hundred and eighty minutes.

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