Centered on the characters of Krystyna, Stefan, Bruno and Rachel, the novel Polonaise, by Piers Paul Read, concerns Polish people from decades past who join, and eventually depart from, the Communist movement.  One of the book’s themes is nihilism.  Another is the way Life overwhelms Ideology, or at least forces it to take a back seat.  It is a compelling read which nevertheless mildly disappointed me with its final standard anti-nihilistic philosophy—a not very fresh summation.

All the same, the book is wonderfully intelligent.  It is interesting to see it go from being a depiction of political sweat and commitment to being a chaste drawing room drama before it gets its hands dirty again.  And, ineluctably, Read is disinclined to ignore sex—significant but no source of salvation—but is never sensationalistic.

In Martin Scorsese’s 1973 film, the mean streets of Little Italy remain mean because they are far removed from such spiritual values as repentance and stillness—and, in the case of Robert De Niro’s Johnny Boy, from honor.  Charlie (Harvey Keitel), the levelheaded lost soul raised a Catholic, knows all this.

It’s all too bad, however, that Mean Streets is an arty dud.  Constantly it is unbelievable as it moves desultorily to some loud, inept drama in its last 15 minutes.  I admit that the film captures the free-floating absurdity and madness in the urban characters’ lives, but that’s its only contribution to cinematic art.  It doesn’t help that De Niro looks like a homely beatnik.

Cover of Mean Streets

I disesteem Elvis Presley‘s charmless and shallow acting in Flaming Star (1960), but the movie manages to be one of the better Westerns of the Sixties.  With the help of Nunnally Johnson, Clair Huffaker scripted her own, probably not boring novel, and it was shot effectively for Cinemascope by Don Siegel.

Presley plays a half-white, half-Kiowa young man.  Chief Buffalo Horn (Roldolpho  Acosta) is vexed by the white man’s land expansion and fears for the Kiowas’ survival.  The whites react to Indian violence with obtuseness and hardheartedness, but the film does not side with the Kiowas.  It mostly sides with Pacer (Presley) and his white relatives, justifiably sympathetic to the half breed when he joins the harsh Indians for battle.  See the movie to find out what flaming star means.

The flick is unpretty-looking without rawness, and the action scenes are bluntly, thrillingly done; good for 1960.  Star isn’t dated, though; it’s nearly as watchable, I bet, as it was on Cinemascope.  And it has a thoughtful screenplay.

I disesteem Elvis Presley‘s charmless and shallow acting in Flaming Star (1960), but the movie manages to be one of the better Westerns of the Sixties.  With the help of Nunnally Johnson, Clair Huffaker scripted her own, probably not boring novel, and it was shot effectively for Cinemascope by Don Siegel.

Presley plays a half-white, half-Kiowa young man.  Chief Buffalo Horn (Roldolpho  Acosta) is vexed by the white man’s land expansion and fears for the Kiowas’ survival.  The whites react to Indian violence with obtuseness and hardheartedness, but the film does not side with the Kiowas.  It mostly sides with Pacer (Presley) and his white relatives, justifiably sympathetic to the half breed when he joins the harsh Indians for battle.  See the movie to find out what flaming star means.

The flick is unpretty-looking without rawness, and the action scenes are bluntly, thrillingly done; good for 1960.  Star isn’t dated, though; it’s nearly as watchable, I bet, as it was on Cinemascope.  And it has a thoughtful screenplay.

Not long ago I dissed the song “Better Now” by Post Malone.  I listened to it again, and it’s better now.  That is, the song is a bit better than I thought.  I still don’t think it’s melodically meritorious but that doesn’t mean it has a bad sound.  This despite the lousy grammar in the unimportant lyrics.

For a perfect contemporary pop song, there’s the Carly Rae Jepsen album cut, “I’ll Be Your Girl,” a catchy little moral drama if there ever was one.  The music is speedy, the words finely wrought, and Jepsen’s voice that of a smart undergrad.  It’s too good for corporatized radio.