The widowed Lady Susan (Kate Beckinsale), who determinedly seeks a wealthy husband, is at the center of Whit Stillman‘s Love & Friendship, a 2016 effort based on a short Jane Austen novel Lady Susan. Understandably the woman also wants a wealthy husband for her daughter, Frederica, but here a sinner begins to be revealed in her unfeeling rapacity. Lady Susan, who has had a dalliance with a married man, is bothered by Frederica’s unwillingness to marry a silly gent who is not right for her. Lady Susan herself, however, is not right for the amiable young man, Reginald (Xavier Samuel), who falls for her and is eventually accused by her of untrustworthiness.

I say again: a sinner. Lady Susan’s character delivers a tribute that vice pays to virtue. She is a civilizational hypocrite, eager to smile on manners and education and the Christian faith while settling for the mean objectification of various others. This takes place in 1790s England when religion still has vitality but a very slow secularization is proceeding as well.

In Beckinsale, Samuel, Justin Edwards, Chloe Sevigny and others Love & Friendship proffers fascinatingly successful actors. One is not likely to find fault with the film’s technical-visual design either, and Stillman, I think, has done his best directing so far here. His motion picture is modestly artistic, of course. It’s by Whit Stillman.

The Last of the Mohicans (1992), a Michael Mann film, is based on Cooper’s classic novel and a 1936 screenplay. Though much shorter than what Mann originally fashioned, it is nothing more than a potboiler but with thrilling scenes of adventure and bloody conflict. Indeed, the film is undistinguished and should not have been, the technically inadequate waterfall sequence being much to blame. At least, though, the movie is rather fun.

When is Henry, the main character in John Updike‘s late short story “Free”, actually . . . free? It may not be when Henry’s “too proper, too stoical” wife Irene dies of cancer, which follows the man’s long-ago love affair with a mistress, Leila. Now Henry and Leila are elderly. But do they feel free? When significant moments between a husband and a wife engender remorse is one of the story’s themes.

From My Father’s Tears and Other Stories, “Free” has moral resonance and is a small jewel of characterization. The sentences about Irene’s slow passing, with Henry beside her, are unforgettable, soberingly written.

Granted, it doesn’t have much of a title, but Edge of Doom (1950) is a smashing movie in which a man (Farley Granger) harbors some confusing thoughts about what he should do for his newly dead mother. He hates the (Catholic) Church because he thinks it failed and exploited his mother, and demands that Father Kirkman, his mother’s priest, pay for a lavish funeral for the woman. He ends up killing Kirkman and then runs away. Another priest, Father Roth (Dana Andrews), begins to suspect the man of the murder and kindly talks with him.

Adapted from a novel, director Mark Robson‘s film is a crime story, a noir product, partly about religion; about men in religious vocations and those with antipathy toward religion, not to mention “religious” actions. Robson, who made Von Ryan’s Express and Valley of the Dolls, knows how to keep things humming; he wants to engage an audience. His shots in Doom, like those in Valley of the Dolls, are never overripe or pretentious. His actors here—good news—are more skillful than some of those in Dolls. The result is a smart and gripping dime picture.

I found John Updike‘s “Morocco” (1979, from the book My Father’s Tears and Other Stories) a fascinating travelogue story.

Visited by an American family living in England—the year is 1969—Morocco is a land of disturbing men, “little girls in multicolored Berber costume” with their flowers to sell, swaying buses, and even quiet sexual perversion. As it happens, it is a far from lovable country, and a far from perfect vacation. It is feared, in fact, that Morocco might get sinister after Dad runs a red light and the police appear. So the man zips away.

The twelve-page story shows how foreign to Westerners an Eastern country can be. But Updike also uses his elegant prose to smile on family unity (even after a divorce), a unity that follows “the maximum family compression” of the Morocco trip. It should be noted, though, that this realization comes during a vacation in France, a Western land.